tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-46787674059838169412024-03-12T20:57:42.225-07:00Making God's Heart VisibleAnonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05232979512558533414noreply@blogger.comBlogger79125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4678767405983816941.post-42169636363611494022013-12-12T01:16:00.000-08:002013-12-12T01:22:36.793-08:00Living It...Not Writing About ItWe have been in China for 8 days already, and this is the first time I've made it to the blog page. In fact, I haven't been on here since June. This week I've been too busy, or exhausted, or overwhelmed to have anything left write. Many times during the last six months, that has been the case as well. Other times I just wasn't sure what to say. It is difficult to know how much to share and how to be true and honest while protecting privacy. I'm still sorting through all of that, but right now, I'm afraid that the precious moments of this crazy time in China will be lost if I don't make some effort to record the days. So the next few blogs will read rather like a journal of things I hope to remember for myself and to share with my children someday. Pictures will be added IF I can figure out how to do that. Visitors are welcome to take a peek at what I record, but please keep in mind that this record is for us and not an attempt to impart anything to you with carefully edited words.<br />
<br />
I guess I'll start with today--Day 8-- and go as far as I can before these two little ones wake from their nap. Once they are up it feels like 10 children in here, not two. They want my attention continuously--and compete for it with energy I don't even know how to describe. Their moods swing from giddy laughing to desperate weeping and that back again faster than I can process. Most days, if they have napped, I've collapsed on the bed next to them and slept until they wake.<br />
<br />
Today Claire didn't wake us up until 5:30. Somehow waking up 2 1/2 hours later than usual felt like we had really slept in! We did get to bed later than usual last night after spending a delightful time at the Samuel's home. It was so encouraging to talk with all the guests and watch Colton and Claire play with Lilly, Isaac, and Roy. I think the highlight for Kelly was playing drums with Ben.<br />
<br />
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-uBVV4lkUQL8/Uql9rPwKaEI/AAAAAAAABLI/O0BPUMaocNA/s1600/IMG_1342%5B1%5D.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-uBVV4lkUQL8/Uql9rPwKaEI/AAAAAAAABLI/O0BPUMaocNA/s320/IMG_1342%5B1%5D.JPG" width="320" /></a><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-RwacTJp_JwA/Uql-XFEEjZI/AAAAAAAABLQ/gDxj7Gpizq0/s1600/IMG_1338%5B1%5D.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-RwacTJp_JwA/Uql-XFEEjZI/AAAAAAAABLQ/gDxj7Gpizq0/s320/IMG_1338%5B1%5D.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
We had another wonderful breakfast. I'm still astonished that Claire chooses western food over all the yummy Chinese choices. While I'm eating steamed buns, sweet potatoes, fried onions with peppers and potatoes, Claire chooses eggs, sausage, and a muffin. Colton prefers fried rice and watermelon. This second morning with us, he still seems rather overwhelmed. He kind of zones out. He either tries to feed himself and spills most of the food all over, or puts his hands down to his sides and waits for me to feed him. Not sure what is going on in his little head, but one way or the other, we are getting food into him.<br />
<br />
At 9:30 we were to go to the police station to get a passport picture. We were supposed to do that yesterday but there was some problem with the orphanage director so it was cancelled. Today it got rather tense. We were there for over 2 hours. Our guide and 6 officials were arguing. Then our driver left to supposedly go pick up some paperwork from the orphanage director. I'm not really sure what is going on. The adoption was finalized on Tuesday. We have the paper that says we are Colton's parents, but somehow this director still has a say in getting the passport. After the driver returned with a packet of papers, more arguing ensued. Colton can understand what they are saying, and he was getting quite upset. I was just getting exhausted from holding him, rocking him, and trying to calm him. Finally we were allowed to leave. Our guide says the female officials are causing problems because she is beautiful and thin and often goes to dinner with the male officials so they are jealous of her. I'm not sure what to make of that. She says she must find more documents and get them notarized and return to the police station. In the meantime we are free. (So, I pray and try not to worry since we are supposed to fly out of here tomorrow to go to GZ to complete the immigration portion of this adoption.)<br />
<br />
Back at the hotel, we took time to give the kids a snack. I hadn't taken anything for them because we were only supposed to be gone about an hour. After a snack, we bundled up and headed out into the frigid windy weather to find lunch. We found a noodle shop where we ordered two huge bowls of beef and noodles that were delicious. Colton can't hold chopsticks and couldn't use the spoon, so I fed him some, and he stuck his mouth in the bowl and slurped a little. It was messy but it was warm and filling.<br />
<br />
Then we ventured into the "mall" -- and outdoor market. It was interesting but a little hard to navigate with a stroller and tired children. (Thanks to the Samuels for loaning us a stroller.--Colton gets tired really fast, and we have quite a long ways to walk to find a restaurant or shop.) After looking around awhile, we opted to go to the department store down the street. We tried on some new shoes for Colton because the velcro fasteners on his are broken--but he just said, "No, I don't like." So, he keeps his broken shoes. Maybe they are a sort of link to his past, and offer some security. Who knows. We then found a shop where we bought an extra suitcase. We got lots of Colton's papers and crafts from ND, as well as a traditional Mongolian outfit with a hat from the orphanage. We also managed to purchase some stuffed camels the other day, so we need a little extra luggage space.<br />
<br />
All that adventure wore us out, so we came back for a nap. I'm listening to both kids gargly breathing. They are really stuffy and Kelly is quite sick with an awful cough. Being sick is going to make the rest of this journey difficult. I keep wishing I knew where to get Chinese take-out so we didn't have to go out in the cold in search of dinner. :-)<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05232979512558533414noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4678767405983816941.post-26015845018325863022013-06-06T10:11:00.000-07:002013-06-06T10:16:04.640-07:00What Was I Thinking? Is Adoption of an Older Child Always Hard?<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
I recently posted in an adoption group on Facebook that I
was experiencing a hard week and kept asking myself, "What was I thinking
when I adopted this child?"<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The hard week, and even the question about what I was
thinking do not surprise me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This is our
third adoption of an older child.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
know there will be hard days.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I know I
will have days when I feel resentment, and confusion, and frustration.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I know there will be days when I wish we had
chosen an easier path. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The key is that these are FEELINGS.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Feelings change day to day, sometimes minute
to minute.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The reality is that God
called us to this adoption.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Our
response was a step of obedience and faith.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>We know beyond a shadow of a doubt that the God who called us will also
equip us to complete this good work.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Feelings must always give way to faith in the God who is writing our
story.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>His grace is sufficient.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
When I posted about my difficult week, a mom about to adopt
a 9-year-old girl asked the question, "Is adoption of an older child
always hard?"</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I absolutely must answer this with a solid,
"YES."<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It might seem that there is evidence to refute this
conclusion for sure.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There are plenty
of blogs about people who have adopted older children and they post about how
amazingly well it is going at 4 months or 6 months.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Praise God for the joy they are experiencing!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But, it isn't the whole story. For people in
the midst of a difficult season these blogs can be a little disconcerting, if
not downright discouraging.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They make
us wonder what we are doing wrong.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We
wonder if we aren't cut out for this adoption thing and if we have ruined our
lives by choosing the wrong child, or misunderstanding God's direction. When we
read a blog about people having a delightful transition and they credit it to diligent
prayer and fasting before the adoption, it can feel like an accusation.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Did I <i>not</i> pray enough?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Should I have fasted more days?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If my walk with Jesus was stronger, would my
child be fitting in to our family easier?</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I'm not an expert after just three older child adoptions,
but I've also spoken with many families who have adopted older kids.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I conclude that it is ALWAYS hard.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It isn't necessarily always hard in the same way.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Each child is different.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Each family is different.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Things that nearly push one mom over the
edge might not even phase a different mama—but something else will.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We are all sinful and all human relationships can have
periods of difficulty.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But, older
adopted kids have additional struggles that other children don't have.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They have been wounded by huge losses.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Important needs have not been met.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They have had to learn to depend on
themselves.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Trust is fragile if it
exists at all. They have had experiences that their young minds didn't know how
to process, so feelings have been incorporated deep into the child's mind,
without a good way to interpret them and reconcile them with the rest of life.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Part of what makes adopting an older child so difficult is
that healing isn't a one-time event.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We
may think we have dealt with a particular issue, only to find it surfacing
again at a different time, in different circumstances. We may feel like
everything is good, and our child is forming a secure attachment and then we
overhear them tell a stranger that we aren't really his/her parents and she
will get away from us and do just what she wants as soon as she is old
enough.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We thought that issue had been
laid to rest, but it is still comes back when our best parenting judgment has
to deny our child something they want.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Milestones in life can bring hard things to light.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Deaths, graduations, moving, advancing to a
new grade in school, taking a vacation, a birth, a marriage, a school
assignment: all these normal life events can trigger hard days for an older
adopted child. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
My oldest adopted daughters recently entered
motherhood.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>One just gave birth.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The other just found out she is
pregnant.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There are so many thoughts
about what it means to be family.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Is
blood relationship the most important part?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Why isn't her birth mother here to see the new baby?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Do I get to be the "grandma," or
will I be shut out because I'm not "really related to her?"<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Will she keep the baby?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Will she give the baby up for adoption?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Will she repeat the abuse and abandonment
cycle, or learn to parent?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Yes, eleven
years into our adoption story, there are still very hard days related to
adoption issues.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Another thing that makes adopting an older child so
difficult is expectations.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Of course,
we all fall in love with an "imaginary" child.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Not that we haven't studied and read and
prepared and prayed, but we still have an "idea" of a child in our
heads during the adoption process.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It
can sometimes rattle us as our real child pushes out our imaginary one.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Passing time can also be difficult.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I always tend to expect that things will get
better much faster than they really do.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Real attachment and bonding take a <i>really</i> long time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The older our child, the longer it can
take.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In early days, our child may seem
to be attaching rapidly.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They work hard
to please us. They may fear making us angry enough to send them away.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They may feel like they are earning every
good thing that comes their way.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We
work hard to do everything just right.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>After all, we are so well trained through all our adoption classes, and
all the books we read.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But, we
eventually get tired.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We get sick.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We can't do fake perfection anymore.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We all just want thing to be normal.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But nothing is "normal"
anymore.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We have to create a new
normal.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>With older kids, that takes
much longer than we expect. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Passing time can also be discouraging.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We thought our child would understand
English better by now.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They seem to do
so well most of the time, but then we encounter a situation that reveals how
fragile their comprehension really is.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Maybe we thought that our 9 year old would be able to use the bathroom
independently by now.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sure she wasn't
potty trained when we got her, but we truly thought she would figure it out
after 10 months.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But she hasn't.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Maybe our struggle relates to sleep, or
eating, or learning, or respect, or handling a "no."<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Whatever it is, we often feel discouraged
when we realize that we are still working on it long after we thought it would
fade into a non-issue.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
None of this is to say that there are not days of tremendous
joy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There are many rewarding moments
to savor if we pay attention.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That
first hug that isn't stiff and forced, or the first time our child says,
"I like you," can feel wonderful.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>There is tremendous joy in watching our child reach milestones in health
or learning.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It is a delight to watch
them experience new things when we know they would have never had that
opportunity if they had stayed in the orphanage.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There is joy in hearing a daughter say that she will not abort
her baby no matter how difficult things might appear in the present
circumstance.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There is joy in hearing
our little girl singing "Jesus Loves Me" while sitting on the floor
putting her puzzle together.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Adoption is wonderful.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Adoption is hard.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Rather than pretend it won't be difficult, we must prepare
ourselves by putting on the armor of God, and walking in faith.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We must trust that the one who has called us
will empower us to do even the hard things. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05232979512558533414noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4678767405983816941.post-60015057890113289782013-04-14T21:20:00.000-07:002013-04-14T21:20:24.685-07:00Sacred Moments<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We've been working on building a sandbox.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It is slow going.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-GcZCKSwyfDQ/UWt8k6cwxgI/AAAAAAAABHk/7kjuYyGvzNA/s1600/march+into+april+081.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-GcZCKSwyfDQ/UWt8k6cwxgI/AAAAAAAABHk/7kjuYyGvzNA/s320/march+into+april+081.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Don't you think we picked a pretty color?</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
There are always so many doctor appointments to deal with,
errands to run, and chores to finish.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>When we do manage to find some extra time the weather doesn't always
cooperate.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Finally we had a day that was just right to start adding the
red paint.</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Trying a roller instead of a brush.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Claire changed into her "old" clothes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>(It is hard to decide what qualifies when
she has only been here 6 months.)<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We
mixed up the paint and got started.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Claire wanted to dip the brush into the paint all the way
past the bristles and up the handle.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Then she thought it best to scrub the brush back and forth til the paint
was rough and patchy and the brush resembled a bird's nest.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I tried to show her how to dip the brush, remove excess
paint and make long even strokes. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-BJ5qgTi51uA/UWt8l1GwvWI/AAAAAAAABHw/VUQQ3vd3Kw8/s1600/march+into+april+082.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-BJ5qgTi51uA/UWt8l1GwvWI/AAAAAAAABHw/VUQQ3vd3Kw8/s320/march+into+april+082.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Claire is not the most "teachable" person.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Even the gentlest suggestion that she isn't
