Pivot!

We bought the girls bunk beds with a trundle! So exciting! Our littlest broke her crib months ago and her mattress has been on the floor since then.  Not ideal. In fact, it's not allowed if we were still licensed to foster.

We finally resolved it by purchasing a bed.  My husband and I had fun--well, I did, anyway--moving the beds between two rooms to see if we could get all three into one space to open up the other room for play. The obvious solution? Bunks!

Off we went in search of the perfect space-saving sleepers. And we found one with a trundle, no less. Marvelous! Everyone was so excited!

But reality. Predictably unpredictable, the girls were triggered. It took about 24 hours for one to come talk with us. Another hasn't said anything, but she is acting oddly enough that even this dope-of-a-mom figured out she has things going on, too.

Well, poop. Time to pivot. 

I let the girls know that we will keep all the new beds separate and where their old beds were--no designated playroom or group sleeps--for now.  OH! They were all so sad. I worked to explain that Daddy and I wanted this as badly as they did. But the Bible teaches us that we make our plans, and the Lord directs our steps. It is so important to move forward with our plans in a way that we are interruptible and redirectable. 

This is the life. It is true for everyone, really. But it is pronounced when raising children exposed to trauma. We can and should plan. But, as a precious friend always says, we must hold those plans loosely. It would be foolhardy to press on with a plan God doesn't endorse. He knows so much more and loves so much better than we do. It's ridiculous to not lean on His understanding and welcome His will.

When we do stack the beds, it will be at the right time, and it is going to be a party!

Anniversary

We just celebrated our 28th anniversary!

By the way, if you want good babysitters, I know the trick. First, have a couple of great kids who are terrific with kids. Wait 'til they grow up. Then get more kids and have the first kids babysit the second kids.  It's brilliant! That is my cheeky way of thanking our two adult kids for watching our three growing kids.

We went to a hotel two miles from our home and it was magnificent! We napped! We slept 'til we woke up. We talked about kid things and not-kid things. I decided I will start writing my own homeschool curriculum for the girls! (I'm kind of excited about that one!) We remembered the details of our wedding day and the days just before and after. We played games and watched TV. 'Twas marvelous!

I had a vision ages ago that continues to be true today.  We had just gone through some broken friendships that also broke my heart. Then I saw us as if we were on a boat. We had been knocked around, soaked and battered by ferocious winds. As things died down, we managed to stand and look back. There was a maze of whirlpools, monsters, icebergs, and jagged rocks.  I had thought the danger had been from all the weaving the ship had done.  But it was weaving to avoid all those life-threatening dangers. We were being kept safe!

I am so thankful to my hero, living all the stages of life with me. I think there are things that are so far removed from the two people who made vows that it boggles my mind a bit. Being married for life is not a guarantee for anyone these days, but Brian early on decided we would banish the notion of divorce. I think that saved us.

His commitment to our marriage meant that even when things were hard, I knew I had that stability. I could be weak, wrong, and wrecked. But my husband stood strong.  He could screw up, but I wouldn't give up. Knowing we are in this unconditionally means we know it's worth the work that is necessary for any relationship. Not working on it was self-defeating. So, we work, we pivot, we talk, we apologize, and we forgive.

This stability is the biggest gift to our kids. They can do all the things, big and small, good and bad, but this family will always be here for them. 

Please don't mistake this for bragging. I don't deserve the blessings I enjoy. I tell you about this all with big-eyed wonder. I look back and see the dangers we avoided and shake off the goosebumps. We've made it this far. By God's grace, we will keep going.

March: 2023

So, in March '22, we were living the dream. We were doing whatever we wanted to. I was looking for a different job, and trying to find a way to fit in at church, but life was easy--except for the unending illnesses we kept contracting from sick preschoolers. In the eight months I worked there, I had Covid twice, Bronchitis three times, flu, colds, pink eye... It would have been laughable had laughing not triggered breathless coughing fits.

If we fast forward to March '23, the list of changes in our lives was long! My daughter moved into her first apartment, oof! I earned a Master of Science degree in Learning Experience Design and Educational Technology. I got a new job (called The Best Job in The World--outside raising kids) working at a preschool a mile from my home as a 3s teacher two mornings a week, a 4s Assistant one morning a week, and a PreK teacher every afternoon. 

