I thought I posted this yesterday. But I was attempting it from my phone while in the car rider line. Happy Passover anyway.
Me to kids (while running apple after apple through the food processor...in the process of making charoset...which I do every year): "Do y'all know what today is?"
Jamal: (looks at his phone) "April 14th. My Gotcha Day?"
me: "No."
Jamal: "My Adoption Day!"
me: "No, Jamal, those are both in October. It's a religious day."
(blank stares)
me: "Easter's on Sunday..."
Kia: "Today's Monday...oh! Better Monday!"
Kia missed most of school today. Let's hope she got there in time for Bible.
Happy Passover, everyone.
Tuesday, April 15, 2014
Sunday, April 06, 2014
I went to church this morning.
I went to church this morning.
But I was having one of those days. I was there for both services and somehow never even made it into the worship center. I got stuck in the nursery during early service and then ended up helping people with various things throughout all of class and late service. I left without hearing any of the sermon, ever reading a scripture, bowing my head, or singing even one song.
Our life groups weren't meeting tonight, so Dad and I decided to visit my grandmother's church. As I walked into the church building, it crossed my mind how fitting it was that I was there, since my trip to church this morning didn't really "count". As I sat in that worship service (which was great, even if I did plan this blog post in the midst of it), I began to think about my experience at church this morning . . .
I was late getting to church (as usual). I went and talked with some friends in the nursery, tidied things up a bit at my orphan ministry table in the lobby, and then headed toward worship. I walked back by the nursery to see one adult trying to manage three screaming toddlers.
"Do you need help?" I asked.
"Well...maybe."
In I went to scoop up a crying baby. I spent the next hour holding a sad-turned-smiley baby girl who loved to cuddle.
Once early service ended, I went to hang out at our orphan ministry table in case anyone came by with questions (we're highlighting local ministries this month, and Handprints, our orphan ministry, is one of them). A few people did. I loved telling them about the foster youth we've gotten to serve and love over the past two years. I showed them pictures of the parties we throw each summer for the teens who are starting college. I told them how desperately those teens need Christian mentors as they age out of the system. They shared stories of how they serve our city and of their own personal connections to foster care.
When it seemed most everyone had gone to their Sunday school classes, I began to think about heading that way, too. Then I was approached by a man named B. He looked to be in his 50s, and I could tell within just a few minutes that his life had been far from easy. It was his first time at our church, and he was looking for the woman who'd invited him, though he could not remember her name. I sat down in lobby with him as I tried to figure out who his friend was. We never figured out who he was looking for, but we did talk about other things. We talked about church and how his only experience with a church of Christ was during his childhood, when a different church would host the kids from his children's home every Sunday morning. All he could remember was that there were no instruments. ;) He told me how he grew up in a home for children in Georgia and how he'd lived in Memphis for 30 years. He worked hard to remember how to spell and pronounce my name and, about fifteen minutes into our conversation, asked me if I still remembered his (I did). We talked about our family histories . . . how his name has a Jewish spelling but he's actually of Irish descent . . . how my ancestors were from Belgium. He taught me that Georgia was named after King George, because many English immigrants settled there (am I the only one who didn't know that?). I introduced him to random people who came through the lobby while we were sitting there. We talked until class let out and it was time for late service.
Even though I still hadn't actually "done" church, I wasn't planning on staying for late service because I wanted lunch and a nap (can I get an amen?). I stopped to talk to some friends on my way out the door, and while I was talking to them, another friend (and one of our shepherds) asked to speak with me. He told me he wanted to connect me with someone . . . a lady named R who recently learned she has a tumor near her pancreas and is facing Whipple surgery soon. He actually went and got her out of service to introduce us. As soon as he told her who my mother was, she began to cry, hugged me, and whispered, "I know what I'm in for." We sat down in the lobby and spent the remainder of the worship service sharing experiences, fears, grief, hope, and miracles. We talked about everything from digestive enzymes to the colors in her daughter's upcoming wedding. We cried, laughed, and hugged more times than is normal for two people who'd just met. And in the middle of it all we took communion together.
As I sat in church tonight, where we sang one of the songs we'd sung over Mom as she went to heaven, I thought about her and how good she was at living out Matthew 25:40, one of her favorite verses. She was always putting her day on hold to stop and serve whomever God put in her path, because she looked into the face of that person and saw Jesus.
Like I said before, I left church this morning without hearing any of the sermon, ever reading a scripture, bowing my head, or singing even one song.
But I saw Jesus.
I went to church this morning.
