No, we don’t have mice….

/ jenfletcher / 8 Comments

I’ve read two different posts in the past few months about people forced to clean out, declutter, and reorganize due to mice.  (Read them here and here.)  While we have done our time with mice, our current “reorganization situation” involves a slightly different problem.  It involves a dog who’s learned how to open the pantry.

When we got Kina, I was thrilled that she was smart, but not too smart.  We’d had fourteen years with a dog who was too smart, and frankly, it’s exhausting.  Kina seemed to be just the right mix of friendly and bright; well-behaved and smart enough to train, but not so smart that she was out-smarting the training.

Then came the night we came home from church to discover….what was that on the living room floor?  I truly didn’t know until I got right up on it:  a bag of coconut, pulled from my basket of ingredients for making various granola bar goodies.  She clearly didn’t care for it, but that didn’t change the face that she’d opened the pantry to get it.

Once she’d learned she could do it, it was all over.  Every time I’d come home from dropping the kids off at school, I’d find something else.  The tub of oatmeal.  The container of flax seeds.  The box of cinnamon squares cereal.  It was funny and frustrating all at the same time.  How on earth was I going to completely reorganize the pantry to keep everything out of her reach?  I truly couldn’t think of how to rearrange things to where nothing would be touchable; it’s not that big of a pantry.  She was even nudging the canned food off the shelves, which obviously didn’t do much but dent the cans, but still…..

Then one Thursday morning my mom and I returned to the house after running errands to discover a box of raisin bran completely obliterated.  She ate the cardboard, too, she’d liked it so much.  For those who don’t know, raisins can be toxic to dogs, and that is how we ended up at the doggie ER (yes, there really are such things), essentially having her stomach pumped.  (“We’ll give her a shot to make her throw up, and once her stomach is empty, we’ll give her another shot to calm it back down; then we’ll feed her charcoal to keep any of the toxins from being absorbed…..”)

As my husband put it, “the dog just ate and barfed our entire Christmas budget.”

After I left her at the emergency clinic, I drove to Home Depot and got magnet closures for the pantry.  Forget cleaning and reorganizing.  We just need the stupid thing to stay closed.

 

Update:  Yes, true to her cast-iron-stomach Lab roots, the dog is totally fine.  My favorite part of the story involved a trip to our regular vet for the final blood work to check on her kidney functions.  When the vet tech got her to the back, the phone rang; so she put her in a room and closed the door so she could take the call.  The dog–yep–opened the door and came running back out to me in the lobby, leash dangling behind her, and threw her front paws in my lap:  “Quick, Mom!  Now’s our chance to make a break for it!!”

Yeah.  “Not too smart” my eye….

The “curliest” elf

/ jenfletcher / Leave a comment

A reminder that Christmas traditions are not always about “stuff”….

I asked my children a few weeks ago to tell me everything they liked about Christmas.  I wanted to come up with a list of things to make sure we did, much like our list this summer; not missing opportunities in this brief season to do the things they really loved.  The phrasing of my request ended up including things like “Opening presents!” from my very enthusiastic daughter, but it also covered all the things they wanted to do to celebrate.  One of those things was the lights at Longview.

Longview Lake’s Christmas in the Park is something we’ve done ever since my husband discovered I had never been; I think, on our first drive there, he must have asked me at least three times, “You’ve really never been to see this?”  (I think it was two whole years later before my parents went their first time.)  It’s a drive-through-the-park light display put on by the county; and I have to admit it’s nearly impossible to describe unless you’ve been.  There are dozens (hundreds?) of, essentially, pictures made out of lights; most of them “move” through the magic of timing (lights on/lights off).  Reindeer “fly” over your car; trains full of Christmas toys “drive” down the road; sledders slide down hills and “crash” into snowmen…..it really is amazing to watch.  (This year our son was finally old enough to realize and suddenly ask, “How do they put all this together?”)

Some of my favorite Christmas memories involve this drive with the kids.  When we started taking them, it was easy; we lived less than fifteen minutes away and we could hop over any weeknight to drive through after dinner.  The first year my daughter went she was too little to remember anything, so the following year my son kept asking her, “Don’t you remember that?  Do you remember that?” and finally, as we drove out, he leaned over in his car seat and looked at his baby sister.  “So….did you like it?” he asked eagerly.