doing something right seems to trigger. …<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>What?</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I'm just not sure at this point.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Perhaps it is a stubborn defiance and determination to do things
her own way.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It could be a fear
response.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She interprets any correction
or teaching to mean she isn't good enough and then she panics? <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The fear makes her shut down so she can't do the simplest things
or even hear the instructions anymore.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I just can't tell what is really going on, but it often <i>feels
</i>like defiance and is always very, very frustrating.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It drives me to my knees on the inside, pleading with God to
help me stay calm, and to find a way to get through.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My prayers are often desperate as I tell God how difficult it is
to parent this little girl and ask Him to take over because I just can't do it
anymore.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And, somehow, God does carry me through.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It isn't always pretty, and we sometimes
call an abrupt end to whatever we were trying to do and spend a lot of time in
the rocking chair, but we have managed to avoid too many mommy meltdowns.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
This time, we made it mostly to the end of our painting task
when I noticed little red footprints on the deck all around the tarp we had
under our project.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I put Claire in a
chair, firmly, and ran for supplies to clean that up.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Frustration was definitely growing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I expected paint in her hair and on her
hands and arms and knees.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But to step
in it and walk on the deck after we were being so careful to keep all our work
on the tarp was making me angry.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Pray.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Scrub.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Pray.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Scrub.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Pray.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Deck cleaned up and back aching, I closed up the paint and
considered grabbing the hose and using cold water and some handfuls of grass to
clean her bright red feet. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
But Jesus whispered, "Whatever you do to the least of
these…"</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
So I told her to sit still while I ran to collect a soft rag
and a bucket filled with warm, soapy water.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Still praying, I lifted her to the edge of the deck and
started scrubbing that paint off as gently as possible.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Suddenly, I felt Jesus there.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He was there loving me. His hands were holding mine and His love
was pushing out all the frustration.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Tears started streaming down my face as I got a tiny glimpse into the
character of Jesus in a way I'd never seen before. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I've <i>known</i> about mercy and grace and love and compassion for
a long, long time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Today I <i>felt</i> it to my core.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The moment passed and the rest of the day had the lots of
frustrating events.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It will take lots
of time, and many repetitions of love to convince Claire that she is safe
enough to trust, to try hard things, to obey, and depend on us. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
But, I'm certain that Jesus will help us get through the
hard moments and frustrating hours.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Today, thanks to Claire, I know Jesus better than I did
yesterday.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05232979512558533414noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4678767405983816941.post-19514210001011219052013-04-03T21:15:00.000-07:002013-04-03T21:15:00.074-07:00Six MonthsSix months ago, we sat in the Civil Affairs office in Taiyuan and became foster parents. <br />
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-JsUDzB3GY1w/UVz4iGYP-yI/AAAAAAAABGc/f5OAPtI1Emo/s1600/adoption+trip+113.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-JsUDzB3GY1w/UVz4iGYP-yI/AAAAAAAABGc/f5OAPtI1Emo/s320/adoption+trip+113.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
It was a very tense day. Lifeline was supposed to deliver our paperwork so that we could hand carry the official documents needed. <br />
<br />
They forgot.<br />
<br />
I made several calls in the days before we left, and they kept assuring me that the papers were on the way and would arrive in time. Someone forgot to ever mail them. So, I was promised that they would quickly send the paperwork ahead of us to China so that all the documents would be waiting for us when we got there.<br />
<br />
They were not.<br />
<br />
Fortunately, I had printed out copies of everything and Kelly had those in his backpack. The official agreed to accept those copies until the original documents could arrive.<br />
<br />
After a very unpleasant call to our adoption agency, that issue was set aside. Then they brought Claire into the room. She promptly tried to run away. She wanted nothing to do with us. She wasn't going to have anything to do with the things we brought to distract her. She just didn't want to even look in our direction. We had to hold on tightly to keep her from leaving as we went down to get pictures taken for the adoption decree. <br />
<br />
In the picture shop, her nanny of 4 years was trying to get her to sit with us for a photo when her foster mama from her first 4 years of life walked in. Things got a little confusing for awhile. I remember new shoes, a bag of fruit and candy, and a glass of milk tied in a grocery bag, being given to Claire. Then there were pictures and tears and I was holding a wailing child as we dragged her into a waiting van and pulled away as she screamed for her mamas.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-pcgp_FjwLVY/UVz5BnfZ5SI/AAAAAAAABG4/z9hwxJp3JZM/s1600/adoption+trip+120.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-pcgp_FjwLVY/UVz5BnfZ5SI/AAAAAAAABG4/z9hwxJp3JZM/s320/adoption+trip+120.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">All that screaming and crying created the need for a breathing treatment. Finding some interesting things to see on the computer helped her get calm and stay still.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-d9gaNtQubt8/UVz5ADZxZdI/AAAAAAAABGo/Wwsdn22qaKs/s1600/adoption+trip+118.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-d9gaNtQubt8/UVz5ADZxZdI/AAAAAAAABGo/Wwsdn22qaKs/s320/adoption+trip+118.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We needed a quick lunch. It had been a long morning and we were running out of steam. Our guide had only told us about a McDonald's and Pizza Hut. Since we knew that Claire had been to McDonald's on field trips, that was our pick of necessity.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-cmfxWzwLzCk/UVz5B247XKI/AAAAAAAABHA/6Ga9mmWPc1M/s1600/adoption+trip+124.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-cmfxWzwLzCk/UVz5B247XKI/AAAAAAAABHA/6Ga9mmWPc1M/s320/adoption+trip+124.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We made sure that Claire got some noodles for supper. Proving that we could provide acceptable food was a good first step in helping her feel safe with us. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Six months later, she remembers those other mamas fondly. She talks about how they had jobs to take care of children until their mamas could come get them. Then, those nannies will take care of other children. Nannies love the children but don't take care of them forever. Mommies keep on being mommies all the time.<br />
<br />
I think I'm the mommy now. At least it sure feels like it when she crawls into my bed in the morning and pats my cheek, or when she says, "Wo ai ni, mama." at night when I'm tucking her in with 42 hugs and 18 kisses. <br />
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-8HVnYwegkJY/UVz3k4X_a4I/AAAAAAAABGM/UneWm3L3_lA/s1600/Kelly%27s+pictures+035.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-8HVnYwegkJY/UVz3k4X_a4I/AAAAAAAABGM/UneWm3L3_lA/s320/Kelly%27s+pictures+035.jpg" width="213" /></a><br />
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Six months isn't very long--but it is long enough for a lot of love to grow.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05232979512558533414noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4678767405983816941.post-37247484483380824212013-04-02T21:07:00.002-07:002013-04-02T21:07:09.294-07:00Happy Birthday!<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-X_vNJiWTdAc/UVup55l7K1I/AAAAAAAABF0/jJrl3k_xov0/s1600/Kelly%27s+pictures+021.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-X_vNJiWTdAc/UVup55l7K1I/AAAAAAAABF0/jJrl3k_xov0/s320/Kelly%27s+pictures+021.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Claire turned 9 today.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
It was a day to delight in her.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She loved putting up balloons and streamers.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She had a ball decorating the windows with
crystal window markers.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She couldn't
wait for her cake and her presents. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
My heart rejoiced as I snuggled with her this morning and
listened to her tell me that 8 was all gone and now she is 9.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What a miracle!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This precious little girl who wasn't supposed to live at all is a
beautiful 9 year old who loves to demonstrate how "strong" and
"smart" she is to anyone who will pay attention.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>God has been so good to Claire.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I'm so blessed to walk down the street
holding her hand, or to sing a silly song with her, or to get to work beside
her, "mixing" supper or folding laundry.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
My heart also felt overwhelming sadness today. While we were
snuggling this morning, Ben came in to say goodbye before heading off to
work.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He bent over to hug Claire and
his tie swung forward.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Claire batted it
for a long time—like a kitten.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Nothing
wrong with that, but my heart ached for this little child to have thoughts and
ideas, to understand something more than the simple motion of a swinging
tie.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Claire is 9.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She can't dress herself, or care for her
body without a lot of help.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She can't
count objects.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She can't speak a
sentence in Chinese or English.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She
doesn't play with toys.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She can't write
her name or tell you where she lives.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>She can't open a door or buckle a seat belt.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She doesn't communicate anything on a thought level.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I long to know my little girl.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But all I know is when she is hungry or wants me to take her to
the bathroom.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I know that she resists
learning with all her might, leaving me exhausted and longing for bedtime long
before it is really time to turn out the lights.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I want her to be okay.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
want her brain to be healed just like her heart.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I want to be able to tell her the incredible story of God's love
for her, but the empty tomb of Easter doesn't have much meaning for a child who
still doesn't consistently demonstrate object permanence.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I confess that sometimes I feel angry and I'm guilty of
wanting God to explain to me why He healed her heart and her lungs, but left
her brain so damaged. I love her so much.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I want her to be okay.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I want
her to be able to read, and sew, and knit.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I want her to be able to play a game or participate in a
discussion.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-trqZSLX8PZY/UVup49S348I/AAAAAAAABFg/DjiQEJio9Mc/s1600/Kelly%27s+pictures+008.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-trqZSLX8PZY/UVup49S348I/AAAAAAAABFg/DjiQEJio9Mc/s320/Kelly%27s+pictures+008.jpg" width="213" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Then, I'm reminded that God loves her more than I ever
could.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He is still good.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>His plan is still being carried out whether
I see it or not.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So, now I ask God to
show me how to love Claire the way He does—through her stubbornness and
disability to the heart of who God has created her to be with abilities and
disabilities all wrapped up in one sweet package.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Happy Birthday, Claire.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
love you.</div>
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<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>"Whenever we cannot love in the old, human way…God
can give us the perfect way."<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></i></div>
<i>~~Corrie ten
Boom</i>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05232979512558533414noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4678767405983816941.post-26568575564382566652013-02-12T10:28:00.002-08:002013-02-12T10:28:13.140-08:00It Is Not Too LateClaire was one of the featured kiddos during the Chinese New Year Celebration at New Day.<br />
In case you missed it, here is a link to the article:<br />
<br />
<a href="http://newdayfosterhome.blogspot.com/2013/02/the-12-days-of-cny-day-6-claires-story.html" target="_blank">Claire's story</a><br />
<br />
Colton was also featured on the second day. Here is his story:<br />
<br />
<br />
<a href="http://newdayfosterhome.blogspot.com/2013/01/two-miracles-12-days-of-cny.html" target="_blank">Colton's story</a><br />
<br />
The goal behind all this celebration was to raise funds for New Day to continue to do their amazing work in the lives of children who desperately need medical care and lots of loving.<br />
<br />
If you missed the stories during the New Year's celebration, it is still not too late to donate. <br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.newdaycreations.com/foster/help/onetime.htm" target="_blank">Click HERE if you want to help New Day continue to provide care to these needy little ones.</a><br />
<br />
Please don't ever think that any gift is too small. If memory serves me right, I heard that if each person who "likes" New Day on Facebook would donate just $4, they would make the $12,000 goal during this fund drive. Like the loaves and fishes, God multiplies even the smallest gifts to meet the biggest needs.<br />
<br />
Don't you want to be part of that?Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05232979512558533414noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4678767405983816941.post-85301815730217075742013-02-03T14:22:00.001-08:002013-02-03T14:22:09.653-08:00Beautiful HairEverywhere we go, people comment on Claire's beautiful hair. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Zi-AZFDa2zU/UQ7YFCXUA9I/AAAAAAAABDQ/2L_5LIc8Jy8/s1600/Locks+of+Love+001.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Zi-AZFDa2zU/UQ7YFCXUA9I/AAAAAAAABDQ/2L_5LIc8Jy8/s320/Locks+of+Love+001.jpg" width="240" /></a><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-oko1HaD-FW4/UQ7YE6dn09I/AAAAAAAABDM/RATA2ZlQ2sU/s1600/Locks+of+Love+002.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-oko1HaD-FW4/UQ7YE6dn09I/AAAAAAAABDM/RATA2ZlQ2sU/s320/Locks+of+Love+002.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
<br />
In spite of the fact that it is difficult to care for, I love her long, silky locks.<br />
<br />
A little over a week ago, I was researching alopecia areata. It's an auto-immune disease that causes the body to attack its own hair. Claire was diagnosed with this while she was in China and I was trying to learn more about it. I want to know why I'm constantly rubbing ointment into little bald places. One link took us to a website that had a picture of a little girl with no hair at all.<br />
<br />
Claire was looking over my shoulder and became very concerned.<br />
<br />
"Girl. No hair. Sad," she repeated over and over. <br />
<br />
It was the Locks of Love website. I showed Claire that the girl didn't stay sad because someone gave her some of their hair. She was so excited by this. She wanted to give the girl she saw her own hair. <br />
<br />
I put her off with a "maybe someday you can do that." <br />
<br />
But, like all things Claire gets into her head, she didn't forget. Every single day she asked about the sad girl with no hair. Every day she wants to make her hair short and give the girl some hair.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
So, today, I got to see that it isn't her hair that makes my daughter beautiful.<br />
<br />
It is her heart.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-jYZmLIKWSS0/UQ7b9hZWh8I/AAAAAAAABDc/q3fljrkl3iU/s1600/Locks+of+Love+005.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-jYZmLIKWSS0/UQ7b9hZWh8I/AAAAAAAABDc/q3fljrkl3iU/s320/Locks+of+Love+005.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Plenty of beautiful black hair.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-hp-5FuCxwI0/UQ7b99K9_fI/AAAAAAAABDg/fKHjBxbcCdo/s1600/Locks+of+Love+007.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-hp-5FuCxwI0/UQ7b99K9_fI/AAAAAAAABDg/fKHjBxbcCdo/s320/Locks+of+Love+007.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The first cut was terrifying for mommy.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-5ZTjAzKCumI/UQ7b-kx4mkI/AAAAAAAABDs/WnxB__Im50E/s1600/Locks+of+Love+008.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-5ZTjAzKCumI/UQ7b-kx4mkI/AAAAAAAABDs/WnxB__Im50E/s320/Locks+of+Love+008.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">It was so thick. It took a LOT of cutting to get that ponytail off.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Sg9DXhEfIsM/UQ7b_Y9x2dI/AAAAAAAABD4/fAJGSXEWvhA/s1600/Locks+of+Love+011.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Sg9DXhEfIsM/UQ7b_Y9x2dI/AAAAAAAABD4/fAJGSXEWvhA/s320/Locks+of+Love+011.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Then a little touch up to make things smooth.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-HlTxfg8XoP4/UQ7b_5zWKPI/AAAAAAAABEE/U5IoM_h-gD8/s1600/Locks+of+Love+013.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-HlTxfg8XoP4/UQ7b_5zWKPI/AAAAAAAABEE/U5IoM_h-gD8/s320/Locks+of+Love+013.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">So happy to be able to brush her own hair without getting the brush tangled.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-5CvWq86tfsI/UQ7cAEsh1SI/AAAAAAAABEI/7C48Onupd4M/s1600/Locks+of+Love+014.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-5CvWq86tfsI/UQ7cAEsh1SI/AAAAAAAABEI/7C48Onupd4M/s320/Locks+of+Love+014.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I am really cute with short hair!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-qmMNfOmML-4/UQ7cApRWJQI/AAAAAAAABEQ/nWQ28Z80k7k/s1600/Locks+of+Love+015.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-qmMNfOmML-4/UQ7cApRWJQI/AAAAAAAABEQ/nWQ28Z80k7k/s320/Locks+of+Love+015.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Can't stop looking in the mirror. She is so happy with the results.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-RZ8VzbP97IQ/UQ7cBbMgVCI/AAAAAAAABEc/MWS8l7LCh_Y/s1600/Locks+of+Love+025.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-RZ8VzbP97IQ/UQ7cBbMgVCI/AAAAAAAABEc/MWS8l7LCh_Y/s320/Locks+of+Love+025.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Clean up.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-SEIlQeviZnw/UQ7cBla4tXI/AAAAAAAABEg/t6e97ZeUIyc/s1600/Locks+of+Love+026.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-SEIlQeviZnw/UQ7cBla4tXI/AAAAAAAABEg/t6e97ZeUIyc/s320/Locks+of+Love+026.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ready to mail tomorrow.</td></tr>
