I'm compelled, I can't help it.

Boys,

You need to know some things about me.  I never imagined having kids and if I did I never imagined I would find joy in being a mother.  I never imagined that I would have a dream job and resign so I could be a stay at home mother.  I never ever imagined I would be willing to foster somebody else's children.  All these big life changing things I never imagined that now bring me unexpected fulfillment.  I do find joy in mothering and I do love being at home with you guys.  I am beyond excited to love children that need to be loved for a time.

In recent years I have gone back to the basics as I read my Bible searching for what religion means to God.  I've found that what He wants most is for us to take care of other people.  James says straight up that pure religion is to visit the orphans and widows (James 1:27).  Jesus says that feeding the hungry is just like we are taking care of him personally (Matthew 25:40).  Isaiah says if you want God to hear you then give yourself to the hungry and help the afflicted (Isaiah 58:9-10).

In the past I had gotten so caught up in the programs and the events and the people right in front of me I forgot to find the hungry and the hurting.  I didn't see the afflicted and if I did I couldn't make time for them because I already had a group of people.  But now I have time.  Now I feel the urgency to help.  I'm compelled to do this.  I'm called.

I'm old enough now to know that it's the unimaginable that brings me the most joy.  It's not the dreams I have that give me a full life it's the journey to knowing God more deeply that brings the joy.  Now as I have spent time reading and time reflecting on life I'm ready to welcome a foster baby into my arms, to love like my own for as long as she will need it.  I'm ready to take the risk of saying goodbye and giving her back to the very people she was taken from.  I'm ready to teach her what love is, that's it's unconditional. I'm ready for long nights and blurry eyed days.  I'm ready for appointments and dirty diapers.  I'm ready to feed the afflicted and visit the poor.

Boys, as you grow I hope that above all else you follow God.  I hope that you say no to your dreams and yes to His calling.  May you find joy in all the adventures you never imagined.  I beg you to say yes to what is pure and what is true.  You've got a good start with this journey of fostering.  We decided this as a family.  You are as open to the hurt as we are.

I love the men you are growing to be and I know you'll be excellent big brothers.  I'm excited to walk this road with you.

Love,
Momma

One family different people

Each of us has our own story.  No matter how alike our stories may be they will never be the same.  Our boys only 18 months apart who are best friends and just a few years into life have very different stories.

One boy took 29 hours to come into this world and then lived 8 months in pain because of an unknown allergy, he was tongue tied so spoke with his own personal pronunciation of any words that included the "Th" and "Sh" combinations well into late kindergarten.  He was able to ride a bike without training wheels when he was five and began rollerblading a month or two later.  He sees patterns in everything.  He remembers things in exacting detail.  He hates reading.  He is very literal.  He has a very black and white view of life.  He loves the outdoors and anything that goes along with it, and is very much looking forward to giving Boy Scouts a try this coming fall.

Boy number two took 8 hours total, but only 30 minutes at the hospital with only four pushes, and his milk allergy was expected so he never knew that same pain as his brother.  He is six in a half and still can't ride a bike without training wheels.  He just learned to roller blade.  Reading is easy for him.  He remembers the big idea, but doesn't seem to care about the details.  He is full of endless hugs and loves to hold my hand.  He is not even remotely interested in being a Boy Scout but really wants to learn to play the ukulele.

Brothers who share DNA, up until last night the same room and almost all of the same events each day throws at them.  Yet they walk through life with very different eyes.  Eyes that filter the experiences differently.  Sometimes it can make situations a bit uncomfortable and sometimes it can even cause conflict.

As there Mom it's fun to watch them experience life.  Not only am I able to experience our life from my perspective I get to watch it through eyes as well.  From the outside I'm able to see that often they both are correct in there interpretation of life.  The conflict comes from being unwilling to allow the other brother the freedom of being different.

This conflict of there's is what has been changing my perspective of relationships and what makes each of us who we are.  I've been learning not only to value of the perspective of somebody else, but to know that we both might be right.  In turn I'm okay with uncomfortable conversations and even a little bit of conflict.  Life experience and conflict form our convictions.  Conviction is what makes us tick.

Time is my enemy, or is it?

My head pounds.

My body aches.

My soul throbs.

I'm not sick.

I'm overwhelmed.  

My job, 48 hours doesn't seem like enough.  It's one of my loves, my team, working all positions, dealing with both the satisfied and unhappy customers, learning; the never ending learning, and the quit times of maintaining my store, all of this I love.

