Mothers Love

Everyone knows that it is Mother's Day tomorrow.  I could write about how hard it will be to know that all of my kids won't be home with me like chicks under my wings, but I won't.

I'm just feeling so overwhelmed with love for the women in my life who I look up to as the guiding compasses of a lifetime.  To me, it seems that I am so blessed because I have had more than my share of love and nurturing.

First, I want to acknowledge and thank my birthmom, Patricia, who though weighed down by the circumstances of her life could have sought to destroy me, but she did not.  She carried me with love and tenderness and made the most selfless act a mother can make and allowed me to be adopted.  I am thankful for her never giving up on finding me and for being the dear friend that I have in her.

My mom, Lorraine, has been and continues to be the mom who has loved me and has done it all for me.  She chose me to be her child and there is no greater love than that but God.  She diapered me, fed me, sat up nights with me, taught me by lesson and by example throughout my life how to be a woman of God.

When I was just a baby my mom took sewing classes so she could make me beautiful clothes.  Through watching her as I grew up,  I was able to acquire a few simple skills that have given me pleasure in sewing. Her patience while allowing me to sit on the back of her chair while sewing amazes me. I clearly didn't get that temperament! My mom made sure that I took piano lessons for 8 years.  Even though I threw a few (many) tantrums about practicing, I am grateful for the ability to do something that gives me a creative outlet and pleasure in making music.  My mom's sweet, soprano voice was my template for the other joy of my life--singing.  Though she didn't sit me down and teach me to cook and clean, through watching her, my mom gave me invaluable lessons through her example of creating of warm and loving home.

Mom made fun costumes for me for Halloween and plays and I never remember her grumbling about it.  If she did, she must have done it without me hearing it! We always had a delicious meal ready for us even if it had to be at 4 p.m. so we could get to our school activities.  And I know that my mom went without nice things so that we kids could have what we needed, though I never heard her mention it.

 She put up with the junior high me who spent countless hours singing at the top of my lungs in the backseat of the car with my best friend Sheila while she and my dad chauffeured us to our school activities.  Her patience with me is never ending and her advice was always true even if I didn't want to take it when I was a teenager or young adult.  To this very day she is my comfort and my friend when I need someone to listen to my heartaches and she prays for me fiercely like no one else I know. My mom has been an amazing grandma who has come to my aid many times while my kids were young.  She did all this even though she had to travel over 500 miles to get to me.

  All of this puts me in awe of her because she never had a mother to do the same for her, yet she manages to do it so well. My sister and I joke with her and sometimes tease her about silly things but in truth, she is the person I most want to emulate when it comes to being a good Christian woman, wife, and mom.

I have had many friends and aunts who also mentored me through life in how to be a mom.  But one who is especially close to my heart is my mom's sister--my Aunt Berta.  Throughout my whole life the fact that she and my mom are so close means that my heart is deeply intertwined with hers.  I have always felt as though she loved me as one of her own children.  One of my earliest memories is when I stayed with her and her family while my mom was hospitalized.  It would take a book to write all of the wonderful memories I have of my aunt.  One particular thing is the way she would read devotions to us when we were little before we went to bed when I stayed at her house.  She has the most tender voice and her prayers for us before sleep made me feel so safe and warm.  Her faith has been an inspiration to me from the moment I knew her until this day.  She has had many sorrows but her faith stands so strong.  This past year I watched her lovingly, unselfishly care for her only daughter as she was dying of cancer.  Her example of love and faithfulness is unmatched.  I've always felt that if my mom moves on to Glory before my aunt that I would think of my Aunt Berta as my mom and  that I would look after her in the same way as I would my own mother.  It grieves me that this will be her first Mother's Day without her daughter. I hope she knows how much I love her.

So, I want to thank the women in my life--my mom, my aunts, my sister, my sisters-in-law, my mother-in-law, friends, and women in my churches who have taught me and shown me what it truly means to be a mom.

Happy Mother's Day!!!

Evolution of a Quilt

Today is my youngest child's 17th birthday.  It is really hard to imagine that she is that old already.  She's been ours for 14 years this coming August.  

