| bbbss |
 |
 |
| I came across Silas on the steps reading his Bible to Isaac. So sweet. |
Maggie reads her
children's Bible
every day. She
decided to do this
herself and has a
little calendar on the
fridge where she
keeps track of it.
children's Bible
every day. She
decided to do this
herself and has a
little calendar on the
fridge where she
keeps track of it.
| Here Hannah is spotting Maggie on her back handspring. |
Canaan and Hannah
bought the P90X system.
Maybe you've seen the
commercials. They are
all into it.
bought the P90X system.
Maybe you've seen the
commercials. They are
all into it.
I know, right?
| I came in the living room and found Hannah had all the kids gathered round. She told them each to pick out a book to read to the others. They were doing so great! She does stuff with them like this almost every day. She is such a devoted and selfless girl who truly loves God and her siblings. |
| Hannah is working on a gorgeous "snowflake" paper cutting to donate to an adoption fundraiser. It is coming along so beautifully, I may have to bid on it myself!! |
She has the odd interruption....
Decorating Easter eggs. This year I tried something I saw in
Family Fun magazine where they take the freshly boiled, hot
eggs, and you color them with crayons while they are still hot.
The crayon melts and makes a neat effect. But it was kind
of hard to do, so I don't think I'll do it again, but they all had a
fun time and were creative.
Family Fun magazine where they take the freshly boiled, hot
eggs, and you color them with crayons while they are still hot.
The crayon melts and makes a neat effect. But it was kind
of hard to do, so I don't think I'll do it again, but they all had a
fun time and were creative.
| It's time for SOCCER!! Are these not the cutest soccer players you've ever seen? |
And is this not the cutest
Coach you've ever seen?!
I think so!
Coach you've ever seen?!
I think so!
And one more... the
cutest referee you've
ever seen!
cutest referee you've
ever seen!
| Now back to the cute players.... |
| Coach Canaan and his girls. |
| Intensity!! |
Both the girls and the boys won their
games. Maggie scored three goals
and Eden scored one!!
games. Maggie scored three goals
and Eden scored one!!
| All four kids did great, and we were sooo proud. But I think the one that surprised us all the most was Eden. We kind of expected her to do like Hannah used to do at soccer and sit in the middle of the field playing in the mud and catching butterflies. Listening is not her strong point, as she showed during practices. But when game time came, she was aggessive and completely into the game! Canaan was bursting with pride. |
| And she waited until the game was over to do what we expected her to do through the whole game. |
| And finally, guess who had Oreos for snack? Next game, next Saturday at 10am!! Come out and watch!! |
04-25-11 UPDATE and Easter Musings:
Happy Easter to all who visit here and care to read what is happening with our little family. This morning our little
ones searched for eggs that we decorated earlier this week. It was wet outside, and they were in their Easter
clothes, so we had our little hunt inside. As far as I know, every egg was found, and I was surprised that they all
eagerly wanted to eat hard boiled eggs right then! Art talked to them about the colors of the eggs and the
“Jellybean Prayer”. It is a traditional Easter poem, but Janet Planet had given the kids little Easter bags at church
last week with the prayer in them, and with our new readers in the house, they all were very interested in it. We
talked about Easter, watched the Donut Man Easter video (a classic with great songs in it) and each of the littles
got a chocolate Easter bunny. Joy devoured hers, as usual. This child’s life still revolves around food, and she
rarely passes any up. Silas didn’t touch his, which doesn’t surprise me either. Mrs. Cindy had also hooked the
kids up on Saturday with little Easter bags with some candy, and they were all delighted.
We tried to take a family picture, which is always kind of tricky. I’m amazed they come out as good as they do
considering I’m running back and forth to the timer on my camera perched up on the top of a bench in our yard
while five little ones try to keep their smiles on and big ones try to keep their eyes open, and I just try to sit down
before the camera goes off. Hannah and Canaan headed off to church to teach their three year old class, and
we followed a little while later for the Easter service. Maggie was particularly disappointed that there was no
Sunday School this morning. The church was packed, as expected. Towards the start of the service, the choir
sang an Easter song, and the huge video monitors showed scenes from the Passion of the Christ. I was
concerned that it was a little too gruesome for children, and then at the end of the song, I looked down the row
towards Maggie and saw her sitting still and small and horrified. I had her come to me immediately and she
sobbed and sobbed and sobbed. I brought her out of the service and it took a long while for her to settle down. I
was disturbed. When I saw the children’s pastor walking by, I made my opinion know: this video was far too
graphic for children. He seemed to agree and said he would pass my comments along. I continued to comfort
my sweet, sensitive girl.
