Contradictions

It is most definitely wrong of me to write a blog post about how technology is horrible. I get it. I am contradicting myself. However, it is the truth. Please don't misinterpret what I am saying here. I love things like texting so I can communicate with my family without actually having to call that someone who never stops talking when you just need a quick yes or no answer. I am not sure what I would do without Skype and Facebook Messenger while my brother is overseas. I am quite certain I would have very little idea what my nephew looked like without these communication tools. Being able to email the school about happenings on the bus, upcoming field trips and lost homework definitely saves time in my day and the teacher's day. Being able to pop an episode of Friends in the dvd player while I am sewing on my electric sewing machine that has 600 different stitching patterns is a way I can calm myself after I get everyone where they need to be for the day. Downloading a Bible app on my phone is one of the smartest choices I ever made. And, to prove that I do consistantly use these options, I will admit that right now I have a tab open with Facebook because i am 'hosting' a Jamberry Nails party Completely online. (If you have never heard of these nail wraps, check out my friend's site brookerawson.jamberrynail.net).
     Now, on to the reasons I am beginning to revolt against technology. Number one, first and foremost is because I think Facebook is making me depressed. Allow me to explain semi-briefly. Close to three months ago a lost two little girls. I did not give birth to these beautiful babies, but I raised them with my family for 21 months. Some of the hardest months of my life, and also some of the happiest. Our family lost them in a custody battle that we thought was over and had less than 24 hours to pack their belongings, prepare them and our children for the change, and call our very large extended family in to say their goodbyes. The days that followed were understandably the darkest of my life. I stayed away from Facebook for quite a while and spent time in conversation with God instead. When I went back to Facebook, I went full force. Posting pictures, updating my status, checking in. But, on the few occasions when I did post something about being sad, I would have a few 'likes' a couple comments, usually from the same three or four people, and very little support. Looking at pictures of other happy families pulled at my heart. I wasn't happy, so did I really belong on Facebook? Our youth pastor did commend me for being honest on some of my posts and thought it was great that I was open about having a difficult time. This came after a middle of the night post requesting prayer. When I posted my last status pertaining to the girls, and then came to the realization (with a little bullying, er huh, help from my aunts) that I am depressed. On Facebook there is no encouraging hug or a sympathetic look. There is just like or comment. The social network is a poor substitute for socialization. So I stayed off of Facebook, with the exception of Facebook Messenger, for about 10 days. Maybe two weeks. When I finally went back on, the first status I saw was of a friend who was announcing she is pregnant with twins. You guessed it, I'm back off Facebook. Not that I'm not happy for her, but I am still feeling sorry for myself. A quick scroll through today played a video of a friends little girls dancing. If I hadn't known, I would have sworn it was the younger little girl I lost. So that quick scroll through set me way far back in my mood. But, that is for another post. Since I am way off track here, let's get righted around.
     Another reason for my stand against technology, specifically communication through technology comes from the fact  I have an 18 year old in my home who literally does not know how to talk to her friends. She is s a foster child and comes with her own set of drama and history, but she cannot function without a phone in her hands. I picked her up from the SATs yesterday and before I left the parking lot she was texting. Who does she need to text? I am guilty because she has a phone. She bought it and she pays for it and she is learning an important lesson on spending her money wisely and planning ahead when she has to pay that bill every month. She is a teenager that holds true to everything we hear about 'kids these days.' Let's explore a list of these that come to mind. Just a few that come to mind that I know adhere to this teenager living with us are: They don't know how to communicate. They have no concept of the value of a dollar. They think everything is disposable. They think they are entitled. The feel like no one understands. They believe there are no good men/women out there so they have to settle. They have no manners and think that begging and threatening is a good way to get what they want. They have no problem letting someone else raise their kids if it gets in the way of them having their own life. 
      I do love my internet. Amazon Prime is wonderful because I can fill my shopping bag at night after the kids go to bed and when I place and order, it is delivered to my door step withing two days. Being able to look up crafting ideas on Pinterest is magnificent. Checking the weather at 6:00 so I know how to dress the kids is an invaluable tool. But, I remember the days of writing a list with pencil and paper and spending the day shopping with my mom. Pinterest seems to have outdated recipe cards, but my grandmother started a tradition that I continue to keep by writing down (in cursive if you can believe it) her most common cookie recipes and giving them to me at my wedding shower. I have continued that for my cousins who have married after me. The days of taking an umbrella just because the clouds looked 'iffy' are over, but so are the unexpected beautiful fall days that catch us so by surprise we can't help but stop to take in the wonders of God's creation. If our whole life is predicted, forecast, dvr'd, and liked according to our status, who are we living for? Society wants to please their followers, but I choose to be a follower. A follower of God. God's status is His Word, the comments are our prayers, and his likes are our Christian love for one another. I am choosing to purposely have my feet swept out from under me and my heart shattered over and over again because I believe I am doing God's will by fostering, and every single time I feel as if it is too hard, God is there. With an invitation to go to him and pour out my worries and my fears and He in turn will fill me with His love again. And, as He knows and created me, I am human, and the cycle will repeat itself because I cannot do this alone. And no matter how surrounded I am by electronics, the only One who can help me is Jesus Christ. He doesn't get tired of my status or look the other way. His answers may not come in clearly defined text messages, but His message is clear. Follow Him.