Today is also the day that I have accomplished something I've been wanting to do for years and that is to make each of my children a special quilt.  I finished up Anna's quilt early this morning around 12:45.  It didn't HAVE to be done on the day, but I wanted it to be done.  I'm kind of bad about gifts not arriving on time because of my lack of thinking about how long something may take to be shipped.  So since I had control over this, I wanted it done.

This quilt has been growing in my mind for a few years since I saw a picture of one that was similar with this darling matroyshka fabric. I found the fabric on amazon and it came from Japan.   I've had it for a couple years but just didn't know where to begin to put it all together.  So this fall I decided that I needed to just do it.  The original quilt had red and white checked fabric where I have the chevron and the dots.  I tried and tried to find the right fabrics but could not find the right gingham.  When I found the chevron and dotted fabrics I realized that I  really love them even more.  

Then I just found some colors similar to the original quilt--a green, a purple and a yellow and a darling turquoise print with which I fell in love.  It took me only an afternoon to cut out the strips and sew them together.  But it has taken me WEEKS to quilt it on my machine with my new walking foot.  I love the finished product.  It took much more time than I imagined it would but I'm thankful that I was able to do it myself.  There were a few days that I spent 7-8 hours simply quilting.  

 It was a labor of love.  It makes me feel like I truly accomplished something.  I hope one day each of my children will appreciate the love and care I have put into each of their quilts.  

Here are some pictures I took this morning after I put on a label.  Mostly this is for my mom who can look at my blog to see how it turned out.


Enjoy!

Love the movement of those zig zags.

The fabric that started it all.   Love those little Matroyshka girls.( Ooops, there is still some disappearing ink on those parts that I couldn't see very well because they were so close to the background color.)

It took some imagination to come up with quilting patterns to fill in all of that space.

I added a hand sewn pop of red to this purple.  Zippidydoodah.

I like to personalize my labels.  This proves that my work is not perfect! :)

Lots and lots of stitches.

Can't wait to give it to her.

I'm Praying For You, Kids

I woke up this morning with my kids on my mind and on my heart.  And feeling a little guilt about how I don't pray enough for them or didn't when they were little.  But I DO pray for them and I DID pray for them back then.  It just feels like I fall so short.   

It used to be prayers of survival. 

 "Please, Lord, let him get through this phase of not wanting to go outside without covering his head with his hand and fearing something unknown to him or me."

 "Please, please, Jesus let him sleep and stop crying and not be so clingy."  

"Dear Jesus, please don't let him learn bad habits from all the friends he's going to make."  

"Dear God, please let her be a better woman than me and learn to love You and trust in You.  And please let her learn how to talk to people better than I do."

"Oh, Jesus, show me how to mother a child who has so many needs when I don't have the ways to fill them."

Prayers of desperation, then prayers of desire for their characters to be formed in God's image, and then more prayers of desperation to get them through the teenage years.  Now I'm praying for their futures with more fervor than I think I ever did when they were young.

When my first two were quite little I used to give concerts from time to time.  Not big concerts, but concerts at churches and events.  One of the songs that I used to sing often was a prayer for my little guys' futures.  I had no idea at that time that in the future I would have 5 Someones to pray for one day.  

This morning I woke up thinking about this song because I'm praying more now that my "kids" are older.  I have more time and it is more important than ever that I pray for them.  They live in an evil world and I so want them to first of all to live in it but not of it and to love and serve Christ.  

But on my heart, also, is that they have someone very dear to share their lives with who loves Jesus more than they love my child.  

I want the words that I used to sing when they were little to be more true than ever now.


And I want them to hold on to Jesus for all the parents "out there" that have prayed for them all these years.

Great Expectations

Does that word just ooze with guilt for you the way it sometimes does  for me?


Why is it that what we expect from our self or others can get us into so much trouble?


I got to thinking about this at the track meet this week.  


My daughter, who has cerebral palsy (along with disabilities from fetal alcohol and drugs), has one leg shorter than the other and is weak on her left side compared to the right side, got first place in discus, second place in shot put and with her fellow teammates, got another first place in their weightman's relay at last week's track meet (which was the first one of the year).


On Tuesday I went to the track meet with high hopes of another great showing for my daughter, simply because of her past performance.  But just like all of life's events, I realize now that it was so wrong to do that.


