Peter Daniel

The last month has been a blur.  MOST of you faithful readers have understood that and haven't made me feel bad about not posting.  ;)  Today is another crazy day, and the items on my to-do list outnumber the hours I have left in the day.  But I do feel like I need to take a moment and post.  Because of the craziness here, I will have to share pictures from the adoption and party next time, but for now, I thought some of you might like to know the story behind our kiddo's new name.

Charlie, as you have come to know him, now has a new legal name (and I can share it! because he is MY son!)  Charlie was a pseudonym of course because it was the least protection I could give him from some not-so-wonderful people in his past life.  But now, our Charlie has a new name:  Peter Daniel.

Many people have asked why we would change his name.  Isn't that part of his identity, his past?  Yes.  But unfortunately our kiddo was a junior, named after his biological father, who, to put it bluntly, is a felon.  That man has made poor choices in his life, to say the least, and so we changed Peter's name partly to protect him from being found (hopefully) by biodad, but also to cut the ties, so to speak, of that criminal past.

Peter has been excited about having a new name, by the way, since before we met him.

(On a spiritual level, you may know that many names have been changed in the Bible, symbolizing a new calling or new life.  Consider Abram, Jacob, and Saul (New Testament)).

Since Robert and I began our original parenting journey, we've never taken the naming of our children lightly.  I believe a child's name is kind of like a blessing - it's a desire for them to take on that character or be like the person they are named for.  Thus we have Christianne, which means Christ-like, Joshua - the Lord saves, and Grace - undeserved favor.

While Peter certainly had input on his name change, he knew that it would also be guided by Mom and Dad as that is a privilege of being parents.

Anyway, let me back up and tell you about his middle name first.

The summer before we even knew about this little guy, I was doing a Bible study with some friends on the book of Daniel.  (THAT is a crazy book to study.)  What struck me about Daniel was not what his name means (God is my Judge), but how he was greeted by an angel three times in chapters 9 and 10 - he was called "greatly loved" (esv).  Greatly loved by a God Who would cause him (Daniel) to do great things.  (Incidentally, I don't recall Paul or anyone else referred to that way - I believe this was a special signification for Daniel.  I wonder why?  Did he have low self-esteem?  Did he need reassurance that God was a personal God?  That's another discussion for another day I suppose.)

Shortly later, I was to hear about a little boy who, I was told, needed a home, and had been told that first, no one wanted him, and no one loved him.

The moment I heard those words, Daniel popped to my mind - that Old Testament hero who was greatly loved by the Lord, loved so much by the Lord that He purposed to tell him so!  And here today, in 2016, is this little boy, nearly alone in the world, who feels completely unloved.  What child should feel that way?  What human being should feel that way?  And so, from that moment, *I* purposed to love this child no matter what.  Because love is more than just a feeling - and you can absolutely choose to love people.  I would (WE would) choose to love this boy.

The first few months we had Peter we tried on a variety of mostly Biblical names to see how he liked them.  He was Robert briefly.  :)  The next one I remember being significant for him was Amos.  We have a Christmas shepherd named Amos and the name really resonated with Peter. Eventually I vetoed that one simply because it sounds like a body part and I thought it could cause too much teasing.

One day we were in the car talking about other names from the Bible.  At that time, I had been studying the Word with those same friends and we were in the book of John when I mentioned to our son the name Peter.  Boy, my kiddo liked that name right away!  He has stuck with it ever since.  But the coolest part is that as we continued our study of John, featuring Peter, through the school year, I, too, knew it was the perfect name.  The Peter in John loved Jesus fiercely, but he made many, many mistakes.  He often spoke and acted without thinking.  He was impetuous and impulsive to say the least.  And that last chapter of John - when Peter sees Jesus on the shore and jumps out of the boat to swim to Him because he can't stand to be away from Him any longer... that is *my* Peter.  I could easily see him doing that!

And the best part?  That Peter of the book of John became one of the pillars of the Christian church.  The Lord loved him greatly.  He gave Peter the keys to the kingdom, called him Peter (the rock) rather than Simon, and sanctified and matured him into a mighty man of God.  He helped lay the church's foundations and wrote two letters of the New Testament (encouraging, promise-filled letters particularly for those who are suffering!).  

Oh, that my impetuous, impulsive little boy who loves fiercely but acts and speaks before he thinks could follow the legacy of the Peter of the Bible... wow.  I'm praying that God would capture his little heart, healing it and filling it with the same passion and love for his Savior that his namesake had.

Peter Daniel.  That's my kiddo.

PS:  Don't call him Pete.  He doesn't like Pete.  But he *loves* to be called Pedro.  Sometimes we call him Pedro Danuelo.  :)

Holy moly - we're about done!

Starfish Transfer Day - aka Charlie's adoption - is November 17th, 2017!

{Which is when the courts celebrate National Adoption Day.}

And is a year to the day after Charlie's biological brother was adopted by our friends.

I am in the throes of planning a big ol' starfish-themed party for the 18th, which is only about a week and a half away.  I had, you know, an entire year to get things together, but... that just wouldn't be me.

I can't believe it.  We're almost done with this very long process.

Over the hump

Three years ago today, our Charlie was nearing his second month anniversary in foster care.  He had come from another state, a life of poverty and neglect, his family often "living off the land."  In foster care - broken system that it is - he was given safety and security, regular meals, medical and dental care, education opportunities, and more - all in the first two months.

Two years ago today, I didn't even know about Charlie, but God was pulling my heart toward him.  I ignored it, or tried to.  I knew that even the best of circumstances bringing another child into our home would radically change our lives.  Ha - even I didn't know how much.

A year ago today, we had met Charlie and begun regular weekly visitations.  We were in the middle of our foster care training (a year later I can say that we don't use a whole lot of what we were taught, but ours is a different situation I suppose from most) and home study.  My heart had completely changed for him, and we were excited to embark on our Starfish journey.

The process, which we were told would take 6 months, has gone on so much longer than that.  The way should have been paved with the adoption a year ago of Charlie's biological brother by our friends.  There really is no reason it has gone on as long as it has.

If you read my last post, you know that things have come to a head with our negotiations.  In fact, Robert met with the powers-that-be last week (I remained behind to - you know - parent the children) and the meeting ended on a satisfactory note.  Not a fantastic note.  But not an awful note.  And most importantly, all that stuff is finished!

We are meeting with our attorney in a few days to review all the discussion and sign final papers and then she will submit it to the court.  We have a tentative adoption date for mid-November!

Have you ever read China Cry?  If not, you should.  But I've been reminded how God had miraculously extended Nora Lam's pregnancy significantly beyond 9 months so that her child could be born in a safer place.  This has nothing to do with that, of course, but if this adoption process is like a pregnancy, I have definitely passed my due date.

By the time he has been adopted, our Charlie will have been in foster care for 3 years, 2 months, and 6 days.  (The goal of foster care is to have a child in a permanent placement in one year.) 

He will have lived with us for 53 weeks and 6 days as a foster child.

