Blessings ~

Personal Space

In our home, where 9 occupants reside, it's not usually easy to find. The Deutschlets LOVE sharing rooms. In fact, we have 3 bedrooms available for kids, but only 2 are occupied - 1 for the boys, 1 for the girls (leaving one open for highly anticipated future blessed ♥ additions.)

Below are the boys' beds. Cool, aren't they? The talented handyman of the house built them. Onyx sleeps on the top bunk, Tyden and Flint's beds are each in the middle, and Stryder's is on the bottom. Right across from the beds there is a bookshelf and a dresser. 1 dresser. Then, there is a closet. 1 closet. At this stage, the kids still assert that sleeping alone qualifies as cruel and unusual punishment executed by only the harshest parents alive. I'm sure one day that will change and the handyman will have to build an 8 bedroom house, right after he wins the handyman lottery. ☺Until that celebratory moment in time, when confetti falls from the sky and a giant check is signed over to the handyman himself prompting long lost relatives to come crawling out of the woodwork begging for money, everyone is happy this way.
Except for the fact that there WAS no where for the pint sized people to place their junk precious prized possessions.....

Until now.

Children tend to gather stuff, right? You know, the items they lay claim to that are uniquely and solely THEIR OWN personal effects, to be guarded fiercely with strong threats of scratching an unsuspecting siblings eyeballs out if they dare to TOUCH the stuff belonging to THEM ALONE.
When 4 small, grabby roommates share the same space containing only 1 dresser and one closet, it can prove very difficult to find safe spots for that kind of treasure.


I saw the idea somewhere, on someone's blog, which I'm having trouble remembering, (if it was you, thank you!) to use rain gutters as shelves for books. This way books can be placed facing forward, making them more appealing for little hands and eyes, which will surely prompt hours of spontaneous reading, resulting in a house full of young Einsteins. What a great concept! Since we don't care enough about reading to use them for that I thought they would make nice shelves to place on the walls near the munchkin's beds to store all of their coveted booty.

Handyman and I went to Home Depot on a date night because we are wild and crazy like that, and we bought gutters and 14 end caps. Then, the handyman cut them into 2 foot sections, glued the ends on with some fancy, industrious, gutter glue or something....and wala! Adorable little shelves for each child in our home, allowing 24 precious inches of personal space. Don't they look remarkably nice for plastic gutters?

Since they are curved, they actually hold quite a lot and the goodies don't just fall to the floor, becoming lost. Because everyone knows lost stuff is material for brotherly blame and subsequent eye scratching. (((He tooooook myyyyyyy stuuuuuuff!)))  Here is Tyden's stocked shelf:
I can only imagine the specialness contained inside the pages of that green and white notebook.

Oddly enough, these shelves fill my heart with pure giddiness.
You just never know where happiness will be hiding -
it could be right along with your kids' priceless treasures.

*

Clearly I am currently addicted to the thrill of the challenge of writing according to someone else's guidelines and rigorous stipulations. So, to satisfy my craving for indulges I seriously have no time for, I decided to submit another little thingy over at A Word With You Press.  The contest is called Wherefore A.R.T. Thou and the rules were tricky, tricky, tricky. Wanna hear them?
1) The title had to be The Art of {fill in the blank}
2) Then, the piece had to start with the letters A R & T....as in Annie returned twice....or Arbitrary rules tease....or Ants race toward...
3) THEN, within the entry, somewhere, anywhere, a sentence had to have 6 consecutive words beginning with the letters WRITER, such as, when Russel instigated the exceptional resolution....

Um, yeah. Tough, right? But, there were a couple things on my mind that I thought might be fun to jot down. Some of it is really reminiscent of stuff I've shared here already. It's kind of a hodge podge. I'm kind of wondering if it even makes sense to anyone besides myself...

