On brokeness.

Three years ago.
1096 days.

Three years ago we walked into an orphanage and met two little boys.  We had loved these boys from afar for months but to them we were complete strangers. One child rejected me continually for almost our whole time in Ethiopia. The second?  He ran straight into my arms and seemed to relish in every moment we spent together. Was it love at first sight for him like it was for me when I first saw his face on our computer screen?  No, not even close. He simply mimicked what he'd seen other kids do, followed the instructions of the nannies, knew we'd have gifts for him... the list of reasons he ran to me could go on but love?  It didn't make the list.  Not even close.  At least not yet.

One year.

We danced.  Love grew, fears abated, changes happened, anxieties grew... often time we forget while in adoption that while there is a day where all the legalities happen that single date changes nothing. It takes time for love and trust to grow in brokenness and despair.


Two years.
The dance continued and at times felt like a fight. A fight to win the hearts of children that had already lost so much, a fight to knockout the disbelief of their worthiness and earn their trust. Each day we worked to show them that we were different, we wouldn't leave them and we would always be their safe place.

Three years.

How has it been three years?  I remember everything about those first days together.  The feel of their faces in the palm of my hands, the bony arms around my neck, the inflections in their voices as they giggled are all imprinted in my mind and on my heart.  My heart was overflowing with love and joy when we met Thomas and Samsel.

So full yet so broken. People don't often tell you that when you enter into adoption, particularly older child adoption, that you are entering into brokenness. Brokenness in the heart of you child, brokenness in a system, brokenness in the world. Adoption also quickly revealed all the brokenness in me.  Brokenness that so often feels unredeemable; simultaneously a mountain you can't scale and a valley you can't climb out.

But this brokeness, it is redeemable. Today, as I watched Samsel race pedal cars and Thomas jump in piles of hay, I was thankful. Thankful for sunglasses to hide the tears and thankful that redemption is coming. Smiles and laughter, playing with friends, snuggling against my leg... it hasn't been an easy road, but it's been a beautiful one.

In the car on the way home from our field trip Samsel belted out these lyrics

When You don't move the mountains

I'm needing You to move

When You don't part the waters 

I wish I could walk through

When You don't give the answers

As I cry out to You,

I will trust, I will trust, I will trusnt in You.

Listening to my sweet boy sing these songs was not only a reminder of the redemption that is coming but of why.  We can read all the books, say all the right prayers, follow certain parenting strategies and change diets, but redemption?  It comes from the Redeemer.

In Him we have redemption through his blood, the forgiveness of sins, in accordance with the riches of God's grace. Ephesians 1:7

Love isn't the answer but it changes things. Families aren't perfect but they make a huge difference in the life of a child without one. Redmeption isn't easy. You may feel battle worn and weary.  But when you catch a glimpse of it, when you taste the sweetness of redemption in your spirit, you know that the fight, the struggle, all that ugly will someday turn into something beautiful.

It is well.

We always seem to do things full steam ahead in our household; we believe big life changes should happen in pairs at the minimum.  The week Gabriel was born we moved into a new house and I quit my job.  Most people tend to do these things one at a time, but for some reason we seem to do things with the mantra "Go big or go home."   And you know what, it works for us.  

So when we saw Lili's face and knew that an inevitable move was also in the future, we were all systems go.  We knew there would be time constraints, financial challenges and extra paperwork chases but deep within us, we knew she was our daughter and worth any extra hoops we had to jump through.  

And then we moved.  

Across the country.  

Back to Houston.  

But this time as a family of 5 instead of a family of 3.  

And everything was different. 

The boys and I stayed in a hotel the first night here as all of our belongings were arriving the next day.  We woke up ready to head to our new home and the first song that played on the radio was Audrey Assad singing "It is Well."  And honestly, at that point nothing felt well.  I was excited yet anxious, nervous and afraid to start this new adventure.  But these words rolled over me

When peace like a river, attendeth my way. 