I was upset, not only because it was too graphic for children, but I think it was too graphic for adults as well. And
children, especially, do not need to be associating Easter with the physical horror of the Easter story. But neither
do adults really. Over the years I have heard far too many Easter sermons that concentrated overly, if not
exclusively, on the physical horrors of Jesus’s suffering. But I daresay, even in my small life’s experiences, I can
attest that there are pains in life far worse than physical pains, and suffering more agonizing. I am thinking of the
pains of guilt, grief, betrayal, shame, despair, dread, fear, rejection, disgrace, and hopelessness, to name a few.
There are others. These are things that gnaw ceaselessly and mercilessly at us throughout endless days as we
long for the night, and through grueling nights as we lie awake longing for morning. People often act as though
the worst thing that can happen in life is physical pain, and ultimately, dying. I beg to differ. In my experience,
the worst pains I have experienced have not been physical, and indeed, sometimes I wish they had been. I would
trade the pain of losing a child to losing an arm any day. I would go through days of labor in exchange for the
pain of knowing someone you loved completely, has betrayed and lied to you for years and has utterly rejected
you and God. So many people focus on the physical pain Jesus endured, but I think he endured pain far
greater than the physical. When we concentrate exclusively on the physical pain, we downplay the far greater
pains that Christ suffered for us: the pain of rejection, disgrace, grief, betrayal, dread, shame, and even guilt.
For while He was tempted by all the same things that we were tempted by, He never sinned, and yet He willingly
took on the guilt of the whole world. Can you even imagine the pain of that? While churches love to talk at
length about the spikes and the thorns and the horror of the cross, they do not spend nearly so much time
talking about Christ’s agonizing cries of, “My God, My God, why have you forsaken me?” To me, this is the
sound of ultimate suffering: that the perfect Son of God, despised and rejected, a man of sorrows acquainted
with grief, ultimately was forsaken by His own father, and bore this for the sake of those who did not deserve it
and had nothing to offer Him in return. I know what it is like to feel alone, and to feel like there is not a person in
the whole world who cares. How many, many times more He suffered this, and all the while He had the power to
escape from it. It is incomprehensible. We use the words “grace” and “mercy” so freely, yet we often don’t really
pause to let their full meaning sink in. When we spend Easter focusing on the physical pain our Lord
experienced, we are distracted from focusing on the extent of His mercy and grace. As staggeringly horrific as a
crucifixion was, anyone who has studied history does not have to go far to find martyrs who have experienced
unspeakable physical tortures and atrocities of even greater magnitude. But the pain our Savior endured was
the ultimate suffering of all time, of which the physical was only one component.
Now, try explaining that to an eight year old. Having worked with children for the majority of my life, I have strong
opinions about what children of different ages are capable of understanding about the important things in life. As
educators, it is important that we emphasize things at the right time and in the right order in keeping with their
ability to understand. It goes without saying, it broke my heart to see Maggie taking it so hard. She eventually
settled down. She is such a sweet and sensitive little girl. She cares deeply about others, and is so generous
and compassionate. The other three littles did not seem affected by the video. Time will tell.
We went home for Easter dinner: ham, mash o’ nine sorts, homebaked mac n’ cheese, Watergate salad, ramen
coleslaw, and strawberry salad. The kids loved it, and Silas ate two helpings which always does my heart good.
And now another Easter is over. I pray that Easter has done its work in the hearts of all those we love.
Tuesday is our sweet Silas’s birthday. I enjoy this boy so immensely. We have a rapport and bond that I would
never have imagined five years ago. He makes me laugh every day. I would take a grenade for this boy. Each
of these kids is so amazing, I just can’t comprehend how anyone could know them and then leave them for
anything or anyone else. When we traveled to China to bring home Eden, we traveled with a dear friend who
was bringing home her daughter as well. When we arrived home with our daughters, my friend’s husband told
her he was leaving her for another woman. Well, how do you grasp the selfishness of this? He was leaving not
only this new daughter, but also two other precious children who had called him “Daddy” for the past few years
since they came home from China as well. It is bad enough and selfish enough to do that to any child, but to do
that to children who have already been through more than most of us endure in our whole lifetimes, is debatably
unforgivable, and at best completely baffling to me. It grieves and angers me daily that my own sweet children
have to cope with the rejection and selfishness of someone who once claimed to love them. How can anyone
justify such actions? It is beyond understanding.
