Countdown to Forever

This week is a big one for our family. Yesterday, in a little courtroom in Illinois, a judge declared to my brother and his wife that they are officially the parents to their daughter, Elodie. A truth they've known in their hearts for over a year from the very moment they heard about her life.

In the days leading up to that moment in the courthouse when Elodie was officially named a Weston, Meg made a series of posts about the days surrounding Elodie's birth, her beautifully brave birth mama, and how adoption has impacted their family. Meg has been gracious enough to let me share her thoughts here as we celebrate Elodie's life, adoption, and the beautiful story God is writing...

November 30th 

Let the countdown commence! We are 8 days from Elodie becoming officially adopted. 

This is Tim waiting probably around 3am on June 21st. He couldn’t sleep or relax. He was the most anxious I’ve ever seen him. Little did he know, he’d be meeting that precious baby we had been praying for all night in roughly 3 more hours.

It was nearing 6am and the nurses told us to go get something to eat. The doctor wanted mama E to rest for an hour as she’d been working so hard all night. We found some vending machines and sat down for a quick bite. We were gone no more then twenty minutes and when we returned mama E exclaimed with excitement, “Did you see HER yet!?”

Right then and there, Tim and I were in tears. God had blessed us with a girl! A nurse escorted us to the nursery and we got to meet Elodie for the first time.

7 days to go!

December 1st 

Later that morning, mama E was transferred to a recovery room. Once she was settled in, the nurse brought Elodie in from the nursery. I remember mama E being so excited to hold her and to study her tiny fingers and toes.

It felt like such an intimate space and mama E was incredibly gracious to allow us in her room. Once she soaked Elodie in, she looked at me and said, “Okay, it’s your turn to hold your daughter!”

It was a feeling I’ll never forget. This woman who just gave birth placed that beautiful baby girl in my arms and made me a mama once again. It’s so profound - the selfless love that mama E has for her children.

6 days to go!

December 2nd

Tim had this deep desire for a daughter. He even had me keep a small bin of girl clothes just in case we ever needed it. I remember having a serious conversation with him about how it’s very possible we would have a family of all sons. However that didn’t mean he’d never have a girl to spoil one day, because maybe he’d get a granddaughter down the line. He’d nod in agreement but I could still see that glimmer of hope in his eyes.

I had held her for quite awhile when I realized he was patiently and eagerly waiting for his turn. He snuggled her in with such a proud smile on his face!

Elodie, you are the daughter your daddy longed for.

5 days to go!

December 1st

To paint a picture of adoption as a fairytale would be a mistake. There is brokenness, too.

June 22nd was a broken day. Mama E was being discharged and signing temporary custody to us beforehand.

As she was being wheeled out, Tim and I walked alongside her. She was in tears. I had no words. What do you say in such a hard, emotional moment? I literally cannot imagine how that feels and will never pretend to.

All I could do was give her a hug. As the elevator door closed, my heart broke for her and for Elodie. The bond that had been made for the last 9 months while Elodie was knit in her womb was at least partially broken.

So when I say it’s an honor to be Elodie’s mama, I mean that I desire to mother her in a way that honors the selflessness and bravery of mama E.

4 days to go!

December 2nd

This is Elodie's Grandma. We first met back in 2012 in the waiting room of a court house. She was there worried about who her grandson, Jacob, was with and how he was doing. We quickly learned that she is fiercely protective of her grand babies and would go to the ends of the earth for them.

Our relationship has developed over time, just as any other relationship does. It started out in the middle of McDonalds over cheeseburgers and Christmas presents. We continued to meet every couple of months until eventually she was in our living room for Christmas celebrations and enjoying birthday parties along with our entire family.

We’ve adopted each other. Yes, we adopted her grand babies but likewise she’s adopted us too. She’s fully accepted our family, as she even claims Griffien as her grandson. We are family.

3 days to go!