Then, when the kids were four and two, we moved.  That made the trip to the park much more of an Event, and due to my husband’s overtime season coinciding with the holidays, we were usually limited to weekend visits.  That put an entirely different spin on the night.  No more zipping over on a whim, maybe even twice a year.  Now we drove the over-half-hour there as early as we could, to wait in line for who-knows-how-long.  (My cozy thoughts of, “Ooo–I should pack cocoa!” quickly disappeared once I realized I’d be trapped in a car with two potential bathroom emergencies.)  The first year that we sat in line–and I mean, really SAT in line–the kids should have been completely unbearable.  Just turned five and three?  Trapped in car seats?  Yikes!  Instead, we read the signs the light-up “elves” held, standing along the side of the looooong road (it’s about a mile to just get in to the place):  “Welcome!”  “Drive Safely!”  And the elf with our family punch line:  “Be Courteous!”

“What?” my five-year-old son asked.

“Be courteous,” I repeated.

He burst out laughing.  “I thought you said ‘be curliest!‘” he howled, and for the rest of the interminable drive to the entrance, both the kids laughed hysterically:  “Be curliest!”  Each time it might quiet down in the backseat, one of them would shout it again, and they would both dissolve into fits of laughter.

Every year since, we look for the “curliest” elf.  When we went this weekend, unfortunately, he wasn’t there; they’d replaced most of the elves’ signs with “Happy 25!” in honor of the display’s twenty-fifth birthday.  There was brief disappointment…..but that elf will forever live on in memory.  Besides, there’s always the chocolates handed out at the end of the drive to soothe any hurt.

At least one Christmas tradition that doesn’t involve “stuff.”  I know there have to be more….I think I’ll be on the lookout for them this year.

 

 

Only one thing is needed

/ jenfletcher / 4 Comments

On the first of November I logged onto Facebook and, in the midst of everyone’s sweet posts beginning their “days of thankfulness,” I unloaded.

“I HATE THURSDAYS……sorry, needed to vent.”

I don’t actually hate Thursdays.  Three-quarters of the day I love; that’s the day my mom comes over and we play.  We get coffee and run errands if we need to; we have most of the day together to just enjoy each other’s company…..and then she goes home, and I have to face the fact that I played all day and that nothing got done.  Any other day of the week, that would be an easy recovery, but Thursdays are my daughter’s gymnastics night; which means she and I eat dinner together early, and then head out the door for a good chunk of our evening.

This particular Thursday was especially bad.  Mom and I had played that morning, but then spent the afternoon at home with the still-new-to-us dog, since I don’t yet know if I can trust her for much longer than three or four hours.  Mom and I sat together in my living room; she worked on cross-stitched Christmas presents while I tried to coax a GoogleDoc to work for our Sunday School’s class Christmas party.  I would like to say it was a cozy and comfortable afternoon at home; unfortunately I was stressed out from the uncooperative document and an even more uncooperative laptop.

After she left it was a collision of things:  get the kids from school, drop them off at home, run the dog to her first vet appointment, run back home, scarf down dinner, throw my daughter in the car and run her to gymnastics, where I texted some more info about the Christmas party to others on the planning committee.  While I sat with my phone in my lap, responding to texts, it suddenly began ringing, and I recognized the name at the top of the screen as another friend who, I knew, was calling about a meeting we had the following morning.  And I admit it:  I saw her name and I groaned.  (Yeah, I’ve already ‘fessed up to her, so it’s okay to write about it.)  I answered the phone with the statement, “That’s tomorrow, isn’t it?”

That night was so bad my daughter didn’t get bathed.  That night was so bad I actually asked my husband for help.  (He’s great to pitch in….you’d think I’d ask him more often.)  That night it was all I could do to get the kids into bed without a meltdown (me, not them), and crash on the sofa, and unload my seven little words on Facebook.

As I thought about it that night and the following morning, some thoughts began to gel for me.  As I watch people run from one thing to the next, as I see our lives crowded with “stuff” of the time-kind, not just the material-kind, I started to realize something.  My mind went from rambling thoughts to more specific thoughts and finally, I realized, I could reduce these thoughts to two words:

Who says?

Some examples, from conversations I’ve had with people over the past few months:

Who says we have to sell popcorn to the school kids the first Friday of every month?

Who says the high schoolers need a coffee bar, staffed by parent volunteers?