Happy Easter to all who visit here and care to read what is happening with our little family. This morning our little
ones searched for eggs that we decorated earlier this week. It was wet outside, and they were in their Easter
clothes, so we had our little hunt inside. As far as I know, every egg was found, and I was surprised that they all
eagerly wanted to eat hard boiled eggs right then! Art talked to them about the colors of the eggs and the
“Jellybean Prayer”. It is a traditional Easter poem, but Janet Planet had given the kids little Easter bags at church
last week with the prayer in them, and with our new readers in the house, they all were very interested in it. We
talked about Easter, watched the Donut Man Easter video (a classic with great songs in it) and each of the littles
got a chocolate Easter bunny. Joy devoured hers, as usual. This child’s life still revolves around food, and she
rarely passes any up. Silas didn’t touch his, which doesn’t surprise me either. Mrs. Cindy had also hooked the
kids up on Saturday with little Easter bags with some candy, and they were all delighted.
We tried to take a family picture, which is always kind of tricky. I’m amazed they come out as good as they do
considering I’m running back and forth to the timer on my camera perched up on the top of a bench in our yard
while five little ones try to keep their smiles on and big ones try to keep their eyes open, and I just try to sit down
before the camera goes off. Hannah and Canaan headed off to church to teach their three year old class, and
we followed a little while later for the Easter service. Maggie was particularly disappointed that there was no
Sunday School this morning. The church was packed, as expected. Towards the start of the service, the choir
sang an Easter song, and the huge video monitors showed scenes from the Passion of the Christ. I was
concerned that it was a little too gruesome for children, and then at the end of the song, I looked down the row
towards Maggie and saw her sitting still and small and horrified. I had her come to me immediately and she
sobbed and sobbed and sobbed. I brought her out of the service and it took a long while for her to settle down. I
was disturbed. When I saw the children’s pastor walking by, I made my opinion know: this video was far too
graphic for children. He seemed to agree and said he would pass my comments along. I continued to comfort
my sweet, sensitive girl.
I was upset, not only because it was too graphic for children, but I think it was too graphic for adults as well. And
children, especially, do not need to be associating Easter with the physical horror of the Easter story. But neither
do adults really. Over the years I have heard far too many Easter sermons that concentrated overly, if not
exclusively, on the physical horrors of Jesus’s suffering. But I daresay, even in my small life’s experiences, I can
attest that there are pains in life far worse than physical pains, and suffering more agonizing. I am thinking of the
pains of guilt, grief, betrayal, shame, despair, dread, fear, rejection, disgrace, and hopelessness, to name a few.
There are others. These are things that gnaw ceaselessly and mercilessly at us throughout endless days as we
long for the night, and through grueling nights as we lie awake longing for morning. People often act as though
the worst thing that can happen in life is physical pain, and ultimately, dying. I beg to differ. In my experience,
the worst pains I have experienced have not been physical, and indeed, sometimes I wish they had been. I would
trade the pain of losing a child to losing an arm any day. I would go through days of labor in exchange for the
pain of knowing someone you loved completely, has betrayed and lied to you for years and has utterly rejected
you and God. So many people focus on the physical pain Jesus endured, but I think he endured pain far
greater than the physical. When we concentrate exclusively on the physical pain, we downplay the far greater
pains that Christ suffered for us: the pain of rejection, disgrace, grief, betrayal, dread, shame, and even guilt.
For while He was tempted by all the same things that we were tempted by, He never sinned, and yet He willingly
took on the guilt of the whole world. Can you even imagine the pain of that? While churches love to talk at
length about the spikes and the thorns and the horror of the cross, they do not spend nearly so much time
talking about Christ’s agonizing cries of, “My God, My God, why have you forsaken me?” To me, this is the
sound of ultimate suffering: that the perfect Son of God, despised and rejected, a man of sorrows acquainted
with grief, ultimately was forsaken by His own father, and bore this for the sake of those who did not deserve it
and had nothing to offer Him in return. I know what it is like to feel alone, and to feel like there is not a person in
the whole world who cares. How many, many times more He suffered this, and all the while He had the power to
escape from it. It is incomprehensible. We use the words “grace” and “mercy” so freely, yet we often don’t really
pause to let their full meaning sink in. When we spend Easter focusing on the physical pain our Lord
experienced, we are distracted from focusing on the extent of His mercy and grace. As staggeringly horrific as a
crucifixion was, anyone who has studied history does not have to go far to find martyrs who have experienced
unspeakable physical tortures and atrocities of even greater magnitude. But the pain our Savior endured was
the ultimate suffering of all time, of which the physical was only one component.