Anway, if you'd like to take a look, it's right here. If you'd like to leave a nice comment on the site, I'd like to thank you, thank you ever so kindly. ☺

Celebrating 12 years of wedded bliss

As with anyone who has the privilege of knowing her, Big Grandma has been a very valued, very important person in my life ever since Bobby and I started dating nearly 16 years ago. An infinitely wise woman, fully and wholly devoted to the Lord, I couldn't begin to list all that she taught me through the years, while sitting at her infamous kitchen table. There, the hot coffee and warm hospitality freely flows, along with sweet, memorable conversation about days gone by. Big grandma holds an uncanny ability to make each person feel as if they are uniquely special to her. With fondness, she can tell you about her youth, spent in Nebraska when they brought in the wash bin for and heated water for a weekly bath every Saturday night. She can instruct you in the fine art of butchering a live chicken and teach you all about canning fruits and vegetables or growing a prolific garden. She discusses marriage and family and life and love and history and friendship with a gratitude and humility and zest few possess. At her table, there is always room, always time for just one more....one more story, one more cookie, one more cup of coffee. She has mastered the art of living and loving well. Her words frequently come to mind and stir my heart, reminding me of worthy priorities as I spend my days. Although perhaps she is unaware, she has served as a mentor to me in the truest form.

Between Thanksgiving and Christmas she became rather mysteriously ill. Doctor after doctor could not seem to accurately diagnose her condition, so her health continued to decline. Finally, only in the last few weeks, they have been able to determine what the problem may be and prescribe medication to help her feel better and regain some of her strength. I can not express how much it fills my heart with joy to see her up and about and full of life once again. Having the health and energy to enjoy doing things she likes to do is an answer to many, many prayers, said by many, many people.

Last night, Bobby and I had the opportunity to spend our 12th wedding anniversary with Big grandma and grandpa, along with uncle Dean and Jayla and Clover while the rest of our kids were at awana. We shared lasagna and salad and tapioca pudding and coconut macaroons and laughter and happiness and memories I will never forget.

The preciousness of our hours together are never far from my mind, especially now.  I thank God for one of the most treasured gifts of my entire life, Big Grandma. Everyone should be as blessed by someone special to them as I have been by her.Thank you Lord for the one and only Patty Jeanne Frey. ♥

*

Yesterday marked one year.

It's an amazing thing to witness parents and their adopted children unite for the first time. I remember watching one of the families we traveled with meeting their new addition. It was at a stop prior to ours, so we were free to stand back and observe. It was a breathtaking moment, full of tenderness and eagerness and willingness and joy. It brought tears of happiness to my eyes.

On February 15, 2010 we arrived at the orphanage in Ethiopia to meet Masso and Tamene. Looking back, I suppose it's safe to say I hadn't the foggiest notion what to expect, although I was relatively certain I did. Like a good adoptive parent, I had played the image out in my mind of this exact scenario time and time again as we waited.

I figured I would know exactly what to do, how to conduct myself, when I first saw my precious children's faces. After all, I was a mother to 5 already. I was quite comfortable in the mommy to young ones role.  This is how mommies behave. I will do as mommies do. I will lovingly swoop them into my arms, whisper in their ears, and cry sweet tears of simple joy. Then we will walk off into the sunset together ready to face any challenges that come our way.....

Except that's not at all how it happened.

I was caught off guard. The whole experience was stunningly surreal. Seeing, in real live little people, the children whose pictures we had been gazing adoringly at for what seemed like months on end, the kids we had prayed for, saved for, fought for, hoped for, longed for, right before our very eyes, was a lot to take in. It felt as if I was watching the whole thing unfold from the outside, trying to prod myself to do what I was convinced I should be doing, but I felt stuck, unmovable, unable to produce the touching moment I knew ought to be taking place. We are meeting our children! Why isn't this going right?

They were not as I had imagined they would be. They were taller, bigger kids than I anticipated with different mannerisms and responses than I dreamt up in my mind. Flint wouldn't, couldn't look us in the eye. He appeared completely uninterested in our presence, and he demonstrated it often throughout the trip and in the airport on the way home by literally running away from us at every opportunity. Meadow was clearly distraught. Her tears poured. She mourned. This made me cry. And cry. And feel even more stuck, at an utter loss for how to comfort, to communicate, to reassure this little girl who was leaving life as she knew it behind. She spoke only Amharic. I, only English. I had no gentle words to whisper in her ears. No mommy instincts were guiding me in the right direction. Where were they when I needed them so desperately? As much as I thought I was prepared for The Adoption Experience, my mind would not seem to concede I was these children's mother.