Who says we should have gymnastics practice two nights a week, with competitive meets every weekend?

Who says our class party needs to be a catered affair at a venue instead of a potluck in someone’s home?

Who says we need our kids in every activity our church home offers?  (If I had a dime for every time I’ve heard a chipper, “If the doors were unlocked, we were there!”)

Please understand….none of these things are bad.  But every time someone has another “good idea,” that idea has to be carried out and run by other people.  Which leads to well-meaning people being overwhelmed by the amount of stuff they’re doing.

It’s ironic that I’m even writing about this….I’m not a “joiner.”  My kids are in the bare minimun on extra-curricular activities, because I think being home, as a family, together, is more important than most stuff they could sign up for.  (My son is currently involved in–gasp!–nothing.)  I’m not that bad at saying “no;” I had a great amount of practice last month when our trip was closing in and making me feel overwhelmed.  It’s really struck me, though, how easy it is to get sucked in; especially when the ideas are so “good.”  How quickly we become “the man who hears the word, but the worries of this life and the deceitfulness of wealth choke it, making it unfruitful.”  (Matthew 13:22)

Or we turn into those invited to the banquet:

“At the time of the banquet he sent his servant to tell those who had been invited, ‘Come, for everything is now ready.’  But they all alike began to make excuses.  The first said, ‘I have just bought a field, and I must go and see it.  Please excuse me.’  Another said, ‘I have just bought five yoke of oxen, and I’m on my way to try them out.  Please excuse me.’  Still another said, ‘I just got married, so I can’t come.’ ” (Luke 14:  17-20)

I can hear Jesus saying to us, ” ‘Martha, Martha….you are worried and upset about many things, but only one thing is needed.  Mary has chosen what is better, and it will not be taken away from her.’ ”  (Luke 10:41-42)

As I read through the Old Testament, I’m struck by the continued, repeated instruction given to the kings:  Seek Him.  Follow Him wholeheartedly.  And listen:

“They sought God eagerly, and he was found by them.  So the Lord gave them rest on every side.”  (2 Chronicles 15:15)

I realize the verse refers to peace instead of war, but truly….doesn’t rest sound good?

Dog days are here!

/ jenfletcher / 1 Comment

“Four hours till home.  Anyone want to place bets on how long it will take my husband to get a dog now that the trip is over?”  –my Facebook post, Monday, October 22nd

 

Five days.  That’s the final count:  home Monday night; dog Friday night.  She’s curled up next to me on the sofa, sacked out, as I write this.  And she’s been such a blessing.

A very brief history of where we’d come from:  one dog owned for fourteen years, another owned for twelve years, neither one of which were big fans of “those kids” once they came along nine years ago.  Bo was a mean enough dog we were genuinely concerned about how things were going to go; it turned out to be fine, but I never trusted him much.  Basie was tolerant but skittish; he’d just leave the room if a child wandered in.

So much for the idea of “a boy and his dog.”

For three days after we were home my husband and I researched dogs; we looked online at three different shelters and a rescue and compared notes about who we’d found that was interesting.  (This involved lots of “Oh, look at this one!”; and hormonal pregnant woman having to leave the room when the family would look at the homeless doggie videos.)  I was surprised–pleased, really–at how quickly some promising dogs came and went; a dog there one day might not be there the next.  But I collected a little list of names when my husband said we’d go by one of the shelters Friday night.

When we pulled up, I saw her.  I knew it was her, but I didn’t say anything to my husband; who had already assured me he’d done this before and that what we really wanted to do was walk the kennels and see who we were drawn to.  So I said nothing as we piled out of the car and took in all the incessant barking around us, and then I heard him say, “Look at that black one….” and I got to smile and know that this would be easier than I thought.

We went in, though, to ask a worker for some more information about my list of four; she was an amazing source of information and could rattle off all sorts of things about each dog:  “Alex was just adopted this morning; Carolean….you really don’t want her in a family with kids, that wouldn’t go well; Kina would be wonderful, she’d be great; Jullian, well…..”  And then I had to laugh as she went on to describe behavior that pretty much fit our old Bo to a “T.”  (At one point later, I was talking about Jullian-dog with another worker, who used the phrase, “He can be…..weird,” which made me burst out laughing.  That was the exact same phrase we used about Bo.  Often.)