But I was having one of those days. I was there for both services and somehow never even made it into the worship center. I got stuck in the nursery during early service and then ended up helping people with various things throughout all of class and late service. I left without hearing any of the sermon, ever reading a scripture, bowing my head, or singing even one song.
Our life groups weren't meeting tonight, so Dad and I decided to visit my grandmother's church. As I walked into the church building, it crossed my mind how fitting it was that I was there, since my trip to church this morning didn't really "count". As I sat in that worship service (which was great, even if I did plan this blog post in the midst of it), I began to think about my experience at church this morning . . .
------------------------------
I was late getting to church (as usual). I went and talked with some friends in the nursery, tidied things up a bit at my orphan ministry table in the lobby, and then headed toward worship. I walked back by the nursery to see one adult trying to manage three screaming toddlers.
"Do you need help?" I asked.
"Well...maybe."
In I went to scoop up a crying baby. I spent the next hour holding a sad-turned-smiley baby girl who loved to cuddle.
Once early service ended, I went to hang out at our orphan ministry table in case anyone came by with questions (we're highlighting local ministries this month, and Handprints, our orphan ministry, is one of them). A few people did. I loved telling them about the foster youth we've gotten to serve and love over the past two years. I showed them pictures of the parties we throw each summer for the teens who are starting college. I told them how desperately those teens need Christian mentors as they age out of the system. They shared stories of how they serve our city and of their own personal connections to foster care.
When it seemed most everyone had gone to their Sunday school classes, I began to think about heading that way, too. Then I was approached by a man named B. He looked to be in his 50s, and I could tell within just a few minutes that his life had been far from easy. It was his first time at our church, and he was looking for the woman who'd invited him, though he could not remember her name. I sat down in lobby with him as I tried to figure out who his friend was. We never figured out who he was looking for, but we did talk about other things. We talked about church and how his only experience with a church of Christ was during his childhood, when a different church would host the kids from his children's home every Sunday morning. All he could remember was that there were no instruments. ;) He told me how he grew up in a home for children in Georgia and how he'd lived in Memphis for 30 years. He worked hard to remember how to spell and pronounce my name and, about fifteen minutes into our conversation, asked me if I still remembered his (I did). We talked about our family histories . . . how his name has a Jewish spelling but he's actually of Irish descent . . . how my ancestors were from Belgium. He taught me that Georgia was named after King George, because many English immigrants settled there (am I the only one who didn't know that?). I introduced him to random people who came through the lobby while we were sitting there. We talked until class let out and it was time for late service.
Even though I still hadn't actually "done" church, I wasn't planning on staying for late service because I wanted lunch and a nap (can I get an amen?). I stopped to talk to some friends on my way out the door, and while I was talking to them, another friend (and one of our shepherds) asked to speak with me. He told me he wanted to connect me with someone . . . a lady named R who recently learned she has a tumor near her pancreas and is facing Whipple surgery soon. He actually went and got her out of service to introduce us. As soon as he told her who my mother was, she began to cry, hugged me, and whispered, "I know what I'm in for." We sat down in the lobby and spent the remainder of the worship service sharing experiences, fears, grief, hope, and miracles. We talked about everything from digestive enzymes to the colors in her daughter's upcoming wedding. We cried, laughed, and hugged more times than is normal for two people who'd just met. And in the middle of it all we took communion together.
------------------------------
As I sat in church tonight, where we sang one of the songs we'd sung over Mom as she went to heaven, I thought about her and how good she was at living out Matthew 25:40, one of her favorite verses. She was always putting her day on hold to stop and serve whomever God put in her path, because she looked into the face of that person and saw Jesus.
Like I said before, I left church this morning without hearing any of the sermon, ever reading a scripture, bowing my head, or singing even one song.
But I saw Jesus.
I went to church this morning.
Wednesday, December 25, 2013
a bonus Christmas {repost}
I wrote the following post two years ago today, and i have intentionally reminded myself of it often over the last few weeks. I wanted so badly to live this season with the joy that I saw in my mother every year, especially during her "bonus" years. Even though we didn't get another bonus Christmas with her, who knows if this is actually a bonus Christmas for someone else we love? As we learned on May 18th, things can change in an instant.
I think I started the season doing a pretty decent job of being in the Christmas spirit, but I confess that this week has been harder than I expected. Though my circumstances have changed dramatically, I want to be as thankful and as joyful as I was two years ago. So I'm reposting this for me and for anyone else who needs a reminder of just how awesome it is that we've been blessed with another Christmas!