~  John 3:16 KJV   For God so loved the world that he gave his only begotten son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but would have everlasting life. ~                                                                                                                                                                                                        

Random

Random thoughts for today. 

• I'm tired (what mom isn't?)
• Why is it a pair of underwear? Last time I knew, it was all one piece.
• Would John Boy Walton be considered a blogger? What about Laura Ingalls Wilder?
• What is the definition of blogger? (I'll have to Google that later)
• When did Google become a verb?
• How do other families keep their house clean?
• Could I have survived in the 19th century, or am I too much of a wuss?
• My daughter is nearing puberty. How did I get this old?
• Why am I embarrassed to say I hate Mother's day?

Because I'm tired (see the first random thought above) I will only take the time to elaborate on the fact that I despise Mother's day. I love my mom and I love my kids. I have wanted to be a mother all my life and I am living the dream of many women because at this point, I am able to stay home with my children. So why this grumpiness? Pressure. It's too much pressure to have a 'nice' Mother's day. I have to come up with a genuine complement for every little piece of artwork, trinket or mangled dandelion that the kids bring me or I would crush their egos therefore setting them up for a lifetime of seeking out approval from the wrong sources resulting in a downward spiral and them moving to the other side of the planet and never speaking to me again.  Then I have to say thank you 62 times a day when they all tell me 'Happy Mother's Day.' And after all this exhausting work (which is all occurring on the day set aside for me) I have to answer the question " Did you have a nice Mother's day?" from miscellaneous friends, families, or store clerks. I have a hard time lying and so I will rarely say I'm 'fine' or 'good.' The truth is, this Mother's Day was a complete wreck. Not wanting the children to fret over me not having a special gift to open, I suggested the only gift I wanted was to go camping. It sounded like a relaxing weekend and since my parents were camping in the site next ours, it covered a 'gift' for my mom, too! So what went wrong? Our two oldest children went missing from our camp site for more than three hours. Missing. As in we could not find them with seven people looking for them and we finally had to enlist the park rangers for assistance. Having to give a description of your children and what they were wearing and who the last person to see them was and which way they were headed does not a Mother's day gift make. Amazingly we found them and they were uninjured physically, but shaken up. Our son does seem to think of it as an adventure he can tell his friends about, but our daughter is not so optimistic and was honestly afraid they would never find their way back. As the old saying goes ,you need to get right back on the horse, so the next day we took our oldest and our youngest daughters back up the trail they were found on to retrieve a bicycle seat that was lost by their companion. How a bicycle seat gets lost in the middle of the forest is beyond me. We found the missing seat about a mile up the muddy trail and start to head back and almost immediately it thundered and begins to rain. Then it downpoured. Then the wind blew with enormous force. The lightning bolt was so close I nearly peed my pants (after three kids and one c-section I have minimal bladder control. It's not fun). Then we realized we were in pain and the precipitation was not just raindrops, but hail as well. Pea size hail causes more discomfort than I thought it would. Long story short: we made it down off the mountain sopping wet and traumatized, but uninjured. I wish the same could be said for our camper, and several around us. Although we didn't hear of anyone being hurt, there was a very high number of damaged or destroyed awnings as well as a fallen tree. It seemed almost like a war zone as I carried my sobbing little girl back to the camper with her very disgusted sister who kept saying "Do you see now why I didn't want to go back up on the trail?"
Borrowing the attitude from her, do you see now why I don't like Mother's Day?

