There are seven of us.
My hero husband came out of retirement to allow me to stay
home with the girls. He is a gamer at
heart. He has weekly games at the table
and on the computer, and we are still longing to find a way to fit board games
into our schedule.
I am homeschooling the girls, devouring every book on adoption,
trauma, and a variety of special needs. I often feel underprepared and lonely
on this walk. There is much we can’t
talk about. Some surprises knock me down,
and other things repeat like a dripping faucet. The combination has been
difficult to bear. Other times, I feel
capable, ready, connected, and hopeful.
I haven’t felt so emotionally unstable in all my life. There are days I hardly recognize myself. My
hope comes from knowing God’s strength is revealed in our weaknesses. Let me tell you, God’s strength is written
all over my story.
Our firstborn and only son is 25. He is an ELL Assistant at
a local middle school and leads Lego clubs around the greater metro area after
school. While the plan is for him to get
a place of his own after the new year, his presence in the house has been unaccountably
valuable in helping the girls adjust to their new family. He evens out the
adult-to-kid ratio!
Our adult daughter is 23 and works as a vet tech and dance
teacher. Although there were many unexpected
turns, she is doing exactly what she dreamed of when she was little. Her
ultimate goal is to be a wife and homeschooling mom. She is living in an
adorable apartment about three miles away.
When she is over, every one of us is elated.
Then we have our ‘middlest’ girl, our serene ballerina, who is
9 years old. She is eager to please and
light veritably shines from her smiling face. Her goal is to be a teenager,
which doesn’t seem to mean what she thinks it means. Her sincere desire to be good is endearing. Her
heavy grief for her first family is inspiring—I’ll demonstrate that over time.
She has an insatiable curiosity, which can be frustrating as we work on
foundational things. The phrase ‘wanting
to run before she can walk’ suits her.
Our twinkle berry is 7 and she barely touches the
floor. She flits everywhere and has a
laugh that takes her to another dimension. Her progress in every area is astonishing—spiritual,
academic, physical... We aren’t always
sure what she picks up because her brain never seems to settle. Then, months later, she will say something
that shows she is absorbing everything.
And finally, our baby is pushing four with fervor. She is
equal parts raging tornado and sweet KitKat.
I have a little notes page on my phone where I write about things I want
to remember, and she has inspired half of them. Here’s an example. KitKat fell off the couch and immediately
retold the story with wide-eyed wonder. “I was on the couch, and I fell off the
couch, and I died!!”
There we are. May the
adventures begin!