I need to pause to say how serious I am about it being the Best Job Ever. That PreK class was phenomenal! My boss was the most supportive and encouraging boss I'd ever had. And my coworkers? I've never met an entire crew of people so wholly dedicated to loving and teaching children. The board (fewer accolades there, tbh) had just approved opening a Kindergarten class for the following year, so my boss and I were dreaming and brainstorming curriculum, advertising, and schedules. So fun!

Oh, and I need to add another little change to the list of happenings from '22 to '23. We got licensed for foster care and were adjusting to doubling our household with three—THREE—little girls! What?!? How did that happen? We were done. Foster care had shredded our hearts. We were in retirement and nearly empty nesters. We were going to travel. I got a cool degree that I could use to do anything. We were dancing.

Well, I will tell you. Roe v Wade was overturned. The church we were attending had a guest speaker who said there was a difference between being pro-birth and pro-life. Being pro-birth was not enough.  To be pro-life, we needed to meet people as they were living through difficult times, "from womb to tomb." 

There could possibly be an uptick in unwanted babies born. It is an awful thing to be unwanted. My husband was deeply moved and announced that afternoon that if God allowed it, we were going to adopt so we could be a home where kids would know they were wanted. Wow! 

So here we were in March, planning a massive uptick in my commitment to work while fostering three little girls we desperately wanted to adopt. In March, we had gotten word that perhaps they would go back to their first parents. I was an emotional wreck. We never intended to actually foster again.  We wanted only adoptable kids. The girls themselves had heavy burdens of trauma, delays, and needs. Caring for one was more than a full-time job. Three? Fugedaboutit.

What a March!

March: 2022

We are scooting along through the years. Between 2021 and 2022, we fostered twins, quit all our jobs, and moved 2,000 miles away. I got a job working at a terrible day care with wonderful people. My students were precious, their families generous, and my co-workers exceedingly special. But the system stunk and the center eventually went under.

I had the wonderful pleasure of partnering with my son in the classroom for a while there. By March, we were actively job-hunting. My daughter was doing brave things working in service to people with special needs. My husband was enjoying retirement. We were learning how to ballroom dance!

We were on our third church by then. I was having a hard time finding my place. That was a new challenge for me. I've had struggles in many churches but never had a problem with just finding a church. I felt stiff-armed and unwelcome. I couldn't find an inroad as a working woman. On the other hand, my husband was veritably collecting men's Bible studies. He joined and continued in each group as we church-hopped.

It was difficult and wholly unfamiliar to not have a church family. It stood in stark contrast to the one we had just left. The members of our small group are people my new daughters know and pray for.  They are phenomenal and I am staggered by the lavish love of our Father to let us be in that group that is now scattered across the states. I love them all so much. And their love has sustained me through this weird church-drought we are experiencing.

During this March, we celebrated our 25th wedding anniversary by taking a sleeper train to see Niagara Falls. It was dreamy. Life was dreamy. We were living our happily ever after. What a March!

First Choir Recital

We put the girls in choir classes in January. My husband has wanted them in choir for a long while because at least one seems to have perfect pitch, and they all love singing. In fact, our music education has been beefed up in many ways this calendar year.  They are also learning theory, piano, and recorder.

The choir we joined seems really special. It is for homeschoolers and there are two age groups. They have generously allowed our nine-year-old to be in both classes.  She gets to sing with her little sisters (which helps them feel comfortable) and be challenged in the older class where the students already know how to read music and sing harmony.

The girls had their first recital this week and they did so very well! I am exceedingly proud of them. That's not to say I wasn't shaking in my boots a bit after the class just before recital! The littlest went bonkers. She wouldn't sing but was happy to growl the lyrics while doing deep, aggressive lunges at the audience. What?! She kept running around, grabbing friends, jumping, rolling on the floor, or starting games of tag... The whole scene was equal parts hilarious and horrifying.

But there was nothing to fear. The girls did marvelously. They sang well, behaved well, and had loads of fun. The choir is an offshoot of a homeschool band. The girls had heard the band playing during choir, but we didn't do much to prepare them to sit through those performance pieces. My girl who struggles with loud noises struggled minimally, thanks to being wrapped in her Daddy's loving arms. But other than that, they were terrific!

