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!
Sunday, April 23, 2017
Tuesday, April 18, 2017
Wednesday, April 05, 2017
Chapter 19: I do still have other kids
You know how easy it is to get into a rhythm of life and start taking your most treasured gifts for granted?
Just before Christmas, I had a full house with Mom and Deb visiting and all four kiddos off school / work at the same time. My living room seemed extra small with all this energy and excitement of Christmas being right around the corner. I felt overstimulated and stressed and sent the kids off for some sibling bonding at the local ice rink.
And then I got the call - one of those phone calls that reminds you not to take your blessings for granted, one of those calls that reminds you that life is fragile and not guaranteed and that everything can change radically in an instant. The kids were in a multi-vehicle accident. They were all okay, just scared and sore.
Can you even imagine, losing your entire family, in an instant, two days before Christmas? It makes my stomach sick to think of it. Thank You, God, for keeping them safe!
That was our big not-really-related-to-Christmas excitement in our house over the holiday break. It wasn't long before school began again and life returned to normal. (And after two months, this was the first look at our "normal" that Charlie was able to see.)
But while our life has become consumed with social workers and therapy appointments, reading programs and legal responsibilities, our family is not Charlie-centric. It strikes me how much this really is just like having a newborn - the first few months feel like they revolve around this new human being who it utterly dependent on you. While Charlie can wipe his own butt and sleep through the night, these first few months have been full of adjusting to his routine, and trying to adjust him to ours.
We have had challenges. Just like bringing a new babe into the home, the other siblings felt the novelty wear off quickly. (I was thinking about that this morning in my prayer time and thanked the Lord that some of those jealousies and insecurities have at least lessened.) But we have also had things to rejoice about with some of our other kiddos' accomplishments as well!
In January, Josh was invited to an Honorable Scholars Banquet at UNC, where he was one of a number of students to be awarded their top scholarship! We have since toured the campus, talked to a number of people, and he has made a decision to attend UNC in the fall. Big deal, folks. The banquet was fancy shmancy and very special. We are incredibly proud of him.
And the following week, our Grace won the school district spelling bee among all the elementary students in the district! She got a tall trophy, a new water bottle, and a gift card to Barnes and Noble, along with her picture in the paper and lots of respect. She (read: we!) worked really hard to prepare. Unfortunately, in 5th grade, this is as high as you can go, but maybe in middle school next year she will be able to advance to the State competition.
And Christianne got back in her academic groove. She returned to school last August and made the Vice President's List for the fall semester. The best part of it all was how much she loved school. I haven't seen her that excited about it in a long time.
A family of six. Who woulda thunk it?
Just before Christmas, I had a full house with Mom and Deb visiting and all four kiddos off school / work at the same time. My living room seemed extra small with all this energy and excitement of Christmas being right around the corner. I felt overstimulated and stressed and sent the kids off for some sibling bonding at the local ice rink.
And then I got the call - one of those phone calls that reminds you not to take your blessings for granted, one of those calls that reminds you that life is fragile and not guaranteed and that everything can change radically in an instant. The kids were in a multi-vehicle accident. They were all okay, just scared and sore.
Can you even imagine, losing your entire family, in an instant, two days before Christmas? It makes my stomach sick to think of it. Thank You, God, for keeping them safe!
That was our big not-really-related-to-Christmas excitement in our house over the holiday break. It wasn't long before school began again and life returned to normal. (And after two months, this was the first look at our "normal" that Charlie was able to see.)
But while our life has become consumed with social workers and therapy appointments, reading programs and legal responsibilities, our family is not Charlie-centric. It strikes me how much this really is just like having a newborn - the first few months feel like they revolve around this new human being who it utterly dependent on you. While Charlie can wipe his own butt and sleep through the night, these first few months have been full of adjusting to his routine, and trying to adjust him to ours.
We have had challenges. Just like bringing a new babe into the home, the other siblings felt the novelty wear off quickly. (I was thinking about that this morning in my prayer time and thanked the Lord that some of those jealousies and insecurities have at least lessened.) But we have also had things to rejoice about with some of our other kiddos' accomplishments as well!
In January, Josh was invited to an Honorable Scholars Banquet at UNC, where he was one of a number of students to be awarded their top scholarship! We have since toured the campus, talked to a number of people, and he has made a decision to attend UNC in the fall. Big deal, folks. The banquet was fancy shmancy and very special. We are incredibly proud of him.
And the following week, our Grace won the school district spelling bee among all the elementary students in the district! She got a tall trophy, a new water bottle, and a gift card to Barnes and Noble, along with her picture in the paper and lots of respect. She (read: we!) worked really hard to prepare. Unfortunately, in 5th grade, this is as high as you can go, but maybe in middle school next year she will be able to advance to the State competition.
And Christianne got back in her academic groove. She returned to school last August and made the Vice President's List for the fall semester. The best part of it all was how much she loved school. I haven't seen her that excited about it in a long time.
A family of six. Who woulda thunk it?
Wednesday, March 29, 2017
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.
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.
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