When sorrows like sea billows roll;

Whatever my lot, Thou has taught me to say,

It is well.  It is well, with my soul. 

and have been on repeat in my heart as we navigated our new life here.  Securing pediatricians, setting up therapists, figuring out a new home school routine kept us busy those first few weeks here.  We returned back to Ohio for Christmas and came home on New Years day.  We've been welcomed back into the fold at our old church, joined the YMCA where the boys are doing soccer, baseball and swim lessons.  

Life is moving on here in Houston.  It's moving on back home in Ohio as well.  My lovely Megan's sweet baby Matthew was an itty one when we left and is now on the verge of walking.  It makes me teary just how quickly our little ones are growing up.  Cousins and friends are getting older, relationships change and things that once were, are no longer.  But my heart song, it has remained steadfast.  

Though Satan should buffet, though trials should come,
Let his blessed assurance control, 

That Christ has regarded my helpless estate, 

And hath shed His own blood for my soul. 

It is well, with my soul. 

It is well, with my soul. 

It is well, it is well, with my soul.  

Last week we received China's approval to adopt Lili; and for the first time in months I went through all of the information we have on her.  It's very slim but as the doctor dictated how he removed her right eye I found myself weeping.  What a traumatic thing for anyone to go through, let alone a toddler without a mama and daddy to hold her.  I can't even imagine how scary it was for her to wake up to a world of blackness.  I'm so grateful for the people that were there for her then and have been loving her since but nothing can replace the love of parents.  

Realistically we could be looking at Travel Approval in the next 6-8 weeks.  It seems so close yet so far away at the same time.  In an instant sometime in late June or early July we will become a family of 6.  The boys will have a sister and we will have a daughter.  Just like that our worlds will change.  I don't speak Mandarin, Lili doesn't speak English and neither of us know Braille.  We are going in with eyes wide open, we know it won't be easy but just as Samsel clings to my neck in the morning and Thomas impulsively gives us hugs now, we know it will all be worth it.  Love.  Sometimes it comes all at once but more often than not it comes slowly. We've learned that with enough patience, reassurance and steadfast presence, the deep seeded knowledge that you are loved and can love will come. 

My sin, oh, the bliss of this glorious thought!

My sin, not in part but the whole, 

Is nailed to the corss, and I bear it no more, 

Praise the Lord, praise the Lord, O my soul! 

It is well, with my soul. 

It is well, with my soul. 

It is well, it is well, with my soul.  

Q: Are you ready to parent a blind child
A.  Not yet, but we'll learn.
Q: Don't you already have your hands full?

A.  Yes, we do.  Our hands, along with our hearts will just be a bit fuller now.

Q: Another special needs child?

A.  The biggest special need of any child is the need for a family.

Q Are you sure your ready?
A.  I don't think anyone can ever be fully prepared to become a parent whether it's through birth or adoption or for the first time, fourth time or tenth time.  The only thing that is certain is that neither Lili nor any other child is ever ready to be an orphan. 

These are all questions I've been asked recently and repeatedly.  We don't have all the answers, no parent has all the answers. What we do have is a few certainties.  

1.  As a couple, we believe that adoption is the best way for us to grow our family and we are definitely ready to grow again. 

2.  As a family, the boys are so excited to have a sister.  Thomas and Gabe constantly talk about all the ways they're going to help Lili.  Ask Samsel about Lili and he'll tell you she's in China. 

3.  Adoption isn't for everyone, but it is for us.  And we truly believe that this is a calling on our lives given to us by God.  

So when I lay in bed at night exhausted from a day with my sweet boys, or from a week of Matt being out of town and my mind fails to slow down with the 100s of questions that keep me up at night... I still feel enveloped in peace. Enveloped in His peace, in His grace and His love.  And as my eyes flutter shut, I can still say

And Lord, haste the day when my faith shall be sight, 

The clouds be rolled back as a scroll;

The trump shall resound, and the Lord shall descend,

Even so, it is well with my soul.

It is well, with my soul. 

It is well, with my soul. 

It is well, it is well, with my soul.  