December 6th

Since mama E was discharged, Elodie was put in the nursery. At first, we were told we’d have to be in the waiting room and come in whenever she needed fed. I was heartbroken. We wanted to bond with our baby girl. That’s when Tim put on his tough daddy look and demanded to speak with a nurse supervisor.

He explained our situation and sure enough a sweet nurse came up with the idea for us to have the private feeding room for mother’s who had babies staying long term but still wanted to breastfeed. (Side note: Those are some serious superhero mamas!)

We knew that if a mom came in needing to breastfeed then we’d be asked to step out. However, it didn’t happen while we were there on the 23rd so we were able to snuggle and bond with Elodie all. morning. long. 

2 days to go!


December 7th

On the afternoon of the 23rd, we got word that Elodie was good to be discharged. We could finally bring her home to meet her eager big brothers!

With adoption comes a lot of paperwork and so it came without surprise that before we could leave we’d have to sign our names everywhere. To be honest, I don’t even remember what we were signing. We were just excited to be heading HOME!

After signing who-knows-what, we gathered our things to leave. The nurse, who took care of Elodie while she was in the nursery (she’s also the one who got us the private room), and the caseworker walked out with us. I’m so glad we got a picture! These are people who often don’t get recognized but who are definitely apart of her story. Thank you for all you do, nurses and caseworkers!

1 day to go!

And then, yesterday, there was a simple court hearing. In a small little room, the same one we all packed into for Jacob's adoption almost exactly three years before, Elodie officially became a Weston. The judge and court aids and attorneys in the room were all grins, proud big brothers sat at the plaintiff's table with suckers they had been given, and the bailiff kindly gave me freedom to take all the pictures I wanted.

The standard questions were asked, "Where do you work, Mr. Weston? What is your address Mrs. Weston?" I heard by brother choke up when he was asked if he was "prepared to take on the responsibility and liability of being Elodie's father forever." And then, the judge with kind eyes banged the gavel and declared "Tim and Meg Weston, from this moment on, Elodie is your daughter until the end of time."

I sat there and wondered if he knew he was just making an earthly declaration of what God had already ordained in the Heavens for this girl, and her family, long before... 

Repost: Family Advent Traditions

To celebrate the first of December, I thought I would repost some of our family's favorite advent traditions through the years. As our kids get older, some of the ways we've paused as a family to celebrate Christ's coming and anticipate His return have changed a bit. Those spaces look different with toddlers than they do with pre-teens. So here's a little VanSyckle compilation of our advent family traditions over the years in hopes that you'll join us celebrating, waiting, and anticipating the One who holds our true hope.

Each year as advent approaches, we try to be purposeful as a family to make space to celebrate God breaking into our world and anticipating him coming again to make all things right. It's so easy to fill up our calendars and our hearts this season with busyness and unrealistic expectations. With hope misplaced in perfect decorations, ideal gifts, and trying to create flawless memories, we lose what really matters. 

Although I love all the season brings with cozy fires, hot chocolate, lights twinkling, and time with family, I want our family to remember why we exchange gifts. Why we celebrate. And why our hope isn't in a beautifully decorated home or the gifts on our wish lists.

Advent didn't start in a stable. It started in a garden thousands of years before. And rehearsing the truth of God's grand redemption plan is a good (and needed) way to center our hearts this season. Here's a compilation of what our family has done through the years (since the kids were toddlers) up until now. Each one has a link with more details and resources.

This year we're doing Ann Voskamp's Unwrapping the Greatest Gift again. Not only is the book incredibly beautiful, but it's rich with gospel truths. Since the kids are older now (eight and ten) they're a good age to focus more on the story and have significant discussions about what advent and anticipation means to our family daily. Starting tomorrow, we'll be taking more time around the dinner table each night to go through the book.

We've also loved celebrating advent with our much beloved The Jesus Storybook Bible. This is a favorite book in our home and I love how every single story points to Jesus. Reading through it snuggled up together each night is a sweet way to tie God's plan to send Jesus to a hurting and broken world and come back to make all things new together for little (and not so little) hearts.