I could sense from the demeanor of my girl that she was feeling stressed and that the weight of everyone's expectations was weighing on her shoulders.  Mind you, I'm not sure she even was aware of that herself outwardly, but it was palpable nevertheless.  On one hand, she was feeling good about herself, I know.  She wants so desperately to be good at SOMETHING.  There are kids in school who get great grades without really trying, are good at every sport and always get to play, who get awards for their art work or essays or spelling bees, etc.  And my girl just wants to be good at ONE thing.  Don't we all?


Let's just say that the day didn't go as everyone expected, which was OKAY.


But it got me pondering on how we let expectations--our own or others'---dictate our actions and feelings about ourselves.  I could be an expert on this since I have always been a people pleaser and never want to let anyone down.  


But I've learned over the forty-something years of my life that trying to live up to expectations is a destroyer of our souls.  It ruins us.  When we race around life using the measuring stick of everyone we don't want to disappoint to rule our behavior we end up being a mess.


Recently, someone I love dearly was afraid to talk to me because they feared my disappointment in something that was troubling them.  It SO hurt my heart to realize that I had put some kind of expectation on them that they were unable to fulfill and now it was hurting our relationship!


I want to be the person who loves you  no matter what you do or say that might not be what I expected.


How I pray that I remember that, not only at track meets, but in my day to day relationships.


What expectations have you had to let go of in order to have a healthy relationship?

This Day

Here we are.  This day.  This day that I've been dreading and the hard part is over but the hardest part is just beginning.


I should have known that the day was going to be interesting.  It is so far.  But then, sometimes interesting is just what we need.


My daughter had a meltdown over her hair while getting ready for school and it became apparent that we were going to miss the bus.  So, while helping my son pack his car and thinking of the coming good-byes, I was running (well, it was me, but it resembled running) down the driveway trying to indicate to the bus driver that we wouldn't be needing his services this morning.  Did I mention that I had not yet put socks on and it was about 8 degrees here this morning?


As it turned out, missing the bus was a good thing.  We got to all pray together before the guys left and the two kids got a chance to say goodbye.  


Oh, I took my antibiotic with my prescriptions after eating breakfast and something happened that has never happened to me before.  While scurrying around helping Zach get his stuff in his car I felt my medicine burning itself UP my throat which put me into a coughing fit.  Not sure what that was about but it made yet another interesting element to the day.


With hugs and tears we said goodbye and then I realized that I had drive my kid to school.  Oh, it is 15 miles one way.  


So I went into the bathroom to wash my face and the sobbing began.  Soon I heard a little voice outside my door saying, "Mommy, are you okay?"  


I've never been so thankful for missing the bus.  It was nice to be able to open the door and have someone hold  me and let me cry on their shoulder even if I had to bend down to do it.  I'm not quite sure my daughter understands why I was crying so much, but she tried to be comforting to me.


So here I am back at home trying to decide what to do first.  You can be sure that through it all I will be praying for this guy:

Something A Mom Treasures

These were my instructions for making a lunch this morning.  Please don't make fun.  She's come so far.

Time Passages

It seems like everybody I know on Facebook that has kids is commenting on how fast time has flown and how quickly their children are growing up.  So I'm kind of caught up in that thought pattern.

I've just sent my fourth of five children off to college.  Sure it has been hard with all of them for different reasons.  The first one is SO hard because you've never done it before.  But each kid is tied to your heart in different ways so you miss them all but worry and pray for each of them differently.

This year I sent off my first daughter.  It is OH so different.  I don't think she will ever know the depth of my yearning for her to be the woman I pray for her to be.  And simultaneously, how much I pray that God will fill in the gaps of all the things I failed to model for her rightly.

Some friends and I have discussed recently how when we were freshmen in high school we were terrified of  the seniors and thought they were so old and mature.  Then, when the day came for us to be seniors we wondered why we didn't feel old OR mature.

I think that is something that never changes.  For me anyway.

This afternoon I had to make a phone call about helping with a funeral at church.  It sent me back in time to when I was a child and listened throughout the day to my mom making phone calls for things like that.  For her it was her only means of communication.  She didn't have email, facebook or cell phones to "discuss" things with her friends or shop online, etc. But I thought she was the epitome of womanly maturity.