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 Don't forget we have t-shirts on sale to help bring our sweet Lili home.  It's a presale and the sale ends April 30!  Thank you for your support! 

lovelilijames.bigcartel.com

Tshirts for Lili James

He Cares for the Lilies

I love reading books that are part of a series; I like to watch the progression of the characters, the plot twists and returning to earlier books to review parts of the story.  As I look at character development it's easy to see that people's stories rarely begin when you think they do.  It's a little bit like life; you  meet someone when you're 15, 23 or 35, you instantly connect and then bit by bit you learn how they became the person that you met.

A decade ago I thought Matt and I would eventually adopt but a quarter of a century ago (gosh, am I truly that old!) I always wanted to adopt a baby girl from China and name her Lily.  Cue the eye roll because I do it to myself when I look back at the sweet but naive girl I used to be.  And that girl and her dream followed me through high school and college.

But then sometimes dreams change; I no longer dreamed of a little Chinese baby girl Lily, I dreamed of having a family.  That dream brought Matt and I to one of our sweetest and biggest joys, Gabriel.  After Gabriel, more joy came along. Thomas and Samsel.  While it took so much longer to bring them home than I had ever imagined.  I'm glad we had that time though; we learned so much about adoption and the children that need adoption as their chance for a family.  While we learned the ins and outs of international adoption we learned that most children that needed a family were not healthy babies but either older children or children with special needs.

As we settled in to being a family of 5 we knew we weren't quite finished growing our family yet.  We talked domestic adoption, browsed through agencies and waiting child sites.  India was a good option because you have to have less than 4 children to adopt there, we thought a special needs little boy from China would be a sweet addition, there was always domestic adoption.... there were many different ways our little family could grow.

Then we found out Matt was being transferred and sometime in the fall our family would be moving back to Houston.  Adopting again was pushed a little back down on our list until I received a short text and a picture from my dear friend Jenny.  In that picture was the face of the sweetest girl I'd ever seen holding an apple and the message "Or... you could go after Lily and we could travel to Bethel together"

Jaw dropped.  Jenny didn't know that I had a long forgotten dream of adopting a baby girl named Lily from China.  Goodness, I had pretty much forgotten that dream.  I now dreampt of lots of sweet little boys filling our home and maybe, eventually a little girl.

But the Lord, our Lord had never forgotten.  He takes those long, lost dreams and brings them to fruition.

This is the first photo I saw of our daughter.  I texted it to Matt with some details about our girl and that her name was Lily.  He knew she was the one; the one we didn't know we desperately needed.

There were so many logistics to figure out; we were moving, we had to have her file moved to an agency that would not only work with a family that was relocating after submitting paperwork but one that would also allow us to disrupt our birth order.  Once we found our agency the paper chase began - let me tell you, it's much easier the the third time around.  We recently began the paper chase again to update our home study now that we're settled here in Texas and awaiting our Letter of Acceptance from the government entity in China that is in charge of adoptions.

We are thinking she'll be home sometime mid-June but we've learned with international adoption is to be flexible with our timelines and expectations.

Our sweet girl's foster home gave her the name "Lily" because it was so much like her Chinese name.  We plan on having her name remain Lili (sounds like Lily) with the middle names James, after Matt's dad.  I'm certain he'd be tickled pink by this precious girl

As we get closer to bringing our daughter home I often think of Matthew 6:27-28:

"And who of you by being worried can add a single hour to his life?  And why are you worried about clothing?  Observe how the lilies of the field grow; they do not toil nor do they spin, yet I say to you that not even Solomon in all his glory clothed himself like one of these."

Adoption brings so many different unknowns into your life; but as The Lord cares for the lilies and has cared for our Lili as she has waited for a family, we know he will take care of all the details surrounding our sweet girl and bringing her home.  He brought a long forgotten dream to fruition in ways we couldn't even imagine, surely He has this taken care of as well.

Here Goes

What a treasure these boys are to our family!  Not a day goes by that I don't treasure the fact that I'm allowed to be the forever mama to these three little guys.

The Great Number 8

My darling Thomas, 

Today you are 8! We celebrated your birthday last week while we were in Ohio.  You're location of choice: Chuck E. Cheese.  

We had an extraordinary time celebrating you!  You, sweet boy, are utterly amazing. It has been such a joy this past year seeing you be you!  You are smart, funny and kind.  