And yet my true love is at home being super Dad, as days go by where this Mom sees her boys for minutes only.  Two in a half days, really 30 hours a week is not enough time to be a mother, a wife, a housekeeper, a cook, and a friend.

The throbbing of my soul? Some how even in the thrills of life when I should see the blessings of a job I love and boys who are growing into men, and a husband who fights for our family, and the beauty of nature surrounding me, some how I forget the Giver; the Maker of all things good; both the heavens and the earth.  My souls throbs from the disconnect.  What is life without the One who gives me breath?

If only I cold slow time, or maybe just add a few hours here and there.  Then maybe I could find rest and beauty in these three loves of mine.  As I sit in the quiet this is what I contemplate.  How can I make time?  The answer:  I can not only God can add time to life.  All living things are bond by it, chained by it being dragged hour by hour, minute by minute, helpless to slow it.  Even so this these chains should bring me joy.  Without time there would be no end.  If there is no end why would there be any hope for what is to come.

What is it that I hope to have before my time runs out?  I hope for a home that is ours to share with hurting souls.  A Haven for others to find rest, for us to find rest in, a place full of Life.  I hope for my own store where I can daily be in the kitchen doing what I love in a small hole in some back ally corner where my cooking and the atmosphere does the advertising for me.  I hope for my boys to grow into men, and then fathers, friends of mine, but most of all lovers of God.

My conclusion, Keep on keeping on, and to remember the words of a wise man, "It is good that you grasp one thing and also not let go of the other; for the one who fears God comes forth with both of them."  

When life is altered.

I should have been working but a was called out, a thing that rarely happens.  Instead I used that time to go clothes shopping for some much needed pants, I put off because really I hate it and so do the boys.  As I walked into the changing room my phone alerted me to a text and then it rang.  My sister and her 3 year old were on there way to the hospital, but not the local hospital the largest in Maine.  They were on there way to the pediatrics ICU.  The ambulance that carried them had two doctors ready to save little girl's life if it came to that.  I rushed home, packed a quick bag, and began my journey down.  What I saw when I got there made my gut twist and my eyes water.

Little girl was lethargic, whimpering for water that she couldn't have until at least the next morning.  She had wires covering her.  Her arm in a splint because the IV was so big and her arm too small they feared she might break it.  The IV in her hand stuck out over her knuckles half an inch.  She was too small to be in that bed.  I had to stay focused, she was alive.

And that's the key isn't it?  In all of life but even more so when the daily routine is shattered, stay focused.

Dearest Sister and Brother in law,

Stay focused.  This pain, these tears will be less and less until it is the new norm.  She will run and play without thought to those "pokes".  She will grow, love, have responsibilities, be a Momma, a wife, a friend, all of these things because you kept your focus.  Because you kept your eyes on the big picture; you stayed focused and fought for her life.

That's what Job did: Naked I came from my mother's womb, and naked I shall return there.  The LORD gave and the LORD has taken away.  Blessed be the name of the LORD.
That's what Jesus did:  My Father, if this cannot pass away unless I drink it, Your will be done.
That's what Paul did:  I press on towards the goal for the prize for the upward call of God in Christ Jesus.

People looked and stared.
People talked behind there back.
People told them they did it wrong.
People gave up on them.

But they stayed focused on the end game.

Don't give up hope, don't lose heart.  When she says, "please no poke me. No like pokes." tell her, tell yourself that this gives her life.

Decorating her hospital room with paper flowers.

I love you both.  Keep on keepin' on.

P.S.  Tell little girl Auntie loves her.

Sitting to blog

It has been months since I've sat to truly blog.  It's been weeks since I sat to even write up my list.  Honestly after months of photographs and months of life passing and changes happening my finger's still don't know how to transpose life into written memories.  What used to be a daily habit, a habit formed to calm my soul now has become a strained work that never ends trailing off into empty white space...

Here's to the hope of thoughts flowing as fingers record the workings of this Momma's heart.  But until then:

93.  Boy treasure's that will all too soon pass from my eyes.
94.  Growing pains that require midnight cuddles.

95.  Walks in the city forest.

96.  Puddle jumpers and bug nets.

97.  Streams to fall into.

98.  Sticks and little boy pocket treasures.

99.  Tired little legs and strong Daddy's.

100.  Family hobbies.
101.  New quivers.
102.  Good cluster's and imperfections.

103.  Spring; the cleanse of death, the feel of life.