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Claire is so excited that the little girl won't be sad anymore. She is so excited that her hair will help another girl be happy. Claire says, "Girl happy. Claire happy."<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Aj4zww5EHuM/UQ7cA9XWDyI/AAAAAAAABEY/yDMcNglU7xc/s1600/Locks+of+Love+022.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Aj4zww5EHuM/UQ7cA9XWDyI/AAAAAAAABEY/yDMcNglU7xc/s320/Locks+of+Love+022.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
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So, even if no one ever stops us again to comment on Claire's amazing, long, black hair, I see incredible beauty. <br />
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Even though Claire's life has been very difficult, or perhaps <i>because</i> it has been difficult, Claire has learned the joy of sacrifice. She knows that blessings are to give away and that love is big enough to reach into sad places and make a difference. I have a lot to learn from my precious daughter. Her life bears the image of our God in a remarkable way!<br />
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05232979512558533414noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4678767405983816941.post-9123081654128830862013-02-02T19:40:00.002-08:002013-02-02T19:40:57.032-08:00Our Day at the HospitalWe woke early and got Claire ready to leave. She was a <i>little </i>concerned that it was still very dark outside and <i>very, very </i>concerned that she couldn't have breakfast. <br />
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Each night as I'm tucking Claire into bed, she goes over what she plans to eat for breakfast in great detail. We usually visit that conversation 2 or 3 times before she settles in and accepts her kisses and hugs. Of course, the night before surgery, I had to tell her that she could not have breakfast the next day. Before she was even awake enough to get out of bed, she was already talking about "no breakfast." <br />
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We drove through the dark to pick up Jenny who agreed to help out at the hospital. By the time we made it to the parking garage, the sun was up and we could see where to park and head inside. We checked in at 6:50 a.m.<br />
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As usual, it is a hurry-up-and-wait process. Wait for the lady who looks over the insurance papers. Wait for the arm band. Go upstairs and wait in the first waiting room for a long time. Go get vitals taken once again and receive a beautiful outfit. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-GS7NAOtUaYc/UQ2l7tLW4BI/AAAAAAAABCA/GCy7wWpFFlw/s1600/hospital+001.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-GS7NAOtUaYc/UQ2l7tLW4BI/AAAAAAAABCA/GCy7wWpFFlw/s320/hospital+001.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Don't you think Claire looks pretty in light blue?</td></tr>
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From here, we answered all the pre-op questions--you know, the ones we had to go to the hospital one day last week to answer, and go over at least three more times before getting to this step. While the nurse was typing, they realized that they forgot to put a bed in our room, so one was wheeled in. After the questions were finished up, we got to ride the bed down to pre-op and wait some more. Claire wasn't too thrilled with this wait. Nobody seemed to be able to find the orders for the blood draw so it took awhile. Lots of strangers kept coming up and talking way too fast about things Claire didn't understand. She was just ready to get this all over with and go home. She repeatedly reminded us that she was hungry and wanted some breakfast. <br />
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It was nice to have Jenny there to provide extra distraction whenever Claire was about ready to bolt. Jenny was awesome about keeping track of the bag of clothes and supplies, too. <br />
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There was a bit of real fear as they wheeled Claire back to the operating room I was not allowed to stay with her until she went to sleep, or to be there when she woke. Hospital policy isn't always the most child friendly thing.<br />
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We waved good bye and then went to the second waiting room to sit until we were called. <br />
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The doctor came out to see me after about an hour. Everything looked pretty good. There were no cysts. The scars were not blocking the airways. There are lots of scars, but it appears that the only impact might be that the scars on her vocal chords change the tone of her voice. He did see some irritation and swelling that appears to be caused by reflux. He is referring us to a gastroenterologist to evaluate why this might be occuring.<br />
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A couple ounces of apple juice helped with the waking up process. Then we were wheeled back to a room to recover. Claire was really impatient with the whole process. She was irritated by the blood on her hands and the various tubes. So, we spent a little time carefully cleaning her up. Then we had a long discussion about tigers and their teeth. Hey, at least we weren't talking about breakfast for a few minutes. :-)<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/--cXWkhm0knM/UQ2l8xE0z4I/AAAAAAAABCU/S4ymIeRgDkw/s1600/hospital+006.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/--cXWkhm0knM/UQ2l8xE0z4I/AAAAAAAABCU/S4ymIeRgDkw/s320/hospital+006.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Can't I get all these "pokes" off and go get some breakfast?</td></tr>
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We got home around 3 o'clock. Claire settled on the couch to watch Angelina Ballerina and eat a bowl of oatmeal. Breakfast at last!<br />
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Thanks go out to everyone who prayed. It is good to see a healthy trachea and esophagus and rule out one more possible problem. It was also a blessing to be able to get the lab work for liver tests done while Claire was unaware of the process. Any time we can avoid the stress associated with "pokes" is a blessing.<br />
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I don't suppose we will ever be fully aware of the miracles God is doing on a regular basis. I believe He is at work mending and healing and restoring things we know nothing about. He deserves more praise and glory than any of us is capable of giving. I hope that you will take a moment as you read these results, to say thank you to the God who is taking care of our precious girl according to His awesome plan for her life.<br />
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05232979512558533414noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4678767405983816941.post-46975803909112620392013-01-31T15:06:00.001-08:002013-01-31T15:07:03.153-08:00Hospital Pokes Feel Sad<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-pbzJnlz3P3M/UQr2rA45F3I/AAAAAAAABBE/KmRNgOoSj9E/s1600/days+at+home+009.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-pbzJnlz3P3M/UQr2rA45F3I/AAAAAAAABBE/KmRNgOoSj9E/s320/days+at+home+009.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
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<br />
The surgery scheduler let us know that Claire needs to check in to the hospital tomorrow morning at 7:30. With the time confirmed, I let Claire know that she needs to go to the hospital tomorrow.<br />
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The first words out of her mouth were, "NO pokes?" <br />
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It was a question. A hopeful, wishful question. But, there will be pokes and I had to tell her, and she wasn't happy.<br />
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"Pokes, sad. Hospital, sad. Stay home, mommy."<br />
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In case you aren't up on your Chinglish, that translates to the fact that she doesn't like having blood drawn or IV's or going to the hospital. She wants to stay home with mommy.<br />
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I assured her that I would go to the hospital with her, and Jenny will come with us, too. Then I did my best to explain how they will use a "bubble-fish" (Claire's name for the mask on her nebulizer) to help her feel sleepy. She will take a little rest at the hospital. While she is sleeping, the doctor will look inside her neck with a teeny-tiny little camera. They will do the pokes to get some blood while she is sleeping so there will be no hurt. When she wakes up, she will find a band aid on the place where they did a poke. <br />
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She wanted to know if she would come home when she wakes up. I waffled a little on this one. I just don't know. It depends on what the doctor finds, and what he decides to do. This is an "exploratory" surgery to see what is going on in the esophagus. If there is something simple like a cyst, or minor scarring, it will be taken care of right away. If it is minor, she comes home. If it is just a little complicated, she may stay overnight. If anything is more complicated, we will schedule for another day to take care of things. So I skirted the coming home question by saying I will stay with her until the doctor says she is ready to go home.<br />
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The blood draws are for the gastroenterologist. He needs more tests to figure out what exactly is going on with Claire's liver. We know that it is enlarged and blood tests show "abnormalities," but we don't know exactly what that means. Since her little veins have had more than their share of "pokes," they tend to yield only a tiny bit of blood before the supply "dries up." (My apologies to any medical type folks reading. I'm used to translating events into the simplest language, and I don't know enough about medical terms to sound educated in this area.) Getting enough blood for tests on a regular basis has become a very frustrating experience. I'm glad they can do this one while Claire is totally unaware.<br />
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She is just so tired of doing this medical thing. I can't blame her. We went through her medical records and counted the days she has spent in the hospital. Miss Claire has been hospitalized for a total of 4 years! That is a lot for anyone. It is way too much for an 8 year old.<br />
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We are praying that all the doctors will be able to figure out what is going on in relation to Claire's breathing difficulties and with her liver. We want to be able to resolve the problems so that Claire can spend some time at home learning how to be a regular little girl. One who doesn't have to worry about pokes for a good long while. Won't you pray with us?<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-WRAupJnPkQ4/UQr27wt1QhI/AAAAAAAABBM/aJO2lfvbLVc/s1600/days+at+home+005.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-WRAupJnPkQ4/UQr27wt1QhI/AAAAAAAABBM/aJO2lfvbLVc/s320/days+at+home+005.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Claire would rather count scoops of ice cream on her giant ice cream cone, not add up doctor and hospital visits.</td></tr>
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05232979512558533414noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4678767405983816941.post-24684331626429524402013-01-31T14:12:00.000-08:002013-01-31T14:12:05.571-08:00What A Difference Seeing Makes!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Claire has had a terrible time with coloring, cutting, or tracing. Following a line seemed impossible, She was also stumbling whenever the ground was uneven, and was terrified to go anywhere without bright light. It took us a bit of time to get an appointment with the pediatric vision specialist, but we are so glad we did. He promised us a "new child" once she had her glasses. I don't know if I'd go quite that far, but I do know that she is pretty happy about her glasses, and does not want to take them off.<br />
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Clearer vision has made Claire more willing to participate in activities that she used to avoid. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-dnZxWq8E_qE/UQmZSPyx4eI/AAAAAAAAA_Y/ZDOJEJ3opv8/s1600/January+005.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-dnZxWq8E_qE/UQmZSPyx4eI/AAAAAAAAA_Y/ZDOJEJ3opv8/s320/January+005.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">So many new things to see between the doctor's office and the parking lot. Wow! It is fun to see.</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-njvQSeUR4u8/UQmZjBzafzI/AAAAAAAAA_g/o71wkmEM7Pc/s1600/January+016.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-njvQSeUR4u8/UQmZjBzafzI/AAAAAAAAA_g/o71wkmEM7Pc/s320/January+016.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Paying the bills is quite a chore. First you must cut up pieces of construction paper to put inside the envelope. Then you have to put on a "stamp" and a return address label. Writing the address is very time consuming. Especially when you have 25 bills to pay!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-54KOSUGbmIQ/UQmZjMBTj3I/AAAAAAAAA_k/kAFhMfDxnBo/s1600/January+018.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-54KOSUGbmIQ/UQmZjMBTj3I/AAAAAAAAA_k/kAFhMfDxnBo/s320/January+018.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">You must put them in the mailbox one at a time to make sure they are just right. Claire recognizes that her writing does not look the same as other writing. When asked what the mailman would think about all her bills, she says that he will shake his head and say, "I don't know...I don't know." Then she giggles as she envisions the puzzled mailman.</td></tr>
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Please don't tell Claire that Daddy went outside after Claire was in bed and removed all that confusing mail. The garbage pick-up men surely won't say a word. ;-) Claire can hardly wait until our next bill paying day. I guess I should start buying envelopes in bulk. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-SqMHb9jobL4/UQmZkBO8jPI/AAAAAAAAA_0/TLSSz3l8zF8/s1600/January+022.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-SqMHb9jobL4/UQmZkBO8jPI/AAAAAAAAA_0/TLSSz3l8zF8/s320/January+022.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Coloring is much more fun when you can see what you are doing. When Daddy colors with you, it is even better. Real men color princess pictures. Yes, they do.</td></tr>
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Jenny-jie jie joined us at the park one warm sunny day. New glasses made it so much easier to judge where all the steps were. Claire climbed on all sorts of things she had avoided before. Of course, seeing down from the top also made it a little bit scarier. As long as Jenny was there to set an example, though, nothing was too scary to try.<br />
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Glasses are a wonderful blessing. Of course, Claire is not used to being able to see clearly. We know that it will take her brain time to catch up to the new things her eyes can do. She still operates in her mode of avoiding things where she might fail. She would prefer to misbehave or distract rather than try something she might not do well.<br />
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Glasses haven't changed her stubbornness. When asked to cut a curved line, she pretends not to know how to hold the scissors. When asked to trace over an "x" with her marker, she refuses to touch the pen to the page. Bribes don't work. Punishment doesn't work. The only way we have found to get Claire to do something she doesn't want to is to wait her out. All options for any other activity are removed until she decides to make a reasonable effort at the task we are asking her to do. It can be really stressful to wait, and wait. Earlier this week she refused for 10 hours.<br />
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Yup. Very, very stubborn. <br />
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Just when doubt was about to make me tell her she didn't have to write it, she decided to cooperate. She traced a perfect "x" on her dry erase book. It took her all of 3 seconds to complete the task with excellence. Then we celebrated! Guess what the first thing she wanted to do the next morning was? Now that she knows she can trace those lines, she is all about showing off her skill. <br />
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How I pray that each time I ask her do something and she succeeds, we will build trust. We will need lots of that to continue to help her grow and learn. Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05232979512558533414noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4678767405983816941.post-4115665766024064312013-01-30T13:45:00.002-08:002013-01-30T13:45:16.190-08:00The More the MerrierIt has been a long while since I've found time to blog. I promised myself to take time to just enjoy my new daughter for a season, without worrying about solving all the problems that keep popping up. For the most part, I've been keeping that promise. By the time Claire is safely tucked into her bed each night, I've usually had so much fun that I'm ready to collapse into my own bed and not try to rally my thoughts to write a somewhat coherent sentence or two. <br />
<br />
But today, for a change, we have no visits with doctors. It is cool and rainy, so I can justify not enforcing the afternoon outdoor exercise routine for once. And, Claire finished up her school work and chores in quick order so that she could watch "A is for Angelina, B is for Ballerina." She thinks that by adding a little "I'm learning the alphabet" into her request, I will be more likely to allow her to watch. :-) If she had her way, she would do nothing else all day. In one way, it is a huge step. During our first months home, her attention span wouldn't last more than a few minutes. Now she can focus on Angelina for as many hours as she can convince me to let her stay on the couch. <br />
<br />
I'm really thankful for www.confessionsofahomeschooler.com for their free "B is for Ballerina" preschool study unit. The librarian is also great about pointing out all the books with ballerina's in them. We need all the motivators we can find. Claire is not keen on trying to learn new things.<br />
<br />
While she is giggling and clapping with Angelina, I can take a few minutes for some catch up.<br />
<br />
<br />
Claire absolutely loves having her family home with her. Christmas vacation was a delight for her. Every day she would rejoice over setting the supper table for FIVE people. Whenever anyone is not home for supper, she asks when they will be home over and over again. <br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-JfEnyjx8dDY/UQmH_fdH49I/AAAAAAAAA9A/DXsyJi1o8VE/s1600/bike+and+school+work+005.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-JfEnyjx8dDY/UQmH_fdH49I/AAAAAAAAA9A/DXsyJi1o8VE/s320/bike+and+school+work+005.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Having Dan home from college was so much fun! Claire really wishes that Ohio wasn't so far away from Mississippi.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-_TrQHOki_Cs/UQmIAXiltyI/AAAAAAAAA9M/0mpRkBPGBh8/s1600/flowers,+hair,+closet+and+brothers+021.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-_TrQHOki_Cs/UQmIAXiltyI/AAAAAAAAA9M/0mpRkBPGBh8/s320/flowers,+hair,+closet+and+brothers+021.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">When Daddy and brothers join in, the music is the best.</td></tr>
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<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-l5g8U0RBUMM/UQmIAkTmvSI/AAAAAAAAA9Q/Oe34ZRT0tho/s1600/flowers,+hair,+closet+and+brothers+022.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-l5g8U0RBUMM/UQmIAkTmvSI/AAAAAAAAA9Q/Oe34ZRT0tho/s320/flowers,+hair,+closet+and+brothers+022.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Daddy brought a "flower present" for Claire. She was delighted. </td></tr>
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<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-XTrb8HgcUZE/UQmIB1axDRI/AAAAAAAAA9g/cw1lvcWrLg4/s1600/flowers,+hair,+closet+and+brothers+035.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-XTrb8HgcUZE/UQmIB1axDRI/AAAAAAAAA9g/cw1lvcWrLg4/s320/flowers,+hair,+closet+and+brothers+035.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ben is always good for a fuzzy hug even if he is really busy with his last year of Law School and working at a local law firm. </td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
It was really sad to see everyone go back to work or school and leave us with just TWO people home for most of every day. When Daddy or Ben has to work late, supper time isn't nearly as much fun. <br />