“He can be so sweet and so affectionate, but there are times, if he’s cornered….he can get really aggressive….but he can truly be a really good dog….”

Yeah…I’ve done that for fourteen years, thanks.  I’m done.  Time for a friendly dog.

So we went out to collect sweet Kina and get to know her a bit, in the huge play yard/agility training course they have in one area.  Of course, for the first ten minutes, she had absolutely no interest in us, as the area had probably been marked by dozens of dogs, and there were so many things to smell.  (At one point my foster-parent-trained husband looked at me and laughed, “She has attachment issues.”)  But she finally decided that the people were more interesting than the smells, and as I watched my family play with the dog–the one I felt from the start was ours–I knew it was official.

Why would anyone get rid of such a friendly, precious dog?  It turned out their grandchildren had allergies.  Our extended family has had much discussion about who they’d get rid of….the dog or the kids.  lol  (My pharmacist husband’s comment:  “They make medicine for that.”)

So we came home with a pet.  Not a former stray, or just a dog, but someone who’s been a pet for six years and who’d been passed over time and again at the shelter (age-related concerns, I assume) but who is an unbelievably well-trained, well-behaved, sweet-tempered pet.  She loves to be loved, and will snuggle with my kids. (!!!)  It broke my heart the first few nights she was here as I realized we were having to teach my kids how to play with a dog; they’d never been able to before.  Now they can play with her and walk her and love on her and I’m able to relax a bit and not spend every waking moment saying “Careful of the dog!”

And then, that first night home, she went outside and rolled in something completely heinous.

Yep…..we’re officially dog owners again.  🙂

 

The title from this post came from the announcement my daughter wrote on our dry-erase board the night we got Kina, playing off the “Florence and the Machine” song “Dog Days are Over.”  I thought it was pretty ingenious for a seven-year-old.

 

Happy Halloween?

/ jenfletcher / 5 Comments

I have to admit I’ve never really understood the obsession with Halloween.  I love autumn; it’s my absolute favorite time of year, and fall “stuff” sucks me in each and every time it rolls around.  (One of the biggest reasons I’ll never make it as a true minimalist:  fall decor.)  I’m relieved when the temp starts to cool; I love the bite in the air each morning and bundling up in jackets as we head out the door to school.  I love the changing leaves; though for all the huge trees in our yard we really only have two pretty ones.  I love crunching through the fallen leaves as we walk out to get the paper, or the mail…in spite of the fact that our neighbors on either side keep fastidious lawns that manage to make ours look more than a little unkempt.  (I believe the word is “trashy.” lol)

What I don’t get is the gore.  The desire to “decorate” with corpses and zombies and skeletons…..and I’m always struck, each year, at how we as Americans wail about the cost of everything, and yet people will shell out their hard-earned dollars for things like inflatable spiders to sit in their front yard.

I don’t get it.

October is the time where I’m finally willing to start walking to and from school….and it’s also the month where I had to change the route we took when my kids were younger, because there’s a house on one street with zombies overtaking the front yard.  I don’t mean a few scary items; I mean the entire front yard is covered with creatures….it truly looks like a graveyard come to life.  They have to have over thirty creepies on their lawn, including a large Satan-like creature suspended above their front door.  Each year as it goes up I realize how grateful I am that our neighbors at our last house got into Christmas instead of Halloween.  (To their credit, the whole mob scene is taken down promptly on November 1st.  No lingering zombies hanging out for Thanksgiving dinner or anything.)

That’s the stuff I don’t get.

Time magazine states that this year, “Americans are expected to spend a record $8 billion on Halloween-related products and activities this year, up 17% from 2011.” (From “More Trick Than Treat,” October 29th issue).

$8 billion….

I don’t get it.

We got costumes for the kids; my daughter’s was actually her birthday present.  I bought not even $20 worth of candy, which might not sound like much, but it’s a ton; trust me.  I think we’re covered.  I’m calling it good.

Because there’s loads of other things I’d rather spend my money on.

 

 

2600 miles, 7 states, 5 parks, 11 days

/ jenfletcher / 3 Comments

Or, “Pursuing Enough” pursues more than enough….