I am excited to give him his new name.  (We do use it most of the time, but anything with legal stuff attached to it, including prescriptions, medical visits, and school data, has to have his legal name.  I sure can't wait for THAT fun to begin - to have everything changed over once we get the adoption papers and new birth certificate!)

I am excited to give him permanence, and security.  I think he's had a sense of that, but with monthly caseworker interviews, constant paperwork, weekly visits by a CASA, court dates, etc. - I'm sure it has felt at least a little bit tenuous at times.

I am excited to get some of my life back - no more monthly visits by two case workers, weekly visits by the CASA, occasional visits by his attorney, quarterly court reviews, etc.  I am excited to normalize somewhat.

All of that said, our finances are going to take a hit when the adoption goes through.  I had to quit my part-time job last year to meet Charlie's needs (mostly appointments to hundreds of places).  It might be a sparser Christmas.  But please pray that the normalization of everything will help me to return to full time tax prep in January or that another full-time job will make itself known to me.  We have a new owner this year so I'm not even sure that full-time is a possibility.

I'm not worried.  Jehovah Jireh - the Lord will provide.  Just throwing it out there for prayer.

Charlie has still been on a good streak behavior-wise.  He is a busy, busy little boy but really is a happy kid.  We love him, and our love for him is deepening.  We are definitely blessed.

Chapter 20: The judicial review

In early February, Colorado got hit by a storm that generated a LOT of ice.

And we had a 9am court appearance.

My morning routine is generally pretty rigid on weekdays.  Charlie, Grace, and I leave for school at 8:10.  I drop Grace off just a couple of minutes later and head south for 6 miles, dropping Charlie off at 8:25 at his school.  (Next year, he will be at our neighborhood school, giving me back 50 minutes every day - 250 minutes each week - OVER 4 HOURS, FOLKS!)

Anyway, we left his school about 8:30 this icy morning and headed to court, northward to Fort Collins, with insane, creepy crawly traffic, passing cars in ditches. Needless to say, we were late to court.  In fact, we arrived and finally found parking and ran in breathlessly at 5 after 9 to notice that the usual security line was not where we remembered it to be.

Because, of course, we were at the wrong court.

Back to the car, back to the icy streets, driving north, correct courthouse, security line - Robert had to donate his thingamajig that didn't pass the X-ray inspection - and once again out of breath, we made it to the family courtroom.

The proceedings had begun.  We slipped quietly into the back of the room.  Charlie's GAL was speaking to the court.  They were nearly finished when she turned around and happened to see us.  "Oh, your honor, the adopting parents are here, if you'd like to speak to them - I didn't know!"

We were both a bit nervous, fearing we might be chewed out for our tardy entrance.  But wow, were we wrong.

The magistrate began by asking us some questions about how we feel about our situation - Robert spoke on our family's behalf.  And then the magistrate spoke - and we were both quite shocked.  He told us how, based on all the reports he had just heard, he was impressed at how well Charlie seems to fit in our home.  He commended us for our efforts, our sacrifices, our commitment... yada yada yada.

Then, some person I'd never seen before, a man I later came to find out is the attorney representing the county, also spoke up, commending us for all our good work.  (It's sort of surreal receiving praise from someone you didn't even know existed.)

I will be honest.  We hear praise from time to time.  Mostly people tell us how great it is that we would take this child out of the goodness of our hearts... you know.  Maybe you have told us that, too.  And when we receive it, a mixed bag of emotions comes to the surface.

I do not feel we should be commended.  We are merely doing what the Lord called us to do - and it took me nearly a year to agree to do that because I did not want to obey!  This is merely an extension of following what He told us to do, no different, in many cases, from what He has called you to do, that you are obeying. What He endured in obedience to the Father on my behalf far outweighs what little I can do in obeying to honor Him.

On the other hand, I will admit that sometimes this "positive feedback" comes at time when we do greatly need encouragement.  Often we get focused on the day-to-day muck that is distracting us from the bigger picture.  And when someone tells us that we are doing a good work, it does in fact motivate us to keep on keeping on.  Sometimes, I feel like God uses people in these situations to encourage our hearts, and it helps.

So, while we are not looking for praise and often feel quite humbled by it, there's a thought of application here - who can *I* encourage today to keep on keeping on?  Who can *you*?

To God be all the glory!

Keeping it real

(Please forgive me if I've said any of this before.  I'm too tired to go back and reread all my posts and my brain's synapses aren't firing at full strength to remember.  Another problem is that I've spoken to so many people that it's hard to remember with whom I've shared what.  But this is on my mind today, so bear with...)

I am 48 years old.  (Yes, I had to backspace and edit that after typing "47" because if you know me very well, you know that I struggle remembering exactly how old I am.)  I am 48 years old.  I have been married for more than half of my life, for almost 25 years.  I was raised in the church and made a commitment to Jesus when I was only 7.  Sadly I do not have 41 years of Christian maturity under my belt, though, because it took a long time for me to really walk the walk.  But I do have experience, and here's what I've learned in my life about becoming Christlike (the fancy Christianese term for this is sanctification).

When Robert and I became engaged in 1992, we both recommitted our lives - and our marriage - to Christ.  Over the next few years I experienced what I will now call first-level sanctification.  Sounds clinical, doesn't it?  A new phase of sanctification begins when you seek to honor God in your marriage.  Suddenly decisions are no longer made in terms of you as an individual, but in terms of you as a couple.  Self begins to die in a new way.  It matters less what *I* want and more about what is best for the *us.*  And of course, marriage is a beautiful picture of our relationship with God - which is why divorce breaks His heart.

Four years later, we entered into a phase of what I'll call second-level sanctification:  having kids.  Definitely our relationships with the Lord deepened as we learned we needed Him to give us wisdom and patience in dealing with these tiny miniature versions of our carnal selves.  Certainly, if you've raised children, you can see time after time of how much the parent-child relationship is a parallel to the God-man relationship, a time-after-time reminder of how God parents us, His children.  It's crazy, right?  When we beat our heads in frustration because our child just misbehaved in the same way for like 5 days in a row, we get a glimpse of what might possibly cross our Father's mind as we continue in the same patterns of sin ourselves.  "When is she going to get it?" I feel I can hear Him say, just as I may have said to myself about my child.  But He loves me through it with grace and patience, the Perfect Example for me to follow in my own parenting.

Phase three in my personal sanctification was taking care of Pop.  In the last few months of his life, it was certainly the hardest thing I'd ever done.  I am grateful we got Emily's help, and I know I had support and prayer from others - but this was a level of dying to myself and putting loving service ahead of everything else that I'd never experienced.  I also saw a selflessness and servant-heartedness in my husband that gave me a sense of awe. 

And now, in this adoption process, I have to say that this is, as far as I can see, top-level sanctification.  In fact, I often refer to Charlie as "my sanctification."  Parenting our three biological children had its challenges, of course, but when you decide to love unconditionally another human being that came from what feels like another planet sometimes - when you don't understand the way he thinks or why he does what he does - when he doesn't understand your sense of humor or way of speaking or ways of doing things (even brushing teeth!) - it is exhausting.