In fact, we would get really depressed over the quiet around here if it weren't for one very exciting fact.<br />
<br />
There is a little boy in China running around showing off a picture of his new family. <br />
<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-t5qh04jt8Fs/UQmNxlUEDjI/AAAAAAAAA9s/ZE8lKFKuUKQ/s1600/DSCF0006.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-t5qh04jt8Fs/UQmNxlUEDjI/AAAAAAAAA9s/ZE8lKFKuUKQ/s320/DSCF0006.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">It is a bit of a shock, so you can't expect him to look too excited all at once. It is a very big idea to process.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-hD15Rwo4fTo/UQmN-M4OtYI/AAAAAAAAA90/mA89SvjLYQQ/s1600/DSCF0008.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-hD15Rwo4fTo/UQmN-M4OtYI/AAAAAAAAA90/mA89SvjLYQQ/s320/DSCF0008.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Do you think this looks like a good idea?</td></tr>
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<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Dw_TGUn15Co/UQmN-dMM8HI/AAAAAAAAA94/mnSAfunK5jE/s1600/DSCF0017.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Dw_TGUn15Co/UQmN-dMM8HI/AAAAAAAAA94/mnSAfunK5jE/s320/DSCF0017.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">What do you guys think? Does this look like a good family for me?</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-26czJrfAaEg/UQmN-x0YweI/AAAAAAAAA-E/oUOopKcU0vE/s1600/IMG_7551.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-26czJrfAaEg/UQmN-x0YweI/AAAAAAAAA-E/oUOopKcU0vE/s320/IMG_7551.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Oh my goodness! It is Claire. </td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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Claire is very excited. She really covets the role of "jie jie" even though being the "mei mei" has lots of perks.<br />
Every night, she points out which chair will be for her "di di" and wants to know when we can have SIX people at our table. <br />
<br />
Whenever we are sitting at the hospital waiting for another test or to see the next specialist, she keeps busy by making a list of things we need to get ready. She wants us to hurry and buy socks and underwear, and a pillow and a special blanket. She wants a toothbrush and a towel in the bathroom right now. With each new stack of paperwork that we send off, she sings her "Hurry up, China" song...then sighs, "wait a minute, wait a minute."<br />
<br />
I tend to sigh right along with her. Having already met this precious little guy, played with him, and held him in my arms while we were in China to pick up Claire, I'm finding the wait feels much harder. Perhaps we will have another lazy afternoon soon, and I can share my perspective on adding to our family so soon.<br />
<br />
For now, I need to go pry someone off the couch with my standard, "No more, too much TV."<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05232979512558533414noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4678767405983816941.post-85213365674561729532012-12-29T20:49:00.002-08:002012-12-29T20:49:15.434-08:00Amazing Nannies and Claire's Hair<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-8vCsUEvBRh8/UN_EX9WAAGI/AAAAAAAAA7c/XWHgWnzBNH0/s1600/Christmas+2012+074.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-8vCsUEvBRh8/UN_EX9WAAGI/AAAAAAAAA7c/XWHgWnzBNH0/s320/Christmas+2012+074.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
There are so many ways that Claire's nanny's poured love into her life. They are truly amazing. But, this week, I am simply astounded by the fact that they let her hair grow long. <br />
<br />
Claire has very limited self-care skills for an 8 year old. <br />
<br />
She can dress herself <b>IF </b>I lay the clothes out in a particular configuration and there are no buttons, zippers, or snaps.<br />
<br />
She can brush her teeth <b>IF </b>I put the toothpaste on the brush--and then only the two front ones and the lower left side. She can't figure out how to turn the brush to get at any of the other teeth. She mostly just sucks on the toothbrush.<br />
<br />
She is making progress in potty training. She recognizes her need and makes it to the bathroom in time. She can wipe after urination--except when she gets in a rush and wipes before she stops wetting. But, she rarely hops off the pot while still going. I haven't had to mop up puddles for awhile. Hurray! <br />
Frequent loose bowel movements throughout the day still require intervention from an adult to avoid a mess.<br />
<br />
She can wash her hands all by herself. Water, soap, and dry! <br />
<br />
Brushing her hair is still completely out of the question. When she tries, the brush and comb just end up in a total tangle. And her sense of style can be pretty...ahh...interesting.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-fQbNI-5CQH0/UN_EhOwamEI/AAAAAAAAA78/yO0nvZxYSys/s1600/Fourth+Month+043.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-fQbNI-5CQH0/UN_EhOwamEI/AAAAAAAAA78/yO0nvZxYSys/s320/Fourth+Month+043.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td></tr>
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<br />
Washing hair is a real pain. And it must be done daily.<br />
She has large patches of oily, flaky skin that piles up and fills her hair with sticky "snow" that won't brush out. She has alopecia areata. That's an immune disease where the body attacks the hair follicles and makes the hair fall out in circles. The medicine for it also leaves her hair goopy.<br />
<br />
We have given up washing in the bath. She hates water on her face and struggles to tip her head up extending her neck. <br />
<br />
So, each day, she climbs the stepladder and gets on the kitchen counter. She lays down while I wash her hair with the sprayer in the kitchen sink. Then we dry, comb, and style. It takes nearly an hour.<br />
<br />
I admit that there are days when I'd like to make her cut it off. She doesn't hold still for combing or styling and is very particular about what type of ponytail she will wear. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Gjm3bRlBrm0/UN_EeusB3FI/AAAAAAAAA70/WAojSMpyDHw/s1600/FM+(15).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Gjm3bRlBrm0/UN_EeusB3FI/AAAAAAAAA70/WAojSMpyDHw/s320/FM+(15).jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Just a tiny trim to remove the split ends.</td></tr>
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<br />
But, her patient nannies, who let her grow it long and kept it beautiful, inspire me to keep on taking care of Claire's long hair and working to style it so the bald patches aren't visible. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-hyNIkhWXbYo/UN_EV4w8aXI/AAAAAAAAA7U/e980PKCYOeM/s1600/Christmas+2012+073.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-hyNIkhWXbYo/UN_EV4w8aXI/AAAAAAAAA7U/e980PKCYOeM/s320/Christmas+2012+073.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">So beautiful.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-cFUStyeq_O8/UN_EaWfDE9I/AAAAAAAAA7k/xfSyZI4PPs4/s1600/Christmas+2012+076.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-cFUStyeq_O8/UN_EaWfDE9I/AAAAAAAAA7k/xfSyZI4PPs4/s320/Christmas+2012+076.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">She loves on loose ponytail with lots of clips to hold all the stray hairs in place.</td></tr>
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<br />
<br />
While I surely hope she will learn to do her own hair someday soon, I am also thankful for the hours we spend doing hair. I couldn't ask for a better bonding opportunity. Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05232979512558533414noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4678767405983816941.post-51944623678083696872012-12-18T21:05:00.000-08:002012-12-18T21:14:20.004-08:00Enjoying Today<h2>
<span style="color: #cc0000;">We worry about what a child will become tomorrow, </span></h2>
<h2>
<span style="color: #cc0000;">yet we forget that he is someone today. </span></h2>
<span style="color: #cc0000;">~Stacia Tauscher</span><br />
<br />
These last weeks and months have been filled with all sorts of medical and psychological evaluations. Lots of the information is not as positive as I could wish. Many more questions have been raised, and we wait to be able to get in for additional testing that will help us find the answers.<br />
<br />
It's easy for me to worry about tomorrow. Health, and education, and behavior, and attachment all become areas of stress that threaten to make me forget to enjoy the wonderful moments of each day.<br />
<br />
So, for December, I am challenging myself to put aside my fears about visual perception, or liver function, or bonding, and just enjoy as many moments with Claire as I possibly can.<br />
<br />
So far, I'm surprising myself by finding that there are so many delightful moments that I barely have time to capture any to share. But, here are a few that have been accumulating on my camera these last few days.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-XVLuwB6J394/UNE-VfgwTUI/AAAAAAAAA4M/7OwZBdJ0I3Q/s1600/Between+Thanksgiving+and+Christmas+043.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-XVLuwB6J394/UNE-VfgwTUI/AAAAAAAAA4M/7OwZBdJ0I3Q/s320/Between+Thanksgiving+and+Christmas+043.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I'm very "big girl" and can put lights on the top!</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ZJucSemOwBo/UNE-dIpKaII/AAAAAAAAA4U/w3084Yawaek/s1600/Between+Thanksgiving+and+Christmas+044.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ZJucSemOwBo/UNE-dIpKaII/AAAAAAAAA4U/w3084Yawaek/s320/Between+Thanksgiving+and+Christmas+044.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Don't you think I'm making this tree beautiful?</td></tr>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-l2TfRcXPgTc/UNFDt8vJJZI/AAAAAAAAA5I/VH3A6xm58vw/s1600/4th+month+(14).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-l2TfRcXPgTc/UNFDt8vJJZI/AAAAAAAAA5I/VH3A6xm58vw/s320/4th+month+(14).jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Latkes with apple sauce--keep them coming. They are "dee li shush."</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-bF0LVI-02iU/UNFD0UOoolI/AAAAAAAAA5Q/338mjUyKZFQ/s1600/4th+month+(16).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-bF0LVI-02iU/UNFD0UOoolI/AAAAAAAAA5Q/338mjUyKZFQ/s320/4th+month+(16).jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Spin the dreidel and get chocolate money to eat. I'm thinking this is a good tradition.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-7qYtrHhsAOs/UNFD63sgX5I/AAAAAAAAA5Y/TaS2R5iPdKY/s1600/December+2015.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-7qYtrHhsAOs/UNFD63sgX5I/AAAAAAAAA5Y/TaS2R5iPdKY/s320/December+2015.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Claire couldn't have our mailbox be plain when so many in the neighborhood were decorated. She is very proud of her decorated mailbox.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Vd8WeKxHiAI/UNFEBLnAznI/AAAAAAAAA5g/iVkOJOT9wG0/s1600/December+2021.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Vd8WeKxHiAI/UNFEBLnAznI/AAAAAAAAA5g/iVkOJOT9wG0/s320/December+2021.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Gingerbread cookies--sort of like play doh.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-K5rcPOzgy3c/UNFELshQDWI/AAAAAAAAA5o/DFfgO71Br9E/s1600/December+2029.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-K5rcPOzgy3c/UNFELshQDWI/AAAAAAAAA5o/DFfgO71Br9E/s320/December+2029.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Making special muffins for Daddy to take to the office for their special holiday breakfast.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Jozt8kUOWJc/UNFEWyC8lfI/AAAAAAAAA5w/acXbxEDvlkc/s1600/December+2033.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Jozt8kUOWJc/UNFEWyC8lfI/AAAAAAAAA5w/acXbxEDvlkc/s320/December+2033.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Practicing counting to ten and getting the numbers in order.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-BWxHGYN_D-o/UNFEirS8smI/AAAAAAAAA54/9m5ZO2VMFKs/s1600/FM+(2).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-BWxHGYN_D-o/UNFEirS8smI/AAAAAAAAA54/9m5ZO2VMFKs/s320/FM+(2).jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Making bead candy canes is hard work.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
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</div>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-VVl3j8OetVs/UNFE5b6ubhI/AAAAAAAAA6I/Yh6nDKYDr10/s1600/Fourth+Month+002.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-VVl3j8OetVs/UNFE5b6ubhI/AAAAAAAAA6I/Yh6nDKYDr10/s320/Fourth+Month+002.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Proud of my good job.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-PM9mvbi8OJc/UNFE_yiFWeI/AAAAAAAAA6Q/y6lbzYFS2Zo/s1600/Fourth+Month+003.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-PM9mvbi8OJc/UNFE_yiFWeI/AAAAAAAAA6Q/y6lbzYFS2Zo/s320/Fourth+Month+003.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Green snickerdoodles at Ben's request.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-jz2ZPj8KYnU/UNFFGk8vHLI/AAAAAAAAA6Y/8L_Rz5eUq0c/s1600/Fourth+Month+017.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-jz2ZPj8KYnU/UNFFGk8vHLI/AAAAAAAAA6Y/8L_Rz5eUq0c/s320/Fourth+Month+017.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Making chocolate crinkles is messy.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-tKDOfW1pU1c/UNFFOUmJppI/AAAAAAAAA6g/NEIhwboM6Eo/s1600/Fourth+Month+025.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-tKDOfW1pU1c/UNFFOUmJppI/AAAAAAAAA6g/NEIhwboM6Eo/s320/Fourth+Month+025.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A great time at the Pinelake Christmas party for people with special needs. </td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05232979512558533414noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4678767405983816941.post-54056995335999109072012-12-14T21:50:00.001-08:002012-12-14T21:52:19.495-08:00A Day for HatredMy mother heart aches for the mom's who won't see their precious children again. I am so sorry. So sad.<br />
<br />
Yet there is a greater ache for those children who will also die this year without ever knowing the love of a mother. Every day little children die. Alone. Without enough nutritious food. Without sufficient medical care. Without ever knowing how special and wonderful they are. Without anyone to mourn their deaths.<br />
<br />
Both situations are caused by sin.<br />
<br />
This blog explains better than I possibly could why this is a day to hate the sin that destroys. It is worth a moment to read.<br />
<br />
/<a href="http://thegospelcoalition.org/blogs/tgc/2012/12/14/a-day-for-hatred/" target="_blank">http://thegospelcoalition.org/blogs/tgc/2012/12/14/a-day-for-hatred/</a><br />
<br />
Then it is worth the time to examine ourselves and determine how we can love more deeply, with less selfishness in a world awash with brokenness.<br />
<br />
<i>Lord Jesus, help us be your hands and feet to those who need your love.</i><br />
<i>Amen</i>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05232979512558533414noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4678767405983816941.post-53642547171238704602012-12-05T21:50:00.001-08:002012-12-05T21:50:57.656-08:00Good News, Bad News, or No News at All<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>Good News</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Our second visit to the Pulmonologist found that Claire's
lungs are functioning well.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She has
about 70% capacity because the "other" lung has grown to make up for
the parts of the lung that were removed. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The trachea is not collapsing as they thought after the first
visit.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In fact, our doctor says that
the biggest reason Claire is out of breath all the time is because she is so
out of shape.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Since no one was sure of
her health, she wasn't encouraged to get much physical activity.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We have pushed her to be more active, but
have been cautious until we were sure it wouldn't hurt her.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She is also very unwilling to exert herself.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Our doctor's prescription is to run, jump,
ride bikes, climb, and play in order to gain strength.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So, if you see me dragging a reluctant child
down the street or up the stairs, just know that I'm doing what is best for
her, even if it makes her very unhappy.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-OZswWmBdflc/UMAxFKebT8I/AAAAAAAAA3U/nGQ1xpiVOi8/s1600/Between+Thanksgiving+and+Christmas+016.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-OZswWmBdflc/UMAxFKebT8I/AAAAAAAAA3U/nGQ1xpiVOi8/s320/Between+Thanksgiving+and+Christmas+016.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Supposed</i> to be jumping on the outdoor "pillow" at the campground.</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-adMNsgtllWg/UMAxmcfWVGI/AAAAAAAAA3c/lp-xMMMr7Hc/s1600/Between+Thanksgiving+and+Christmas+014.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-adMNsgtllWg/UMAxmcfWVGI/AAAAAAAAA3c/lp-xMMMr7Hc/s320/Between+Thanksgiving+and+Christmas+014.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>Bad News</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Our visit to the Gastroenterologist found that there is
liver disease.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Her liver is not
producing the enzymes it is supposed to be making.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There is also a hemangioma (abnormal collection of blood vessels)
in her liver. More tests are required before we can talk details.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That means more scans and blood draws.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It is so hard to get blood.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Even when they find a vein, it dries up
within a few seconds making it difficult to get enough for the required lab
tests.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The bruises all over Claire's
arms are not from me dragging her around to exercise—they are from the
"pokes" at the doctor.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>No News</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Not knowing is the hardest part for me right now.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My imagination starts to think up possible
scenarios as I research liver disease.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I want to get answers fast so we can start making the necessary changes
to help my girl get well.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But, it takes
weeks and months to get on the schedule for the next test, or to get an
appointment with another specialist.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
feel so helpless sometimes—until I take my frustration to my Heavenly
Father.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He is sovereign over all
things.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>His timing is always
perfect.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He never wastes
suffering.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When I remember that He is
the one in charge, peace returns, and I can rest in the knowledge that God
loves Claire more than I, and He is working for her good.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The doctors can do what they will, God has
Claire in the palm of His hand.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I can
trust Him with the good, the bad, and the unknown.</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05232979512558533414noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4678767405983816941.post-5128402397138085792012-12-05T21:19:00.000-08:002012-12-05T21:19:25.600-08:00Watching a Miracle Unfold<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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<div class="MsoBodyText">
<i>(It has taken me a few days to edit this post and get it
ready to go live.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Reading it makes me
shake my head at how things change in so short a time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I feel like I need to include a
disclaimer:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Adoption is not a linear
process.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It is more like riding a
roller coaster.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The highs are high and
the lows go really low.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>One minute
everything is wonderful and the next minute the bottom falls out.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The pattern with Claire seems to be to draw
close, make strong steps forward, and then regress for a while.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It's okay.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Just don't assume that a positive post means we have arrived and don't