You love a good adventure and are always up for trying something new.  For a while, everything was new and very quickly we learned about your bravery.  Your bravery, like your smile, outshines us all. You are far braver than any eight year old should have to be and you amaze us all.

The world is a better place because you're in it, Thomas.  Never doubt our love or the extraordinary purpose of your life.  We love you.  Forever.  Always.  No matter what.

Joy in the Mourning

It was 3:12 when I first looked at the clock this morning.  

I laid Samsel back in bed shortly after 1 and it felt like I had just fallen back to sleep. 

 I awoke with a start and not for the usual reason of little boy voices calling "mommy."

I woke up sad.  

And I'm not just talking a melancholy heart type of sad.

I woke up with a grieving heart and at first my mind couldn't figure out why I was so overcome with sadness. As the grogginess faded, I became more aware of the source of my grief.  

My sweet children.  

Each so precious, so loved, 

so unbelievably grafted into my heart and soul.

I continued laying in bed; not wanting to get up but unable to quell my heart. 

I said a few prayers for my little loves and tried to go back to sleep.

Sleep was elusive. 

I looked at the clock again,  it read 3:48 and I climbed out of bed;

exhausted but with an aching heart.  

I tiptoed into Sammy's room and sat in my rocker.

His fingers peeked out of the side of his crib and his breaths were so steady.

And I started to cry.  And pray.

Adoption.  

It is the most beautiful yet ugliest thing that is of the utmost necessity in this world.

Adoption.  

It is hard, 

heart breaking, 

stems from the greatest losses my kids will ever know...

And tonight, this morning, I grieve for that. 

I grieve for their losses; the ones they know and the ones they may never recognize. 

For their first families that they don't know, can't remember or maybe worse, have forgotten.

For their questions; the questions that I have no answers to and the questions that we can answer but where the answers may cause my children even more pain. 

"For the Lord will not cast off forever, but though he cause grief, he will have compassion according to the abundance of his steadfast love" Lamentations 3:31-32

I prayed over Samsel one last time; begging God to give Matt and I the proper words to soothe his heart when the time comes for him to ask these hard questions and moved on to the big boys room. 

Thomas and Gabriel.  

Their stories are vastly different but end in the same way; 

the need for adoption and them finding their way into our family.  

I am so thankful that adoption made that brought these two boys together.

Brothers. 

Brothers from two different mothers but also with the same mother.

It's complex, deep and a lot for little hearts to understand. 

As I sat on the rug between their beds I could hear both Thomas' steady breaths and Gabe's deep sighs. I read once that a way to connect with your newly adopted older child is to check on them when they're sleeping; that even though they're asleep their subconscious is aware that someone is near them; adjusting their covers, touching their cheek, quietly loving them.  So I do that every night; before I go to bed I tiptoe into their rooms and tuck them in one last time.  

Perhaps their heart will know.  Perhaps not.  It is however, good for my heart. 

I prayed for Thomas and Gabe; 

that they will always know the love we have for them and the love that God has for them. And that the love their first families had for them; that it will live in their hearts forever.  

I prayed that they will always seem themselves as we see them; beautiful and perfectly made in His image.  

I pray they don't define themselves by their adoption, their skin color or their abilities but in all knowing peace that they are loved beyond measure. 

I missed so much with each of my children but the most with Thomas.  

I will never know what his first word was, when he took his first step or what his baby giggles sounded like.  

And I grieve that; 

for me because I missed it and for him, because I can't tell him about it. 

But I will be here for many more firsts.  

I watched him ride his bike for the first time without training wheels.

I heard him read his first book.

I'll get to watch him learn to drive, graduate high school, get married and have kids. 

I'll get to see that with all of my children.  

As I rejoiced in that and sat beside their beds, my heart reminded me once again of loss. 

And this time my heart grieved for my babies first families; because they who loved them first, will miss these big moments.  

And all the little ones.

The boys will be up soon.  

First Gabe, then Samsel, then Thomas.

That's how it goes most mornings.  

They wake up one at a time but each one wakes up with so much joy. 