In the year that followed, I continued to struggle with that concept. Everything I had come to learn about mothering over the past number of years no longer fit. My bag of tricks was illsuited for these kids' unique needs. The service required didn't flow as easily as it had with our biological children. The immense foundation of love didn't have time to naturally, mercifully, form the way it had when we welcomed newborn babies. It was more of a thrust. I underestimated the huge role the vast communication barrier would play in our lives. A level of darkness came over me. It covered my days. Taxed and weary, my compassion grew faint.

Yet, as the days waxed on we somehow managed to make astonishing headway. There were breakthroughs and setbacks, streaming tears both of sorrow and of joy. There was grief and anger and happiness and hard won milestones. There were high mountains and deep valleys and moments when I grieved for who I once was, wondering if that woman would ever return to me.

I now realize the answer is no.

I am forever different than I was before. I have been transformed through the trials and triumphs of a heart scouring process unlike any I have known. It has not been an easy path and we still have far to travel. My compassion has not fully recovered, my view of myself is irrevocably altered. I find both consolation and distress in this. But, I'm coming to terms with living amidst that type of tension.

When I hear news that a willing family is adopting, I sometimes wince, knowing the road that lies before them may be rocky and difficult, that they may go in looking one way, and come out on the other side without the slightest resemblance to who they once were. Their expectations may be blown to smithereens, become scattered all over the hillside, unable to be pieced together again.

Still, to them, I smile and say congratulations. You will rarely have the opportunity to engange in anything so overwhelmingly worthwhile. God be with you. Although I don't always see Him clearly, I am sure, He has certainly been with me.

Yes, I'm showing myself doing the ugly cry.

February 15

Or, more appropriately named: I can not think of another title.

I can see! Yipee! As of yesterday,my eyes are 20/25 and *supposedly* well on their way to 20/20. The edge of the cut around my left eye became frayed (or something to that effect, just hearing about it made my eyeball ache, so I found it quite settling not to be anxious to learn about what exactly happened. Keeping in mind the old anecdote ignorance = bliss, I *wisely* put my fingers in my ears and lalala'ed my way through the debriefing of the pesky details of all that took place on that cold eye slitting table.) during the procedure so I wore a contact lens to serve as a bandage during the weekend which made my vision blurry and my eye wicked scratchy and red.
Confession: I became unabashedly a.d.d.i.c.t.e.d. to the lubricating drops. Never far from my mind (or my hand) I affectionately ♥ referred to them as crack. Seriously, mama was hooked.
Although, I'm in recovery now, I will never, ever forget the way they made me feel. Like a slice of liquid heaven soothing my poor, red, irritated, dry, perforated eyeballs. Ahhhh.
Never underestimate the power of addiction.
************************
After my post about church last week, I have been blessed with several opportunities for discussion about this topic with friends, plus I was lucky enough to hear back from some of you as you offered your thoughts on the subject. (I kindly, kindly thank you if you took the time to share.)

You know what's funny? There are some that said, "of course you can still enjoy fellowship and worship and Biblical education and engage in meaningful service toward others even if you do not consistently attend church services!" Then, there are some that said, "of course you can NOT enjoy fellowship and worship and Biblical education and engage in meaningful service toward others if you do not consistently attend church services!"