need your prayers any more.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Moods are
like the weather around here:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>changing
minute to minute.)</i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
I feel like I've been walking
around wearing my "totally dumbfounded" look the last couple of
days.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I catch myself whispering,
"Thank you, Jesus" about a hundred times a day.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I am just in awe of the changes I'm seeing,
and my heart soars at the privilege God gave to me when He chose me to be
Claire's mother.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
I'm sure that most people won't
really get why the things I'm going to share are a big deal.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Even Kelly, who listens carefully, still
wears an expression that shows how glad he is that I'm happy, but he isn't
really sure why these things are making me <i>so</i> glad.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Maybe you have to be with Claire 24/7 to
understand. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>To me, it feels like I'm watching one of those time-lapsed
photography clips of a flower poking up out of the ground and growing into
something beautiful.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I'm just filled
with wonder at each little change God brings about.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
Frame by frame the changes are
coming:</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="text-indent: .5in;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<ul>
<li><span style="font-family: Wingdings; font-size: 8.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"><span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";">
</span></span>She slept through the night in her own bed, in her own
room, with me in my own bed in my own room.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Just one night.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But, hey, now I
know it can happen.</li>
</ul>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-1KIRqj7i1cM/UMAot4RzbMI/AAAAAAAAA2U/oNnxuIAcETg/s1600/Four+people+and+one+tree.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-1KIRqj7i1cM/UMAot4RzbMI/AAAAAAAAA2U/oNnxuIAcETg/s320/Four+people+and+one+tree.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
<ul>
<li><span style="font-family: Wingdings; font-size: 8.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"><span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";">
</span></span>When we put up the Christmas tree, she wanted
"four people" to make a picture in front of it to send to Dan
"right now."<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The tree wasn't
even decorated.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She was happy and she
wanted her family to share with her.</li>
</ul>
<br />
<ul>
<li><span style="font-family: Wingdings; font-size: 8.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"><span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";">
</span></span>She went to the bathroom by herself.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Really.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>She went in the other room alone.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>She wiped, flushed and washed her hands all by herself.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>(Yes, I was spying—and crying with
joy.)<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It has only happened once, but I
know it is possible.</li>
</ul>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-lGe-0z8umIo/UMAonRq4idI/AAAAAAAAA2M/8rTCYBFxHAA/s1600/Between+Thanksgiving+and+Christmas+053.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-lGe-0z8umIo/UMAonRq4idI/AAAAAAAAA2M/8rTCYBFxHAA/s320/Between+Thanksgiving+and+Christmas+053.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
<ul>
<li><span style="font-family: Wingdings; font-size: 8.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"><span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";">
</span></span>She played with toys!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Real play by herself, not just helping one of us build with blocks, or
dress the doll.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She used Dan's old tool
kit and spent hours putting in the screws and bolts and sawing the board.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She played with the cash register.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She found an old camera and walked around
taking pictures of everything and talking about her shots.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She even went outside <i>without me </i>(YES!!!)
to take some pictures of the flowers in front of the house.</li>
</ul>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-8wa7W-xJreE/UMAokcB1uvI/AAAAAAAAA2E/Wn9phnQarGE/s1600/Between+Thanksgiving+and+Christmas+052.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-8wa7W-xJreE/UMAokcB1uvI/AAAAAAAAA2E/Wn9phnQarGE/s320/Between+Thanksgiving+and+Christmas+052.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<ul>
<li><span style="font-family: Wingdings; font-size: 8.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"><span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";">
</span></span>She colored a paper ear of Indian corn the librarian
gave her.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>NOT the usual
scribbly-scrawls that look like a baby snagged someone's crayon, but real
coloring.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Ten minutes of real
coloring.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Solid.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Beautiful.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Finished.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></li>
</ul>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/--jHCQznNgAM/UMApmNuhahI/AAAAAAAAA2c/p4dtc2Qho1M/s1600/Week+7+022.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/--jHCQznNgAM/UMApmNuhahI/AAAAAAAAA2c/p4dtc2Qho1M/s320/Week+7+022.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<ul>
<li><span style="font-family: Wingdings; font-size: 8.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"><span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";">
</span></span>She watched a toddler video I checked out from the
library.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Not just glancing at it, but
really watching, even singing along and doing the motions.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She didn't just look for 5 minutes or less
and move on, or zone out and sit with her tongue hanging out and drooling like
usual.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She watched for a whole 20
minutes til it was done!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And, (this is
huge) she let me go get the clothes out of the dryer without following me
because she was interested in her video.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Not only did she have some attention span, but she actually talked about
things in the video with me when it was done!</li>
</ul>
<br />
<ul>
<li><span style="font-family: Wingdings; font-size: 8.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"><span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";">
</span></span>While I was cleaning her room today, she got
bored.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Instead of following around 6
inches from me, she walked into her room, found a coloring book on the shelf,
found her crayons in the box, and went into the living room.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When I finished cleaning, she was busily
coloring a picture.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She colored the
whole thing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A giraffe.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A bear.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>A penguin.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Mostly in the lines.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Mostly realistic colors.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I don't know what happened to the girl who
just picked a random crayon and scribbled big lines over the whole page and
said she was done.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I'm glad she has
grown.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I'm glad she is enjoying her
coloring and is proud of her work. </li>
</ul>
<br />
<ul>
<li><span style="font-family: Wingdings; font-size: 8.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"><span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";">
</span></span>She identified herself today.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>"My name is Claire Robinson."<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Then she proceeded to go down the list of our family members,
noting that the "Robinson" part is the same.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We are the same as her.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She was so happy to identify with our
family.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></li>
</ul>
<br />
<br />
<ul>
<li><span style="font-family: Wingdings; font-size: 8.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size: 12.0pt;"><span style="font: 7.0pt "Times New Roman";">
</span></span>She came up to me in the kitchen, put her arms around
me and said, "I love you."<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Oh
my.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I've heard those words over and
over.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She ended all our Skype calls
with them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She repeats them every time
I tell her that I love her.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The words
are just a routine.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Something someone
told her to say to her parents.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But
this time, it was different.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There was
no prompt, no audience, no external reason to say those words.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She wasn't trying to get anything, or stop
me from doing anything.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She hugged me,
and allowed me to hug her back.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was
only for a moment, but it sure was a sweet moment.</li>
</ul>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
A miracle moment.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>The kind that will carry me through the rough patches.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The kind that makes quiet songs of praise
well up in my heart.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The kind that
makes me want to shout to the whole world that God is good and He is doing
miracles right under our noses every day!</div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05232979512558533414noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4678767405983816941.post-27450807777611915522012-12-01T16:20:00.001-08:002012-12-01T16:20:28.696-08:00Thanksgiving<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
There is much to be thankful for. The biggest on my list right now is that I finally have all the laundry from our trip to Kentucky finished. When the cabin fills with smoke from the fire you keep blazing to fight off the 27 degree temperature, all the sleeping bags, quilts, and pillows need baths. </div>
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Seriously, I am so thankful for time for a few days of focused family time. Snuggling together in the big bed while daddy braves the cold to serve us breakfast, sitting close around the fire, and exploring new things all helped Claire learn what it means to be in a family. </div>
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Going away from home, and finding out that we still take care of her and bring her back just like we said, helps build trust. </div>
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It was so nice to spend a few days together. Dan drove down from Cedarville and we met him at Mammoth Caves. I didn't realize how much I miss him until I finally saw him again. It was fun to introduce our two youngest kids to each other. Claire finally got to see that Dan is real, and not just a computer animation. :-)</div>
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Our little cabin was perfect in Claire's eyes. We were always only a few feet away from her even if we moved! She was a little jealous when Dan got any attention, but she soon figured out that the best way to get people to notice her was to join in with the rest of us.</div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Lni9OO5d-3Q/ULqYW8nTLQI/AAAAAAAAAzw/_U2Y3vfpJvU/s320/thanksgiving+2012+002.jpg" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;" width="240" /></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Getting in the Thanksgiving mood by making an Indian hat. She saw a picture of Colton on Facebook wearing the one he made at New Day. Of course, she had to have one too.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-t-9YlDrB0fc/ULqYYM5PwbI/AAAAAAAAAz4/V94kPddqGe4/s1600/thanksgiving+2012+006.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-t-9YlDrB0fc/ULqYYM5PwbI/AAAAAAAAAz4/V94kPddqGe4/s320/thanksgiving+2012+006.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Making Kelly's grandmother's special green jello recipe for Thanksgiving dinner. Cooking in the cabin was challenging, but we had fun.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-zD2vj-KuqP0/ULqYZnM94HI/AAAAAAAAA0A/1-4Em2zJGmw/s1600/thanksgiving+2012+010.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-zD2vj-KuqP0/ULqYZnM94HI/AAAAAAAAA0A/1-4Em2zJGmw/s320/thanksgiving+2012+010.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Thanksgiving dinner on the porch where it was just a little windy. Claire seemed to enjoy all of our traditional food offerings, but she was most anxious to get to the apple pie. We made that before the trip and froze it. A little while in the oven and it was almost as good as freshly baked!</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-IoJVCwe294M/ULqYazpauRI/AAAAAAAAA0I/0mvkAvmWo5I/s1600/thanksgiving+2012+014.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-IoJVCwe294M/ULqYazpauRI/AAAAAAAAA0I/0mvkAvmWo5I/s320/thanksgiving+2012+014.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The park at the campground gave us something to do while our men folk were exploring the cave on one of the long, hard tours.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-kyToldyMJ7c/ULqYcRqr7jI/AAAAAAAAA0Q/Czh1LwYE5Bs/s1600/thanksgiving+2012+016.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-kyToldyMJ7c/ULqYcRqr7jI/AAAAAAAAA0Q/Czh1LwYE5Bs/s320/thanksgiving+2012+016.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The real Yogi was sleeping for the winter, so his statue had to be good enough.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-FxrX1TtOmnc/ULqYd8FfV_I/AAAAAAAAA0Y/tzhdQ9AoOvQ/s1600/thanksgiving+2012+029.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-FxrX1TtOmnc/ULqYd8FfV_I/AAAAAAAAA0Y/tzhdQ9AoOvQ/s320/thanksgiving+2012+029.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">If the boys go up the tree, Claire has to follow. They will make a tomboy out of her yet.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-N3kkBB7maKU/ULqYfJcFxOI/AAAAAAAAA0g/P0GWN50ERNo/s1600/thanksgiving+2012+032.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-N3kkBB7maKU/ULqYfJcFxOI/AAAAAAAAA0g/P0GWN50ERNo/s320/thanksgiving+2012+032.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ben and Dan trying to teach Claire how to skip. </td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-zzY2o27oV3c/ULqYguda3EI/AAAAAAAAA0o/jZpQCI8orSw/s1600/thanksgiving+2012+036.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-zzY2o27oV3c/ULqYguda3EI/AAAAAAAAA0o/jZpQCI8orSw/s320/thanksgiving+2012+036.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A daddy snuggle pile!</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-uI9JLmZT5WM/ULqYhngIf7I/AAAAAAAAA00/b_YFj9bfAgI/s1600/thanksgiving+2012+043.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-uI9JLmZT5WM/ULqYhngIf7I/AAAAAAAAA00/b_YFj9bfAgI/s320/thanksgiving+2012+043.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">It is dark. It is very cold. AND, you want me to eat this thing? Are you crazy?</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-jupAZg1m0HM/ULqYjA7g8pI/AAAAAAAAA08/6Xx_gQF9o2A/s1600/thanksgiving+2012+047.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-jupAZg1m0HM/ULqYjA7g8pI/AAAAAAAAA08/6Xx_gQF9o2A/s320/thanksgiving+2012+047.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">S'mores aren't really worth the effort. Just give me the "chocoli" and leave the rest.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-2vn8a8grEFI/ULqYkd7p4EI/AAAAAAAAA1E/TW7jueeVzo0/s1600/thanksgiving+2012+055.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-2vn8a8grEFI/ULqYkd7p4EI/AAAAAAAAA1E/TW7jueeVzo0/s320/thanksgiving+2012+055.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Going down and down to the bottom of the Frozen Niagara. Pretty rocks.</td></tr>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-697l7eRyluw/ULqYmN7lFZI/AAAAAAAAA1M/-JjaSLcpEyQ/s1600/thanksgiving+2012+059.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-697l7eRyluw/ULqYmN7lFZI/AAAAAAAAA1M/-JjaSLcpEyQ/s320/thanksgiving+2012+059.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Poor boys have to bend over, but Claire follows easily.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-IcS7enYeZ08/ULqYoAzuuqI/AAAAAAAAA1Y/6MRDBrd6z5c/s1600/thanksgiving+2012+061.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-IcS7enYeZ08/ULqYoAzuuqI/AAAAAAAAA1Y/6MRDBrd6z5c/s320/thanksgiving+2012+061.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A quick stop to buy a book to read at bedtime.</td></tr>
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05232979512558533414noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4678767405983816941.post-47330827550625972712012-11-18T20:13:00.000-08:002012-11-18T20:13:19.489-08:00Asking <i>You do not have, because you do not ask God. </i>James 4:2<br />
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<i>"Keep on asking, and you will receive what you ask for. Keep on seeking,
and you will find. Keep on knocking, and the door will be opened to
you. </i>Matthew 7:7<i></i><br />
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The sermon today was on prayer. As Chip spoke about how important it is to be humble as we acknowledge that we cannot handle everything on our own, I was reminded of how very much we need God to intervene if attachment is ever going to happen. <br />
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Chip also talked about how asking reveals a position of dependence, with the weaker person depending on the stronger. Hm-m-m. I couldn't help think of Claire over the last few days. She won't ask for anything. Just this morning, she wanted breakfast and I wanted to sleep. Kelly was already up, so I sent her out of my bed with instructions to go ask Daddy for breakfast. She didn't. Two hours later, she still hadn't eaten because she refused to ask. When I fixed my own breakfast and sat down to eat it, she couldn't believe her eyes. She trotted back to the kitchen and I heard, "Daddy, breakfast please." <br />
He cheerfully complied. We were just waiting to give her breakfast, but she needed to ask.<br />
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Over the last few days she has gone without seconds at meals, or without dessert or a snack because she refuses to ask. Such a silly, stubborn choice.<br />
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When we are cooking and she wants to taste something, she frames it as a negative. "No eating raisins," she says as we measure raisins for the cookies. She really wants raisins, but she won't ask. When I press, she tells me I won't give her any. Again, I remind her to ask. If she does, she gets a few raisins. But most times, she refuses to ask.<br />
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I wonder how often I behave exactly the same way. What nice things is God just waiting to give to me, if I would just ask?<br />
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So, today, I asked. Not just in the quiet, desperate place in my heart, but in a much more public way. I'm sure Claire didn't understand why we walked all that way to the front of the church, or what the pastor was saying, but she didn't seem to mind. It was good to agree together in prayer.<br />
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I asked with all my heart for God to build healthy attachment between us. I asked Him to renew my love and help Claire learn to trust us.<br />