~Children are a heritage from the Lord, offspring a reward from him.~ Psalm 127:3

I miss him

I recently had an 'interaction' on Facebook about a post that I shared. The details of the comments are best left for another entry, but it did help me to realize how judgemental I am. I am constantly thinking to myself critical thoughts about how other moms dress their children, the way most people drive, how cranky some people can be. Most of my (best left) silent critique has to do with parents or children, but I am not naive enough to think that I am not the recipient as well as the distributor of these thoughts. In fact, I'm quite sure I probably received some scolding glances and unfriendly words whispered into the ears of others. For instance, I was talking on my cell phone during my son's Little League game last night. I had no important business matters to discuss as I am just a stay-at-home mom (I am working on a new term, for the mom who is hardly ever home). First I spent a few minutes messaging back and forth during the second inning. I'm sure if I was on the other side, I would be thinking "Seriously, she can't wait a few minutes to send that message?" And then, when my phone rang and I actually answered it during the game, I'm quite sure I felt the hot glares and saw eyes roll. I jabbered on while periodically taking headcount of the girls and yelling "Way to go, Bubba!" When he got a base hit or threw to the cutoff man (or boy, rather). Thankfully I was along the fence in the outfield and not in the stands or near the dugout. This was not just a chat with one of my friends. You see, this was a phone call from my brother. Now, you may think, "so what? Call him back." And, I might counter with the fact that he's my only sibling. Another bit of information that may make my actions seem a little less rude or selfish would be that it has been a decent amount of time since I've heard my brother's voice. Of course, some may counter that I can message him, email him, or text him. All true and valid points. I would like to point out that if anyone had been close enough to hear my conversation, they might have also the glint of tears in my eyes. You see, it did hurt me to take that call during my son's Little League game, but I was also hearing the voice of my nephew I've never met. I was standing next to my mother and having a conversation with her only son and this is as close as she has had to having her family together in 3 1/2 years. My brother is in the Air Force and lives in Guam. His time zone is such that he is 14 hours ahead of us, so as we are having supper, he is going to work for the day. It does make it difficult to find time for phone calls. My brother called me to find out how my son is doing at his game, and to fit in a lot of information in a little time. He will be going to Korea soon and we don't know how difficult it will be for him to contact us from there. I know I look uncaring as I stand at the baseball fields on a sunny spring evening with my cell phone up to my ear. The truth is this: I miss my brother. I miss him in a way that hurts physically. I miss him so much that I am angry at him for not being here when my children were born, when our grandparents passed away, and even when I'm sitting around on a rainy Tuesday afternoon. I regret not loving him more when we were teenagers. I would give nearly anything to be able to watch his son grow up with my children. The hurt I feel inside can hardly be explained with words. I know he is alive and healthy and for this, I do thank God. I know he loves me and our family. I know what he is doing is very important work. But, I also know when my cell phone rings and I see his number on the screen, I will answer that call no matter what I am doing. And, although the conversation regularly ends with me being in tears, it is worth the accusatory glares I may be receiving. I know there is a lot of conversation these days about how bad social media and cell phones are for kids. But for military families and other people with relatives in a far off country, it is hard to imagine our life without them. I have recently been harsh with myself for thinking the worst of people. So next time I hear someone talking too loudly on their phone, I will just imagine they are talking to their brother and counting the days (or years) until they can see him again. 

~Do not judge, or you too will be judged. For in the same way you judge others, you will be judged, and with the measure you use, it will be measured to you." Matthew 7:1

He's 9

My son had his 9 year well child checkup today. So, he's 9 1/2 now, but that's how we roll. When I picked him up from school I noticed how tall he looks. Oh my, I should have distracted myself with something else right then and there. We got into the room waiting for the doctor and I literally have a flashback to when he was born and the doctor exclaiming over how big his hands were. Then methodically, it seems each appointment after that begins to flow through my mind. When he was sick and had to have a steroid injection at about 4 months old and my husband was out of town and I was terrified. When the nurse practitioner put the popsicle stick too far down his throat and he vomited. When he had his stitches in the ER, his wasp sting reaction, all the times he was looking at me with a pleading of help in his eyes and I had to hold him down or try to comfort him. How did that baby turn into this little man? I was tearing up at the thought of how fast it has gone. He does still let me snuggle (not in front of his friends) and for that I am grateful. His growing up seems to make me more sappy than my girls. I wonder why that is? He is the only one who looks like me. Poor guy, he got the freckles, red hair, and big feet. Maybe it's because I read something on Pinterest that said that someday he will love another woman. Woman. Love. Married. My baby. I need a tissue.

~For this reason a man will leave his father and mother and be united to his wife, and they will become one flesh.~ Genesis 2:24

Take me out to the ball game

The song known by nearly everyone in America. Jack Norworth's  "Take Me Out to the Ball Game" invokes undeniable amusement and excitement for an all American sport. We've been to a couple ball games. The Williamsport (PA) Crosscutters,  and the Columbus (OH) Clippers with the kids and they have a blast.