But maybe, just maybe, she felt like I do.

In many instances in life I go through the motions of maturity while all the time deep inside I  feel so insecure and inexperienced.  I remember once dragging my four older kids with me to pick up my husband at the airport.  Before I left it flashed into my mind "you're too young to be running around the city with four little kids".  And yet I was the MOM of those four little kids.  Good thing they didn't know how insecure and unprepared I was for so much of what I did while raising them.

There is a seventh grader left at home with me.  She has come so far in the past ten years.  Sometimes I can't believe she is the same child we brought all the way across the world and to whom we taught the English language at age 3.  At the same time I feel very unprepared and ill equipped to train her and help her through the next 6 school years of her life.

Wasn't I JUST in seventh grade myself?????

The Final Birth Story

Sign made by daddy and brothers from leftover Bible school prop.

Not sure if anyone really likes to read these, but this will be my final "birth story".  Number 5 in blogging and number 3 in real life.


It happened 22 years ago but I remember it so well.  It was what I consider my only "normal" birthing experience.  


First of all, I had never planned on conceiving another child when the youngest one we had  was less than a year old.  Honestly, I was embarrassed when I went to the doctor to find out for sure.  He scolded me and told me that having a baby was always something to be  celebrated.  What a great baby doctor I had!  So thankful!


So it took me a while to get used to the idea of having another baby.  Probably until about February when I got a really bad bout of  the influenza.  Then I worried that I might lose the baby and then I could not imagine life without him.  


Fast forward to the summer of 1989................hot, dry, drought, epic hot.  A really fun time to be carrying an active little baby.  We did a lot of walking in the early evenings to get out of the house and tire out the little ones that I already had bouncing around my house. 


Due date was July 29.  My family came to visit just prior to that in order to be present and meet the new little person.  My sister sat and watched my little guy moving around inside me one night and declared that she would NEVER have children.  (She has since had 3, so, things change.)


My dad and my sister had to leave  before the baby came because she had  to get back to her summer job and the baby was late.  The day after they left became the day of  birth...............................


It was Sunday morning and I woke up with a sense of heaviness.  I decided that there was NO WAY I would be able to wear pantyhose that day to church.  So I put on my favorite pink maternity dress (I loved that dress.  And I remember that I was hoping it would be a "good luck" charm for having a girl) and went to church.  I don't remember anything about the church service that morning except that I was extremely uncomfortable and trying to corral my two young boys through the whole thing.

Grandma and "big" brother meeting.

We got home and ate some lunch which included some homemade pickles that my mom had brought along with her.  I was wary of eating them since I  had felt "funny" all day but I ate  them anyway!  Not long after lunch I started having some serious contractions.  I talked to my sister in law on the phone until I felt that it was probably time to go to the hospital.


Mid afternoon we made the 15 mile trek over to our hospital.  As far as I remember we did not even have a girl's name truly picked out.  This would be Zachary if our child was a boy.  My kids had a little story book about two kids in a park and one had the name Zachary with an 'h' and an 'a'.  I liked that and in my mind I had decided on it long ago.

Snoozing with biggest brother.

We got to the hospital and got all set up in the brand new hospital  building.  It was fun to be using it in the first couple months after it had opened.  


My labor was SO EASY compared to the  first two.  It was, in fact, probably a normal birthing experience.  It hurt to have contractions but I could deal with it and I even remember laughing and joking in between.  I remember  thinking if this was how it was supposed to be  I could have 10 kids.  I'm sure that my husband is thankful  for those other difficult births!

First birthday with dad and brothers.

It was 4H fair week in our little town and the big parade was that night.  My doctor always rode a wagon pulled by his horses in local parades.  So at some point he excused himself and went to be in the parade.  He assured me that he would be just a phone call away.  What he  didn't tell me was that his son and daughter-in-law who were  friends of ours were driving in and out of alleyways to switch places with him should he have to head over to the hospital to deliver me.

2nd birthday

Much quicker than I thought I was ready to have that baby.  I kind of panicked wondering if Doc B would make it.  He swooped in just in the nick of time and delivered the most beautiful, chubby, baby boy who was sucking his thumb immediately.  