Now, try explaining that to an eight year old. Having worked with children for the majority of my life, I have strong
opinions about what children of different ages are capable of understanding about the important things in life. As
educators, it is important that we emphasize things at the right time and in the right order in keeping with their
ability to understand. It goes without saying, it broke my heart to see Maggie taking it so hard. She eventually
settled down. She is such a sweet and sensitive little girl. She cares deeply about others, and is so generous
and compassionate. The other three littles did not seem affected by the video. Time will tell.
We went home for Easter dinner: ham, mash o’ nine sorts, homebaked mac n’ cheese, Watergate salad, ramen
coleslaw, and strawberry salad. The kids loved it, and Silas ate two helpings which always does my heart good.
And now another Easter is over. I pray that Easter has done its work in the hearts of all those we love.
Tuesday is our sweet Silas’s birthday. I enjoy this boy so immensely. We have a rapport and bond that I would
never have imagined five years ago. He makes me laugh every day. I would take a grenade for this boy. Each
of these kids is so amazing, I just can’t comprehend how anyone could know them and then leave them for
anything or anyone else. When we traveled to China to bring home Eden, we traveled with a dear friend who
was bringing home her daughter as well. When we arrived home with our daughters, my friend’s husband told
her he was leaving her for another woman. Well, how do you grasp the selfishness of this? He was leaving not
only this new daughter, but also two other precious children who had called him “Daddy” for the past few years
since they came home from China as well. It is bad enough and selfish enough to do that to any child, but to do
that to children who have already been through more than most of us endure in our whole lifetimes, is debatably
unforgivable, and at best completely baffling to me. It grieves and angers me daily that my own sweet children
have to cope with the rejection and selfishness of someone who once claimed to love them. How can anyone
justify such actions? It is beyond understanding.
Silas's Eighth Birthday!!
As you can see, Si asked for pumpkin
pie for his birthday cake.
As you can see, Si asked for pumpkin
pie for his birthday cake.
And his supper request was spaghetti
with homemade sauce. He could eat it
every day.
with homemade sauce. He could eat it
every day.
Preparing the garden... with helpers!
Umm... not sure Isaac
understands the use of
a hoe.
understands the use of
a hoe.
Tons of big strawberries, ready to turn
red. Will the birds leave them alone
long enough for us to eat some this
year? We'll see!
red. Will the birds leave them alone
long enough for us to eat some this
year? We'll see!
When given the choice, my littles don't want to have a room of their own; they want to
all sleep in the same room, and if possible, the same bed. Here are Maggie in Si up
in the top bunk.
all sleep in the same room, and if possible, the same bed. Here are Maggie in Si up
in the top bunk.
More soccer pictures. It was a double header this week, with both
teams playing two games back to back. Canaan's girls won one and
lost one, and the boys won both their games and .... get this....
SILAS scored a GOAL!!! WOOOHOOO!!! And the funny thing is,
none of us even got to see it! The girls and the boys both play at
the same time, so Art and I shuffle back and forth between the two
fields so that there is - supposedly - someone watching them at all
times. Well, we overlapped on one transition long enough to miss
Si's goal! He didn't mind, but I told him that he would just have to do
it again next week so we could see it! Eden got one goal, and
Maggie got two this week as well.
teams playing two games back to back. Canaan's girls won one and
lost one, and the boys won both their games and .... get this....
SILAS scored a GOAL!!! WOOOHOOO!!! And the funny thing is,
none of us even got to see it! The girls and the boys both play at
the same time, so Art and I shuffle back and forth between the two
fields so that there is - supposedly - someone watching them at all
times. Well, we overlapped on one transition long enough to miss
Si's goal! He didn't mind, but I told him that he would just have to do
it again next week so we could see it! Eden got one goal, and
Maggie got two this week as well.
Coach Canaan and his
girls. Cutest thing possible.
girls. Cutest thing possible.
| A Perfect Saturday Afternoon |
I thought this picture
was cool because it
shows all the droplets
of water as they came
through the netting on
the trampoline.
was cool because it
shows all the droplets
of water as they came
through the netting on
the trampoline.
We told them all
to show their abs.
to show their abs.
Okay, okay, I won't say it...