It's got me wondering why certain folks see religion and worship and relationship with God in more black and white, concrete ways, while others see it rather fluidly. Is it genetic predisposition or personality or past teaching or upbringing or indoctrination or experience that leads us to feel strongly the way we do about the manner in which our Christian faith can or can not be practiced?
Because from the same Bible, so many varying points of view spring forth.
But, I suppose that's another question for another day.....☺

In My Daughter's Eyes

At 9 1/2 things are just beginning to change with my Jayla. We spend our days together, so it's subtle, like any shift that happens gradually, so closely to our eyes it can be difficult to discern....until it is all at once astonishingly clear. I detect it mostly in the little things...in the way she watches how I behave toward her dad, with my friends, with the other children, if I tell 'white' lies or am completely truthful. Or, in how she tries to absorb tension when she realizes I am beginning to become stressed. In how she will express disappointment when she sees that my priorities are off kilter. She is still playful and full of energy, but it's not quite the same as when she was younger. Perhaps it's more restrained, more calculated? I'm not exactly sure how, it's just different. When she was little, my presence alone could inspire wide eyed awe struck wonder and abounding affection. It was as if we were one. I was her mommy and she my baby. In her eyes, my image was sturdy, invincible, untoppable.

My sweet girl is letting on, that's no longer the case.

Now, she expects more from me. She is learning how to negotiate matters that are more complex in nature - with peers, with her siblings, with boys. Oh dear. With boys. She's got issues to face at this stage of her life that are much more challenging, and with greater consequence than how to arrange her baby doll collection on her bed or what pajamas to wear when she gets out of the bath. She's discovering what kind of person she is, who she wants to be. She's got stuff to figure out and she hopes to see, live and in action, a woman conducting the affairs of her life in a manner she can emulate. I can feel it, she longs for me to be a mentor to her. Full of human frailty and fault, it pains me to think of the times that I'm not. She desperately wants to trust me to guide her. And yet, she is smart enough to determine if I'm worthy of that role in her life. If I'm not, I am certain, she will inevitably look elsewhere.

I understand, I too want to be inspired.

As we enter this new phase, I pray for wisdom to handle her tender heart with care, that I may know when to admonish and when to comfort, when to support her choices and when to encourage different ones, when to spare her and when to let life's lessons painfully teach, when to step in and when to step back. I ask for strength to really grow up and be the kind of woman she would like to become one day . One who is full of grace and mercy and kindness and humility, yet strong and courageous and committed enough to do what is right, even when it's very hard and the stakes are very high. Someone she is proud and pleased to call her mother.

This parenting business is no small task. God be gracious to us moms and dads and to our dear daughters and sons....we need You.

Guess who Bobby and I are having dinner with tonight? ☺

You're gonna want to know about this....

Seriously. I had NO idea it was even an issue! Not until recently anyway. What's great is, we can do something about it. Because, wow, we really should. It's pretty heartbreaking.
Personally, I think if people were only aware, they would jump on board to help.

My dear friend Chrissy, one of my very favorite people on this planet for reasons too numerous to count, (no joke! I couldn't even begin to count them all. I'd be l.o.s.t. without her friendship!) has written a little something about it here. Have a peek, it won't take long. You'll be glad you did.


(((Happy Friday!)))

Goodbye Blindness

Hellooooooo Lasik!

Tomorrow morning, I will kiss my -7.{something} prescription goodbye and welcome restored vision. It's been 26 years. In fact, I used to have the heater kind of contact case that you plug into the outlet to clean. Does anyone even remember those? I'm so excited! (And obviously, so old!) Which may be why I am the tiniest bit sad to leave my glasses behind. What else could simultaneously 1) make me look smart and 2) hide my wrinkles? Nothing! I'm pretty sure, nothing else could master that tremendous feat.

Last night, in a sleep induced stupor, I jumped out of bed to shush comfort a crying child who seemed determined to wake up her blissfully slumbering siblings. I got to the girls' bedroom and decided the bellowing one may need some cough syrup. That's when I walked to the kitchen, ready to pull the medicine out of the cabinet, and quickly realized my ever-essential spectacles were sitting smugly on the nightstand, unaware I was awake and in need of their services to properly dole out medication. Kind of a pain. So, I may look dumb and wrinkly, but I will be able to see in the middle of the night and will therefore not risk overdosing my precious, noisy, wee ones. I'm calling that well worth it. ☺

Meadow's birthday is next week.
To get some perspective, Jayla is 9, Onyx is nearly 8, and Tyden was 6 in September.
According to her records she is supposed to be 5 turning 6.
Now, that's funny.