You think, with 2 1/2 children raised successfully to adulthood, that parenting a fourth wouldn't be that hard.  But I'm telling you, it's like if you raised chickens all your life and someone suddenly handed you a mule. 

I cannot discipline Charlie in the same way I have always disciplined my other children.

I cannot joke with him the same way we Wigginses joke.

I cannot understand his logic or reasoning for why he does what he does.  (And I'm not sure he does, either.)

I do not know how to explain why we parent him differently than the other kids. 

He does not learn in the same way my other kids learn.

This process is hard, folks.  It's frustrating, and it's draining.  Sometimes I feel like he really is from another planet.  Or that maybe we are. 

Last week, a well-meaning but offensive individual asked me how the process was going, and then: "Do you regret it?"

Let me explain something.  When I married Robert, we agreed before ever walking down the aisle that divorce was never an option.  And so, 25 years later, even when we fight, I never allow my mind to go there - I will not consider or entertain even the thought of divorce.

When I became pregnant with Grace and was told that she had Down syndrome and that they would schedule "the termination" right away, I was offended.  This was my child.  I didn't care if she would be born without a head or with three legs - abortion was off the table.  I will not consider or entertain even the thought of abortion.

And after dragging my feet about pursuing adoption for many, many months, when I finally did decide, it was just that: a decision.  I was all in.  I would commit to him, no matter what.  I will not consider or entertain even the thought of regret.

We are tired.  We are overwhelmed.  But this is what God calls us to - so that we will come to Him, and abide with Him, and be refreshed and renewed.  So that we will learn what it means to die to self.  So that we will become more like Christ.  So that we will be able to meet the needs of others, particularly those who have no one else to advocate for them.  So that we will be able to teach them about Jesus, and His self-less example of giving and serving and dying for us.

Regret is self-focused. I want to be a Jesus-focused, Jesus-consumed Jesus freak.

Chapter 18: The reason for the season

In many ways, adopting an 8-year-old child *is* just like adding another baby to your family.  There is a lot to adjust to.  There are a lot of people to be introduced.  There are routines to establish and learn.

Thankfully, this one sleeps beautifully through the night.

Early December was filled with introducing Charlie to our family friends, our church friends, and the like. We also began family therapy to increase (hopefully) our bonding with him.  And of course, Christmas season was quickly upon us so there was much excitement in the air.  The kids had holiday parties and holiday concerts, and soon an incredibly long winter break was upon us.

Speaking of Christmas, we had a bit of a difficult time with Charlie, because this child (like most, I suppose) absolutely idolized Santa, the Elf of the Shelf, and the like.  It was actually quite a rude awakening I think, when we had this exchange one night:

Me:  Charlie, do you know why you shouldn't lie to Mama?

Charlie:  Because then Santa won't come?

Me:  Charlie, I couldn't care less if Santa ever stepped foot in this house.

His eyes got quite wide at that.  How could I mean that?  (I went on to explain to him that Jesus IS truth, and the devil, Jesus's enemy is the father of lies.  I want my son to be more like Jesus than His enemy!)  But how could I possibly not care about Santa Claus?

Thus this past Christmas season we became quite intentional - even more than usual - in reminding our new son that Christmas is about Jesus, not Santa or an elf or a snowman or any of that.  Sure, we include those things in our celebrations, but they are minimized.  We do our best to keep Jesus front and center, and this year we worked extra hard at it.

Instead of Elf of the Shelf, we discovered The Shepherd on the Search.  It was interesting.  We weren't very disciplined at doing activities every day - I never am with advent fun because it's just too busy a season.  We purchased and read books that showed even Santa pointing to Jesus.  And we sought out opportunities to teach and worship Jesus in our day-to-day activities.

Were we successful?  I hope so, overall.  Probably not perfectly.  I expect a similar conflict next year - or, even sooner actually, as Easter is around the corner.  But that's okay.  God did not bring me into this child's life to teach him about Santa Claus or the Easter Bunny, but about Himself and His Son, our Savior.  My primary responsibility is to teach this child that nothing else in this life is remotely as important as Jesus.

In all, we had a wonderful Christmas.  Mom and Deb were able to come to Colorado, thankfully.  They got to meet Charlie and pour into him and we had a great holiday where everyone was spoiled rotten, as usual.  We closed out the year with Charlie's attendance at a birthday party for one of Ro's coworker's kiddos - his first birthday party, I believe - and he received great compliments on his behavior.  Charlie went to bed early as usual on New Year's Eve and Ro and I weren't far behind - wiped out as usual.

2016 might have been the most surprising year I'd ever had.  We had much to look for in 2017.

Chapter 17: Thankful

In Mid-November, Charlie's brother George was legally adopted by the Weasleys.  Robert and I were invited to the adoption hearing, and a number of other friends and family were crowded into the family courtroom as well.  It was BEAUTIFUL.  I was emotional.  And I was jealous for the day when we will call our Charlie by his rightful last name: Wiggins.

Grandpa and Grandma D were the first extended family to meet Charlie, coming from their winter digs in Arizona for Thanksgiving.  It was a first on a couple of fronts... not only did they get to meet their newest grandson (but not youngest!) and it was Charlie's first Thanksgiving with us, but it was also the first Thanksgiving I had spent with my Dad in many, many, many years.

I have to say... when we first began this process, I didn't know how my family would react.  Many have watched us make choices over the years that yes, we believe put our family first, but also strained us financially, and to add a fourth child at a time when I could perhaps join the workforce regularly and help transition us into a new tax bracket...

Plus... four kids?!  Come on.  Our family is big enough!

I knew God called us to it.  I knew my husband and kids were on board.  I knew I had the support of church friends and family.  I just wasn't too sure about my parents and sister.  Maybe I sold them short, I don't know.  I'm just being honest here - I was scared to death to tell all of them.

And when I told my dad over the phone a couple of months earlier that we had decided to pursue the adoption of Charlie, he was incredibly excited and beyond supportive.  He would call or text from time to time, asking questions about Charlie or his background or needs.  Maybe I shouldn't have been surprised, but I was, and I took it as further confirmation that this is exactly what God had planned for our family.

So when Dad and Denise decided to join us for Thanksgiving, it was truly, truly something to be thankful for.

They met our Charlie the day before.  It was a simple time of hanging out and catching up.  It was lovely.  And the next day we got to celebrate both Thanksgiving and Charlie's birthday together... it was a wonderful, wonderful day.  Very, very thankful.

On Friday, rather than joining the rest of the world fighting over sales and deals, we celebrated Charlie's eighth birthday with a party at the roller rink.  He'd never had a party before (indeed, I honestly believe that before he moved in with us, he hadn't even *attended* a birthday party before!), and we went all out.  Unfortunately, it was a holiday weekend, so only one of his school chums could attend, but even that was a blessing - turns out that child's mom works in the adoption industry and we have since begun getting to know each other and are becoming friends.  We had some friends Charlie's age from church, Grace and her friend, and our family including Grandma and Grandpa D.  We ate too much pizza and cake and drank too much soda, skated til our feet were sore, and played the arcade games.  There was a silly grin on my boy's face until we tucked him in at the end of the night.