05-01-2011 UPDATE and Musings:
So my little man is eight years old now. And my next little man will be 19 in a couple of weeks! While I realize
each birthday that is approaching, I always feel bewildered at each one, wondering how they managed to get that
old while I have stayed the same age! Well, I cannot even kid myself about that anymore; this week in the waiting
room, a little boy asked his mom about a toy that Eden had. In her answer the mom referred to me as “the little
girl’s Grandma”. sigh… I just smiled. I can’t blame her. I am old enough to be her Grandma, and on top of that,
I look older than I am, thanks to good ol’ stress and a bit of hard livin’. But lucky me, I am not her Grandma. I get
to bring her home with me, and don’t have to give her back to anyone else. I get to hear her giggles in the
morning, and kiss her good night every night. Not many 47 year olds get to say that.
So this week Eden went for her annual Cleft Clinic. It was a wonderful day. Just me and my Sunshine. She is
such a delight to my heart. She was so excited to be going too. She has finally gotten to the point where she
seems to understand that she is hard to understand, and she wants to have the hole in her mouth fixed. We saw
our regular doctors, and heard the regular things: she needs surgery and speech therapy; her hearing is still
not perfect; she needs to see the ENT. But when it came time to see the ENT we found he was not there that
day, leaving us two hours to kill until the next appointment. Hmmm…. So my Lemonade and I went to Whole
Foods to search for peppadew peppers, and then went to Panera Bread for lunch – a very rare and welcome
treat. I asked her what she wanted to have and she said a salad with “TO- MA-TOES!” I ordered a Greek salad
for us to split, and I ate about two bites. She moved all the onions and olives to my side, which I ate, and she
took all the tomatoes first. Then I sat back and watched while that little bit of a girl ate the whole rest of that
salad! It warmed the cockles of my heart. She chatted to me, and we had a wonderful time.
So they want to do surgery on my baby girl at last. They want to peel back skin from inside her cheeks to cover
the huge hole in the roof of her mouth, and they want to scrape a slice of skin from her throat to lengthen her
palate. My heart cringed. Oh God. Please can’t I do it for her? The key to it all is that she stop “sucking” her
thumb. She doesn’t literally suck her thumb. Even with her obturator in her mouth, sealing the roof of her mouth,
she still likes to put her thumb in her mouth in her sleep. She had given it up during the day while she was
conscious of it, but I hardly think she can be held responsible for her habits in her sleep. She eagerly told the
doctor that she wanted her mouth fixed, and that she would do whatever she needed to do. So we left with the
doctor’s challenge: make a chart, and mark off six consecutive weeks of NO thumb in the mouth, and then they
will put her on the surgery schedule. The cheek skin they plan to use to construct a soft palate is so thin that a
thumb would easily ruin it all. We only get one chance to use cheek skin. If that fails, and she destroys it (as she
did with her first surgery five years ago), then the only option they would be left with would be to take skin from
her thigh, making a four hour surgery into a ten to twelve hour surgery. And if she will not give up on her thumb,
then she will need two separate surgeries and recoveries instead of one. If we can get it all done in one surgery,
then she can recuperate, throw her obturator away forever, and begin real speech therapy in earnest. Already
there have been girls on her soccer team asking what is wrong with her. What is wrong with her nose? Why
does she talk like that? Oh my heart. My poor heart. They aren’t being mean; they are just being kids who are
curious. So far, she has not realized what they are saying, but time is ticking. Please pray that Eden will be able
to keep her thumb out of her mouth. She is quite determined, and that first night home she asked me to put no-
no’s on her arm. (No-no’s are soft Velcro casings that wrap around a child’s arm so that they can’t bend their
arm to their mouth. She still had a pair from her last surgery.) We made a sticker chart and she has proudly
been putting stickers on each morning.
And what else? Art continues to work. Canaan is finishing up his last couple weeks of this semester. Pray that
he is accepted into his Physical Therapy program for this fall, if it is God’s will. We have no “plan B”. Hannah is
almost finished her Personal Trainer course, and just has an exam and then her internship to complete.
And Joy… what can we say about Joy? Well, she is adjusting, and so are we, but it is slow going at times. She is
quite comfortable here now, and quite used to the main people in her life, and her daily routine. But as we go
along we see that she is quite used to having her own way, and is not at all happy about not having her way.
The Terrific Twos! Well, she is almost three. And we still do not have a really good picture of where she is
cognitively. Some days it seems like she is quite delayed, and I am frustrated. On other days, I am amazed at
how much she understands. The first six months home with any child seem to be the most difficult, or at least
that is my experience. Art always says that you can’t judge anything until they have been with you longer than
they have been without you. Wise advice. Hard to do sometimes. Yesterday Hannah played with all the kids out
back after a hot day, spraying the hose over them. They all were giggling and laughing and running around, and
Joy joined in! It was a very encouraging breakthrough. She did not sit around whining and protesting, but
actually joined in the fun and laughed along with them all. It was great progress.