Why not....

Have an after dinner dance?

Church

We have some friends who moved here a few years ago from another state. While they lived in their previous city, they were extremely involved in their church - serving in children's ministry, volunteering, etc. Needing to arrive and depart at different times, they drove 2 vehicles each Sunday morning with dad going first, early, then mom coming along later with the kids. As many of us can understand, their Sundays were busy. Very busy. Several of their weekdays were full as well with various events and programs available to their congregation. Weary of the hustle and bustle, when they moved here, they decided to spend Sundays together as a family worshipping at home instead.

At first, this really bothered me. I could list a myriad of reasons their approach was not a good one.

And yet, this family happens to be some of the most gracious, hospitable, committed, God loving people I know. They are pretty much the only people (aside from my mother) to offer true, hands on support (in the form of babysitting our brood for appointments or for breaks for Bobby and myself, prepared meals, an open invitation to drop the kids by anytime) after we returned home with Meadow and Flint - when life was in a whirlwind state for us and we were struggling to find our bearings amidst all the changes that the adoption of children tends to bring. They regularly host guests in their home and look for opportunities to serve others. They are, what you might call, plugged in....not to a church though. Simply to other human beings.

I've been thinking a lot about them lately, and the refreshing example they have become to our family as we have witnessed their word and deed testimony played out in vibrant living color like I've rarely seen before.

During the past year, things began to shift considerably in my mind, my heart, my spiritual life. I became much less sure of what I would have once asserted I was certain of. I started to ponder my ways more carefully, thinking through my motivations for doing what I do, my reasons for believing what I believe. I began contemplating what role church should play in our lives, what role we, as individuals and families should play in the church, and if Church As We Know It in the USA in the year 2011 is in fact at all what God intends for His people. What exactly is the basis upon which we have established the institution of the contemporary evangelical church in our current day?

I started asking myself if our family should seek to be fed or to feed, or both? How do we properly go about bringing a heart felt offering of praise and worship to our Lord? How important is teaching, music, children's programs, discipleship, involvement, the building itself and financial stewardship in the church? How much time shall we spend mingling amongst ourselves and how much reaching out to others? To whom should we reach out toward? Our neighbors near, far away, those who are most desperate? Does it matter? Are attendance and duty important tenets of the Christian faith? What does reverence for God look like and is it present in my life, in my heart, in my church? Is home church a good idea? Can people actually thrive spiritually if they do not attend formal services? Is my reason for questioning that a sound one or is it baseless?

As of right now, I have more questions than answers. So, I am earnestly seeking God. At this time our family is devoted to a) our own personal reading through the Bible b) podcast teachings by pastors we enjoy and respect c) memorization with our children of chapters of Scripture d) prayer and e) songs of praise played regularly in our home. It's all the rest, I'm not so sure about. ☺

Now, you friends have been rather quiet lately, but I've got a favor to ask you. I always learn so much from you as you offer your unique perspectives, because you help me see a bigger picture than I can from my own little vantage point. I would love it if you would be willing to share any thoughts you may have on this subject. I realize it may be a touchy one. Personally, I do not believe there are any right or wrong ways to look at it - each of us has different needs during different phases of our lives that are met in different ways. The very thing that causes one to rejoice, may send another to rebel, and vise versa.

Still, I am extremely interested to know, what role does the church play in your life and do you feel it is as it should be?
I do hope you'll chime in!

