Jason's Adoption

The morning after a March Nor'Easter we stood in a crowd waiting for the courthouse to open.

Friends and family from as far as Lousiana braved the cold with us for this moment that was years in the making but would take only minutes.

The social worker who educated and licensed us as foster parents, first told us of our son, and walked with us through his first months at home came to be with us.

The social worker who advocated for Jason for the past two years and told us when this day would be was also present.

The Judge directed her questions to Sophia. "How old are you?" and "How old is your brother?"

Jason was given his adoption certificate to sign.

We were told purple is the color of adoption and Jason got to keep the purple pen that lights up.

To make it official, the gavel was hit three times, first by the Judge, then by Sophia, and finally by the little boy who now has a very long name. 

His lavender bow tie was lent to us by a friend who has a heart for adoption and has been a strong supporter of our family.

We were surrounded by loving cheerleaders.

After the ceremony, our crew of 15 shared lunch at the cafe across the street. 

Jason loved going from table to table to visit.

He fell asleep on the drive home and slept in past 7:00 the following morning, something which almost never happens. 

We hadn't really talked with Sophia about what the day meant, but her prayer that night was, "Thank you that my brother and me are now official brother and sister."

In addition to a new last name, the Judge gave Jason a teddy bear, but he seemed to like the lollipops she gave him the best.

He is loved by the Mother who gave him life and by the many he has met since that day.

May he always feel secure in the love that is his. We are so fortunate to belong to him.

Accepting the Invitation

There is a lot of parenting advice out there and I have nothing new to add.

I can say that the best advice I have heard involves prioritizing one thing while deferring another. While, "sleeping when the baby sleeps", is nearly impossible because of all that could be accomplished, I never regretted one of those naps. 

These days I'm often still doing the task, it just takes a lot longer. Such as saying yes to reading a book while making dinner. This entails the book next to the food prep and telling Sophia when it is time to turn the page, alternating between reading a recipe and "Amelia Bedelia". 

Sometimes chores or desirable activities are deferred because a little boy with chocolate eyes is looking up at me with arms outstretched. The frequent invitation to pick up this ever growing person means I find myself without arms to do whatever I had in mind. 

Despite a weight which necessitates shifting him from one hip to another, I am honored by his trust to display this vulnerability with his entire being. One day I will no longer be able to lift him and sooner than that he will no longer want to be held. 

I have never been invited to play more often than I am right now. 
Often there is something else I'd prefer to be doing (frequently the "game" consists of my watching a train move endlessly around a track). 

I am reminded of when my own mother was uninvited. 
I always invited her to play dolls with me (because otherwise the dolls didn't talk). Until one day, a young friend of mine told her not to play with us. 
To this day, I think I am more heart broken by this than my Mother was. 
A day comes when the invitation to play is no longer so readily extended. 

Often there is emphasis placed on how quickly the years go, but perhaps more importantly it is that they happen only once. 

It is why I say yes to a little girl who wants to tell me "just one more last thing" before bed and why I extend my arms to carry a little boy who is capable of running.

Chinese New Year

You arrived at our home on the first morning of the Chinese New Year, speaking Mandarin.

You played purposefully, exclaiming to dolls in a language we couldn't understand. 

When it was time to sleep, I rocked you in the dark and thought about how, though you would not remember me, we were forever a part of each other's story. 

It was where I wanted to be and those moments will always belong to you in my heart. 

For other moments, I had help. 

When you were crying, my daughter said, "Its ok, you don't have to cry, for right now you are a part of our family, because you are with us". While the four of us walked to the playground, she remarked how good it was that there were two big helpers (she and I) for the two babies. When we arrived, she suggested  instructed that I "keep watch on" her brother and that she would "keep watch on" you.

You helped her too. 

You taught her about shared responsibility and that love is not restricted to DNA, or language, or any other confines, it is so much greater.

How to Swim

I love the confidence in these eyes and I admire her boldness.

This picture was taken right before her first swim lesson.

We were avoiding them because they cost money, and you have to commit to being in a certain place at a certain time (though there are worse places than an indoor pool in February) and we are attempting to avoid overscheduling a four year old.

When we realized learning to swim might not "just happen" (as we had hoped), and given that my two childhood goals for her are 'learning to ride a bike' and 'learning how to swim', we decided it was time. 

As soon as she and her fellow learner entered the pool, I watched the teacher skillfully employ techniques that would have never occurred to me. "Simon says, put your toes in the water", "Now, Simon says put your nose in the water".

I was filled with gratitude for this person gently encouraging my daughter. 

I was thankful that I could trust her to keep my baby safe in deep water.

I sat on the sidelines watching awkward efforts to coordinate arms and legs, water splashing in her patient teacher's face and reminisced about first steps that turned into somersaults. 

And I marveled at my front row seat, celebrating an increased confidence in the water and glad to be the one to wrap her in a towel afterwards.

Bonita Springs

North Carolina is one of the states that I wish were closer to Massachusetts. 

One of the primary reasons for this is the Larson family. 

Kathy was the college intern for my church youth group while I was in high school. Now our families get together every year or two. 

Typically this happens where they live, in North Carolina, but this January we had the opportunity to spend that time in Florida.

We watched our girls catch up right where they had left off, as we did the same. We enjoyed palm trees without passports and sunsets after which people clapped. 

Three out of the five children could swim, and the hot tub served as a makeshift kiddie pool. We discussed careers and theology, ate hot dogs and homemade waffles cones. 

Kathy has been a constant in my life, an encourager of my faith, the kind of person I didn't fully appreciate until I had my own children, and realized how much I hoped they would have the same. I pray that throughout their youth and adulthood they will have such relationships and I continually give thanks for mine.

Acacia's First Birthday

We had the privilege of joining the Farmers for their daughter's first Birthday. 

J holding A

While we were there Sarah honored Sophia by giving her a doll that had belonged first to her grandmother and then to her Mother who had passed away the previous month.

The following morning we attended the church where Ronnie is serving as a pastor and their oldest son Elisha was singing a solo.

E's fan club

Christmas 2017

Christmas is the most unsentimental, realistic way of looking at life. 

It does not say, “Cheer up! If we all pull together we can make the world a better place.

If you think Christianity is mainly going to church, believing a certain creed, and living a certain kind of life, then there will be no note of wonder and surprise.

The Bible never counsels indifference to the forces of darkness, only resistance, but it supports no illusions that we can defeat them ourselves.

 Christianity does not agree with the optimistic thinkers who say, “We can fix things if we try hard enough.” 

Nor does it agree with the pessimists who see only a dystopian future. 

The message of Christianity is, instead, “Things really are this bad, and we can’t heal or save ourselves.Things really are this dark—nevertheless, there is hope.”  

The Christmas message is that “on those living in the land of deep darkness a light has dawned.” 

There is light outside of this world, and Jesus has brought that light to save us; indeed, he is the Light (John 8:12).” 

― Timothy J. Keller, Hidden Christmas