It delighted us to do it.  It delighted us to delight in him, to celebrate him.  Someone should have been doing that for him for the last eight years.

Wonderful

I had a realization the other day.  I was thinking about how Charlie has been more challenging of late - nothing major, but simple disobedience, or lack of quick obedience, pushing boundaries, arguing, that sort of thing.  I didn't notice it as much at the beginning.

But the beginning for us was kind of a strange time.  Over his first two months here, we celebrated his birthday, Thanksgiving, and Christmas; we had time off from school for Thanksgiving break and a looooong time off for Christmas break; we had visits from out-of-town grandparents and an aunt...  Life didn't return to "normal" until he was two months with us.  So now that we're settling in, it's normal, I think, for him to test and push back.

Normal maybe, but still not fun.

And it's so easy to focus on the tough times, the moments we are disappointed or frustrated or even disrespected.  It's exhausting and wearing, and when those "battles" (to use a favorite word of his) come, they seem like that's all it is - one big battle.  But then, from time to time, we step back and appreciate a moment like this:

The other night I was tucking Charlie in to bed.  He asked again about the adoption date (he can't seem to get the difference between months and years ;) ) as he climbed into bed.  As he prayed, he digressed from his usual prayer (thanking God for all the fun he had that day) to thank God for these "wonderful, wonderful... wonderful, wonderful" parents and said he couldn't wait to be adopted by the Wiggins family.

It really moved me.  Things are challenging and tough, but here and there we are blessed to get glimpses of the beauty of living out the gospel. 

Remind me of this on the next hard day.

Chapter 16: Settling in

Looking back at my notes, I am surprised at how crazy those first few weeks were.  I think in a sense, it is kind of like having a newborn - much of the first few weeks slowly becomes a blur as time passes quickly.

We had several bumps those first few weeks, but we definitely had a lot of happy smiles as well.

Of significant note is that Charlie began seeing his brother George again the following week.  Mrs. Weasley and I came up with what I think was a brilliant idea - and it was quickly approved of by Charlie's therapist. (She was very supportive of a natural setting rather than a clinical one.)  We decided to do "fly bys" - where the boys would see each other at church, greet each other, see that all is well with the other, and give a hug; then we would sit apart from each other at church so the boys would not fixate on each other.  We would see how that plan went for a little while and then gradually extend their exposure to each other.

We have been doing these fly-bys nearly every Sunday since early November.  We have had two or three bumps, which the therapist attributes to triggers from Charlie seeing George, but those were early on, and otherwise it's been relatively uneventful since.  It's an interesting relationship.  Charlie loves to see George and give him a hug, but then he is perfectly happy to move on and sit with his own new family.  George was so little when they separated that I'm sadly afraid that his connection is not as strong - but he does enjoy seeing Charlie each week.  Hopefully soon we will be able to transition to longer exposure times.

Another little bump - I got my hand slapped a bit at his school for handing out birthday party invitations.  I hand-made some TMNT invites for a handful of friends, but of course, since I wasn't inviting the whole class, I wasn't allowed to invite only a few, yada yada yada.  Yes, I get it, but that hasn't been an issue with my kids in years.  Apparently his school is different.  How I wish I could invite the whole class!  But come, on - you know that isn't realistic.

I went to the school secretary, though - and explained my dilemma.  "This kid has NEVER had a birthday party!"  What was I supposed to do?  And she quietly emailed me personal addresses and phone numbers for the few kids on his list.  Sweet heart, that one. 

Over those first two weeks, I also had my first IEP meeting with his school (quite overwhelming, to be honest), a dentist appointment, and we decided to begin a family therapy program to hopefully help with bonding and discipline and such.  Charlie got to attend his first father/child event with Grace and Ro at Grace's school, and he is OVER THE MOON to have joined the "chest" club at school.  I'm not sure he's all that great, but he LOVES Wednesdays, because Wednesdays are Chess Club days.

Busy, busy.  It hasn't slowed down yet.  Fast forward to today - 3 1/2 months in - and we still have aggravating days, days where he pushes buttons and tests boundaries.  Days where he's flat-out rebellious and we are stinking tired.  But when I step back from it and look at the big picture, I like to focus on the way he loves to cuddle into my lap to be read to.  I like to think about when he calls from another room, "Mama?" and when I say, "Yes?" he replies, "I love you."  I love when he tells me I'm his favorite mom ever and that he loves us so much. I love to hear him pray every night, "Thank you, God for letting us have FUN." I hate it when he speaks of his biological dad.  I love his dark eyes and his sweet smile, and despite the training that needs to happen, I love his desire to please, and I see his desire to be wanted and loved and treasured.

As he should be.

Chapter 15: Everyone can do something

The first weekend Charlie spent with us I actually went out to an event at a nearby church for their Orphan Care Weekend 2016.  Their featured speaker was Josh Shipp, and we were able to see a video clip much like this one during our foster care training.  I hope you'll take 15 minutes to watch it.  Every time I do, just like when I heard him speak live, I am inspired.  Plus, the guy's funny.

Every child is one caring adult away from success.  If you're interested, Josh Shipp's website is www.onecaringadult.com.




So what can you do?




Are you in a position to actually take a child into your home? 




Are you in a position to volunteer or mentor a child outside of your home?




If not, are you able to come alongside someone who is doing so and help - by sponsoring an activity for the child, providing a meal here and there, offering child care (requirements vary) or help around the house?  Are you able to make donations of clothing and gently used toys and games?  (Our Charlie came into the system with a pair of shorts (no chonies) and one sandal.  That's it, folks.) 




At the very least, are you willing to pray for people you know who are fostering or adopting children?  And really, there is nothing "least" about prayer.  I am often told that people are praying from me - friends and family of course, but don't forget the kid from Chick-Fil-A (who continues to tell me each week he's prayed for me), people from my former church home, co-workers of my Ro's, Bible study partners, friends of friends, friends' Bible study groups, Jesus Himself... it amazes me... and when I think of how difficult some days are, I wonder how it would be if I didn't have the prayer and love of others to sustain me.  If you're one of them, THANK YOU!  Sincerely, thank you!


Since I'm on the subject, why don't I throw out a handful of specific prayer requests?  Things we are asking our Abba Father for:

• bonding with each family member / that we would all see Charlie as if he were a Wiggins from the day he was born
• complete psychological and emotional healing from his traumas - we don't see the affects of this on a significant basis, but we are praying that they will never be a greater issue for him again
• that what I'm teaching him in regards to reading would just "click" - he is very far behind
• that Robert and I would have wisdom and discernment in our parenting of Charlie
• that Robert and I would be effective in sharing Jesus with him
• that Charlie will come to know and love Jesus and have a saving faith in Christ
• that God would guide and bless the new name Charlie will take at the adoption
• that the adoption will proceed on schedule (this would be miraculous), and ideally around 5/25 or 5/26 (since I'm hoping family will be here for J's graduation)

Chapter 14: Welcome Home, Charlie

A few days before October ended, we got to have Charlie for our first overnight visit.  His foster dad brought him to our house with a load of his things.  Ro and I took him to the library - he said he'd never been! - and got him his first library card, under the last name WIGGINS.  That was fun.