And what a gorgeous day it was. The early evening sun had that gorgeous angle on the world that makes all the
greens look greener and everything glow with the promise of summer. The water from the hose sparkled as
Hannah chased after children giggling with that panicky thrill of someone chasing them…. Daddy working in the
dark, soft earth, and watering new plants in the garden... Biscuit jumping around in the cool breeze trying to bite
the water, while old Pickles pants under a nearby tree. The kids all tore their shirts off and dashed around in
sopping shorts and toasty brown sun-warmed skin. It was magical. As I stood smiling and just trying to drink it all
in and hold onto the moments before they vanished, my wise, young man, Canaan, came up and put his arm
around me and said, “Don’t think about who isn’t here Mom; just think about who is.” The boy knows me too
well. Just think about who is… wise words. I am trying, but it is still hard. Canaan did see Jordan at the store
last week. Well, she saw him, and came up to him, said she missed him. But as Canaan says, you certainly
wouldn’t know it.
And continuing from my “Easter Musings” of last week, I was thinking more on the topic of physical versus other
types of pain. As we know, not only is there physical abuse but there is also mental and verbal abuse that can
cause just as much or even more damage. So then why does the physical trump all? When people say, “God
will not give us more than we can bear.” I always wonder, how exactly would you measure that? I mean, what
constitutes being “more than I can bear”? Is that when I physically drop dead? Or are there other standards that
are equally valid? How about when your heart is completely broken, to the point where you feel you can’t
breathe and don’t want to anyway? Is that more than you can bear? When does it become “more than you can
bear”? And what is the definition of “bear” anyway? Bear well? Or just simply show up and be better than
nothing and good enough for now?
In my experience, people prefer to deal with physical pains. They are measurable and familiar and often limited.
If someone is having surgery, people generally (though not always) know what to do. They send cards or
flowers, maybe bring a meal over. They post Facebook statuses asking people to pray. Even relatives who
have not spoken in years will suddenly be asking their acquaintances to pray for a nephew or second cousin
facing surgery. Other types of pain are just too vague. Long term loss and grief, betrayal, humiliation…. and
how about loneliness? Addiction? Depression? Discouragement? In the movie “It’s a Wonderful Life” when the
angel Clarence is told that someone on earth needs his help he asks if the man is sick. He is answered, “No.
Worse. He’s discouraged.” Indeed. Indeed….
Encouragement is such a powerful but neglected thing. When I first started running several years ago, I had a 4
mile route that I would alternate walking and running, trying to build up to eventually running it all. One day I
finally managed to keep running almost the whole way. I was at about the three and a half mile mark but was
sure I couldn’t keep running another step. Just as I prepared to slow to a walk, another jogger came past me
from the other direction. As she passed me she simply called out, “Keep it up! You can do it!” Then she was
gone. Seven small words -- from a stranger no less --- and it kept me going that final half mile. What I didn’t
think I had in me, I found. Why? Because a complete stranger took a few brief seconds to encourage me.
Did it cost her anything? Did it interrupt her work out? Her encouragement was all the more encouraging to me
because it came from someone else who was obviously familiar with my struggle. The tremendous power of
encouraging words: a best kept secret Satan doesn’t want us to know. Because while we all seem to have
plenty of time to twitter, text, blog, and comment on Facebook statuses, few of us seem to have time to call out a
few words to a fellow jogger on life’s path.
Do we, as Christians, view that our responsibility to those God has placed in our lives is limited only to the
physical? Giving of the tangible is so much easier. Human nature loves to solve a problem and move on. How
many of us who would drop everything to make a meal for a sick friend, or give money to help someone in the
church who lost their job, would find equal merit and satisfaction in giving a quarter of an hour to call and
encourage those same people? Or ten minutes to email someone who you know is struggling? Most women I
know do not tend to view chatting with their friends as ministry. In fact they view it as part of their own
recreational allowance – an area that they feel is noble of them to deny. And yet, how often in the Bible are we
told to encourage one another? To carry each other’s burdens? To rejoice with those who rejoice and mourn
with those who mourn? How do we do this when we won’t take the time to listen to each other? How is it even
POSSIBLE to encourage someone else whom you can’t even take the brief time to communicate with? Only
Satan could figure out a way to use our own piousness to distract us from doing life changing ministry.
So... whom have you encouraged lately?