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I asked for complete healing of her brain-- emotionally and cognitively. <br />
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And, most of all, I asked that she will understand His love for her and learn to love Him back with all her heart. <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-uicec-jQrOI/UKmw2TweApI/AAAAAAAAAzE/sRuMhyO8puA/s1600/Week+9+022.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-uicec-jQrOI/UKmw2TweApI/AAAAAAAAAzE/sRuMhyO8puA/s320/Week+9+022.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
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The afternoon didn't show much difference. After lunch, Claire needed to wash the rug she had peed on. I put in in the grass and asked her to hose it off. She can do this. She has used the hose to wash dirt off the driveway before. But, today she refused to squeeze the handle. Okay. I got a book and sat on the deck. Ben brought me a cup of tea to help me stay calm. Claire stood holding that hose for an hour and a half before she squeezed out a little water. The moment she tried, I jumped up and helped her direct the water over the rug to get all the soap off. All it took was one tiny effort toward obedience before I basically stepped in and put my hand over hers to complete the job.<br />
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(I wonder what things God is waiting to help me with, if I would only take that first tiny step of obedience?)<br />
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I was cold and discouraged when we finally came in. But, God helped me endure. He helped me let go of the frustration and move on. We had fun making pumpkin bread. Claire started using her words again, in a conversational way instead of a manipulative one. Then we sat down to watch an episode of Angelina Ballerina together. Claire actually snuggled up to me on the couch. My heart started to smile again. <br />
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I'm not sure what work God is doing in Claire in response to today's prayers.<br />
I do know that He is pouring more love into me, so I can keep on doing love even when it is hard. <br />
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So I will keep on praying. Keep on asking for attachment, trust and love. Keep on asking for healing of heart and mind. It may come soon, or it may take years. But I believe God will do what is best, and I will do my best to take each little step of obedience so He can fill my life with all the good things He wants to put in it.<br />
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Will you pray with me for Claire?Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05232979512558533414noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4678767405983816941.post-15181630410088793902012-11-17T21:04:00.003-08:002012-11-18T19:29:23.854-08:00You Can't Give Her Back<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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People sometimes ask me why we chose to adopt
internationally when there are so many children in need of families right here
at home.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When I don't feel the
relationship warrants an honest explanation, I usually joke that I need to
adopt internationally because it is so much harder to give them back when you
have a bad day.</div>
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It is a joke.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We are
committed for the long haul no matter what it may bring.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But I wouldn't be honest if I didn't admit
to having moments when the thought of giving her back flits into my head and
needs to be forcibly banished.</div>
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Yesterday, Claire appeared in my room at 4 am.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She didn't want to go potty.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She wasn't wet, and she did not want to
snuggle in my bed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She kept singing
out, "Wake-up.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Wake-up."<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>After putting her back to bed twice, and
only just getting drowsy again before she would show up singing her wake-up
song, I decided to get up.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Mopping the
floors before 6 a.m.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>makes you feel
like you have accomplished much!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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When I put her to bed last night, I reminded her that there
is no waking up before it is daylight.</div>
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This morning, I woke up and saw Claire standing in my
doorway.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was daylight, so we were
good.</div>
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"What d'ya need?"<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I asked.</div>
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She didn't answer.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>So I went down the usual list.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Do you need to go potty?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Are you
wet?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Do you need dry clothes?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Do you want to come in and snuggle?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She would not answer me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She would not come into the room when I
asked her to come over to the bed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So,
we got up early again.</div>
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After breakfast, we went in to brush teeth.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She brushes her teeth every day.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I always brush after her to get the places
she missed, but at least she tries.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Today she refused to put the brush on her top teeth.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I explained.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I cajoled.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I took her
fingers and helped her feel where her top teeth were.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I put the brush on her top teeth and she turned it over so it
only brushed the bottom.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Then, when she
spit, she bent over and carefully positioned her mouth to spit on the outside
of the sink—several times.</div>
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At this point, I told her she needed to brush her top teeth
and couldn't leave the bathroom until she did her best.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Then I got a book and sat in the doorway
reading.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She stood there on her stool,
looking in the mirror, waving her arms, and making faces at herself for nearly
an hour.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Then she said she had to go
potty.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I called her bluff on this one
because she always says she doesn't need to go if she really does.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The "I need to go" usually comes
up when she doesn't want to do something, or wants to get attention away
from whatever you are doing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I just
moved the rug, letting her know that it would be easier to clean up the floor
in case she had an accident before she decided to brush her teeth.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She waited a few more minutes before she
went ahead and brushed her teeth.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Good
job, Claire!</div>
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The rest of the day she was annoyingly clingy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She leaned on me, stroked me, pulled on my
clothes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I had promised myself that if she was
clingy, I wouldn't pull away but think of it as a request for more
closeness.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So, when she was almost knocking
me off my chair by leaning hard against me and rubbing my hand, I put my arm
around her.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She pushed my arm away and
swatted me around the face.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I grabbed
her wrist to tell her not to hit, and she started scratching with the other
hand.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>H-m-m.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I guess she really didn't want any closeness.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
At supper, we could clearly see that she wanted another
roll.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But she refused to ask.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Then, she wanted to get up.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We allow her to get up and walk around at
dinner because sometimes the talk can get long.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>All she has to do is say excuse me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Think she would do that tonight?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Well, twice she said it while someone else was talking.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We told her we couldn't hear when she spoke
during someone else's turn.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When we
paused a long time, she remained silent.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>When we asked if she had anything to say, she ducked her head under the
edge of the table.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So, she stayed at
the table.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
In hopes of inducing her to speak, Kelly got an ice cream
sandwich.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He was fully prepared to give
her one if she asked.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She can ask.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She has asked many times before.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She remained silent until we were clearing
the table and everyone was leaving.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Only then did she say, "Excuse me."</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
While cleaning up the kitchen she waited til Kelly left the room and then asked for an ice cream sandwich. I told her she needed to ask Daddy. She asked Ben and me several times, but refused to ask Daddy. Bummer. No ice cream sandwich. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
After cleaning up from dinner we headed to the bathroom for
a shower.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She had been wriggly so I
asked if she needed to go potty.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Of
course, she said she didn't.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She got
undressed and I was removing the hair clips from her hair so we could wash
it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She looked up at me and peed on the
rug.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Guess I shouldn't have put it back
in there after the tooth brushing incident this morning.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We wiped up and got her shower.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>After drying hair, getting medications, etc, we asked her to go
potty before going to bed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She refused
to wipe herself.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Again, this is a skill
she has been doing for several weeks.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>When she got off the toilet, Kelly told her to sit back down and
wipe.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She wouldn't.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She just stood next to the toilet.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So, he got a book and sat down to read and
wait her out.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She recognized that this
technique could last a long time, so she got on the potty and wiped
correctly.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>At last—bedtime.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was never so ready to kiss her good night
and walk away for a while.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
No matter how miserable this day was, I can't give her
back.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I don't want to—not really.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It just gets so discouraging.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
That is why I was so encouraged by Romans 15.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I had never noticed the reference to God as a <b>"God of
endurance"</b> before.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Endurance is just what I need right now.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This isn't time to get discouraged and give
up.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This is the time to prove our
love.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
No matter how hard Claire tries to push away, we will show
that "love endures all things."</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-82CkWVNvM2Y/UKhqvctu7HI/AAAAAAAAAyA/O2ULRhq2ItU/s1600/Week+9+008.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-82CkWVNvM2Y/UKhqvctu7HI/AAAAAAAAAyA/O2ULRhq2ItU/s320/Week+9+008.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>Romans 15 </i></div>
<ol start="1" style="margin-top: 0in;" type="1">
<li class="MsoNormal" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; tab-stops: list .5in;"><i>We
who are strong have an obligation to bear with the failings of the weak,
and not to please ourselves. </i></li>
<li class="MsoNormal" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; tab-stops: list .5in;"><i>Let
us each please his neighbor for his good, to build him up. </i></li>
<li class="MsoNormal" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; tab-stops: list .5in;"><i>For
Christ did not please himself, but as it is written the reproaches of
those who reproached you fell on me.</i></li>
<li class="MsoNormal" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; tab-stops: list .5in;"><i>For
whatever was written in former days was written for our instruction that
through <b>endurance </b>and through<b> encouragement </b>of the
Scriptures we might<b> </b>have <b>hope.</b></i></li>
<li class="MsoNormal" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; tab-stops: list .5in;"><i>May
the God of <b>endurance and encouragement</b> grant that you live in such
harmony with one another, in accord with Christ Jesus,</i></li>
<li class="MsoNormal" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; tab-stops: list .5in;"><i>that
together you may with one voice glorify the God and Father of our Lord
Jesus Christ.</i></li>
</ol>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05232979512558533414noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4678767405983816941.post-20867901495598010192012-11-14T20:33:00.001-08:002012-11-18T19:29:51.183-08:00Put on Your Own Oxygen Mask First<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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</xml><![endif]-->(I wrote this post a little over a week ago, but I've been afraid to post it. Today I read the post of another adoptive mom who told it the way it really is. I was so encouraged to be reminded that difficult days are just part of this journey. It is "normal" to have problems with attachment and bonding and behavior and feelings. Her post also reminded me that there is always some cost to adoption. <b>Think about what it cost for God to adopt us.</b> While we have lots of sweet moments, we also have many that are just plain tough. Some come really close to feeling like "suffering." I'm going to risk sharing some of these hard bits because they are a true part of our story. I pray that God's glory will shine through even on my dark and cloudy emotional days. ~Rebecca)<br />
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<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
___________________</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Anyone who has flown a time or two knows the drill:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>put your oxygen mask on first and then help
the child sitting next to you. Most of us don't even listen to the routine
instructions at the beginning of a flight. We know them by heart. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I also know that parents need to take care of themselves in
order to care for their children.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In
fact, as an older mom, I've advised new mothers not to catch up on chores when
there baby is asleep, but to rest.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>They must not run themselves ragged the first weeks, but pace themselves
for the marathon of meeting needs that lies ahead.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Somehow I forgot.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Having parented kids with serious attachment disorder in the
past, I was <i>so</i> determined not to make any of the mistakes I made with my other
kiddos.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was going to get this bonding
thing right this time. Somehow, in my quest to be the perfect adoptive mom, I
forgot that bonding takes two people doing the attachment dance…and a very long
time.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
So, I was sleeping (well, not much sleeping, really) on an
air mattress next to Claire so she wouldn't feel afraid.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Every minute of every day she was touching
me, leaning on me, pulling me, patting me, sitting on me, tripping me, blocking
my movements.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Every minute she was
talking, expecting a response.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Every
minute she was taking, and taking, and taking.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I started to notice some changes in how I felt about
her.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I started noticing some
tension.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I'd fill up with dread when I
heard her stirring to wake in the morning.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Teaching correct behaviors was becoming harder and harder when she just
kept on doing the old behaviors in ways that made me feel like she was enjoying
how miserable she could make me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I was so tired of getting her all washed in the bathtub and
having her "poo-poo" in the water so we had to start over.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was tired of her drying her bottom with
toilet paper before she stopped peeing and then waving the drippy toilet paper
to spatter urine all over herself and the room.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was getting so tired of her refusing to go to the bathroom when
I could clearly tell by her wriggling that she needed to go, and then calling
out "potty" a few moments later when I had started some other
activity.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I was tired of being pushed, pulled, and poked.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I really hated having my wrists grabbed if I
tried to pick up a cup of tea or move the mouse on my computer.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I was just sick of her pushing in front of
me every time I tried to walk somewhere and then slowing up to block my path so
I could not get where I needed to go.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I was exhausted with the endless babble.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She would repeat words over and over, a
little louder each time, until I responded.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>If I did respond the first time, she just picked something else to go on
about.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>None of it was about
communicating thoughts, needs, or ideas.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>It was just a way to keep me fully occupied with her.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Once the rest of the family came home, it
got even more annoying as she just made loud noises if we tried to talk to each
other and not to her.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I was worn out with offering two choices and having her
demand a third option, every single time. I have apple juice and orange juice, but she wants cranberry. Sigh. I was tired of having her look at