 

It’s been awhile.  It’s been so long and I’m still so off-kilter that I’m not even sure I’m quite ready to start writing again…but I felt the need to check in after such a long absence.  Our family got back Monday night from an eleven-day (road) trip to Disneyworld and Legoland, sponsored very generously by my parents.  Six people in a twelve-passenger van; three days down, two days home (you know it’s a long trip when driving through five states is a good day).  Monday through Saturday we spent at all the different parks.

Overwhelming?  Yes.  Wonderful?  Absolutely.

The drive didn’t go nearly as badly as I anticipated; portable DVD players are beautiful things…and bringing along all the kids schoolwork they were missing out on helped, too.  (Full disclosure:  due to our school district’s quirky calendar, we were able to take an eleven day trip with the kids only missing three days of school.  We were NOT the only people to jump on that opportunity.)  My dad and husband sat up front and took turns driving, continually arguing with the GPS system and making her angry (“Recalculating!”).  The rest of us spread out in back, switching places when needed, since siblings can only sit together for so long.

Our time in the parks was great…my daughter met everyone she wanted to meet, including Tinkerbell, and my son rode all the coasters he wanted to ride.  My husband quickly learned how to work the Fast-Pass system (and I mean really work it), which meant that we didn’t have to wait in line more than twenty minutes for any ride we did.  (It also meant blisters for my poor husband as he ran the parks to collect the things…)

And then….Monday night at 7:30 home, Tuesday morning at 8:00 back to school.  There’s a nice jolt of reality for you.

I think, three days later, I’m just now starting to feel like things are getting a little back to normal; although with my son’s birthday plans this weekend (9 years old today!  Happy birthday, sweet boy!) and the relentless talk of getting a new dog now that we’re home, I’m still not quite feeling settled.  October is one of my favorite months of the year.  I think it’s time I slowed down a minute and tried to enjoy it.

One last thought on vacations and returning home:  I know that technically, what we come “home” to is just a bunch of wood and siding and insulation and metal, etc.  I know that really, it’s just a bunch of “stuff” that shouldn’t really matter all that much.  But after you’ve been gone for eleven days, it becomes much more than that.  It’s what it represents:  home base, safety, the comfort of the familiar, the “normal,” Home.  Night after night of sleeping in hotel beds gives you a new appreciation for your own bed; night after night of sleeping in hotel rooms gives you a new appreciation for your own room, which my children disappeared into the moment they got home, introducing their new stuffed animals to their old ones.  Right now I’m so grateful for this house, this home, and for the comfort of (slowly) getting back into a routine.

It’s good to be back.

Party time!

/ jenfletcher / Leave a comment

I was at my daughter’s field trip recently, joking with a mom about how I seem to spend all my time counting heads when I’m out with the class that way.  (We were only in charge of four little girls, so the job should have been easy, but I’m learning that there’s always one in any group who wanders.  A lot.)  She laughed and commented that it was like those big birthday parties that you have somewhere “out;” where she could never relax because she kept needing to make sure they had everybody.

And I had to laugh, and admit that we’d never done that.

While we’ve had family parties every year, it wasn’t until the kids were in kindergarten that we started doing parties involving friends; and even then, they were small, involving five or six little ones.  My children are invited, often, to parties where kids invite the entire class or all the girls/boys in a class; while I suppose that saves on hurt feelings, I have no idea how people do it.  The cost.  The headache.  The hassle.

My daughter just celebrated her seventh birthday, “Rainbow Magic Fairy”-book style.  (On a side note, my kids have a knack for picking birthday themes that you can’t find party supplies for.)  We intended to invite six little girls, but once she got to four, she got hung up.  A domino effect seemed to be occuring:  “If I invite A, then I have to invite B and C; and if I invite C, then D and E have to come…”  Finally she stopped and looked at me.  “Can I just invite four people?”  Absolutely!

Out of the four, three showed up, and they had a wonderful time playing fairy games and making fairy crafts and eating pink-frosted chocolate cupcakes.  It was absolutely hilarious to see how much noise four little girls could make….coloring.  They laughed and danced and “helped” unwrap gifts and when it was all over, my daughter told me how much fun she’d had.

“I’m glad you liked it!”  I told her.

“I didn’t like it!  I LOVED it!!” she shouted; and honestly, if she LOVED her small party, why on earth would I want to do anything bigger?

Realistically, a bigger party would have meant missing out on some of the crafts; buying supplies for four is much easier than buying for twenty.  I was able to include a “fairy book” (from a local used-book store) in everyone’s party favor bag, instead of a plastic kazoo.  It just turns into a completely different party with fewer kids.

