Help for Adoptive Families

Have you adopted an older, international child?  An older child?
An international child?  A baby?  Anyone?

Are you planning on adopting?

Are you a long-term foster family?

If so ~ and if you're a typical adoptive/foster family ~ I'm betting you're finding yourself wading through some challenges. Maybe feeling overwhelmed?

If this is true of you, I'd like to recommend a resource that has helped me... probably more than any other source. [And I mean this, that it's helped more apart from the Bible.  God's Word has all that we need (2 Timothy 3:16), and we need only
to ask God for the wisdom we need (James 1:5)].

I want to recommend this because, while we read several books about adoption
before and after we brought Jake home, I found myself more annoyed and
frustrated with most of the reading material ~ I was definitely not getting the help
I was looking for.  Honestly, there's only been 2 or 3 books that have
truly helped us.  So many of them are full of child-centered,
child-glorifying malarky.  Most of them, I didn't even finish because
I found it too difficult to look for the information that fit our beliefs
of what we felt God was calling us to do with our children.

So when I found this & began to read, it was like a gift from the Lord.  Hopeful
encouragement on every page.  I've borrowed the copy I'm reading
from my local library and am hoping to purchase it at a later date.

 

 

I can't tell you, adequately, how much I'm learning from this book.  And I need

to say that so far, this book is for any adoptive parent (international

or domestic), regardless of whether you have other kids. 

 

This book is about equipping parents to understand what it means to come into

a family carrying the tremendous trauma of loss. This book is about recharging, revitalizing, your love for your child.  This book is about understanding someone

who's come from a very dark place you haven't been and needs a different

kind of parenting to help him become all he can be.

 

This book does address those sibling relationships, in the context of helping your already-at-home kids understand their newest sibling, but the helpful insight it provides in every paragraph is for everyone in the adoptive family.  I am taking

tons of notes as I read that I plan on sharing with all of my kids, hopeful

that all of them will gain a better understanding of what adoption means

to an individual as well as the family that person becomes a part of.

 

Here's a website for the author: arletajames.com

 

I'm so confident this book will help any of you who are looking for a deeper understanding of your sweet child as well as the unique challenges

that come with adoption!



Birthday Eve Musings

I thought of you again as I lay on my bed in the early evening, taking a quick breather before moving on to the next to-do pile.

I kissed our son awake this morning and was immediately hit with the thought: This is the last day you'll be 8!

Some sadness with that, as with the other kids.

And then I thought of you.  And you've been on my mind quite a bit ever since.  And in my prayers.

As I lay on my bed a few minutes ago, I realized that ~ for you ~ he's already 9 (with you on the other side of the world).  And I wondered how many times he flooded your thoughts today.  Because I know he must.

I wish I could tell you all about him, all about his days, fill you in on how he laughs a lot; makes up really dumb jokes; is reading pretty well but excelling at math; loves to work in the yard with Dad and in the kitchen with me; is a really, really good friend to the other boys; shares everything he has (except with Joe, who has his own issues); is sensitive to others (especially me) when they're sad; loves to hug, kiss, and be held; throws a mean spiral like nobody's business, catches way more than drops the ball, and has the makings of an excellent quarterback; creates the most fantastical things out of Legos; is an incredible artist...

Comes up with some of the most breath-takingly deep observations about God, who he has learned so much about...

Has a strong sense of right and wrong, and is led by a sensitive conscience that usually opts for the high road...

Is my first child to always say, "Thank you for making our food, Mom."  In fact, he's very quick to say "Thank you" for most things...

He's beautiful and healthy, has an astonishing sense of balance and little fear of most things...

I'm hoping I can sit across the table from you someday and fill you in on the rest that hasn't happened yet.  Sharing coffee and regrets and thankfulness.  I'm longing for the day when Jake can find you and get the answers to all he desires.  And I'm hoping that you'll find peace as you see that he is loved and valued and needed.  That the selflessness of your sacrifice opened up a whole other world for him.

And for me.

I'm thankful I can wake him up tomorrow as a 9-year-old, and I will be teary-eyed (as usual) that one of my babies has moved ahead on the Timeline, and I will pray for you again.  That God will be pleased to open your heart in Vietnam and draw you to Himself.  That He will give you hope and peace and a knowing that your Bao is loved and happy and safe.  That I will try with all I have to find you when it's time.  And that you will be pleased with the job we did here as his parents when we finally meet face-to-face.