half a dozen outfits and cry because there wasn't one in a particular
color.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She only wanted colors we didn't
have. I was sick of her putting her underclothes on backwards whenever I was
there, but having no problem dressing when Daddy was present. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We have been diligently trying to teach her appropriate
behaviors. But she is very strong willed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>The teaching has been happening, but the learning isn't sticking. And I
was so weary.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Then, one morning last week, after<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>a couple of mornings with worsening potty and dressing issues, including
sitting<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>on my pillow to pee, I had
enough.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I took her hand and led her
into the bedroom where my husband was about ready to leave for work.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I let him know in no uncertain terms that I
could not do this anymore.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>No
more.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Finished.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Here she is.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I'm done.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
He must have received my message loud and clear, because he
called in sick, changed his clothes and took Claire out to breakfast and for a
hike in the cypress swamps.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-B5RO-WPlZsg/UKRz6LS1PWI/AAAAAAAAAxE/rtfKOy5Jhog/s1600/Week+8+020.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-B5RO-WPlZsg/UKRz6LS1PWI/AAAAAAAAAxE/rtfKOy5Jhog/s320/Week+8+020.jpg" width="240" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Z4SQXM-ivRU/UKR0FBI8W9I/AAAAAAAAAxM/ThQIoO3-Hvw/s1600/Week+8+027.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Z4SQXM-ivRU/UKR0FBI8W9I/AAAAAAAAAxM/ThQIoO3-Hvw/s320/Week+8+027.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I crawled into my real bed and fell asleep.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Soundly.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I heard no one coming and going in my house for 4 ½ hours.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sleep is a wonderful thing.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
So is forgiveness.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>That afternoon, I took Claire in my lap and apologized for loosing my
cool.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Language wasn't there to convey
much, but she could tell by my tone and my cuddles that love hadn't
vanished.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If she still had doubts about
my sanity, she was smart enough to keep them to herself.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We made a few changes in the following days.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They have evolved into Claire going to bed
in her own bed, and me sleeping in mine.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I check on her and take her potty before I turn in.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>(When she is so sleepy, she isn't even resistant.)<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We purchased a couple of flashlights she
keeps handy so she can come find me if she needs help.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In the early morning (after the sun is up)
she is welcome to come snuggle in my big bed for a while.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>(If she is dry. If she is wet, we do some
clean up and changing of clothes first.) Most mornings, we both fall asleep
again for a little while.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Waking up
this way after a reasonable amount of sleep has made our day times go so much
better.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I have found my smiles again.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And my heart swells with love when she has any small
accomplishment.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Her defiance and strong
will are still alive and well.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But my
efforts to teach are more effective when I've had some rest.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
For me, sleeping in my own bed is one part of putting that
oxygen mask on my own face so I can keep functioning in a helpful way during
the daytime.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I wanted to be the perfect
mommy, but I cannot because I am not perfect. I need to remember that.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I need to pay attention to some of my own
needs or I will have nothing left to give to this very needy child. I am so
weak.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I'll just have to trust that God
will fill in the gaps and be the strength wherever it is lacking.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>Ephesians 3</i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>For this reason I bow my knees before the Father, from
whom every family in heaven and on earth derives its name, that He would grant
you, according to the riches of His glory, to be strengthened<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>with power through His Spirit in the inner
man, so that Christ may dwell in your hearts through faith; and that you, being
rooted and grounded in love, may be able to comprehend with all the saints what
is the breadth and length and height and depth, and to know the love of Christ
which surpasses knowledge, that you may be filled up to all the fullness of
God.</i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>Now to Him who is able to do far more abundantly beyond
all that we ask or think, according to the power that works within us, to Him
be the glory in the church and in Christ Jesus to all generations forever and
ever.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Amen.</i></div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05232979512558533414noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4678767405983816941.post-51295605912969423692012-11-11T12:57:00.002-08:002012-11-11T13:11:18.395-08:00BikeThe neighbor children are outside playing almost every day. Claire wants to play with them, and they have tried. They have tried to color on the driveway with chalk, but she won't draw. They try to play make-believe games, but she doesn't understand. They try to play running, jumping, or hopping games, but Claire can't run, jump, or hop in any sort of usual way. The little boy next door even brought his tricycle over for Claire to try. It is way to small but she is able to pedal after a fashion, as long as the road slopes downhill, or I am pushing the trike with a push broom. Believe me, it isn't pretty.<br />
<br />
<br />
But she wants to play with the other kids so badly. So, we decided to get a bike that is big enough for her--with very sturdy training wheels. She was so happy about buying the bike, and even enjoyed helping Daddy put the training wheels on. It was even fun to sit on the bike in the house.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-7CKV5KrpQ9A/UKAM9KfzCSI/AAAAAAAAAv0/VjwGaPlXR08/s1600/Week+8+029.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-7CKV5KrpQ9A/UKAM9KfzCSI/AAAAAAAAAv0/VjwGaPlXR08/s320/Week+8+029.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">This is definitely the bike I want!</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-iCp-N9EKFGc/UKANCND3-TI/AAAAAAAAAv8/IbJTpesPnk0/s1600/Week+8+030.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-iCp-N9EKFGc/UKANCND3-TI/AAAAAAAAAv8/IbJTpesPnk0/s320/Week+8+030.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">We have to "pay the lady."</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-yQT9cipG0E8/UKANHpZzfgI/AAAAAAAAAwE/jcLp9wMx-mM/s1600/Week+8+031.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-yQT9cipG0E8/UKANHpZzfgI/AAAAAAAAAwE/jcLp9wMx-mM/s320/Week+8+031.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Get those training wheels just right.</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-UKNVK9sZBHo/UKANLMDen8I/AAAAAAAAAwM/fM8eqwk4BkA/s1600/Week+8+035.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-UKNVK9sZBHo/UKANLMDen8I/AAAAAAAAAwM/fM8eqwk4BkA/s320/Week+8+035.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">OH yes! I am amazing on my new bike!</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-86pDqUe0fOk/UKANOsQAFvI/AAAAAAAAAwU/L9R4QcIu33A/s1600/Week+8+038.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-86pDqUe0fOk/UKANOsQAFvI/AAAAAAAAAwU/L9R4QcIu33A/s320/Week+8+038.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Everyone wears a helmet, even Daddy.</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
But, when I took her outside to try to ride it, she wasn't going to play. She expected it to just happen with no effort. Claire does NOT like effort. But, her mama is more stubborn than Claire. Mama also understands that learning a new skill will feel good and open up some opportunities for play with other people.<br />
<br />
So, we went out and vowed not to go back in the house until Claire could pedal. Claire would sit on the bike and lock both knees. Coaxing didn't work, so I resorted to a little brute force by poking her in the back of the knee to get her to bend it while I moved her other foot around on the pedal.<br />
<br />
Then she countered with the floppy noodle effect. She would simply go limp and slide onto the ground. So, I rolled her on her back, grabbed both feet and began working them in a bicycling motion. She couldn't get away from it.<br />
<br />
Then I'd pick her up and put her on the bike while I used my hands on her legs to make them go in the right motion. In spite of my aching back, we made it to the end of our street. By then I was exhausted from doing ALL the work while Claire sat comfortably on her bike and pouted.<br />
<br />
I gave up. It didn't seem like she would ever be able to figure this out. Her legs went in every direction except the right one. Her arms twitched. She would either push both feet at once or none at all. I was at a loss. So...I sat down on the road and told Claire I was tired. She would have to pedal home. Well, we sat for a long time because she wasn't going to do it. But, time was in my favor. It was lunch time. I explained that there was no food on the road. She could not eat unless she pedaled back to the house. She wasn't happy, but I finally saw some effort to figure it out. Enough effort that I got off the ground to help again. As soon as I got near her, she stopped trying. She had pedaled almost 3 feet before I got up. But once I was standing, she wanted me to push her.<br />
<br />
I must confess that I didn't keep a sweet tone or loving eyes or any of the other requirements for bonding that all the adoption training courses demand. My voice was angry and my words said so. My eyes made it clear that I was not happy with the way things were unfolding. But--anger can be very motivational. She started pedaling. A few feet and then she stopped. But, as I walked close, she would pedal away, keeping just ahead of me. When we got almost back to the mailbox, I had her turn around and see how far she had come. Then I launched into the hurrays and happys like never before. She smiled.<br />
<br />
Yup. She smiled. That ugly face went away. She said, "Eat the lunch," and pedaled the rest of the way home.<br />
<br />
After a nice lunch with a few pieces of "choc-oh-li" to celebrate, I suggested we go back out and ride again. I really wanted to build on that success. She said "no" in no uncertain terms. I still had one trick up my sleeve. I explained that we needed to take a video to post on the computer so her friends could see her ride. (She had just watched a video of Cora riding a small toy earlier in the day.) That got her. Out we went. She pedaled off while I filmed. (I had never used this camera before, so I apologize for the video quality.) She didn't want to stop! She was having fun! In spite of herself, she had learned to pedal and she liked it!<br />
<br />
She kept going around the block, and I followed, providing a little push when it was hilly and shedding a few tears of joy. This little girl who isn't supposed to be alive, is riding her bicycle and clapping her hands and making it clear that God defies all the human expectations and writes the story according to His plan!<br />
<br />
<br />
<iframe allowfullscreen="allowfullscreen" frameborder="0" height="360" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/Qg5vvjwNM8k?rel=0" width="480"></iframe>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05232979512558533414noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4678767405983816941.post-61639414003234957902012-11-05T15:50:00.001-08:002012-11-05T21:03:35.244-08:00Even If It took 2 years to complete the paperchase to adopt Claire. That is a long time to dream.<br />
<br />
In my pre-adoption mind, I imagined my little girl standing proudly in a high school cap and gown. I imagined sending her off to college, and even dreamed of a wedding on some far off day.<br />
<br />
More near term, I dreamed of reading books together in the hammock and being able to reference our shared literature in daily conversations. I pictured visits to the museum, or hikes to historic sites. Maybe sharing a mother daughter Bible study with stimulating interactions that help us both stretch our understanding.<br />
<br />
I really do know better than to create an imaginary child before adoption, but somehow, my mind seems to, well, have a mind of its own. As much as I try to keep an empty slate for a real child to fill up, little expectations find a way to lodge in my thinking. <br />
<br />
One such idea was that if God had healed Claire's heart, He would surely heal her mind as well. I wasn't even conscious of this idea being present until we started trying to do some "normal" things that most young children can do easily. Little tugs of worry started pulling on my heart. When the first evaluation was done at the adoption clinic in Birmingham and I watched the testing proceed, those tugs got harder. When I saw the scores and heard the doctor talk about oxygen deprivation and brain damage and very low developmental levels, my dreams were shaken and my heart came to a virtual stand still.<br />
<br />
I had a lot of thinking to do.<br />
Surely God didn't heal her body just to let her brain stay broken. (But His ways aren't always the same as our ways.)<br />
<br />
"Oh the depth of the riches and wisdom and knowledge of God! How unsearchable are his judgements and how inscrutable his ways!" Romans 11:33 <br />
<br />
The more I thought, the more I remembered that God loves Claire, and all of us, just as we are. He doesn't love us for what we can do or for how much we know. He just loves. Sometimes He chooses to use the skills He has placed in us to accomplish things that bring Him glory. Other times, He chooses to use those that the world would call foolish or worthless to bring even more glory to Himself. Often, He uses our weaknesses to display His greatness.<br />
<br />
So I changed my expectations and my prayers. Instead of asking God to just make Claire be all better, I asked Him to change my heart so that I can love her and see her through His eyes.<br />
<br />
Oh, I still pray daily for restoration of the parts of her brain that have been damaged through lack of oxygen, exposure to powerful medications, and years of being in a hospital bed. I believe God can heal. I believe that brains can form new pathways to carry information. I will continue to work to provide treatment and care that offers the best opportunities for development.<br />
<br />
But, I will also work to trust that God is ALWAYS good. His choices are always best. I will love my sweet girl whether she ever learns to put her clothes on in the right direction, or whether she can ever figure out how to run or jump. If she can't do the things that most people take for granted, I will find something she can do to celebrate.<br />
<br />
When great waves of fear sweep over me as I discover that she can't button her own pants, or trace a line with her finger no matter how many times and different ways we try, or she can't distinguish the big puddles from the road they are on even when I'm trying to get her to stomp in them with her new rain boots, <br />
<br />
I will remember<br />
that God is in control of each and every outcome.<br />
He will direct our paths, and HE IS GOOD. <br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<iframe allowfullscreen="allowfullscreen" frameborder="0" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/HqOkZiOb9u0?rel=0" width="560"></iframe>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05232979512558533414noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4678767405983816941.post-7834150209465755262012-10-30T21:29:00.001-07:002012-10-30T21:29:32.808-07:00Joyful Day<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Fbvhrr7K0qk/UJCmvigBvfI/AAAAAAAAAu4/UlcJqYxPSxk/s1600/Week+6+037.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Fbvhrr7K0qk/UJCmvigBvfI/AAAAAAAAAu4/UlcJqYxPSxk/s320/Week+6+037.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A rainbow behind the piano promised a great beginning to a new day.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
And, it <i>has</i> been such a nice day. <br />
<br />
I'm a bit surprised because they have been so difficult lately. I really wasn't expecting so much ease and closeness and fun.<br />
<br />
Lydia stayed with Claire this morning while I went to the doctor. They actually PLAYED with the dolls and horses. Later in the afternoon, Claire demonstrated her new skill by playing with me. So much fun! Thanks, Lydia.<br />
<br />
My trips to the doctor give us one more thing to have in common. Claire carefully examines my "pokes" and wants to know how many bottles of blood the doctor took. She likes to put band aids on my "little ouch" just like I put them on hers. She has told and retold the story that I'm having a picture with the "big circle camera" (MRI) tomorrow, and she is "all done" and doesn't need to go with me. She joyfully sings out, "Mommy's turn." See how much I'm willing to do to bond with my child. :-)<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ygeAjRmfGJ0/UJCmuLcsm7I/AAAAAAAAAuw/_8wka92YjBk/s1600/Week+6+026.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ygeAjRmfGJ0/UJCmuLcsm7I/AAAAAAAAAuw/_8wka92YjBk/s320/Week+6+026.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Playing at the park convinced me that I couldn't put off seeing the doctor any longer. As Claire gets stronger, I need to be able to keep up with her!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
We had to go out to get more diapers this afternoon, and decided to shop for Colten's Christmas gift. Of course, this brought up a whole lot of discussion about each of Claire's friends being "far, far away." At one point she started yelling, "STAY IN CHINA!" over and over. I was tired of being sensitive, and yelled back, "NO, stay in America with Mommy and Daddy." She was startled for a moment and looked at me with those big eyes. Then she giggled and started chanting, "Stay in America. Claire stay in America." <br />
She was very happy about it.<br />
<br />
Then we talked about how the presents were going to get to Colton. Apparently, if I'm following her trail of English stepping stones, she thought we were going to deliver the presents ...and that she would be going back to China. Telling her she had to stay with us always was reassuring rather than depressing to her. At least it is for today.<br />
<br />
We made pizza for supper. We just had so much fun, working easily together. When I got out the flour (we use a couple of different kinds) I said, "1 cup of this kind, and 2 cups of this kind." My precious imp pointed to the bouquet of flowers in a vase on the counter and said, "I want this kind flour." Then she burst into giggles. <br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-iHU88rOuiJA/UJCmxTumn1I/AAAAAAAAAvA/8hwi4VV9bLc/s1600/Week+6+040.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-iHU88rOuiJA/UJCmxTumn1I/AAAAAAAAAvA/8hwi4VV9bLc/s320/Week+6+040.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Yes, those are green beans she is arranging on the pizza. Don't laugh. It was good!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-GxhHhzHErdA/UJCmzNAJPOI/AAAAAAAAAvI/XX2moX1NMog/s1600/Week+6+042.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-GxhHhzHErdA/UJCmzNAJPOI/AAAAAAAAAvI/XX2moX1NMog/s320/Week+6+042.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A delicious work of art.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
At bath time she revisited everyone being "far, far away." When she ran out of friends, she switched to brothers. But, when she named Ben, I said, "No way. Ben is close." She started giggling again. "Ben is clothes," she said, pulling on my sweater, "big, big clothes." We giggled our way through a whole lot of people being close, or clothes, until Kelly came to see what was going on and added "close" the door to our fun! <br />