My sweet son approached me recently with a request for his upcoming birthday:  could he just go with a couple of friends to the local science museum?  And then maybe out for a treat?

These parties just get simpler and simpler…..

A time to laugh

/ jenfletcher / Leave a comment
Your great sense of humour is going to be your greatest gift! –friend, via e-mail
Enough with the whining.  I’m pregnant.  I’m thirty-nine.  It’s kind of funny.

I’ve said I don’t know how many times over the past few weeks, “I have to laugh; if I don’t laugh I’ll cry.”  So that’s it.  I’m choosing to laugh.  And I wanted to share at least a few things I’ve laughed about as we’ve walked through this situation.

First off, the day I discovered I was pregnant–the same day–I logged on Facebook and was greeted, at the very top of the page, with a picture of Dr. Seuss’ Sam-I-am next to a lengthy quote, which began:  “You can get pregnant in a car.  You can get pregnant in a bar.  You can get pregnant on a hill.  You can get pregnant on the pill.”

Seriously.  I am not making this up.

Reading through, it was made clear by the end that it was a tirade about Todd Akin, who was all over the news at that point.  But I still about fell off the sofa.

My sweet husband’s first words on finding out were, admittedly, “Holy crap!”  After a pause, he brought up something I hadn’t considered:  “Wow.  Aren’t you glad we didn’t adopt that sibling set of three?”

Um….yikes!!

Two days later he and I sat in our Sunday school class and tried to keep a straight face as the teacher read one of the points for the day:  “Have you questioned God’s timing while you were waiting to be delivered from difficulty?”  Um, yeah…doing a lot of questioning God’s timing lately, thanks.

Not long after I was sitting in my doctor’s office, having an “official” pregnancy test done, and laughing (at that point, nervous laughter) about the whole ridiculous situation.  The nurse wrapped a blood pressure cuff on my arm as I murmured, “I’m going to have a fifteen-year-old, a thirteen-year-old, and a six-year-old.”  She laughed.  “You’re just going to live in your van!” she announced with a smile.  A pause while she took my pulse….and then something clicked.

“Oh, my word….we’re going to need to buy a van!”

(On a side note, does anyone have a Mazda CX-9 they’d like to sell for a reasonable price?  I’d really like to avoid the whole van thing.)

It’s funny to finally start telling people, because I love to see the variety of reactions.  One is the relentlessly positive, “That’s wonderful!  Congratulations!!” from people who clearly don’t know the whole story.  Others immediately get concerned; I’m an “old” mom and they know it.  A reaction I got yesterday (which I really appreciated) was, “Congratulations?  With a question mark?”  That was a mom who understood.

My favorite reaction, though, which I don’t get very often, is when people burst out laughing.  They get it.  I know when I have a laugher that I’ve truly found someone who gets it.  Those are the people I’m planning on hanging with for the next seven months.

Because I’ve got to keep laughing.

Okay, enough baby talk…..back to my regular topics next week, I promise.  🙂

And now for something completely different

/ jenfletcher / 10 Comments

A bit of a change from my usual topics….but needed to share.

After months (years?) of discussion, my husband and I began our foster parent training classes in January of 2011.  It was the first step we had to take in adopting through the state of Kansas.  The classes were completed without problems, but once we finished attending classes and the paperwork trail began, we started hitting speed bumps.  Lots and lots of speed bumps.

First there was the delay of our final write-up, supposed to be done by a (surely overworked) social worker who helped lead our class.  After months of nagging e-mails and texts, I was assured that she had sent it–but then the office it was supposed to arrive at hadn’t received it.  Weeks later, it had finally appeared at the office; where it then had to be transferred yet again, to the actual agency we were working with.  More waiting ensued, but fortunately no more flat-out missing paperwork.  We finally (!!) had our homestudy done this January, a full year after we started our training.  More hangups followed, this time with fingerprints (getting them clear enough to read; not getting away from any criminal history, haha); at this point we were starting to laugh because the whole thing was Just. So. Ridiculous.

Finally, finally, early this summer we started receiving child profiles to read and review, to see who might be a good fit in our family.