And as grieved as my heart is right now, I know my joy will match theirs.  

Seeing their smiles, their well rested eyes.
Hearing "good morning, Mommy" from Thomas and Gabe or "Mommy, I wake up" from Samsel; it will fill my heart with joy.

Joy always follows mourning.

And this morning, like most mornings, joy will settle on our household.  

King David wasn't kidding when he sang 

"weeping may tarry for the night, 

but joy comes with the morning" 

Psalm 30:5

As my heart begins to give me a reprieve this morning and the grief begins to abate; I sit here and remind myself that yes, adoption comes from loss; a huge loss.  

But that huge loss does not have to define my children.  

Adoption, dear ones, is hard and ugly. 

There is a daily battle in our house to continue to win the hearts and trust of our children;

to teach them that no matter what we will always love them.

But it is breathtakingly beautiful.  

To see a smile, feel an outstretched hand reach for yours, hear that first belly laugh...

It is worth every hard moment, tear and misstep.  

Adoption is about redemption; 

redeeming a lost heart, 

proving that no matter how hard, how long or how fierce the battle...

love will find a way and it will win. 

Six

Sweet Gabe,

You are six! Like the year before, five was an amazing year for you!  You continued to defy the odds, amaze everyone who met you and spread insatiable joy.

You're fifth year brought better language skills, running and jumping, you're first soccer practice, second baseball season, many visits to museums and zoos, sleep overs at Nonnie and Papo's, your first extended time away from Mommy and Daddy AND it brought you your brothers.

My love, this was a BIG year for you and I loved watching you navigate your way through it.  You made good friends (like Keira and Allie) said good bye to your beloved Miss Danielle and Miss Shannon, learned to trust (and love)  new people, became a brother and literally, every day grew up before our eyes.  See?

Sweet Gabe, you were my first baby and you taught me how to be a mommy.  You unknowingly prepared me and Daddy on how to be the best parents we could; not just for you but your brothers as well.  You have taught us to see beyond what is there and experience life in a way that doesn't allow us to stand on the sidelines.  

Antoine de Saint-Exupery wrote in The Little Prince "It is only with the heart that one can see rightly; what is essential is invisible to the eye."   

Gabe, you always use your heart.  You see with your heart, you listen with your heart and you love deeply with your whole heart.  I pray you never lose that, Gabriel and that Mommy and Daddy can help you cultivate that amazing gift.  

We love you, sweet boy.  The world; this crazy, mixed up place is a much better place because of you.  

9 months of brothers

Brothers.  My three sons have now been brothers for 9 months.  Meeting at the airport; the excitement, exhaustion and feeling all of those intense emotions put down the glue that would, through the next few months begin to fully them as brothers.

Adoption, like life is filled with unknowns.  When our adoption agency agreed to allow us to disrupt our birth order, the list of unknowns grew.  Inevitably adding another child to our family would change Gabe's life but I had to wonder how much more would disrupting the birth order change his life.

We were thrilled when our agency approved our home study for a child aged 0-10.  We assumed we'd be adding a big brother or sister to Gabe's future.  February 14, 2014 when we heard the words "two boys, ages 6 and 8 months" we were thrilled.  Sandwiching Gabe between two brothers was totally unexpected; a complete delight but added to the list of unknowns.  These boys, this brotherhood, it was one of the major unknowns as we waited for Thomas and Samsel to come home.

"Never be afraid to trust an unknown future to a known God" 

As I was sharing my fears with a friend she shared the above sentiment from Corrie ten Boom.  So we trusted.  Honestly, I trusted then worried then trusted some more.  And my worry, well it was fruitless.  Like we read a few nights ago with the big boys at bedtime; "Look at the birds of the air; they do not sow or reap or store away in barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them.  Are you not much more valuable than they?"  Matthew 6:26.  We are more valuable to The Lord than the birds and surely He took care of our family.

Gabe truly became a big brother and a little brother in the  middle of an airport on November 13, 2014.  He took his brothers home and began sharing his toys, his bedroom and his parents.  My worries about the boys and the brotherhood they would form proved needless.  While it hasn't been perfect, it's been beautiful; full of love, learning and redemption.