January Storms

Januaries are hard. Always hard. And I always forget.

January 2008 brought news to a little boy in southern Vietnam. News that strangers were coming for him. He had pictures to look at, faces to look for. He didn't know when, just knew it was soon.

They would come and take him out beyond the gates. Away from all he'd ever known, from all that comprised every memory he had. Away from caregivers who knew him so well. Away from those who'd become his brothers and sisters. Away from his bed and his four walls. Away from safe and known.

He'd seen others leave in the almost 5 years he'd been alive. They left and never came back. They were scared, the older ones. He knew.

And now it was coming to him. He didn't know when, just knew it was soon.

He began to feel what he'd never felt before. And it sunk deep... wounding, scaring. Overwhelming.

He knew he wouldn't be back.

Januaries are hard.

Life with Jake

One of the joys of parenting is seeing how your kids process things.

We sat at the table this morning, reading through Psalm 121, talking about how God is able to care for each and every person all at once. The daddies in Canada and the kids in South America and the mommas in India...

DJ said, "And the kids in Zimbia!" (hhmm??)

"You mean the kids in Zambia? In Africa?"

"No, that place where we just went to war!"

"Oh! You mean Libya!"

"Yeah! Libya!"

And then Jake piped in: "And those kids at that pizza place!"

at the pizza place... I'm trying to track...

"The pizza place, Jake? Which one? Do you mean Pisa, that place in Italy?" (ohmyword! How did this child learn anything about Pisa?)

"You know! The one (DJ) told me about!"

DJ, ever helpful: "Oh, no! I was telling him yesterday about Chile and Turkey!"

Chile/Turkey = chili and turkey, which easily becomes pizza. Mystery solved.

"Yes, Jake, God takes care of all the kids in the pizza places, too." (Please, Lord, don't let me laugh.)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Then there are the things that I don't want to find out, but that I have to learn.

I was holding Jake a week or so ago, giving him some kisses and hugs. He is such an affectionate boy!

I asked him if he liked it when "the ladies in Vietnam" kissed on him when he lived there.

"They not do that." (just matter-of-factly, nonchalantly. No big deal, Mom, they not do that.)

"Didn't they kiss you some? A little?"

"No, Mom! They not do that over there."

I don't know how much of his memory is faulty. But I do know this: if there was affection shown at a physical level, it was never enough to create the memory for him. There was not enough to register.

I can't even begin to imagine. My heart broke over how much he lost those first 5 years. We all need affection and physical touch, but so very much more as little tiny babies. I've been much more mindful of making myself stop and hold him more. Longer. I pray that the horror of this thought, and the renewed compassion it brought, continues to pain me.

Children of God

Okay, so I'm sensitive. Admitted. And about some things but not others.

For the past three years, I've grown increasingly sensitive about how Jake's adoption is spoken of. And that's a good thing, understandable.

Some of that is the fear of the unknown. I have no idea how Jake will process his whole life circumstances as he grows. I believe it will be a difficult process, I just don't know how he will uniquely handle the emotions and trials that will come.

So I spend quite a bit of effort ~ which is good and bad ~ trying to do damage control. Trying to ward off as much pain as possible. Trying to do it right, make the right decisions.

Which means I cringe when anybody talks about Jake being "adopted." The fact remains: he is adopted. There will never be any changing of that.

But I always talk about Jake "coming home" instead of being adopted. And I lectured one of my kids today on being careful to use that terminology, especially around Jake.

It's good and bad. I'm trying.

So, when I saw this video from one of my favorite bands (Third Day) singing one of my favorite songs, I cringed through the first two-thirds. Why make it so obvious that these kids were adopted? What was the point? How weird to keep pointin' out the difference in these kids' lives. ("Okay, so I'm sensitive.")

Then I cried through the last bit. As I was shown how quick I am to judge, how much I need to believe the best. As I was reminded of the sweet truth of who I am in Christ.

And as the Lord kindly showed me that I have more in common with my fourth baby than I ever knew.

Enjoy...

Bundle of Emotions

As I watched him read today, his first "real book" (real in his eyes)...

I was so excited for him.

I was so proud of him.

I battled being proud of myself for teaching him (silly woman... God alone has caused him to read).

I marveled at how far he's come.