We had a few serious discussions about a few sibling sets that came through; discussions about how many kids we could realistically handle and where we would put more than one child.  We actually pursued a sib set of three for awhile, but finally came to the decision that, depending on their needs, it would probably just be too much for us.  Then one profile came through, for one little three-year-old, and my response was overwhelming:  this is it. 

This is why we’ve been stalled.  This is why we’ve had to wait.  This is what all the hold-ups have been for.  It was suddenly all so clear.

We e-mailed our caseworker for more information; overwhelming information, to be sure, but only things that cemented my desire to continue to follow up on this little one.  We told her we wanted to continue on and be considered as potential parents when they met about the child (many more steps still to take, but finally–there’s that word again–moving in the right direction, on the right child).

Which is why it was so heartbreaking to sit in my doctor’s office parking lot a few weeks ago and call our caseworker.

“We have……a situation,” I began.

“A situation?” she laughed.  “What does that m–you’re PREGNANT!”

Yep.  And apparently I’m not the only one on her case load to call her this month, with a “situation,” where she’ll “keep our file open” and we can “get back with her” when things calm down.

This is not a “we’ve tried for years, it’s a miracle!” kind of situation.  This is a “we have a great family; we should share what we have” situation.  Why on earth would God take a family that was ready to open its doors and welcome someone in need and, instead, throw another baby at them?  Aren’t there already hundreds of kids waiting for a home?  We were passing over sibling sets of five, six, sometimes seven….why on earth would He give us another when there are already so many kids hungry for loving parents; a family they can call their own?

I have absolutely no idea what happens from here.  I told our caseworker that afternoon that we were going to have a nine-year-old, a seven-year-old, and a newborn; “as far as I’m concerned, there’s a hole to fill there!”  There’s no assurance, though, that we’ll end up with a healthy baby; we might need to muster all our strength just to deal with whatever comes our way.  I don’t understand why I’ve felt called to adopt for so long and have ended up with the rug getting pulled out from under me.  While I don’t doubt God’s wisdom, I definitely don’t understand it.  I stumbled across these words recently, though, (in I Kings, of all places), and they’ve given some comfort:

” ‘My father David had it in his heart to build a temple for the Name of the Lord, the God of Israel.  But the Lord said to my father David, ‘Because it was in your heart to build a temple for my Name, you did well to have this in your heart.  Nevertheless, you are not the one to build the temple….. ‘ ” (I Kings 8:17-19)

You did well to have this in your heart.  I don’t know if we are the ones to adopt or not–maybe we are; maybe this is just another speed bump.  But if not; you did well to have this in your heart.

This isn’t the end of the road.  It’s just a fork in the road.  I’m trusting in God’s wisdom for our family.

“A little folding of the hands to rest…”

/ jenfletcher / Leave a comment
Any flat surface...

Any flat surface…

Technically, the verse doesn’t exactly fit.

The entire proverb actually reads, “A little sleep, a little slumber, a little folding of the hands to rest–and poverty will come on you like a bandit and scarcity like an armed man.”  (Proverbs 6:10, NIV)

Every Monday morning, though, as I begin to pick up and try to help our home recover from the weekend, I think of this verse.  A couple of days off, I think.  Just a couple of days where I didn’t do (fill-in-the-blank) and now look at this mess.  Each time a Saturday rolls around, I feel like slacking a bit (it’s the weekend, after all), and then Sunday comes, with the get-ready-and-get-out-the-door morning crunch, when things get left undone or half-done… And then it’s another Monday morning, where I look around and shake my head and wonder, how did this happen?

Oh, yeah… a little folding of the hands to rest.

Our problem isn’t scarcity or poverty…it’s just “stuff,” stuff that gets piled on any available flat surface “for now,” somehow leaving me to deal with it each Monday morning.  Our lack of routine come Friday night is screamingly apparent by Monday morning; any other day of the week I’d be on top of all this, but apparently the weekends are “playtime” and not “worktime” around here.

I’m not a huge photo-blog person; the only other photo I’ve included so far was for a guest post I wrote, whose site always used photos.  But I had to include a picture with this.  On the raised hearth of our fireplace sits a basket for library books.  Most of the time, that is the only thing sitting on the hearth (although an assortment of things might end up in the basket).  Every Monday morning, though, I come downstairs and realize that “stuff” has been sneakily accumulating over the weekend.

Every Monday morning.

Maybe it’s time to rest a bit less on the weekends…..