In Samsel The Lord provided a sweet boy nearly the same age as our July baby that would heal small parts of Gabe's hearts that were still reeling from that loss.  While Gabe had to learn (and at times needs a refresher course) to be gentle to his younger brother, he also was given the opportunity to be a big brother; to be a leader and a protector, to teach Samsel and to care for him.  Samsel learned quickly that Gabe loved him unconditionally and is always quick to sidle up beside Gabe to look at a book or play cars together.



Samsel needed a brother to respond to all of his cries, to readily give him the toy he wanted and to help fill his quota of daily hugs.  Both Gabe and Samsel find comfort in one another when someone is sad or hurt.  Samsel doesn't yet see any of Gabe's limitations but all of his potential.  Their relationship is beautiful.  Exhausting and tests all of my parenting patience when they tease each other for hours on end but also one of the most beautiful relationships two brother could have.

Then there's these two.

 I'm not really sure what to even say about them.  Some days I just sit back and marvel at the fact that they have only been brothers for "X" amount of time because it seems like their relationship is so established.  Thomas has taken to being the "big brother" of the house with great pride.  He encourages Gabe, praises him for using lefty and helps him when he needs it.  Gabe needed Thomas. He needed a brother to play super hero with him, race cars around the living room and belly laugh with as they 'fall' off the couch.  Gabe needed someone to believe in him, someone for nightly wrestling matches against daddy and someone to whisper funny stories to after being tucked into bed.  

As for Thomas; he desperately needed the sweet, happy spirit of Gabe in his life.  Gabe showed Thomas that laughter really is the best medicine; for a carsick stomach, a lonely day or a hard moment.  Through Gabe, Thomas learned exactly what Daddy and Mommy are for; to care for you, love you, fill you with good food and hopeful words.  Thomas learned quickly from Gabe how to create new tracks on the train table and now they spend hours playing trains, designing new tracks and causing train wrecks.  Together they've learned to read; spurred on by a little brotherly competition (for Thomas) and the desire to not be left behind (for Gabe). Soon, they will begin 1st grade together.  I can only imagine the laughter, learning and fun that will be had around that table.

It hasn't been perfect.  Both boys have had a lot to learn; how to share, how to respect one another's wishes when the other wants time to themselves, to take turns.  All things brothers begin learning from day one; their day one just began when they were 5 and 6 years old.

9 months.  9 months of love. 9 months of laughter.  9 months of bedtime stories and songs.  It has been such a joy and a privilege to watch them go from brothers by name only to brothers bonded by love and an equal amound of need and admiration for one another.

No one could have ever known these three little boys born thousands of miles and a world a
part would be such a wonderful match for a trio of brothers.  Thomas and Samsel had one another but unknown to them, and to us, someone was missing for everyone.  Gabe fits perfectly in the middle; Thomas in the lead and Sam coming along as the baby.  Clandestine moments fill our house when I hear giggles turn to belly laughs, stumble upon them reading together in the playroom or check in on them sleeping at night and I have to remind myself that this isn't how it's always been.  While we couldn't have imagined how well these three boys would become brothers, He did.  And as I pull their blankets back over them each night before I go to bed, I thank Him for His unfailing wisdom to give us the gift of these three brothers.

 Every good and perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father 

of the heavenly lights, who does not change like shifting shadows.  James 1:17

On Going Slow

Some days seem to go by so slow but the weeks and months seem to go by in the blink of an eye. Even moments at time seem like they need to be stolen because I blink and they've passed us by.  Life with three [very active] boys keeps me on my toes.  I've learned that in order to keep up and to be able to meet everyone's individual needs, there's little time to sit down.  At night I glance at the computer and have so many things in my mind and on my heart that beckon to be shared but I tend to curl up on the couch, spend time with Matt and fall asleep; physically exhausted but with a very full and very thankful heart.


Nine months ago Matt and I boarded a plane in DC bound for Ethiopia with no idea what the future would hold.  We knew it would be beautiful and we assumed it would be hard but we were ready to bring home two little boys who needed a family.  And as much as they needed a family, we needed them.