It's Christmas! And it's not just any Christmas. It's a bonus Christmas. It's Christmas with a healthy mom. It's one more Christmas as a family that we didn't expect to have.
I think I started the season doing a pretty decent job of being in the Christmas spirit, but I confess that this week has been harder than I expected. Though my circumstances have changed dramatically, I want to be as thankful and as joyful as I was two years ago. So I'm reposting this for me and for anyone else who needs a reminder of just how awesome it is that we've been blessed with another Christmas!
----------------------------------------------
It's Christmas! And it's not just any Christmas. It's a bonus Christmas. It's Christmas with a healthy mom. It's one more Christmas as a family that we didn't expect to have.
To fully understand how grateful we are for this Christmas, let me paint you a picture of last Christmas. Mom was sick. Really sick. She spent most of the holidays in her recliner, getting weaker by the day. I spent most of the holidays completely stressed out, trying to do all the stuff Mom usually did and keep Christmas as normal as possible for my younger siblings. Dad decorated the outside of the house and put the garland up wrong. Friends came over to help me get our tree up, and putting the lights on was such an ordeal that I thought surely there would be weeping and gnashing of teeth by the time we got finished. I did most of Mom's Christmas shopping (and Santa's) along with mine. And, if you know me, you know what a big deal that was, because I hate to shop! Dad and I were both working full-time. Who knows where the kids were or if anyone was feeding them (kidding). And then, on the eve of Christmas Eve, Trish was admitted to the hospital in need of a blood transfusion. Between 12-hour work days, trying to get everyone's gifts bought, and Mom being in the hospital, December 23rd and 24th were two of the hardest days of the whole year for me. Shopping 'til 11pm was involved (there was some stuff – like a live animal – that I simply couldn't order online or get ahead of time). Skipping dinner was involved. Tears were involved. Very little sleeping was involved.
Like I said, Mom was getting weaker by the day. I was pretty certain that her first post-chemo CT scan in January would reveal more cancer and less hope. So was she. We thought for sure it was her last Christmas in this world. She did recordable storybooks for her grandkids so they would remember her voice. We took lots of pictures and treasured every moment, regardless of how sick or stressed we may have been. It was a precious time, but it was kind of a sad time. And I can't really say it was a whole lot of fun.
But it's Christmas 2011 now, and things are much different this year. If there's ever been evidence of a God who makes things new, my mom's journey over the last year and a half is it. Trish is not only still with us - she's doing great! And you've never seen anyone so excited about Christmas. She's like a little kid! Since she didn't get to enjoy the Christmas season last year, she is loving every minute of it this year. She couldn't get our tree up or the house decorated fast enough! Normally we don't start listening to Christmas music until after Thanksgiving, but this year we started playing it two weeks before. Spending the Christmas season with someone who didn't expect to have another Christmas makes you see things in a whole new way. I wish all of you could spend the holidays with my mom . . . she's contagious! We feel like we've been given a bonus Christmas, and we can't get enough!
I'm very aware that most families who've been on journeys like ours haven't been given “bonus” Christmases. Some didn't even know the last Christmas with their loved ones would be their last. I don't know why we've been given this bonus Christmas, and I don't know if we'll be given another one. And that makes me even more determined to soak in every precious moment - of this season and every other one.
I continually find myself overwhelmed with thankfulness. Thankful for a family with whom I can spend this season. Thankful for a mom who can go Christmas shopping with me (and actually out-shop me!). Thankful for a mom who can climb the stairs to get to our gift-wrapping station. Thankful for a mom who can decorate the house the “right” way (no offense, Dad). ;-) Thankful for a mom who's enjoying the season instead of just surviving it. Thankful for a mom.
Merry Christmas, friends! I hope you live it like a bonus one. :-)
Saturday, October 12, 2013
snorkeling {a family update}
How are we doing? We're snorkeling, but not the fun kind. I'll explain later. Here's an update on the family . . .
Tekia is in 8th grade and doing well in school. She decided to take a year off from cheerleading and is just doing tumbling classes right now. Jamal's school situation has been more complicated. He was homeschooled last year and the plan all along was for him to return to regular high school for his senior year. His school knew this and agreed it was a good plan. However, no one ever told us that once a child turns 18, our school system will not admit them. Jamal turned 18 in June, so when my dad went to register him for school, the school said no. After two months of fighting this and talking to administrators and trying to find a school that would admit him, we finally came to the hard realization that it would be best at this point for Jamal to begin working on getting his GED. So that's what he's doing now. He began GED prep classes two weeks ago.