We watched a movie in the living room and blew up the giant air mattress for Ro and I to sleep on - Charlie got the couch.  He had an extremely hard time settling down to sleep, playing quietly for a couple of hours before finally going to sleep, and he called out in the night.  And, unfortunately, he woke up EARLY - 5:30 - but the two of us made pancakes together before I returned him to the Dursleys before church.

Grace was away at camp for American Heritage Girls, so we just had this one-on-two time with Charlie.  We were exhausted by the time it was over, but it was a great evening.

The following week, we attended our first therapy session with Charlie and Mr. Dursley, a sort of passing of the baton so to speak.  Mr. Dursley again brought a load of his things over - mostly puzzles and toys and clothes... because the following day would be MOVE-IN DAY.

Charlie moved in to our home on Friday afternoon, November 4th, with a WELCOME HOME CHARLIE sign on the front door.   The Dursleys brought him over after school.  Robert and Chris were at a concert out of town that night and Josh was working, so Grace and I took him to the library again and had dinner at Good Times.

The first couple of nights, he really had trouble settling down again for sleep time.  He was put to bed before 8pm both nights (his standard bedtime is 7), and stayed up very late playing in his room.  He was still awake the first night when I went to bed at 10 or 11.  Both times he woke up at 4:30 a.m. the next morning. AYAYAY!  We're too old for that!  He did settle down after that, thankfully!

On Saturday we decided that although we were all tired, we'd still go on a hike with the AHG group.  He handled it pretty well and seemed to enjoy being outdoors, although he was pretty tired on the last leg back to the trailhead (and we only did half the hike!). 

(How I wish I could show you more pictures - the one of us making pancakes together is one of my favorites! - but he isn't ours... yet.)

You may remember that back at the beginning of this process, although we came to find out about Charlie through the family who was adopting his brother, the powers that be were concerned about interaction between the two boys.  Because of that, we decided to avoid that altogether this first week of his arrival, and we visited a different neighborhood church on Sunday.  Charlie did very well, playing quietly throughout the service with Wikki Stix.  He loves touch - I don't think the Dursleys were big cuddlers - and I noticed that some of his nervous habits and tics would disappear when I would gently rub his back or neck or head, at least for a time.

The rest of the week was spent trying to establish a new routine.  Getting three kids to three different schools at three different times (one of which is on the south side of town) (thank goodness Chris can get herself to school), mediating between the two youngest for lap time on Mama, making weekly therapy appointments and CASA appointments, getting ourselves established as new faces at Charlie's school... it was exciting and new and very, very busy, but we survived week 1 with nary a blemish.

As a family now of six.

For such a time as this

A couple of days ago I was driving Charlie to school, and somehow the subject came up about where we were born.  He had forgotten that he was from another state, and tried to recall memories from where he lived before he came to Colorado.  ("I don't think there are any cars there."  There are, son.  But your family may not have had one.)

He asked me where I was born, and I told him, and then I had the most incredible thought...

Stay with me here:

God brought us to Colorado nearly ten years ago, two years before our Charlie was even born.  I thought He'd brought us for a myriad of reasons, and they all may be part of it... but ten years ago, God brought *us* to Colorado, and 5 1/2 years or so ago, God brought Charlie to Colorado...

"For," as my friend wisely said when I told her about this revelation, "such a time as this."

Or faith?

On Tuesday morning when I woke up, somehow I felt a little bit better.  Maybe the shock had worn off.  I don't know - but I wasn't as shaken. 

As I started my day with an early shower, I remembered the verse my friend had texted me the day before, the encouraging Word that God did not give us a spirit of fear.  I had two words continue to echo through my mind as I got ready for my day:  Fear, and faith. 

I am so grateful for the friendship the Lord has blessed us with in the Weasleys.  Not only are they walking this path ahead of us with Charlie's brother, but they are definitely blessed with a gift of wisdom.  I am so, so grateful that they are partnering with us, in a sense, in this process.  I had a lunch date set up with Mrs. Weasley to discuss my meeting with Shirley, but first I knew I needed to seek the Lord.  I decided to head to our meeting place 2 1/2 hours early to spend some time with Him in my regular Bible study of the gospel of John. 

(I know the Bible well enough - this isn't bragging - that I knew I could flip through its pages and find Scripture to support either position - continuing down this road with Charlie, or listening to counsel and abandoning it.  Therefore, I asked the Lord to meet *me* where I am at - and to give me some confirmation, some peace, some wisdom...)

You know, He always answers that prayer.  Not always this quickly, but He does answer.

So on the way to the location, I was listening to Christian radio, and thinking about my study, and thinking about the day before.  The Lord was already preparing my heart, as He spoke to me through Natalie Grant's new(ish) song, King of the World:

I tried to fit You in the walls inside my mind
I try to keep You safely in between the lines
I try to put You in the box that I've designed
I try to pull You down so we are eye to eye

When did I forget that You've always been the King of the world?
I try to take life back right out of the hands of the King of the world
How could I make You so small
When You're the one who holds it all?
When did I forget that You've always been the King of the world?

I arrived at Chick-Fil-A and set up shop.  I spread out on a back table with my Bible, my colored pencils, and my notebook, and found where I had left off in John 6 some time ago.  I love love love to do the Kay Arthur method of Bible study, so immediately, just being in the Word and going back to marking and listing and connecting and processing - immediately my heart was stilled and I was able to focus quickly on my study.  After studying about Jesus feeding the multitude and then going away alone, I moved forward to when He decided to catch back up with His disciples who were on a boat headed across the sea, and who were very frightened by a storm that had come up, and saw this strange ... something ... person? ... walking on the water toward them.  Jesus said, "It is I.  Do not be afraid."

I said to the Lord in my heart, "Noted."  But really I wanted more than that.  By now I was sure that I was being asked to choose between faith and fear.  I have heard probably 365 times that the Bible says in 365 places that we are not to be afraid.  So I tried to write this off as insignificant - yet noted.

A little while later, a young employee smiled at me and sat down at the table in front of me with his back to me to take his break.  He turned around after a few minutes, nodded at my Bible, and said, "I should start mine, too."  I smiled and asked what he was studying - Psalm 119 - and I made some quip about how it's such a quick read (it's actually the longest chapter in the Bible), and we laughed and he said he'd let me get back to my study.

It wasn't long when I noticed that his soft drink cup had writing on it, but it was turned enough that I couldn't read it.  I was curious and I began to study him and his cup.  Sometimes I think I might be prone to be a stalker but I chalk it up to loving mysteries and telling myself that observation is important.  Of course he took a drink, and sat his cup back down.  I leaned in. 

And I got the message.

God is greater than your fears.