Yeah, we used this one for graduation!

Making some mischief while still the baby of the family.

Joy!  That is what I remember feeling.  And that could well describe the life that we have had with our number 3  son.  He slept all day, he slept all night.  I thought something was seriously wrong with him at first.  But he was such a happy, delightful baby and has always been a fun, adventurous kid to raise.  

Look what I can do.

"Enjoying" his big brothers' concert.

Fun to have a brother so close in age.  Lots of mischief together.

Joy!

Adventure!

Birthday cheesecake!

Stinker!  Switched musical instruments with his friend for the parade.

Since he was born at the end of July, Zachary David has spent many a birthday at amusement parks, white water rafting or just in a fun place on our vacations.  This year I didn't even get to see him on his birthday but I know he was with people he loves.  

Growing up.

Happy 22nd Birthday Zach!  And thank you for showing me that sometimes the unexpected surprises of life can bring such amazing joy!

Growing Up Is Hard To Do

My older daughter is sick.  So last night it was just the 13 year old and I driving home from youth group and worship band practice.  I'm SO not ready for these conversations with this child.


"There was a boy who is 13 and in 7th grade who talked to me a lot tonight."


"He asked me a lot of questions like 'why do you wear hearing aids'."


"He asked if I want to go out with him.  What is 'go out with him'?"


"I told him NO."


"But he was kind of cute."


"He wanted my cell phone number."


"How come I can't get a cell phone until I'm 16?"


"How old will I have to be to be able to drive:"


And in the midst of this I said to her "Hmmm.  What was his name?"


Her reply, " I don't know who he is."


KIDS!

The First One

I'm sitting here contemplating this day and I am overwhelmed with memories. 26 years worth.  


All of my life since I was a very young child I dreamed of pretty much one life for myself--being a mom.  I was the little girl who always had a baby doll  (got my last one in 6th grade and still have it) or was begging to hold someone's real life baby.


I got married when I was 20 which is VERY young now.  But I had traveled all across the United States and Canada with a quick dip into Mexico as a 19 year old (as part of a traveling ministry team) and thought I was very sophisticated and mature.  It was during that year that I met my future husband who lived in Kansas.  So I happily left everyone and everything I had ever known to get married and went to live in Kansas at age 20.


About six months into our marriage I was feeling very alone with a husband who worked more than I could have imagined and my family 540 miles away.  I had been babysitting for a neighbor's little girl and she was such a delight to have around.  So we decided to have a baby.  I am so glad that we did! 


Fast forward to February 1985.  My "due date" was February 13th.  It just so happened that that date fell on the weekend that my husband was scheduled for his monthly Navy Reserves duty.  Of course.  

January 1985 with my niece Jessica

So he was gone that weekend.  I was very anxious to have my baby although I was really scared of what childbirth might be like.  There I was, home alone, stoking the wood stove with logs as I lumbered around myself with my cumbersome pregnant form.  Fortunately, our baby didn't come that weekend even though, if I remember correctly, my sister-in-law, who at that time lived down the road from us, asked me to go for a "drive" with her over the areas railroad tracks.  We did and it was fun.  But no baby.


The next Sunday afternoon, February 17th, we were watching TV and eating popcorn and drinking Pepsi.  Suddenly, I started to feel "funny".  Before long I was having contractions and when I went to bed that night they were coming around 20 minutes apart.  I was so excited.  My baby was going to be born on an even numbered day!  


Monday rolled around and was a gorgeous day.  It was so warm outside you barely needed a light jacket!  My contractions had continued through the night and into Monday so by Monday afternoon we went to the hospital so very casually thinking that our precious baby would be born before long.  We "checked in" and the real fun started.  


At that time our local hospital was very old.  My husband had been born there along with thousands of other people over many years.  They had what they boasted to be their "new" birthing room which was just the labor and delivery room with a new "birthing bed" in it.  It was first come, first serve.  If you got there and someone else was using it, you were out of luck and had to give birth the old fashioned way in a room on a hard table, I guess.


We were lucky and no one else was there so we felt like winners.  