Both kids are struggling in other ways. Out of respect for their privacy, I won't go into details. But please, please keep them in your prayers. How are their teenage hearts supposed to handle losing two moms during their childhood? How can they trust a God who would let that happen?
Dad and I are both working full-time. And both feeling like we need to be at home all the time. We're currently participating in a wonderful class called Empowered to Connect. I can't recommend it enough to other adoptive and foster families! Visit the website and check out the ETC initiative. Mom and I have been to three ETC conferences in the last two years, and she and Dad had been planning on attending this class for months. I'm happy to fill in for her. We covet your prayers as we continue the crazy journey that is being part of our family.
In the days right after Mom died, I remember my older brother Jared saying, "I wish we could just fast forward a few months . . . like to September." I agreed. As if things were going to be less hard in a few months.
Wrong.
Here it is October, and many days I feel like I'm barely keeping my head above water. There are moments that are good - even great. I have days where I find myself driving down the road with my hands lifted in praise (okay, just one hand . . . I am driving, after all) as I sing my heart out to the One who is somehow able to fill my heart with joy during times like this. And then there are days when I have to pull over in a parking lot because the grief becomes so intense that I can't even catch my breath. And sometimes those are the same day.
But God is faithful, and as I struggle to keep my head above the water . . . to keep breathing . . . He hands me a snorkel. I get a text from a friend telling me they're praying for me . . . or I get a facebook message about how Mom touched someone's life . . . or Tekia says something that makes me laugh my head off . . . or someone randomly invites us over for dinner . . . or my daily devotional says exactly what I need to hear. I'm still swimming in the deep, but I can take a breath. Relax a little. For a few minutes or hours or days, I can breathe easy. The hurt is still there, but the hope is revived.
And even though snorkeling is more fun in the Bahamas, these days I'll take what I can get.
Tekia is in 8th grade and doing well in school. She decided to take a year off from cheerleading and is just doing tumbling classes right now. Jamal's school situation has been more complicated. He was homeschooled last year and the plan all along was for him to return to regular high school for his senior year. His school knew this and agreed it was a good plan. However, no one ever told us that once a child turns 18, our school system will not admit them. Jamal turned 18 in June, so when my dad went to register him for school, the school said no. After two months of fighting this and talking to administrators and trying to find a school that would admit him, we finally came to the hard realization that it would be best at this point for Jamal to begin working on getting his GED. So that's what he's doing now. He began GED prep classes two weeks ago.
Both kids are struggling in other ways. Out of respect for their privacy, I won't go into details. But please, please keep them in your prayers. How are their teenage hearts supposed to handle losing two moms during their childhood? How can they trust a God who would let that happen?
Dad and I are both working full-time. And both feeling like we need to be at home all the time. We're currently participating in a wonderful class called Empowered to Connect. I can't recommend it enough to other adoptive and foster families! Visit the website and check out the ETC initiative. Mom and I have been to three ETC conferences in the last two years, and she and Dad had been planning on attending this class for months. I'm happy to fill in for her. We covet your prayers as we continue the crazy journey that is being part of our family.
In the days right after Mom died, I remember my older brother Jared saying, "I wish we could just fast forward a few months . . . like to September." I agreed. As if things were going to be less hard in a few months.
Wrong.
Here it is October, and many days I feel like I'm barely keeping my head above water. There are moments that are good - even great. I have days where I find myself driving down the road with my hands lifted in praise (okay, just one hand . . . I am driving, after all) as I sing my heart out to the One who is somehow able to fill my heart with joy during times like this. And then there are days when I have to pull over in a parking lot because the grief becomes so intense that I can't even catch my breath. And sometimes those are the same day.
But God is faithful, and as I struggle to keep my head above the water . . . to keep breathing . . . He hands me a snorkel. I get a text from a friend telling me they're praying for me . . . or I get a facebook message about how Mom touched someone's life . . . or Tekia says something that makes me laugh my head off . . . or someone randomly invites us over for dinner . . . or my daily devotional says exactly what I need to hear. I'm still swimming in the deep, but I can take a breath. Relax a little. For a few minutes or hours or days, I can breathe easy. The hurt is still there, but the hope is revived.
And even though snorkeling is more fun in the Bahamas, these days I'll take what I can get.
Sunday, July 14, 2013
the blogger lives
When my 3-year-old friend Brody (yep, thing 2) first learned that Mom had gone to Heaven, he had a hard time understanding that I was still here on earth. After all, he knew that Tricia and Callie went everywhere together. We'd just spent almost a month in Louisville together and he hadn't seen either of us since we'd been home. So it made sense to him that I would be with Trish.