My heart began to burst, and my eyes began to leak.  I even tried to take a picture.  It's blurry so you know that my surveillance skills are, in fact, insufficient, but look:

It took me a bit to process that.  I had just recovered emotionally when he got up and began to leave.  He came back over and asked my name - he is Jacob - and we chatted for a bit.  It was funny, because he was trying to encourage me with something about how the Lord loves me, and I interrupted him to tell him that I already got the message that God had for me through him, on his cup.

He looked surprised.  He actually told me that he had considered not writing anything on his cup that morning, but felt like he should.  Yep.  He got the message, too.

Jacob went back to work and I went to the bathroom to clean my crybaby face once again before Mrs. Weasley arrived.  I got it.  I got the confirmation that I had asked the Lord for.  Those two words - fear and faith - those are choices, and it's up to me to choose one. 

God is greater than my fears.  The King of the world is bigger than my fears.  He is bigger than what happened to Charlie, He is bigger than *who* happened to Charlie, and He is big enough to conquer that trauma and bring healing and life and hope to this little boy.

He is with me, like He was with the disciples in the boat, and as I had already learned (so I thought!) months ago, when He was with fearful Gideon!  Remember that post?  I hadn't.  Obviously.  I am re-reading it today!

Incidentally, I once wrote about how the Lord encouraged me through another employee in another Chick-Fil-A at another difficult time in my life.  If you'd like to hear that story, it's here and its follow-up is here.

And there's this.  And countless other stories.

But I digress.

And this post is long enough.

Let me wrap this up to say that the Lord met me.  He encouraged me, through my friend's text, through the song, through Scripture, through a young man in Chick-Fil-A, through Mrs. Weasley, through talking further with my Ro, through another chat with both Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, and through another song!  And I feel like I'm leaving something out!

From Casting Crowns:

But the voice of truth tells me a different story
The voice of truth says, "Do not be afraid!"
The voice of truth says, "This is for My glory"
Out of all the voices calling out to me
I will choose to listen and believe the voice of truth

I will choose to listen and believe the Voice of truth.

Fear

Last week was rough, folks. 

Not with Charlie, per se, but with all of the stuff that comes with Charlie, and we were ambushed last week - by fear.

Let me back up. 

A number of weeks ago I was at a local Starbucks with Grace, when I ran into someone I had known awhile back and hadn't seen in some time.  We had a great time catching up and when she heard about out Charlie, she got serious and said, "Do you remember (we'll call them) Laverne and Shirley?  They each have an adoption story and I very definitely want you to meet with them."

I could sense (because I'm oh-so-wise and discerning, *eyeroll*) that their stories were probably not very positive.  Yet I felt like I should meet with one or both of them.  Why?  Because I don't believe in coincidences, really.  This friend said she never even frequents that particular Starbucks, and yet our paths crossed.  She knows the Lord, and I trusted that this was for my benefit.

Still, because of that wise feeling I had, I wasn't excited about it. 

But said friend had contacted Laverne and Shirley and Shirley texted me the same day.  We agreed to meet; it didn't work out; we tried again and had conflicting schedules; yada yada yada; and we finally were able to meet a week ago on Monday.

So I would call Shirley an acquaintance.  We hadn't seen each other in years, but I knew that she was a faithful Christian, so I was still looking forward to meeting with her.  We had never hung out, never done a Bible study together or anything - she was just someone I had met and knew by reputation.

An hour and a half into our meeting, I left SHAKEN.

I knew it wasn't going to be a good story, but her story was worse than I could even imagine.  She poured her heart out to me.  It was brave of her to trust me with her story.  What she went through was incredibly painful and extremely costly.

Our stories do have some similarities. 

I will tell you that she says that she wrestled with telling me, and that she even prayed for wisdom about what to share.  I don't think she has a bone of malicious intent anywhere in her body.  I think she genuinely was trying to warn me, to spare me some of what she went through.

Which, believe me, folks, is more than you'd be able to stomach.

I asked her, "What if yours is just the horror story?"  She quietly and confidently shared, "It isn't.  Mine is the norm, but no one talks about it."

Her advice to me:  RUN.  Run as far away as possible from this situation.

I asked her, "What if I can't?  What if he's already with me?  What if I've already committed to this little boy?  What if I've already promised to be his forever mama?"  She answered, "Run.  Another couple can raise him.  You should not."

Heavy silence.

I asked her, "What if I feel that God has called me to this?"  She answered, "I thought that, too."

Whew.

That's a lot to process.  And it shook me to the core.  I couldn't cry - I couldn't even digest it.  I couldn't even handle thinking about it.  And when I got home and Robert saw me, he knew something was wrong and I couldn't even tell him.  I don't know if there's ever been a time in nearly 25 years of marriage to this man that I honestly could not say words out loud, because I knew that as much as it rocked me, it would rock him even more.  I literally could not speak about it.

I told him I needed time.  That was a bad idea.  I should have choked it out somehow.  Instead I shut down and slept and tried to absorb it.  In the meantime, his imagination was running wild and he was now in complete fear, having no idea what on earth she could have told me to shake me so badly.

By the time I could tell him, it was several hours later, and he reacted as expected, with pent-up anxiety on top of it.  I didn't even tell him a whole lot more of the details than I related here - only the briefest of them so he could understand what caused me to act so crazily.  It was ugly.  It was out there, and we couldn't go back, and what on earth were we going to do now?

And then I was finally able to cry, and I did, until I fell thankfully into a dreamless sleep.

Chapter 13: Getting closer to taking the reins

By the third week of October, our house was as ready as it was going to get.  We had spent the majority of our non-working and other "free" time over the last two months going through it top to bottom.  We decluttered (gave hundreds and hundreds of dollars worth of items to charity) and reorganized the basement; cleaned out the spare bedroom and painted it for Josh (suffering a chipped tooth in the process); swapped out the bed that was in there with Christi's so that Josh could have more room, moving into this smaller space; and cleaned cleaned cleaned the entire house (except for the girls' rooms). 

That Friday morning, 10/21, we had our final home study visit and home inspection - no violations, wahoo!  We completed the remaining paperwork and interviews.  Our caseworker then would need to type up all the home study, review it, and submit it to the proper parties to get it approved.  Now we would just wait.

We also had an appointment the same day with the CASA worker and the GAL.  It is nice now, to look back, and see how these big days full of appointments with various involved parties are slowing down, and will eventually subside once the adoption is final.  There are a LOT of people involved.

Too many?

Too many.

A few days later we had another visit with Charlie.  We stopped at Wendy's for lunch, but as soon as he was in the car, he had asked to go to our house.  We ate lunch, talked about birthday party plans, and took our first family picture of the six of us.  How I wish I could post it here.  Soon, when he's fully and legally ours...

His birthday!  Charlie would be turning 8 in just a few short weeks, and we found out on the visit to the Dursley's previous that he had NEVER had a birthday party!  We would absolutely remedy that and made plans for a party at Rollerland.  He was super excited and we were, too.

And the following week, I was honored to be invited to his school to see Charlie get his FIRST ever school award!  I took Grace out of her school early so she could go and support him at the awards assembly, too.  He got the award for leadership, "caught" by the school psychologist, for being proactive and seeking first to understand.  It was so special to be a part of that!  I was also able to meet his teacher and some of his educational support team.  It was really a blessing to see how much everyone there absolutely loves Charlie.