And when the kids were little, we celebrated with a Jesse Tree for several years. Each night they unwrapped an ornament to hang (or found it hidden in the house) that represented a different part of God's redemption story. It was fun to watch them make the connections to the prophecies in the Old Testament and a little baby born in Bethlehem as they hung each wooden ornament on our little Jesse Tree. 

Here's a few other ways we've tried to be intentional (and fun) at Christmas...

Teaching our kids to be grateful and generous

Our take on Elf on the Shelf

In Their Own Words: The Truth About Our Hurt

Joslyn is a sweet friend. We were roommates for several years in college, traveled together in a band (not as glamorous as you might be imagining), and grew into adulthood side by side. If you know Joslyn, you know her huge heart for others, her contagious belly laugh, and her passion for life. She has a way of making just about anything fun and has a constant twinkle in her eyes. But more than anything, Jos has always had a heart for being a mama. All three of her children have come to her through adoption and she is an adoptee herself.Today Joslyn honestly and transparently shares some insights on the hurt and pain adoptees can go through.

I have a unique perspective. As an adoptee who has adopted, I get both sides. The only leg of the adoption triangle I'm missing is the birth momma.

Adoption is this amazing experience I have had the pleasure of knowing so intimately. It's who I am. It's my past and present and future. God gave me this amazing family who nurtured me and led me up in Christ. I was loved. I am loved. My family is such a gift. And now I get to love and nurture three souls that I have been hand-picked to parent through foster/adoption.

To say that this road is all roses and butterflies would be...untrue. And to be honest, no parenting road is smooth sailing. If someone claims that it is, perhaps they haven't hit certain stages yet. Or maybe they're lying.

The truth is, parenting kids from hard places is both incredibly challenging and terribly sad. It's hard.

So, in the essence of true transparency, I thought I'd write a little about the hurt and pain we adoptees go through. Please read this with no judgement and no "psychological answers," because the truth is...it's there. The older I get, the more I feel like one day (or year) it will go away, but it doesn't. 

And remember: this doesn't mean we don't love the life we've been given and blessed with. I'm just hoping to let light in to your adoptee's mind...even if they can't put words to it.

There are days when we're sad and we don't know why. Only to realize later that it's because we didn't sleep last night as we thought/dreamt/imagined our birth family and how life maybe would have been. Does it mean we want a different life? No. (For me, never.) But does it mean we wonder? Yes. We do. And then our feelings drift to why? That "why" will hang over our heads until we get the chance to ask the ones who can answer it, which some of us never will.

Birthdays are much harder than one would think. Not because we're growing older. No. It's because we can't stop wondering if the proverbial "they" are thinking about us. Do they remember this day? What are their memories/feelings/regrets about this day? Or is it just another day for them? Do they remember? Do they miss me? Do they wish they knew me?

There's a lot more guilt than we talk about. We wrestle with our desire to want to know more (everything) about our heritage/birth family/genes. We worry that will make our adoptive family think we love them less. We don't. But we need to know basic things that most people automatically have given to them upon birth into a family. Let us explore. Let us search. Let us meet. Let us love and be loved by both of the families who made us who we are. Without abandon. And maybe help us along the way.

Don't assume gratitude. This is a hard one for me to type. I am impacted greatly by gratitude; I believe we all are. But don't assume that we should be grateful for the life we've been given. Especially in those teenage years, when all we search for is autonomy, sometimes all we can think about is how life would/could be better/different. Don't say to me, "You should be grateful for the family you have." I am grateful. We are. We adoptees are. But why should we assume that our life is greater without our "roots?" That's a hard pill to swallow for us.

I look into my 3 kid's eyes and I sometimes even admittedly think that. That I wish they'd be grateful for the sacrifice and love and hard issues we sludge through with them. But the truth is, I know they are silently fighting a battle that they don't even want to be in.