I saw (again) evidence of the great intelligence within.

I was amazed anew at how God has caused his brain to work so well at catching up and understanding.

I found myself grieving for his birth mom. She had a very short time with him. She saw his birth and heard his first cries. She fed him and held him and probably saw his first smile. But then she had nothing else.

I missed his first 5 years. I missed his first solid food, his sitting and crawling; his first steps and first word. I don't know what songs he heard or what he laughed at the most.

But I got to see him learn a second language (and learn it so quickly! so well!). I watched him adapt to a new culture, new food, new expectations. I watched him grieve and push to stay on top.

And now I get to hear him count. And learn to add. And coached him through the many difficult hours of learning his ABC's. And then their sounds, and now he's reading.

I watch his face as he labors diligently to sound out the words in a tongue that is still foreign in sound.

I listen to him repeat the Word of God as he prepares for AWANA.

And I have hope that I get the next 10 plus years.

I wish I could capture these days and tie them up in a memory somehow. A gift for the day when Jake sees his birth mom again. I want her to have a view into these days. The hours she'll never know.

It makes me sad to think of her thinking about him. And I grieve for her at so many unexpected turns.

No Small Thing

"I count it a real honor that God entrusted Isaiah to our care."

So said an adoptive dad on a video I watched earlier today. And I replayed those 8 seconds of taped truth over again. Hit low in the gut, trying to catch breath, remembering what I've forgotten.

Isaiah's story is incredible. His new parents love him much and thoughtfully, carefully honor God in their telling. All of them realize the blessing that came with the transition.

But this: "it is an honor to have been entrusted..."

why do i forget?

If you know us, know our family, know me... then you know that our transition as a family has been rough. It hasn't been one person's fault, it's been the kept-well-hidden sin issues in all of us that have foamed to the top as we've all been called to die to self. We're a family of self-pleasers. We claw & fight to have our own way, and to have it easy and comfortable. And I'm the absolute worst of the whole of us.

And so I lose sight of the big picture so easily as I only focus in on the uncomfortable-ness of today, of the small Immediate Moment.

How I need to dwell here:

God's plan for Bao Hoai Dang, all along, was to grow up in the USA; to have an opportunity to get a good education; to be surrounded by siblings & parents; but BIGGEST OF ALL, to hear this:

"But the LORD is the true God; He is the living God and the everlasting King."

Jeremiah 10:10

I know so little, but I do know what I have seen with my eyes: the LORD has done mighty things to change Jake's life. I don't know the half of it, I'm sure, but what I've had revealed to me takes my breath away when I stop long enough to ponder it.

But I get so worn down by the day-in and day-out of homeschooling and health issues and parenting and serving and everything else, choosing to focus in on the difficulty of it all, and the effort it takes to beat down those sin issues, and then the results of not dealing with the old nature... and I forget.

I forget the mind-blowing fact that I am one of the parents who've been entrusted with the care of Jake, this child whom God has chosen to move mountains for. I'm one that's been chosen to teach him and nurture him, to train him and comfort him.

I've been called to teach this little guy about his Creator. And all that the one true God has done for him.

I've been granted permission to walk on this path that God has carved out for Jake, to watch the rest of the story unfold. To be used...

I'm sure it grieves God when I complain. It's a sin, for sure, but it is such a peevish type of thing. The rebellion of a small-minded, short-sighted creature.

I want to keep reading this post & be challenged, over and over, to think up there, with God, about the big picture. About the important things. About eternity.

Another Puzzle Piece

I shifted a little, hoping to give him a pocket to breathe in. He shifted back, content to struggle for oxygen as he burrowed his face tighter into the curve of my neck.

The same ritual, every night. I stop for the last hug and kiss, the last bit of conversation, the last of the day. Sometimes a song, sometimes not. That is usually dependent on my mood, which is sad.

But I am often so weary at the end of the day. The two youngest guys wear this middle-aged momma plum out, and I am often battling the desire to rush the evening ritual.

It is helpful, this evening meeting. Most days are hard, full of stress from just life in general and adoption in particular. So this sweet one-on-one is helpful on so many levels. It ends the day on a positive note, for both of us. It pulls to the surface of my consciousness the feelings of love that are there. I experience the filling of patience and strength and hope as Jake and I cuddle. I am hopeful that he experiences the ability to forgive my lack of patience that is seen so often.