It still amazes me to know what he came from... how far he's come.  Two and a half years ago, when he came into the foster system, he could not even speak intelligibly.  Not at all!  More than one person at the school has described him at that time as being almost feral.  They couldn't get a sense of how intelligent he is because he had no way of really expressing himself beyond base emotional responses.  To see how far he has come in the care of his previous foster family and with the daily investment of his educational team at his school... I am so, so grateful and thankful.  I'm not sure I would have been equipped to parent him the way he was two years before.  But God, in His perfect timing, knew what I could handle, and allowed our family the honor of "taking it from here."  Amazing.

Amazing.

Chapter 12: Hey, do you think you wanna be our kid?

By the first week of October, we had completed our required Trauma-Informed Care training; met, by phone, Charlie's guardian ad litem (his attorney); had physicals done for all five of us; got fingerprinted (Chris, Robert, and me) and submitted paperwork for background checks; and completed our required CPR and first aid training.  That, however, was a joke.  In fact, we often joke around with Charlie to be careful, because we didn't learn anything in the class!  I had actually looked forward to it, since I hadn't taken training like this since Christianne was a baby (or maybe even before she was born), but it really was a complete waste of time.

And taxpayer's money, too, I guess.

We took Charlie with Grace to see BFG for our next visit and then grabbed some pizza for lunch and went to the park.  After the kids played awhile we took a walk along the dry lakebed before we had to take him back to his foster family. 

We were [strangely] invited to a foster parent appreciation dinner the next evening, put on by the county.  I say strangely because we weren't even yet certified, let alone had a charge in our care.  Still, we went (free food and all that), and we enjoyed it.  We got more resources and met more people, and we won a couple of prizes which were completely appreciated but absolutely undeserved.  Still, it was a very nice dinner.  We can only presume that by next year's dinner, we won't be foster parents any more.

Lord, I really hope not.

The second week of October included more of our home study and the completion of entirely too much paperwork, and our weekly visit for Charlie included make-your-own pizzas at our house, backyard play, and games.

On the 19th, we were invited to Charlie's foster home to, as we thought, observe what a typical monthly caseworker visit looks like.  Charlie's caseworkers (old and new) were there, as well as the Dursley's; his CASA worker; and of course the Dursleys and us.  It wasn't long before the visit felt atypical to us.  One of Charlie's caseworkers asked if we had any concerns, and then Mrs. Dursley asked the caseworkers when they would be telling him that we were his forever family.  Although this wasn't a problem for us, we really didn't see it coming!

The caseworkers took Charlie aside for their private discussion, and talked to him about moving in with us.  When we re-grouped, we all discussed it together.  He seemed happy and smiled a lot, although he wasn't exactly doing cartwheels.  He almost seemed bashful.  We spent about 20 more minutes just talking to him about it, asking and answering questions.

With Charlie, we assured him that we do go often to the store (Mr. Dursley clarified his concern by reminding us that is his way of being sure we would always have enough food) and Mrs. Dursley asked him if he thought he might like to change his name (at that time, he had decided on being Robert).  Later that evening he called me to ask if we had a shower.

It's amazing what we take for granted, you know.  Stocked pantries and indoor plumbing.

There was definitely no turning back now.  He knew.  He knew and there is no way we will ever break his heart by making him feel unwanted again.

Chapter 10: This little light of mine

A few weeks ago I told you how our pastor and his family is doing their own starfish thing.  Our church has grown quite a bit over the past few years and I don't always get to speak to everyone I know each week, and I hadn't yet had a chance to talk to her about Charlie.  One Sunday in late September, his wife came excitedly up to me after service.

"What is going on in your church?!" her caseworker had asked her the previous week.  "You guys are taking care of your little guy, the Weasleys are taking care of George, and the Wigginseseses are taking care of Charlie!"

Isn't that the coolest thing?  We are just doing what we were called to do, taking care of the "orphans" among us, but it is making God's glory known to the world.  Not the whole wide world, of course - at least not yet - but our little corner of the world.  People are seeing the connection - that people in our (very imperfect, mind you) church body love the Lord and want to put that love into action.  That's what it's all about, this light shining among men thing.

It blows me away.

Almost daily I'm blown away.

On a current-events note, it's been a wild few days here.  Our dear friends the Weasleys officially adopted George on Friday.  Ro and I got to go to the court with them and a number of other friends.  It was so moving and beautiful, and I am jealous - for when we can officially and legally make Charlie a Wiggins.

Today we met with Charlie's caseworker, his attorney (GAL), his Court-Appointed Special Advocate, his therapist, Mrs. Weasley, and two representatives from Specialized Alternatives for Family and Youth, over the course of two meetings.  That's a lot of people, and a number who were invited did not attend.  It was good, though - I feel we were all able to get on the same page with things.  And I cleaned my house 2 days *before* Thanksgiving.

Charlie has been with us for 2 1/2 weeks now.  Overall it has gone very smoothly.  We have had a handful of bumps and challenges, but overall - doing well.  We have begun re-introducing him to his brother George at church with brief meetings the past two weeks.  We are going very slow in this department as their last meeting many months ago yielded unfavorable behaviors on both boys' parts following their time together.

I think that is our greatest need - that the boys will be able to have a relationship that doesn't result in undesirable behaviors but is healthy and satisfying for them.  We also appreciate your prayers as we learn to find balance and priority as we've added not only a little boy to our home, but his team of half a dozen people who also want to see him regularly.

This afternoon I sit here, thinking about Thanksgiving, and feel overwhelmed by God's blessings.  To have all my children with me - four now... to have my Dad and Denise come (I haven't had a holiday with them in years)... to celebrate Charlie's upcoming birthday... to have been blessed with incredible support throughout this process... to have a heavenly Father who awes me by being intimately involved in our lives...  yep, blown away.

Happy Thanksgiving.

Chapter 9: Puzzle pieces

Meeting Charlie was the turning point in the shift of activity in our certification.  Things had moved slowly at first - taking awhile to get into the orientation class, to hear from his caseworker, to meet his foster family - but once we met him, things shifted into high gear.

The next day we met our caseworker (who is different from Charlie's).  We really like her and we began weekly visits with her to begin our home study, part of the certification process which normally begins after our training.  That evening we began our training, 20 hours of classroom training to help us understand the special needs of children who have a trauma history.  Over the next few weeks, we could continue to meet with our caseworker for the home study, fill out paper after paper, continue our trauma training in the classroom and then later online, attend a first-aid course, be fingerprinted, and get physicals (all five of us).  I'm sure there's something I left out.  It's a blur today writing about it as it was as we were in the process.  I am SO thankful for the flexibility Robert's job has allowed him in being able to do all that was asked of him.  I don't know how people with "regular" jobs get through this process.

But now I want to tell you a story, a story about being given a glimpse of the pieces of Charlie's story coming together.