And so in our home, we provide safety and (hopefully) transparency. We talk about birth family and birth parents as fluidly as we talk about our own. We talk about what could have been, what might have been. We talk about how all of our family has shaped who we are. We talk about how we have to choose which way to lean....how to pick the good parts of all of it and learn to be comfortable with who we are. We talk about how hard birthdays are. And sometimes, when relaying our conversations to my husband, tears are shed. Because I don't want my children to know how I understand both sides now. I get them wanting their roots. And I also get me wanting to protect them from whatever possible harm there could be in their roots.

We celebrate big days (birthdays, adoption, etc.) with the realization that the only way our family can celebrate these days is because our child has experienced such a great and devastating loss. That can not be forgotten or left out.

Similar to life itself, great beauty rises from the ashes of hurt. And though no family is perfect, mine was perfect for me. I pray when my three are grown, they will say the same of us.

And most importantly, the beauty outweighs the hurt. Always.

You can find Joslyn, her family, and more of her story at her blog, Keathley Chronicles.

Repost: The Ache of the Wait in the Holidays

You've met Amy before. A sweet adoptive mama and client turned dear friend. We met over coffee to talk about adoption and the last time I saw her, her family of three was gathered in my living room with our crew. I love her thoughts on adoption, the hard wait, and the holiday season...

For our family this Christmas season will be our most memorable. It is our first Christmas as a family of three. Our home is overflowing with love, magic and new beginnings. This year we get to celebrate Christmas with our son. We spent hours Christmas shopping (and lets be honest, baby B is not even gonna know what's goin' on this year!), we have dreamt of the traditions we hope to start to make the season full of magic. We had no idea just how emotional this Christmas would be for our family. This is a dream I wasn't sure would ever come true. But, one thing I can say for sure?

I would go through all of the heartache and sadness again to get to my son. 

To all of you who have babies growing in your hearts right now, I promise you, this holiday season will soon be filled with love, joy and overwhelming thankfulness. Right now, I know your hearts are dreading spending another holiday without your child. I know your hearts ache watching families celebrate the magic of Christmas with little ones. I know you dream of the day when you get hang up that stocking that says "Baby's First Christmas." I know you can't wait for the day when you get to wrap gifts to put under the treat for your most treasured gift.

Please don't lose hope.

Last year, I was walking with you. I remember being curled up by our fireplace holding tightly to the book I had bought for a baby I had hoped to be holding in my arms.

I remember each tear that fell down my face. 

I remember each silent prayer I whispered to God, begging Him to give me strength. 

You're. Not. Alone. 

Please don't give up hope. Please don't lose your faith.

This season, I'm praying for you hearts to be full of hope for what is to come.

It is worth the wait. 

It's worth every single tear. It's worth every silent prayer. 

Please know you are in my heart this season.

Amy

For more on Amy, her beautiful family, and their adoption journey, you can head to her blog, Glimpses of Hope.

Losing Their Childhood

It's been awhile since I've shared a more personal post here. Much of it has to do with so many beautiful adoption stories to share of my adoptive families. And if I'm honest, some of it is because it's hard to put into words what's been happening in our family. And hard to put in such a public space. But I've learned these last few years that transparency has been freeing and healing for our family and for my heart. And if I boil it down, the real goal of this blog is to tell stories of God's goodness, for adoptive families and my own.

It's no secret our family has been through a lot. Just click on the marriage tab on the blog and you'll get a glimpse into our story. One of the hardest things about going through a crisis as a family is watching our kids lose some of their childhood. They've had to deal with hard things, lost some innocence, had to deal with loss, and experienced things no one would choose for their children. 

The conversations we've had to have with them are hard enough to have with adult or even teenage children. But having them in grade school has been challenging. We've begged God for wisdom, and received godly counsel. We've fumbled through hundreds of questions that make you catch your breath and say a quick prayer asking for divine insight and direction before answering. And shepherding little hearts when you have a broken heart yourself is hard and exhausting.

As a mother, if I'm honest, it's been heartbreaking. Jamy and I have recently been grieving the loss of some of our kid's childhood in the midst of all of this. It's easy to think we've failed as parents. That our sin and brokenness has ruined them for life.