So my little man is eight years old now. And my next little man will be 19 in a couple of weeks! While I realize
each birthday that is approaching, I always feel bewildered at each one, wondering how they managed to get that
old while I have stayed the same age! Well, I cannot even kid myself about that anymore; this week in the waiting
room, a little boy asked his mom about a toy that Eden had. In her answer the mom referred to me as “the little
girl’s Grandma”. sigh… I just smiled. I can’t blame her. I am old enough to be her Grandma, and on top of that,
I look older than I am, thanks to good ol’ stress and a bit of hard livin’. But lucky me, I am not her Grandma. I get
to bring her home with me, and don’t have to give her back to anyone else. I get to hear her giggles in the
morning, and kiss her good night every night. Not many 47 year olds get to say that.
So this week Eden went for her annual Cleft Clinic. It was a wonderful day. Just me and my Sunshine. She is
such a delight to my heart. She was so excited to be going too. She has finally gotten to the point where she
seems to understand that she is hard to understand, and she wants to have the hole in her mouth fixed. We saw
our regular doctors, and heard the regular things: she needs surgery and speech therapy; her hearing is still
not perfect; she needs to see the ENT. But when it came time to see the ENT we found he was not there that
day, leaving us two hours to kill until the next appointment. Hmmm…. So my Lemonade and I went to Whole
Foods to search for peppadew peppers, and then went to Panera Bread for lunch – a very rare and welcome
treat. I asked her what she wanted to have and she said a salad with “TO- MA-TOES!” I ordered a Greek salad
for us to split, and I ate about two bites. She moved all the onions and olives to my side, which I ate, and she
took all the tomatoes first. Then I sat back and watched while that little bit of a girl ate the whole rest of that
salad! It warmed the cockles of my heart. She chatted to me, and we had a wonderful time.
So they want to do surgery on my baby girl at last. They want to peel back skin from inside her cheeks to cover
the huge hole in the roof of her mouth, and they want to scrape a slice of skin from her throat to lengthen her
palate. My heart cringed. Oh God. Please can’t I do it for her? The key to it all is that she stop “sucking” her
thumb. She doesn’t literally suck her thumb. Even with her obturator in her mouth, sealing the roof of her mouth,
she still likes to put her thumb in her mouth in her sleep. She had given it up during the day while she was
conscious of it, but I hardly think she can be held responsible for her habits in her sleep. She eagerly told the
doctor that she wanted her mouth fixed, and that she would do whatever she needed to do. So we left with the
doctor’s challenge: make a chart, and mark off six consecutive weeks of NO thumb in the mouth, and then they
will put her on the surgery schedule. The cheek skin they plan to use to construct a soft palate is so thin that a
thumb would easily ruin it all. We only get one chance to use cheek skin. If that fails, and she destroys it (as she
did with her first surgery five years ago), then the only option they would be left with would be to take skin from
her thigh, making a four hour surgery into a ten to twelve hour surgery. And if she will not give up on her thumb,
then she will need two separate surgeries and recoveries instead of one. If we can get it all done in one surgery,
then she can recuperate, throw her obturator away forever, and begin real speech therapy in earnest. Already
there have been girls on her soccer team asking what is wrong with her. What is wrong with her nose? Why
does she talk like that? Oh my heart. My poor heart. They aren’t being mean; they are just being kids who are
curious. So far, she has not realized what they are saying, but time is ticking. Please pray that Eden will be able
to keep her thumb out of her mouth. She is quite determined, and that first night home she asked me to put no-
no’s on her arm. (No-no’s are soft Velcro casings that wrap around a child’s arm so that they can’t bend their
arm to their mouth. She still had a pair from her last surgery.) We made a sticker chart and she has proudly
been putting stickers on each morning.
And what else? Art continues to work. Canaan is finishing up his last couple weeks of this semester. Pray that
he is accepted into his Physical Therapy program for this fall, if it is God’s will. We have no “plan B”. Hannah is
almost finished her Personal Trainer course, and just has an exam and then her internship to complete.
And Joy… what can we say about Joy? Well, she is adjusting, and so are we, but it is slow going at times. She is
quite comfortable here now, and quite used to the main people in her life, and her daily routine. But as we go
along we see that she is quite used to having her own way, and is not at all happy about not having her way.
The Terrific Twos! Well, she is almost three. And we still do not have a really good picture of where she is
cognitively. Some days it seems like she is quite delayed, and I am frustrated. On other days, I am amazed at
how much she understands. The first six months home with any child seem to be the most difficult, or at least
that is my experience. Art always says that you can’t judge anything until they have been with you longer than
they have been without you. Wise advice. Hard to do sometimes. Yesterday Hannah played with all the kids out
back after a hot day, spraying the hose over them. They all were giggling and laughing and running around, and
Joy joined in! It was a very encouraging breakthrough. She did not sit around whining and protesting, but
actually joined in the fun and laughed along with them all. It was great progress.