I have been working this puzzle for THREE MONTHS.  Three months, people!  It is coming together, slowly but surely, but it is taking its sweet time in that we have had other priorities (like Charlie!) and frankly, all the dark brown in the undone spaces has been tough on my old eyes!  Every so often I get to sit down and work on a chunk, and it brings so much satisfaction to see the pieces come together and the image take shape.  When you start, it's just a pile of a thousand little pieces, disregulated and frenetic, and one by one they come together to make me smile.

On the second day of our training class, we had a different facilitator, a veteran foster mom with tons of experience, a plethora of contacts, and about a kazillion stories.  She shared her heart with us as well as her stories - her frustrations as well as her successes.  We enjoyed her quite a bit.

Now at the start of each class all the students have had to introduce themselves, explain a bit about their families and their reasons for being there, stuff like that.  Our class consisted of three other couples and one single woman.  The couple beside us has a young family - two children under school age at home.

During a break, the facilitator mentioned that she knew our Charlie's foster family.  I was surprised and delighted, actually, and I asked if she had ever met him.  She said no, so I took the "adopt me" flyer out of my notebook and showed her his picture.  At that point, the woman sitting next to me turned around and said, "Wait!  We have that on our fridge!  We have been praying every night with our children for Charlie to find a home!"

I was astounded.  Weeks later, I am still astounded.  But I asked, "Were you interested in adopting him?" 

"No," she said.  "He isn't the right fit for our family."

And being the smart aleck that I am, I said, "Good, because I'd fight you for him."  Everyone laughed, and I left the room to head toward the break room, and the moment I was alone, tears poured down my face.

Do you see what just happened?

God is at work in Charlie's life.  He is working in ways that I am not even aware of.  There are people I didn't even know 24 hours before praying for him... praying for US, his new family!  This is bigger than me.  This is God-big.  And our big God was gracious enough to allow me to see another piece of the puzzle come together in Charlie's story.

I may not see the entire picture of his story complete this side of heaven.  In fact, I'm almost sure I won't.  But allowing me to see this piece of it amazed me.  It comforted me.  It encouraged me.  This mighty God, this universe-creating King... He cares for Charlie.  This is part of His plan for him. 

Not to mention... this sweet young couple would be able to go home to their sweet young girls and tell them how God has heard and answered their prayers - big, big prayers!

I am so in awe of Him.  I am so grateful. 

Chapter 8: Meeting Charlie

September 22, 2016:  Meet Yer Starfish In Person Day

The Dursleys invited us for dinner.  The plan was to be introduced as new friends of the Dursleys and stay for about an hour.  We stayed much longer.  The Dursleys ordered pizza and we brought salad.  (No, we never have salad with our pizza at home.  It was an attempt on my part to look as if we are balanced people.)

I remember feeling pretty normal as we got there - not too nervous, maybe a little excited.  But when we were welcomed into the entry way and I peered beyond Mrs. Dursley and saw this little child on the couch behind her, my heart stopped and I had to breathe deep to not get emotional.  That was the first glimpse I had of my new son.

First impression:  he looked very small, almost fragile.  He is extremely polite, with a childlike voice, a more immature voice than I had been expecting.  Though we knew he was in speech therapy and had in fact come into foster care nearly unintelligible, we could understand him well.  He wasn't shy or intimidated by these strangers at all.

We sat in the living room and talked, mostly about rules.  Charlie went and got a floor puzzle and Robert got on the floor to work on it with him.  When the pizza arrived, we all went into the kitchen to get things ready - Robert and Charlie remained in the living room.  Charlie looked at Robert and asked, "Are you gonna have me?"

{The joke was on us -

no one wanted to get his little hopes up in case things didn't work out.

Letting this little boy down again would be hurtful.

But he knew ... he knew more than we thought he knew.}

Robert was caught off-guard, but said, "Right now we are just friends of the Dursleys... but do you want us to have you?"

"Yes."

I want to think this was a God-ordained moment of confirmation - and really, maybe it was.  But it also begs the question:  How desperate is this child for a set of parents to want a pair he'd met only 15 minutes earlier?

Dinner was a joy.  Charlie asked me to sit by him, and as we ate we played an ice-breaker type of game planned by Mrs. Dursley (kudos - great idea).  Charlie read most of the prompts - tentatively, but he knew most of the words. We learned that he loves vegetables, had never had a peach before coming to live there, and wants to be a firefighter.  I was asked to describe myself and I said, "I love Jesus."  He went after me and said, "I love Jesus, too."

I love Jesus, yes I do.  I was only there that day because of Him.  I only sit here at this desk today - a mom now of four - because of Him.  And I am genuinely, sincerely thankful.  And humbled.  And awed.

Chapter 7: Let's try a little hashtag

Somehow in September I managed to get a killer deal on airfare - $84 round trip to LA - and decided to spend my sister's birthday weekend with her in Vegas, watching her play softball in the world championship series (THEY WON - WOOHOO!).  It was such a fun trip, and right now I am especially glad I was able to do it because it doesn't look like I'll be able to make my usual trip in December where she and I and our mom road trip back to Colorado.  THAT I will truly miss.  We've done that the past few years and I love-love-love it.

While I was away from home, however, God still kept His calling close to my heart.  (In fact, this morning, I woke up amazed at how quickly this all has unfolded.  I kept expecting a block in the road or a door to close, but here we are...)

I crocheted on the plane on the flight to California while my seatmate watched a movie on her phone.  I had taught a girl in our life group how to crochet a few weeks earlier and, having no current project going, decided to make an afghan for Charlie.  It was a sweet time for me - I prayed as I crocheted, primarily for Charlie and everyone I could think of who is involved in his life.

I looked over at my seatmate's phone and realized she was watching The Blind Side.  I saw the scene come up where they are doing a photo shoot for their Christmas card, and I couldn't help but smile, because, you know, The Blind Side is about this ordinary, regular family who takes in this kid who was neglected and had a drug-addicted mother and raised him as if he was there own.  Nothing to relate to there.  ;)

I'm not a hashtagger, and I'm sure I'm doing this all wrong, but I started calling these little jewels #dailyconfirmation.

I had been discouraged that week by the timeline we were given: certification and placement would be 60+ days after we completed our training (which finished 10/2).  One of the things I began to ask God was that Charlie could be placed in our home by Thanksgiving, which happened to be his birthday, and honestly I knew it was a long shot.  When I got to California, I heard from Robert that he had received a message from the county, offering to come to our home to do individualized training to speed up the process.  Mind blown.  #dailyconfirmation

And, if you've read another recent post, you already know that God has ANSWERED THIS PRAYER with 20 days to spare.  Twenty days, people - nearly three weeks!  We are *not* certified, but nearly (they expect it to be done in the next two weeks), and they are allowing Charlie to move in with us early.  November 4th was Bring Yer Starfish Home Day!

Would you believe over that same weekend, God showed me a verse that I have read many times that I've never really "caught" before to give me another #dailyconfirmation? Oh, how I love the way He encourages me!  Check this out:

God sets the lonely in families.

Psalm 68:6a NIV

Holy smokes.  God, You amaze me!