But this is not the whole story. This hasn't been all that's included in loss.

My kids are learning and experiencing the gospel in real and personal ways. When we talk about God's redemptive power, we note ways he has redeemed our family. When we talk about how God is our refuge, we can list ways we've run to him and ways he's cared for us. When we talk about miracles, we can point to amazing events in our family.

Gathered around the dinner table, we can talk and laugh and remember all of the ways God has cared for us. Huddled over them tucked in their beds we can whisper the promises again that He's given us. Crying on the couch we can cry out to God together asking Him to continue to be near.

Just last weekend for Father's Day, Jamy sat the family down and acknowledged the reality that this side of Heaven, all celebrations are tinged with some sort of grief. We talked about our past year and he gave us all gifts; leather cords to remind us how strong our family can be together with God's help (A cord of three stands is not easily broken. Ecclesiastes 4:12). We've learned that a good father points to an even better one. That our parenting isn't amazing because of what we do, but directs them to their desperate need for a Savior.

We've been knit together as a family. Going though hard things together has bonded us in incredible ways. Our kids come to us with questions, knowing they can ask anything and we'll always have an honest (and age-appropriate) answer. We often talk about fears and faith. We talk through hard things. And they are learning that we are a team; always working together for the good of our family.

My prayer is that when they look back at this season in their young lives, they can pinpoint the space when their faith became their own, they experienced Jesus in a real and personal way, and they grew to understand the gospel more fully. And looking back over these last several years and thinking about what I really want for my children, I realize my deepest desires are actually being met. Both Isabelle and Jackson came to trust Jesus during this time. 

Would I have ever chosen this for my kids? Never. Was it God's plan for sin and brokenness to rock our family? I don't think so. But in his sovereignty, he has worked it all for our good and His glory, even for Isabelle and Jackson.

Maybe your story is a bit like ours. Your family has experienced some kind of loss and walked through things you would have never chosen if you could have written it yourself. When I think of the times of the deepest change in my life, when I learned to trust Jesus even more, it's aways during seasons of suffering and hardship. At the end of the day, I can rest in the truth that God has been sovereign over our suffering; even our kid's.

So my kids have lost some of their childhood. But they've gained a personal and deep knowledge of a God who loves them. A Rescuer who saves them. A Redeemer who restores them. A Heavenly Father who never leaves them. 

40 Feet Up

We had a pit stop at Lookout Mountain in Chattanooga today.

We were on the road and Jamy just turned to me and said, "we should go zip lining when we reach Tennessee." After a quick google search we found an ariel ropes course and a zip line that lasted most of our afternoon. It wasn't the plan but it was a great adventure (welcome to our life right now). 

I loved watching the kids on the course. Jackson was a rockstar. He's a little American Ninja Warrior in training so he blazed the trail ahead of us with no fear and our guide had to tell him to wait up. And Isabelle: she was brave. She was scared and unsure but she kept going. There are few times I'm been more proud of her. Both of them showed determination and perseverance on a course designed for adults (they made allowances for them to be some of the youngest there ever).

I was 40 feet up and trying to be brave as my kids watched me on a tightrope and I was struck at how much this mirrors our life right now. Crazy scary, lots ahead of us that's unknown, and reminding myself to take just the next step: the one right in front of me. If I look down I'll be completely paralyzed, if I stay in one place I'll start to get shaky, and if I look around I'll get distracted. 

If I bail I'll miss out on the adventure ahead. 

So helmets and gear on. It's time to suit up for an adventure...

Disney Disclaimer

We've been planning our trip to Disney for almost 2 years now. As you can imagine, we've been planning and dreaming and hopeful about this vacation to create sweet once-in-a-lifetime memories for our family. We leave tomorrow. And just last week our lives got hit with a bomb. One of the life-changing kind that makes you stop in your tracks and feels like a punch in the gut when you're not prepared.

And like any family in our position, we wondered, "Should we still go?" With much prayer and even godly counsel we're still packing up to go to Florida in less than 24 hours.