<br />
I'm so thankful for all the friends and strangers who are praying for us as we do the work of becoming a family. I know God is answering your prayers because we are able to keep moving forward through the tough days, and can celebrate the joyful moments when they come. I am so blessed to be Claire's mommy.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05232979512558533414noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4678767405983816941.post-5324632205438565942012-10-29T21:12:00.002-07:002012-10-29T21:12:17.289-07:00The Dance<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-_ZSTqCS1Ilc/UI9Pz84swkI/AAAAAAAAAtU/m49bghzgW8s/s1600/fifth+week+029.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-_ZSTqCS1Ilc/UI9Pz84swkI/AAAAAAAAAtU/m49bghzgW8s/s320/fifth+week+029.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Changing seasons are another reminder that what we see today will be different tomorrow. </td></tr>
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<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-1lGLw6uj1aU/UI9PppFgRfI/AAAAAAAAAss/NPbLMMX-UYU/s1600/Week+6+006.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-1lGLw6uj1aU/UI9PppFgRfI/AAAAAAAAAss/NPbLMMX-UYU/s320/Week+6+006.jpg" width="240" /> </a></div>
Kelly likes to use the analogy of a roller coaster to describe adoption.<br />
<br />
I experience it as more like a dance. You know, those Jane Austen type dances where the characters are spinning about and getting passed from partner to partner and you never quite know who will end up close together and who will get whirled to the opposite end of the room. <br />
<br />
From our first meeting, Claire has come in close, then realize what was happening and pull away. Sometimes she would literally push us away. Other times, she ordered us, "over there" while pointing across the room. <br />
<br />
The dance is different now. There are no Chinese nannies to run to. She is dependent on us, and is forced to come close to get her needs met. Sometimes she comes reluctantly. Other times, she gets willingly close and then backs off suddenly for a time. <br />
<br />
The circles keep whirling. Large ones, small ones, quick ones and some that are so very slow. Every day it is the same old dance, and every day it is brand new.<br />
<br />
This morning was a good example. The night was difficult. In addition to several nocturnal trips to the bathroom, her breathing was noisy and sometimes labored. When daylight finally came, we were both still exhausted. She crawled under my covers like usual, but when I put my arm around her, she pushed it away. I scooted up next to her to warm her chilly back, and she shoved me back. She wanted to be comforted, but didn't want me to touch her.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-WjSPZzNonGY/UI9PxKM06TI/AAAAAAAAAtE/NLcP3VQ94Q0/s1600/fifth+week+010.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-WjSPZzNonGY/UI9PxKM06TI/AAAAAAAAAtE/NLcP3VQ94Q0/s320/fifth+week+010.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Everybody stay back!</td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
It is a confusing dance indeed.<br />
<br />
Later, when I tried to give her a hug, she told me I was "poo-poo" and not to touch her. As we discussed the boundaries for talking to people, she talked about wanting to go back to China. I think she is starting to experience some of the classic symptoms of culture shock. She wants to go home. A little later in the discussion, I asked her if she would like to talk Chinese for awhile. (I can't say much, but I have been using Rosetta Stone Mandarin for two years. I figured we could say a few things.) Her reply startled me a little, "Chinese, I don't know." <br />
<br />
And the fact is, I have never heard her say anything in Chinese. She refused to answer people who talked with her while in Taiyuan or Guangzhou. When we went to the Chinese market, she just stared at the people who tried talking to her. I really don't know how much Chinese she does remember. If she has retained some of it, she isn't going to let on right now.<br />
<br />
Since she was homesick today, I got some dumplings for supper. She was excited and shouted, "Yes, dumplings!" in the loudest voice I've heard come out of her yet. But, at supper, she ate one dumpling and then wanted the other (not Chinese) foods we had. A similar thing happened when we went to the Chinese restaurant. The food is authentic. She ate a little. The next day, I offered her some of the leftovers for lunch, but she refused them. Instead, she wanted leftovers of things I had cooked.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
I'm confused by her ever changing behavior.<br />
I think she is too.<br />
So we keep moving close, laughing,
singing, connecting--and then pulling back, avoiding eye contact,
refusing connection--until some activity causes us to look at each other
again and the love wraps around our hearts and lets us know that this
dance will get better if we don't give up.<br />
<br />
Love never gives up, never loses faith, is always hopeful, and endures through every circumstance. (I Corinthians 13:7)<br />
<br />
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05232979512558533414noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4678767405983816941.post-24096332475001812732012-10-24T21:22:00.001-07:002012-10-24T21:22:04.762-07:00I Can't Do This, or What in the World Was I Thinking!<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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<br /></div>
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<br /></div>
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Okay.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We have been
home almost 6 weeks.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I know the drill,
and I'm right on schedule with feeling overwhelmed and depressed and wondering
if I have ruined our lives.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It is all
part of the process.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Wish I could skip
over this stage, but I expect the only option is to keep pushing forward
without giving much attention to the feelings.</div>
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<br /></div>
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Claire told me yesterday that she wants to go back to
China.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I get that.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Even though we loved being in China, we were
so ready to go home after a couple of weeks.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>You just get so tired of everything being different.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You want to walk in your kitchen and get a
glass of water without having to think about it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You want communication to be simple.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You just want to return to normal.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
So she is sad.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She
misses her friends.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She grieves for the
mamas she had in China.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have to
remember that her anger at me isn't really about me at all.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She wants to grow up like any kid, and be
able to stay with the mama who gave birth to you and loves you.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I wish she could have that, too.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Somehow we will have to make the best of
what we have.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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<br /></div>
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She just wants to be where everything is familiar. I
understand.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I so want my life to return
to normal, too.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I'm tired of sleeping
on an air mattress and being waked up multiple times a night.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I want to read a book.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I want to go to the bathroom alone.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I don't want to go to the bathroom a dozen
times a day with Claire, feeling frustrated each time because she can't seem to
figure out the sequence for going, wiping, flushing and washing hands.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She still finds it fascinating to crumple
the used toilet paper into a tiny ball before dropping it into the toilet, no
matter how many times I tell her not to play with the dirty paper.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She still stands up and starts walking off
the toilet before she has finished.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ZKYBaZ-2_2g/UIi5ZdoBgOI/AAAAAAAAAqo/AuOCkkSJnCA/s1600/fifth+week+062.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ZKYBaZ-2_2g/UIi5ZdoBgOI/AAAAAAAAAqo/AuOCkkSJnCA/s320/fifth+week+062.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I can't imagine what she thinks I'm collecting these samples for! I'd be a little leery of someone who scoops poop into bottles with tiny spoons, too!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-njlpf9We1wY/UIi5a4c9cbI/AAAAAAAAAqw/bXYL5GcF4gI/s1600/fourth+week+008.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-njlpf9We1wY/UIi5a4c9cbI/AAAAAAAAAqw/bXYL5GcF4gI/s320/fourth+week+008.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I never realized that going potty was such a complex procedure. It now consumes a large part of each and every day.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I'm tired of having a child in front of my feet whenever I
take a step.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Somehow Claire manages to
push between whatever I'm doing and me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>If I'm brushing teeth, she is dead center in front of the sink and gets
angry when I try to move her.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If I am
doing dishes, she is between me and the sink, or cupboard, or dishwasher.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Our poodle wasn't even this annoying!</div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-5AwFn1MQ1d8/UIi4bf0FO4I/AAAAAAAAAqg/oMIOi5pfqNY/s1600/dog+004.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-5AwFn1MQ1d8/UIi4bf0FO4I/AAAAAAAAAqg/oMIOi5pfqNY/s320/dog+004.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I can't say that I miss this big creature, but he could at least entertain himself for a while with a toy.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<br /></div>
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Repeating the same sequences over and over drives me
mad.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Yes, Claire, I will sleep right
here next to you after I go take a shower.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Yes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I will brush my teeth
first.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We have said it at least 50
times every night for 6 weeks. When will it sink in?</div>
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<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-I0BlcOqK6C8/UIi6ft88AwI/AAAAAAAAAq8/xSwgDvvdY74/s1600/fifth+week+069.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-I0BlcOqK6C8/UIi6ft88AwI/AAAAAAAAAq8/xSwgDvvdY74/s320/fifth+week+069.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I wish there was a quicker way to make her feel safe at night. Perseverance, mommy. Eventually she WILL understand that you aren't going to disappear.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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I wish we could eat a meal without a trial.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It would be nice to eat what I want without
having to worry about whether Claire will eat it, and whether she has the exact
same thing as I do.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And, just once, I'd
love to finish my meal without having to follow her to the bathroom and wipe her
bottom.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It really spoils my enjoyment
of dinner.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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<br /></div>
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Part of the depression comes from spending too many
exhausting hours with doctors.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Our
pulmonology visit felt like a daylong nightmare.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They wanted Claire to hold her breath, to blow, to inhale and
exhale.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She can't do some things and
she refused to do others.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The only time
she was able to hold her breath was when the doctor was trying to get her to
take a couple of deep ones so she could listen to her lungs.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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<br /></div>
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It is so hard. I know Claire is scared. She doesn't
understand a lot of what is going on. The parts she does understand usually
hurt.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They couldn't get a vein
again.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My little girl is getting tired
of being a pincushion.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When Claire sits
silently watching the needle while the nurse leaves the room crying, you know
things aren't going so well. </div>
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<br /></div>
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My back hurts.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
injured it doing disaster relief in Vermont a year ago.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was getting better but I hurt it
again.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Having to lift Claire onto the
exam tables and carry her when she refuses to walk into a room for testing has
caused a lot of pain.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Bending at odd
angles while dressed in a lovely lead outfit to hold her in unusual positions
so doctors could view her trachea didn't help either.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Wonder if we get a discount on that series of x-rays since I did
so much of the work?</div>
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<br /></div>
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I don't think the mutual pain all these doctors visits are
bringing is helping us enjoy each other much.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I'd like to go to the park and play on swings, not go have more x-rays,
tooth fillings, blood work, and hours in waiting rooms.</div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-KdLx3K5suow/UIi6hidxvgI/AAAAAAAAArE/4CowD_xGAsk/s1600/fifth+week+071.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-KdLx3K5suow/UIi6hidxvgI/AAAAAAAAArE/4CowD_xGAsk/s320/fifth+week+071.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Sharing a warm cup of tomato soup after our long day at the doctor helped lift our spirits.</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Wg6jGX9G4p0/UIi6jazyMqI/AAAAAAAAArM/l5OUts3dB0I/s1600/fifth+week+073.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Wg6jGX9G4p0/UIi6jazyMqI/AAAAAAAAArM/l5OUts3dB0I/s320/fifth+week+073.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Tomato face smiles are the best! Teddy bear just arrived and couldn't have tomato soup yet. She was a gift from the x-ray folks who admired Claire's bravery.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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We are both tired of the hard work of communicating.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We are both tired of doctors. I sometimes
feel like things will always be like this.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>What if she stays at the "developmental level of a two year old" forever? The doctors at the adoption
clinic in Burmingham pointed out the evidence of oxygen deprivation and
explained the possibility of irreversible brain damage. What if they are
right?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What if she never learns to
read, or write?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Or worse, what if going
potty by herself doesn't happen?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What
if she never figures out how to put her clothes on by herself? What if she doesn't
learn how to play with a toy and I have to spend the rest of my life trying to
show her what it means to play?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What if
she never learns how to walk down a stretch of sloping ground?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Will I be holding her hand and coaxing her
to take another step when she is 20?</div>
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STOP.</div>
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<br /></div>
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Exhaustion and runaway thoughts are never a good
combination.</div>
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Jesus, I need YOU.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
can't do this.</div>
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<br /></div>
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But he said to me, "My grace is sufficient for you, for
my power is made perfect in weakness." Therefore I will boast all the more
gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ's power may rest on me. That is why,
for Christ's sake, I delight in weaknesses, in insults, in hardships, in
persecutions, in difficulties. For when I am weak, then I am strong. (II
Corinthians 12: 9-10)</div>
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<br /></div>
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Not only so, but we also rejoice in our sufferings, because
we know that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character; and
character, hope. (Romans 5:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>3-4)</div>
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HOPE.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
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Yes, that is the promise I need today.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The brain damage, the hospitals, the
doctors, the medicine, the potty training, the sleepless nights are not the
whole story.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The future is in God's
hands. He is good.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He is powerful.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The future He plans is the one I want. It is
best.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
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So for today, I will choose to live in hope and enjoy the
moments when Claire is stringing beads for matching bracelts, or dancing to the tune her puzzle plays, or baking cookies with me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-DJCiDIuhigs/UIi6lZN4GJI/AAAAAAAAArU/YRRkbr6sjKU/s1600/fifth+week+074.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-DJCiDIuhigs/UIi6lZN4GJI/AAAAAAAAArU/YRRkbr6sjKU/s320/fifth+week+074.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-e3RzM3HVpdU/UIi6nuRJafI/AAAAAAAAArc/CEaK8FpF1Fk/s1600/fifth+week+077.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-e3RzM3HVpdU/UIi6nuRJafI/AAAAAAAAArc/CEaK8FpF1Fk/s320/fifth+week+077.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-8ZERqOnKrmE/UIi88v225eI/AAAAAAAAAr8/zu6eYxq5jzE/s1600/fifth+week+084.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-8ZERqOnKrmE/UIi88v225eI/AAAAAAAAAr8/zu6eYxq5jzE/s320/fifth+week+084.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pumpkin Cookies by Claire.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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I can't do this.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
But
I <i><b>do</b></i> remember what I was thinking.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I
was thinking about God and His amazing love.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I wanted to be like Him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Just
like Claire imitates the way her daddy stands with one hand on his hip, or
crosses his feet when he puts them on the coffee table, I want to love like my
heavenly Father.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And, because I'm
doing the thing He asked, and loving a child He loves, HE will provide strength and wisdom to get us through the hard parts.</div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05232979512558533414noreply@blogger.com3