She had too much to drink

Amidst the fun football festivities last night she may have gotten swept up in the excitement and consumed excessive amounts of beverage. Orange soda to be exact. I should let them drink that eerily colored carbonated liquid garbage soda on a regular basis. Then, perhaps they would not gorge themselves on it at every (scarce) opportunity, resulting in the irresistible urge to purge at the exact moment I sit down for the very first time during the superbowl to watch my most favorite part, the ONLY bit I was actually looking forward to (aside from the National Anthem, of course.): The Halftime Show. This year, it was The Black Eyed Peas for goodness gracious sakes. Don't they know? I hold extra special love and adoration for this group. (I mean really, who else could convince me first thing in the morning, immediately after I am awoken with an alarmed child's high pitched screechy voice alerting me to the reality that there is urine on the kitchen floor that today is going to be a good day!? NO ONE else could. One click of the playlist plus a crank of the volume dial, and I am dancing around my house, spray bottle in hand, full of delusional certainty that today will be a good day despite its unpleasant start. This woman needs TBEP.) Obviously oblivious to that fact, dear Meadow chose the precise instant Fergie and her male entourage came onto the field with those cool glowey dancer people, to relieve herself (all.over.the.floor.) of the clearly uncontainable volume of soda, homemade hot wings, french fries, carrots, celery, ranch dressing, and Green Bay cookies she had merrily devoured as I was slaving away in the kitchen in an effort to ensure that my family had a memorable party. Yes, indeed. It was not one I will soon forget. ☺

*Thankfully, she felt much better after letting loose and was quite well enough to run around the house for the remainder of the game, high on the thrill of her first superbowl experience as a junk food inhaling American citizen. As it should be. ♥

Warming up for the Superbowl

....with some bowling, of course.
The Man and I were trying to remember, but we think it was over a decade ago that we last hit the bowling lanes. Good, good times let me tell you, both then and now. I especially thought so since I was the proud owner of The Highest Score. 123 magnificent points, mind you. WITH the bumpers up. I know! Uh-mazing! It's all in the wrist.

On this cold, windy, snowy morning, we opted to worship together at home.
(As we often do.)
After a few songs and a family-friendly review of the Tower of Babel record,
we found ourselves in a riveting reading of 1 Samuel about Tamar,
her brothers, and David's responses.
(Seriously, whoever said the Bible is boring? Oh no it isn't!
What about those racy, racy, racy parts that will make you
gasp, blush, and cover your mouth in shock and horror?
So NOT dull.....)
Anyway, as one thing leads to another, this brought Bobby and I to an hour long *discussion*
regarding the likelihood of the accounts in Genesis
(especially chapter 3) being literal vs figurative.
(By this time the children were lost, and long gone running around the house.)
He and I do not tend to agree on the matter.
More good, good times. ☺

Setting our minor (because we both admit that we really don't know)
 dispute aside, we're moving onto something we do agree about:
A (fried!) feast and some football.....

I'm cheering for The Black Eyed Peas.

Taking My Goal Very Seriously

I actually have been spending a lot less time on the computer recently. Hence, much fewer blog posts. Here is how I've managed to accomplish the task: I don't get on the computer as often. (!) ☺

Last week, when it was nice and warm outside, a nasty cold visited me which prompted one sweet child to leave this note: That one can spell! Wel l.

With A.I. in full swing, (severely infringing upon our free evenings for LHOTP viewing, but that's ok. Pa, Ma, Mary, Laura, Carrie, Albert and Grace have been around a while. It's pretty likely they will patiently wait for our return.) we held a round of auditions of our own. 7 contestants from all over the house came out to the living room with voices warmed and fingers crossed in an attempt to impress the judges with soulful renditions of songs like, The ABC's, Twinkle Twinkle Little Star, Hallelujah, The Wheels on the Bus, and Prayer for a Friend.

There were only a handful of pitchy notes, and it was clear that a few of the Idol hopefuls were nervous meeting their idols who sat in the judges seats: Bobby Dyler, T Jo, and The Lucky Clover, prompting knocking knees and several spontaneous tears of awe struck wonder and joy.

The judges kindly tried to put the contestants at ease (because every one of them was a rising star at one time too) by assuring them with sincere statements such as: "there is something really special in your voice, I can't put my finger on it, but it's special" and "I have goose pimples" (NOT because it happens to be -20 degrees either!), right before shouting "good lookin out!" as the golden ticket holders went running and screaming into the hallway jumping wildly into the arms of beloved family members there to lend moral support, knocking them straight to the ground.

Peyton Colorado is thrilled to announce that 100% of those who showed up to audition made it to Hollywood! This is one talented group of kids. Artists in their own right, every last one of them.

From my kitchen window