You guys might've been thinking that, too . . . since I haven't blogged one word in over a month and all. But I'm alive. Just too busy to blog on most days. Too tired to blog on some. Too sad to blog on a few. But mostly just too busy.
In the midst of trying to figure out how to exist without my mom/best friend/roommate, I'm also trying to figure out how to do things like take care of teenagers, keep our garden alive, repair broken appliances (yes, that was her job), cook, etc, all while doing my normal things like working full-time and leading an orphan ministry.
So I'm busy . . . currently busy trying to get this family ready for the beach. :)
Most days we have no idea what we're doing or why we're doing it, but we're trying to do it with love. Keep praying for us.
p.s. I tweet/facebook/instagram a lot because it's fast and easy . . . feel free to keep up with all of our shenanigans on one of those sites!
You guys might've been thinking that, too . . . since I haven't blogged one word in over a month and all. But I'm alive. Just too busy to blog on most days. Too tired to blog on some. Too sad to blog on a few. But mostly just too busy.
In the midst of trying to figure out how to exist without my mom/best friend/roommate, I'm also trying to figure out how to do things like take care of teenagers, keep our garden alive, repair broken appliances (yes, that was her job), cook, etc, all while doing my normal things like working full-time and leading an orphan ministry.
So I'm busy . . . currently busy trying to get this family ready for the beach. :)
Most days we have no idea what we're doing or why we're doing it, but we're trying to do it with love. Keep praying for us.
p.s. I tweet/facebook/instagram a lot because it's fast and easy . . . feel free to keep up with all of our shenanigans on one of those sites!
Tuesday, May 28, 2013
update on the live streaming situation...
Apparently Mac users may not be able to watch the live stream of the service at the link I posted below. If you have issues, try this - www.ustream.tv/channel/sycamoreview-weekly-sermon .
The streaming will begin at 4pm central, with the visitation and
slideshow. The celebration will begin at 6:30pm.
We hope tonight will point people to Jesus the way Mom did with her life. Pray for God to be glorified tonight!
Friday, May 24, 2013
the next step
The next step (I guess . . . what do I know about this?) is celebrating what a crazy awesome life my mom lived . . . how she lived for Jesus and showed others his love daily. We'll be gathering to remember and celebrate her life on earth next Tuesday, May 28, at Sycamore View church of Christ. Visitation will be at 4pm and the service will be at 6:30, followed by a reception.
Those who are unable to attend will be able to watch the service online. It will be streamed live (likely beginning with the visitation) on our church's web site. Just go to this link and then click on "live streaming." Also, it will be available for viewing afterward at vimeo.com/sycamoreview.
To our extended family . . . the ones whose sweet babies my mom has rocked and bathed and fed and loved . . . you are our family, and there will be reserved seating for you directly behind us.
For those who may be bringing small children, Mom would love nothing more than for the room to be full of their noise. :) However, if you think they're getting too rowdy, you can take them out to one of the foyers or to the nursing room to play, and you can continue watching the service on TV.
Though her death at this time was very unexpected, Mom had been given terminal diagnoses (yes, plural) before, so she had given us a few instructions about the kind of celebration service she wanted. You can expect it to be inspiring, encouraging, and challenging. We hope and pray you will find that it's full of Jesus, the one who made a life like my mom's possible and the one who gives us hope in our darkest hours. Please continue to pray for us. We still believe His promises are true.
Those who are unable to attend will be able to watch the service online. It will be streamed live (likely beginning with the visitation) on our church's web site. Just go to this link and then click on "live streaming." Also, it will be available for viewing afterward at vimeo.com/sycamoreview.
To our extended family . . . the ones whose sweet babies my mom has rocked and bathed and fed and loved . . . you are our family, and there will be reserved seating for you directly behind us.
For those who may be bringing small children, Mom would love nothing more than for the room to be full of their noise. :) However, if you think they're getting too rowdy, you can take them out to one of the foyers or to the nursing room to play, and you can continue watching the service on TV.
Though her death at this time was very unexpected, Mom had been given terminal diagnoses (yes, plural) before, so she had given us a few instructions about the kind of celebration service she wanted. You can expect it to be inspiring, encouraging, and challenging. We hope and pray you will find that it's full of Jesus, the one who made a life like my mom's possible and the one who gives us hope in our darkest hours. Please continue to pray for us. We still believe His promises are true.
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