It was hard work and kind of painful but I could handle it.  Then about midnight with the prospect of TUESDAY morning looming and still no baby I was feeling exhausted and distraught.  Let's just say that things were not happening that should have been happening.  


So they introduced me to a little something called pitocin.  And a little over 5 hours later, on Tuesday, February 19th, our first born son was born.  And the joy of a lifetime began.

Hours old.

Winter fun.

The boy who loved to farm everything.

Ready for preschool.

The young man I'm so proud to call my son.

Happy Birthday, Nathan!  You've given us so much joy!

From Russia TO Love

Baby picture long before we knew her.

Ten years ago this month we were on a journey like no other we had ever taken before.  Many months previous to this we had come to a decision that would change our lives forever.  


We had four children.  Three precious boys and one precious girl.  


My husband had traveled to Russia a couple times both for business and for a couple missions trips with our church.  I had been trying to convince my best friend who had three sons that they should adopt a little girl from Russia.  I wanted so much for her to experience the joy of having a daughter like I.  


On a ski trip with our high school youth in which she and I were along to be cooks, we lay in bed one night.  She was sound asleep.  I was awake in a prednisone induced insomnia.  I felt as though God was saying, "adopt a little girl from Russia".  I kind of giggled at the idea that God was talking to me because He NEEDED to talk to my friend.  But he was talking to me. 


The idea began to grow in my heart since I had always thought I would love to be an adoptive parent since I myself am adopted.  Convincing my husband, though, seemed like a more monumental task.  


After much prayer and soul searching, I approached the subject with him.  Of course, I had jokingly told him before his trips to Russia that year to bring home a little cutie with him.  Little did I know how simplistic that request was in contrast to the bureaucratic nightmare that that would have been.  He was actually quite open to the idea of adoption and we explored the many details that would be involved in such an endeavor.


When we felt like the green light was given we started doing paperwork with an agency that I had "happened" to read about in two books that I had read that year.  

List of documents to be apostilled.

The paperwork for adopting internationally is daunting.  But I am a methodical person and I took one paper at a time. Over the next 8- 10 months I filled out paperwork, got apostilles from our secretary of state's office 90 miles away countless times, we got homestudied, had our fingerprints taken by the FBI and every other stinking little detail that needed to be accomplished got accomplished.


In February of 2001 we got an email from our contact person at Bethany Christian Services with some info on the child that had been referred to us in January.   It was a forward from our facilitator's secretary.  Our contact person, Janie, wrote "Linda here is the little sweetie.....Janie"  It gave all the information they had on the child, Anna.  It was only about half a page of information.  Vital statistics though very little was known.  Birthday: January 21, 1998.


After months and months of paperwork and delays we ultimately had to switch agencies in order to work with our facilitator in Russia.  Finally, the day had arrived to go meet our new daughter.  We went in July instead of February so the coat that was good to 30 below 0 degrees was no longer of use to me.  It was HOT in Russia.  


We met our little Anna and she was a giggly, smiling, friendly little girl. We fell in love.  We only got to spend a little bit of time with her and then we had to say goodbye and we'll be back to get you soon.  THAT was one of  the hardest things I have ever done in my life.  


A month later we returned to Russia to pick up Anna and bring her HOME.

Our flight schedule.

Schedule for the grandparents.

"Take picture packets"  Oh, my mom is amazing to do this for me.

  
Our flight schedule and the kids at home daily schedule look rather overwhelming now but we did it somehow.  They even started at a NEW school while we were gone.  All of the grandparents were amazing for helping us as well as our best friends.

Coming home with a 3 year old who had never seen an airplane let alone flown was exhausting!  She didn't sleep the whole time until right before we landed in Kansas on our last leg.  She couldn't speak English and we spoke only a few Russian words essential for eating, sleeping, and toileting.

Having a snack at the market in Russia.

Getting Americanized on the plane ride home.

On a swing in Russia.

The ride from the orphanage to our apartment.

Playing with a Barbie on the long flight.

Dancing in our hotel room in Russia.

Eating an apple in the Paris airport while waiting for our connecting flight home.

So. That is my "baby story" for my youngest child whose 13th birthday is today.

Happy Birthday Anna!  Life isn't always easy, but we love you!