Jake grabs my neck in the tightest hug, burying his face into the side, and hangs on. As though his life depends on it. It was uncomfortable at first; not your typical way of hugging. But I knew there was some sort of deep-seated need that he was reaching way out to meet for himself, and I quickly became thankful to be placed by God into that position to fill it for him.

I asked him tonight why he hugged me that way, so tightly and without an end to the burrowing. Not the first time I've asked. Honestly, I just want to hear from him that I'm meeting some need he has! (I am pitiful...)

"I dunno..." was the sleepy reply.

"Why, Jake?" (I really need to hear! I'm reaching out with my own needs...)

"It's warm. You're warm."

I hug him tighter. This skin-to-skin is good for us both.

Then, a new question: "Jake, did you do this with the ladies in Vietnam?" Asking again for info about the orphanage.

"No, never. Just here."

"Well, they hugged you, right?"

"No."

"Not ever? Did they kiss you?"

"No. They not know. They not know how."

Just like that, matter-of-fact. No anger or sadness in those dark almond eyes for what should've been. Not even recognition that his most basic need, the need for affirming love, was ignored, overlooked, untouched. Just stating the fact of how he thought life was supposed to be (empty...). I'm wondering when he just gave up looking for what was supposed to fill his hunger.

Oh, Jake...

If you are reading this, imagine yourself as a five-year-old boy who went to sleep each night with no one to hug or kiss or sing you to sleep. Ever. And you didn't even know that this was supposed to happen.

I am sick to my stomach as I'm once again faced with the void that was his life. And I am sick to my stomach that I am ever impatient with him and thankful that the end of the day has come.

I held him so close, with a much longer time of holding and kissing, and told him how sorry I was.

And that I was so thankful that he was home, so we could catch up.

If You're Wondering...

Please bear with me on this one. I'm printing the entire post from Tonia at "Study in Brown." Another adoptive mom, struggling with the sweet child God brought her. I could've just provided you the link to her blog (and I will at the end), but her post is so good that I wanted to make it easy for you to read it.

These words of hers sum up so well some of what's going on in our family. I cried all the way through it. Her struggles are common in this community, something you don't hear about on the front end.

I'm glad I didn't know how hard it would be; I think I would've done-the-Jonah, ran the other way. And then I would've missed out on all of these lessons. God is so kind, in a way I don't understand. But He knows best, and I am hoping He's squeezing a huge bunch of this indwelling sin out for good!

We, of course, aren't dealing with FAS. Just the plain old hard work of adjusting through the adoption of an older child. And I have high hopes for Jake! I don't expect him to struggle in the same way Tonia's son will. Jake doesn't have those same issues. But I really felt like someone was writing my story as she describes her thoughts of what her life would be like before she adopted, and then how she had to adjust to reality.

Tonia also describes feeling embarrassed. I know that feeling, the one that comes with seeing friends step back a few steps because, suddenly, your family is messy. Different. Hard to be around.

Those aren't angry or bitter words, just a comment on the reality of our life today. I understand that we're different, messy. Hard to be with, at times.

I also completely understand her expectations of God, of what she thought He owed her because she'd been obedient and "cared for the orphan." Ouch. And yet, thank you, God, for exposing my pride.

Okay, I need to stop and let Tonia speak -- for both of us!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

i wanted to dance.

Friday, September 4, 2009 at 06:58AM

i was always a dreamer...one of those people who wanted to change the world. i prayed for it, ached for it, fantasized about living in a hut in Africa and caring for abandoned children. when i was 23, we adopted D. i read in the bible that God wanted us to care for orphans and so we went and found one to care for. i knew what the words Fetal Alcohol Syndrome meant because my parents had done foster care for many years, but still, when the doctor pronounced it over my 1 year old i set my shoulders and laughed it in the face. "we'll see about that!" back then i thought that love was going to change the world and God would never let us fail.

i hadn't taken into account His long view nor how He was going to rip through my romanticized version of world-changing and give me the cold, hard reality.

let's face it, we all want to be katie in one way or the other. we all want to march in and save the world. we love the idea of sacrificing ourselves for the poor, the suffering, the outcast.

what we don't want to do is get up right now and love the drunk in our family. or the brother who can't keep a job. or the self-important right-wing(or left-wing!) jerk we go to church with.