Can you hear this proud momma heart? I could brag for days! 

It's My Sister's Birthday

It's our tenth birthday of hers without her. I am conditioned to look forward to it because she claimed the entire month for her celebration. Of course, now, there are more feelings surrounding the day. I'm just going to tell you about the best woman I've ever known--and I know many, many wonderful women. 

One of the most obvious descriptors of Diane Cherie Porter is that she is intelligent. That is the easy, low-hanging fruit attribute. She was tech-savvy, devoured books in a day, and could teach on any subject. She was so smart that her IQ was still higher than everyone at the office where she had it tested after some of her brain was removed. They fawned over her like she was an A-list celebrity when she was lamenting her diminished skills. 

--You'll have to excuse my verb tenses for this post.  I tend to speak about her in the present tense still because she is a Jesus-lover and thus has eternal life.  But sometimes the past tense slips out as I delve into specific memories.

While her cognitive intelligence defines her and informed everything she did, Diane is so much more than smart. Diane is kind in a tangible way. Her attentiveness, acute memory, and the time she made for people made us feel like we were the most important thing in her life. 

She was the glue in our family. She stayed in touch with all our grands, aunts, uncles, and cousins, as well as all the members of her husband's family. She was the greatest aunt one could want. Those connections mattered to her; the individuals were valuable. I know she prayed for us all regularly and her heart overflowed with love.

Diane had the Spiritual gift of faith. We all have faith in something. And believers are given faith. But Diane had the gift of faith that passes all understanding. She didn't waiver. She was so firmly planted on the Rock that she took on the qualities of a rock. One story I love is that she was late to her own baptism because she was busy bringing a teen soldier to Christ.

Diane could be counted on to speak the truth with love in the face of anything and everything. I benefitted countless times from her talks exhorting me that despite all the evidence that I was drowning, God was bigger than the waves. She encouraged me when I felt like my kids would never overcome their challenges. Or when I thought I would never be good enough for my family.

She went through a lot, including fighting brain cancer for years. Only at the very end, thanks to institutional neglect, multiple brain surgeries, and mind-addling drugs did depression ever touch her. But for the rest of her life, she navigated the difficult things with this assurance that love wins. Sometimes she yelled it at us. "Love wins, you idiot!"

In fact, Diane epitomized joy. She was generous and playful. She celebrated others' triumphs. She infused heartache with the deep unshakable joy that comes with an eternal point of view. She knew what lasted and what was temporary. She made an event out of anything, celebrating everything.

She loved to sing. Every time we got together, she'd beg me to sing two-part songs with her. "This is the Day," "He Has Shown Thee," "Humble Thyself in the Sight of the Lord." There is an older one that goes, 'Brother, Sister, we are young/ And our lives have just begun/...Sons of God/ Hear His holy Word/ Gather 'round/ the Table of the Lord..." I wish I'd joined in more frequently and with more verve than I did.  Ah, hindsight. I've countless songs ranging from hymns to 80s ballads that make me think of her.

Diane used the moniker Mrs. Quiet. It was funny because she is a TALKER. But she was married to a soft-spoken shy introvert. It was her joke. It was also an expression of her undying love and devotion to her husband. Man, she loves him!  Her marriage was a beautiful thing to behold--they were both forever in love, giving favor to the other while happily bickering over everything. They were different in just about everything.  He was not a gamer, or a singer, or gregarious, or crazy-smart, or a voracious reader. I am not sure I ever saw him in front of the computer. But it didn't matter one whit. They were into each other, God, and their family.  That was enough.

Diane was an excellent cook. She threw together feasts and treats while carrying out a bunch of other tasks plus three conversations. She was skilled in savory and sweet dishes alike. I strive to cook as she does, but I am more hit-and-miss and can be quite a disaster in the kitchen.

There is so much more. 