And what a gorgeous day it was. The early evening sun had that gorgeous angle on the world that makes all the
greens look greener and everything glow with the promise of summer. The water from the hose sparkled as
Hannah chased after children giggling with that panicky thrill of someone chasing them…. Daddy working in the
dark, soft earth, and watering new plants in the garden... Biscuit jumping around in the cool breeze trying to bite
the water, while old Pickles pants under a nearby tree. The kids all tore their shirts off and dashed around in
sopping shorts and toasty brown sun-warmed skin. It was magical. As I stood smiling and just trying to drink it all
in and hold onto the moments before they vanished, my wise, young man, Canaan, came up and put his arm
around me and said, “Don’t think about who isn’t here Mom; just think about who is.” The boy knows me too
well. Just think about who is… wise words. I am trying, but it is still hard. Canaan did see Jordan at the store
last week. Well, she saw him, and came up to him, said she missed him. But as Canaan says, you certainly
wouldn’t know it.
And continuing from my “Easter Musings” of last week, I was thinking more on the topic of physical versus other
types of pain. As we know, not only is there physical abuse but there is also mental and verbal abuse that can
cause just as much or even more damage. So then why does the physical trump all? When people say, “God
will not give us more than we can bear.” I always wonder, how exactly would you measure that? I mean, what
constitutes being “more than I can bear”? Is that when I physically drop dead? Or are there other standards that
are equally valid? How about when your heart is completely broken, to the point where you feel you can’t
breathe and don’t want to anyway? Is that more than you can bear? When does it become “more than you can
bear”? And what is the definition of “bear” anyway? Bear well? Or just simply show up and be better than
nothing and good enough for now?
In my experience, people prefer to deal with physical pains. They are measurable and familiar and often limited.
If someone is having surgery, people generally (though not always) know what to do. They send cards or
flowers, maybe bring a meal over. They post Facebook statuses asking people to pray. Even relatives who
have not spoken in years will suddenly be asking their acquaintances to pray for a nephew or second cousin
facing surgery. Other types of pain are just too vague. Long term loss and grief, betrayal, humiliation…. and
how about loneliness? Addiction? Depression? Discouragement? In the movie “It’s a Wonderful Life” when the
angel Clarence is told that someone on earth needs his help he asks if the man is sick. He is answered, “No.
Worse. He’s discouraged.” Indeed. Indeed….
Encouragement is such a powerful but neglected thing. When I first started running several years ago, I had a 4
mile route that I would alternate walking and running, trying to build up to eventually running it all. One day I
finally managed to keep running almost the whole way. I was at about the three and a half mile mark but was
sure I couldn’t keep running another step. Just as I prepared to slow to a walk, another jogger came past me
from the other direction. As she passed me she simply called out, “Keep it up! You can do it!” Then she was
gone. Seven small words -- from a stranger no less --- and it kept me going that final half mile. What I didn’t
think I had in me, I found. Why? Because a complete stranger took a few brief seconds to encourage me.
Did it cost her anything? Did it interrupt her work out? Her encouragement was all the more encouraging to me
because it came from someone else who was obviously familiar with my struggle. The tremendous power of
encouraging words: a best kept secret Satan doesn’t want us to know. Because while we all seem to have
plenty of time to twitter, text, blog, and comment on Facebook statuses, few of us seem to have time to call out a
few words to a fellow jogger on life’s path.
Do we, as Christians, view that our responsibility to those God has placed in our lives is limited only to the
physical? Giving of the tangible is so much easier. Human nature loves to solve a problem and move on. How
many of us who would drop everything to make a meal for a sick friend, or give money to help someone in the
church who lost their job, would find equal merit and satisfaction in giving a quarter of an hour to call and
encourage those same people? Or ten minutes to email someone who you know is struggling? Most women I
know do not tend to view chatting with their friends as ministry. In fact they view it as part of their own
recreational allowance – an area that they feel is noble of them to deny. And yet, how often in the Bible are we
told to encourage one another? To carry each other’s burdens? To rejoice with those who rejoice and mourn
with those who mourn? How do we do this when we won’t take the time to listen to each other? How is it even
POSSIBLE to encourage someone else whom you can’t even take the brief time to communicate with? Only
Satan could figure out a way to use our own piousness to distract us from doing life changing ministry.
So... whom have you encouraged lately?