the ever-wise everly said it in the comments yesterday:

I'd rather be holding an orphan, giving her the first taste of comfort, the first love of Christ, her first toys and clean clothes and bath than dealing with a few of our used-to-be-orphans who sometimes seem to make life messy as a goal.

you see, that's the problem. eventually, the orphans become the kids next door, the teenager someone's having a hard time with, the adult who can't hold down a job. then they aren't so lovely. and then i don't really want to save them anymore. i just want them to grow up, get a life, quit taking advantage of people.

oh friends, that starry-eyed girl i once was has been humbled - laid low, actually - by the reality of the grace of God that sees past the orphan to the person and loves them all the way through. while i was patting myself on the back for adopting a baby, God was looking ahead to the teen who would be crippled by brain-damage, ruled by cravings and impulses and helpless to stop and terrified of the consequences; who would be invisibly handicapped so that when the world demanded his compliance - he could never give it. God loves the man, who may go to jail; who will probably fight addiction; who will most likely be unable to hold down a job or pay his rent. God looked ahead and He loved that man.

the challenge, of course, is will I?

will i read Isaiah 58 and understand that God is commanding me to love - not tolerate - the boy in my house and the drunk in the family and the guy i don't like at church and the migrant workers in town and the children in Africa with no water?

will i realize that sometimes God reaches down and heals someone instantly and we get to dance and sing and say "look how Love has changed the world!" ... but more often He crawls right into the mess and there He spends His time wiping tears and holding broken people and saying "I'll be here when you get back," as they wander off?

i wanted to be a part of the dancing and singing. i wanted God to be so delighted with our adoption that He would fix everything and then i could spend the rest of my life saying "look how Love has changed the world!" and we would all be happy.

but He invited me to crawl into the mess instead.

right down here where disappointment and heartache live.

"Come with Me."

now my clothes are dirty, my hands are filthy; i get tired, i get embarrassed; i hate the dark.

but you know what? i'm rich. i have choices. i don't have to stay here. i could give up on the adoption, send my kid away for someone else to deal with. i could make my life neat and tidy and shut out anyone whom i can't fix with a scripture verse and a pat on the back. i could build a sturdy wall between me and everyone who can't get their act together.

i know a lot of people who do that.

but Jesus is here in the mess.

and i really want to be where He is.

(and by the way, i found out we can dance here too.)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Here's the link, in case you want to keep up with Tonia:

http://www.studyinbrown.com/

And now you know some of what we're processing through.

And I have to add that bringing Jake home, and all that has gone with that, is not about Jake. Bringing Jake home meant that we would have the opportunity to be tried, to be put to the test as we began to work through being home. The sin that has always been there is coming to the surface, being squeezed out for all of us to see. It cannot remain hidden, shelved away in the dark, undealt with, unknown. We are seeing who we truly are, where we've put our trust, how much we need the complete, once-for-all covering of the LORD Jesus Christ.

Hallelujah!

Looking Back

I can't believe it's already been a year. As of this past Saturday, the 14th. One year ago that we stood in a government office, nervous that we'd offend someone, cross some unknown line. Overly optimistic about the future. Blind to the unknown and the conditions of our own hearts. Confident instead of clinging to Him. Prepared for a road we wouldn't travel.

One year ago, we signed on the dotted line, thanked the communist government of Vietnam, and welcomed our Jake into our family. Wow.

This has been quite a year for our family. Very difficult in so many ways, and most especially for our little Jacob. If we'd known how hard, I don't know that we'd have had the courage to trust God and move forward. Not because it hasn't been worth it, and not because God isn't able to provide exceedingly abundant more than we need. But because our sin-soaked hearts want the easy, the peaceful, the known.

We've learned so much this past year. I say that with much hope that it is indeed true of us. And we have so far to go.

But the Lord has kindly provided us, consistently, with hope. With the resolve to start each day with new thoughts, new strength. And He has kindly provided, as well, sweet gifts along the way.

Flowers from Jake pulled from the backyard:

"For Momma...";

M & M's saved for his six-year-old brother, the one

he's fought so much with;

Bedtime bear hugs & pleas, "Momma, please sing ABCs to me"

while the tummy is lightly tickled, chocolate almond eyes

closing slowly in sleep;

An AWANA vest won after three learned verses,

now fully part of "the club";

So many times of unexpected apologies, unsolicited gifts from his heart:

"Momma, I sorry I didn't obey you. I sorry I speak

mean to you."