  My husband played as a kid, and our son is currently in Little League in our small northern Pennsylvania town. But, as a mom of three and foster mom to two (at this time) I am here to tell you, it isn't all "peanuts and Cracker Jacks" and root, root, rooting for the home team. I wonder if the mothers of all the professional players secretly dreaded to the start of Little League season. I imagine I'm not the only mom who thought it would be great to have all my children sitting in the stand proudly clapping for Bubba as he hits a home run and wins the game for the team while Daddy stands proudly on the sidelines in his coaches t-shirt. It's the perfect image of a Friday night in rural america, don't you agree? Um. Reality check. It isn't just Friday nights, it happens to be any night of the week and some Saturdays. And, although my husband tries his hardest to make it to the games, he is very often rolling in during the second inning or catching the middle of a game while on his lunch break after receiving my texts about how are son is doing. This means I am alone with four girls and my ball player. My other kids are everywhere, running through the mud with winter coats and hats on. I sit in my pink lawn chair with multiple layers on wrapped in an old comforter trying to clap (with gloves on) sounding cheerful and supportive when what I'm really thinking is how hungry I am and why didn't he swing at that pitch, and oh my word what is that mom wearing? It's the back of our Excursion packed with a cooler, two baseball bags (because the medium girls are in t-ball), four blankets, a stroller to keep the toddler contained, lawn chairs and whatever miscellaneous items didn't get taken in to the house after the last trip to the store. Seriously, I found a bag with a jar of spaghetti sauce in it last night. How long has that been there? It's the endless trips to the portable toilets, the constant begging to go to the concession stand. It's dinners eaten out of the back of the truck and gallons of juice boxes consumed. It requires an entire board on Pinterest dedicated to meals on the go so I can rotate between the portable meals such as pizza rolls, ham & cheese pretzel nuggets, and sandwiches. It's throwing baseball uniforms in the washer with the toddler's muddy clothes at night so he can play in clean clothes the next morning. It's selling an obscene amount of discount cards to friends and family to support the town's Little League 'Complex.' It's pulling in to find no place to park when your team has the late game. It's the worrying over your son's self esteem when he strikes out or misses the catch at third. But...........it's also the look of pure enjoyment your child gets when they make a good play. Hearing them cheer for the smallest kid on their team. A chance to make memories that will last a lifetime. A time to be outside together with no one arguing over what is on the tv. And, let's face it, it's a great excuse to have ice cream after the game!

~But thanks be to God! He gives us victory through our Lord Jesus Christ~ 1 Cor 15:57

I'm hearing things

Making a decision does not mean that we know it is the right way or wrong way. We have made a difficult decision to not adopt these foster children that we have had in our home for over a year now. This was a gut wrenching process which we do not take lightly at all. I may have to look into these angelic faces that I have showered with kisses and washed the chocolate ice cream off of and tell them they have to go somewhere else. The thought of that moment is almost enough to convince me to change my mind. We have our reasons and they are substantial, but I often lay awake wondering if this is the right choice. More importantly, is this God's will? I begin to get frustrated because I do not hear a definite answer, then I wonder if I ever will. What does God sound like? Will it be in a Bible verse I come across? Something written in the clouds, perhaps? A previous adoption case with similar circumstances? Will it come to me in a dream? Frustration abounds and then I turn to the same thought.

 How does anyone know if they are listening to the whispers 

of God or the screaming of their own desires? 

When someone asks me how we decided to open our home to foster children, I tell them it is God's plan, not mine. Now, I could take you back and tell you the way it happened, and there are specific events that all measure up to point to the end result. But I truly believe this is what God wants us to do. I can't explain it. I didn't hear Him whisper, I didn't pour over my Bible looking for a verse to convince me that this was for us. This situation was never on my radar. I don't like people coming in my house. I don't care for other people's children for too long of a time, and I am past the nights of bottle feeding and diapering. Some days I want to agree with the stranger in the grocery store who shakes her head and mutters under her breath when she sees us coming. Yet, I believe in my soul God has led us hear to the bumpy road outside of my comfort zone. 

I continue to pray for guidance and direction, knowing that I may not like the answer I get or the vehicle in which it comes, but knowing He will give me the strength to face whatever comes. Even if I try to make my own decisions (which I do quite often) He will provide. I haven't heard an actual answer from a voice, but I do feel a peace about what we are doing. Please note, I did NOT say what we are doing is peaceful. There is precious little of that in this house. I also realize this may not be what we are supposed to do forever, but for right now, in this moment we will do what we consider "God's work."

"Anyone who welcomes a little child like this on my behalf is welcoming me.” – Matthew 18:5