Step by step, moment by moment our sweet sons learned that we were their family.  It was, and in many ways still is, a slow process.  How do you explain to a child that you will always be there for them when all the adults they've known have left them?  You can't use words, you have to prove it to them.

And that proof comes in the form of being there each and every day, every single second they need you.  For the first few months home Samsel woke up constantly; he wasn't hungry or wet, he just needed to know we were there.  So we went to him, held him close and whispered sweet, soft truth into his ears.  Thomas?  He didn't need us at night but during the day time he asked (still does some days) so many questions I wouldn't even be able to keep count. Sweet questions, serious questions, nonsensical questions.  He didn't need the answers so much as to know we cared enough to answer.  So we did.  And we do.

Day by day, week by week and as the seasons change their attachment to us grows as does ours to them.  Attaching in adoption can be a slow process and we're okay with that.  And a slow, steady but strong attachment has shown us how in this fast pace world, slow can be a good thing.  A beautiful thing.  As the days have been slow and the weeks have flown by we've been enjoying life the same way: fast and slow.  Appointments and bonding at home used to take up our days but now appointments and play dates are filling our time.  In November the boys came home to a brand new world, each and every thing was virtually brand new.  We slowly acclimated to all that newness with just our family.

 As the spring began to thaw out the cold ground of Ohio, we were able to slowly open our lives to our family and friends.  The same family and friends that stood by us as we waited audaciously for the boys to come home, stood in the wings waiting to meet them, get to know them and live life together once again.  I still feel like there are so many people they need to meet (did I seriously and naively think we'd have a welcome home party for them?! Ha!) and little by little they are meeting all the people in our lives.

Nine months ago I could have never told you how important it is to go slow in life.  While I'm not truly part of the rat race I was accustomed to the idea that faster is always better.  Alas, not for the first nor last time will I be wrong.  Going slow with the boys has shown me the importance of going slow in other things.  Like on walks.  I'd burn more calories and get home faster if the boys rode or walked quickly but then we'd miss out on so many things.  Following ants down the side walk, watching squirrels, waving hello to the cars that drive by.  It seems unnecessary but enjoying the small things, the slower pace of life is peaceful.
 

Getting out the door on time with these three proves to be a challenge at times.  Rushing is nothing but stressful for all four of us so now, we start earlier, move slower and there is so much more peace in our house. This going slow... it really works for our family.

Pre-family of 5 I moved slowly in the morning; I had plenty of time to do what ever needed to be done and meet the needs of Gabe.  The first few months home, while we were cocooned at home most of the time we were still moving at a very fast pace.  Life was crazy and hard, yet beautiful.  But in the busyness I was missing the beauty.  The beauty that my three sweet sons marveled at; big clouds, beautiful snow flakes, sun beams on the playroom floor barely caught my attention because I thought I had so much to do and was moving to quickly.  One day though, the dust sparkling in the sunshine that had the boys laughing and dancing, garnered my attention as well.  And I took a moment to slow down.  The dishes sat, the books were a mess but those moments were so enjoyable.  After that day in May, I made the intentional decision to slow down.  Life was speeding by, there was so much to do but it felt so good to slow down.

Slowing down didn't mean life stopped.  We still schooled, played, took adventures and made it to our appointments but we enjoyed life a little bit more.  And as we slowed I found I had more time, more energy and began to be refreshed.  When we were flitting from thing to thing with no time for my mind or body to refresh itself, slowing down gave us more time.  More time to enjoy one another; slowly we added more routine to our life; scheduled school, more activities outside the house, morning devotions for the boys and back in the routine were morning devotions for me.

You're my place of quiet retreat; I will wait for Your Word to renew me. Psalm 119:114

Renewal, slowness.  It's so unnatural but it feels so good.  While it didn't make sense to others to slowly introduce the boys to the outside world, our friends and family, play dates it made sense to us.  And while initially it was hard to purposefully slow down; to truly stop and smell the roses, it turned into something wonderful.  Slow and steady: it doesn't just work for turtles [smile].