So many more, too many to list. Sweet gifts that point to light at the end of the tunnel.

Jake's coming has done so much good. I see how unwilling I am to die to myself, and I am humiliated before the Lord (even though it is still not enough) that He would love me at all. I am clinging to the cross as never before, squeezing out the assurance that my sins are forgiven, even mine. That God is at work in me to teach me to love as He does, and to be full of gratitude for His love for me. I am seeing more clearly the things that matter and the things that don't. That I don't have any answers and must constantly be pressed close to the chest of my Father and wait for Him to move, to show, to guide. Jake's coming has been good.

Ran across this verse, don't remember ever reading it:

"I will lead the blind by ways they have not known,

along unfamiliar paths I will guide them;

I will turn the darkness into light before them

and make the rough places smooth.

These are the things I will do;
I will not forsake them."
~Isa. 42:16

The Lord has certainly been faithful to keep His promises to us! And we can't wait to see what His plans are for Jacob. He has already done so much for him! We remain so very thankful that God has brought us into being a family of six, and that His perfect plan was to complete us with our Jake!

Some pictures from the past year, some of our favorites:

Jake's first birthday party at our house, here with friends. Another one is just around the corner. Is he already nearing 6 years old?


Hiking on a nearby mountain last fall. Jake loved this day. It was hard to keep him out of the poison ivy!


Jake and our 6-year-old with "Mrs. B". This precious Sister, a Sunday school and AWANA teacher for both of my little guys, has loved them both so well! Her kindness to our family and her love for my sons overwhelms me. I cannot praise or thank her enough. The Lord is so kind.


Hangin' together, hot and sweaty from being outside. Moments like this have become more frequent, and we rejoice.

This is Mamaw, my husband's mom, enjoying her grandkids this past Christmas.


And God has been good to provide us with Mimi (my mom!), as well!


Christmas cookies, in January, because this first Christmas would not be given up until the cookies were made. I owed him that. We had so much fun!



We celebrated this past year with our "Forever Family" day. A lot of people celebrate "Gotcha" days, and we love that idea! But we took the advice of our social worker and, instead of celebrating that day by focusing only on Jacob, we knew that we needed to celebrate our family as a whole. March 14th, 2008, was the day God made our family what it was meant to be from before time began. So on March 14th of this year, we spent the day focusing on having fun together. Ate at a local Vietnamese restaurant and went bowling. Had a blast! What a sweet day together!

This next year? We are hopeful! We are learning to be much more thankful. To love each other better. And to cling tighter, so much tighter, to the feet of the One Who, in His infinitely loving and kind foreknowledge, chose to bring us together as a family.

The Whole of Us

It is taking me forever to get around to posting some pics. This one was taken in October, 2008 while we were taking school pictures. The family shot I have framed in my house is a bit different: we are more "posed" in it. Here, the photographer requested that we get our heads together as close as possible for a tighter shot. We got tickled, and it was a fun moment.

This was the picture we used for Jacob's dedication ceremony at our church on December 21. I love this shot! It reminds me that there are indeed moments (many of them!) where the transition of our adoption is smoother, more peaceful. This photo is one way that God reminds me to stay hopeful during the difficult days, to wait for all of the fruit of His work to be evident.

Bringing Him Home

I wanted to post the address to our old blog in case anyone wanted to go back and see what our life was like once we found out who our 5-year-old was. It also is full of details about our incredible trip to Vietnam as well as so many of the things God did for us during our travel time.

http://kkmc.wordpress.com/

The password for each post is "psalm91" ~ all pushed together like that, without quotation marks!

Today I'm going to ask my husband to help me finish pulling together all of the pics we have of our little guy, and then my hope is to post some pics here that will help flesh out some details of what life has been like since we came home. It has been crazy, exhausting. We remain emotionally and spiritually rung out. But it is an incredibly rich place to be with the Lord, being pressed ever closer to Him as we see our complete inability to handle each day without His sweet help. As I think of how to best chronicle these past 6 1/2 months, I am overwhelmed: so much has happened in our family. But I believe that what we've learned will be helpful to others (Lord, please). And I know that I must testify to the sweet gifts of blessings that He has provided even on the hardest of days.

So more is to come. So much more!