• She played an integral role in Protestant Women of the Chapel in both California and Texas while her husband served in the army. She loved the women she taught and fellowshipped with. 
• She homeschooled her kids. She homeschooled other kids. 
• She worked as the secretary at various churches--and was the unofficial confidant to several priests and pastors. 
• She would sit on speakerphone with me while I schooled my kids.  We would just spend hours on speakerphone, both of us going about our day with our families.  
• She loved Jesus. Her love for him drew her into depths ever richer. You couldn't know her without hearing about her Friend. She was a prayer warrior, persevering and persisting in praying for the people she loved.
• She asked hard questions. We wrestled together with doctrinal beliefs, politics, and any hot topic for years, always seeking truth over merely winning an argument. She loved to think.
• She loved movies and TV shows. She invested in characters like they were real, applying biblical truths to the worldliest programming, extracting beautiful parables that would shine light for those who would never crack a Bible.
• She was funny.  She came up with all sorts of silly phrases.  I still use them today, like okeydokey smokeybutt.
• She was wise and had all sorts of maxims. One was, 'Cry when it hurts to not cry. When the crying starts to hurt, stop.'

Thank you for reading about this lovely woman. I am deeply honored to call her my big sister. You can't know me without knowing at least a bit about her. She prayed my husband into my life. She kept us married for the first decade. I homeschool because of her. She made me brave. She made me love Jesus. So much of who I am is because of her.

We Got a Van

 I mentioned before that we got a van.

You want to meet her? Here she is!  Her name is Penelope Gabrielle Sage, thank you very much! Her official color is green-brown, according to the manufacturer. Who on earth would think that would be a pretty color?  Green-brown?  That is the color of poo. Why did no one speak up in that meeting?

Anyhow, I don't think she looks green-brown.  I can't actually say what color she is. The repairmen reported the color is tan, and I suppose that's a nice catchall name and as good as any.  It's just car-colored like my hair is hair-colored.  The ultimate non-descript.

I am thankful for this gal. Because of her, we get to GO! We've visited the Omaha Science Center, the local children's museum, and friends. It's so nice! Even being able to pick up groceries is a gift.

We have also enrolled the girls in dance and choir.  Our musical girls are gaining a lot of Good Things because of this.  So, welcome, Penelope Gabrielle Sage! Thank you for the adventures AWAY from home!

It's My Birthday

Today is my birthday! Last year we had an 80s-themed murder mystery party.  It was so much fun that I decided that this is who I'm going to be: the murder mystery party gal!  Yes, I am! 

This year, the timing is such that my husband and I are sharing the party; it's going to happen on his birthday.  And our theme? Time travel steampunk! I can hardly wait.

Meantime, today is my birthday.  I'm another year older.  It's a blessing.  I'm thankful for every birthday. My big sister stopped having them ten years ago. I hate that.  I am older than she'll ever be, and that is plain old wrong. So, I'm old, getting older, and needing to get older so that these girls don't lose a second momma.

Thank you, Lord, for my life.  For my heart beating and lungs breathing.  And for the people I know and things I get to do.  Please keep this heart beating and lungs breathing.  Don't give up on my flaws. Finish the work you started. Keep growing me up so that the people who love me are more blessed than burdened.

My Baby is turning Four

This is the second time I get to experience the “My Baby” things.  Two decades ago, we thought our first daughter was the baby, our last.  Since the three girls moved in when our baby was 22 and already living on her own, she genuinely was the baby. 

And I felt all the things when ‘my baby’ started walking at eight months and never stopped pushing.  She had this paranoia that one day her big brother would tire of her for being too young. There was no reason to fear; he’s a marvelous brother and adores her.  Nevertheless, my ‘baby’ has been growing up with fierce determination and I have watched with that poignant cocktail of pride, delight, horror, and grief.

My point is that I have done this before. I am familiar with the flood of images of all that has come before: nursing, first teeth, her little legs only coming to ‘here’ on my body.  I have seen the firsts and the lasts and marked them in my momma heart. I felt them in their totality.  I didn’t miss anything in the feelings department.

But now, I have discovered another level. Watching your baby leave a stage with finality is touching. But lacking the experiences of the earliest years is far worse than being inundated with their memories.  It is such a closed door. I will never nurse her.  I never saw her without teeth. I never got to see her work to roll over, lift her head, laugh, crawl, cruise, eat, take her first step… A birthday carries a new grief I’ve not known before. 

It is exciting to see her grow.  That’s what it’s all about.  I want her to mature, learn, and develop into an honest, capable, and loving young lady. But my momma heart is feeling new losses as this birthday approaches.