Honestly, we're headed to "the happiest place on earth" during a really dark time for our family. This is one of those times that I wonder at God's sovereignty. Not if He is or not. But what in the world must be in store for us. (Admittedly for all the weeks for our lives to hit the fan, the week before Disney would not have been my first pick.) This is one of those times I trust that He is good and wise and kind. One of the times I put all my hope and trust in the Gospel and still wonder what purpose He has.

In a world where Instagram feeds only tell half the story, I guess I wanted mine to tell all of it (or at least most of it). That you'll probably see us posed in front of a magical castle, laughing with Mickey, and having a grand time. Our smiles will be real. The memories created will be beautiful. But they (like so many things in life) will also be mixed with heartache and grief. In a crazy way this trip will memorialize beauty and ashes for the four of us.

I guess I wanted to let you know you're not the only one who smiles genuinely for the camera but also has spaces of grief where the picture doesn't tell the whole story.

I'm learning to be more comfortable with this reality. The in between of living life when things can be wonderful and horrible; bitter and sweet all at the same time. Both can be true in the same moment. It's the grace He gives to live in the already and not yet of His kingdom 

I'm thankful God is gifting our family with a vacation filled with sweet memories and I'll take it as His grace, even in the midst of brokenness.

Our Summer Manifesto

I know I'm late to the party since summer is already halfway through. I just looked at a calendar and the kids return to school in less than six weeks. Since we're still at the height of summer, I have a mix of sadness wanting to hold on to the long days of summer and rejoicing that it's almost done and school and schedules will return soon.

But until then, this is a peek into what summers around here look like; our summer manifesto of sorts.

These kids are not the boss of me.

As a WAHM, the summers are particularly tricky. The dental assistant cleaning my teeth yesterday asked me if I work full time. This is always such a weird question for me. How do I answer how many hours a week I work when it's in the midst of parenting and laundry and conference calls and babies being born over the weekend? My guess: about 30-35ish. Swinging this over the summer is important because I want to be available to my kids and to my adoptive families I work with. For our family, the best fit is that Isabelle and Jackson go to a summer camp three days a week and the other two days are "mommy days." We feel like we get the best of both worlds: kids with a summer full of field trips and friends at summer camp and slow and lazy days spent with mom at home. Most importantly, I feel like this arrangement allows me to truly be available to my kids those two days at home and we're not interrupted by my work. This frees me from my job and my kids creating my schedule and still means that Jamy and I get to decide what works best for our home.

Our summer activities will never be Pinterest worthy.

I will not be Googling "200 free summer activities," or "29 Dollar Store Finds That Will Keep Your Kids Busy All Summer." I'm now a more seasoned mom and know this is complete craziness. Unless the Dollar Store now carries a Nintendo DS (which Jackson would be more than happy to play all summer) and the free activities last more than approximately 5 minutes each, these are all lies. The lists include things like "create a chore chart," "make cereal jewelry," and "watch birds." Now if you have children who would enjoy these activities (or have the stamina to create no less than 863 five minute activities throughout the day), bless you. But if you're like me, our summer looks more like heading to the pool (thank you city of Overland Park for your pool pass), reading in the hammock, and even (gasp!) cartoons in the morning.

Declarations of "I'm Bored!" are not allowed.

I refuse to be a cruise ship activities director. I know plenty of mamas who take on this summer title with great honor, but I just can't do it. I can even go old school on my kids and declare right back that if they're bored I can give them chores to do around the house. The wonderful part of summer is allowing my kids space to actually just be. The slower pace allows them to take time to dive into their favorite book series, create stories of their own, pretend with friends, and play for hours in the cul-de-sac. We can stay at the pool all afternoon, read through The Chronicles of Narnia in the backyard, and sleep in. The rest of the year is packed with school and sports and after school activities. I love this season to find a more restful rhythm for our family.

Grace will be given and memories will be made.

All of this extra time also gives us extra "togetherness." Can we all just acknowledge that sometimes togetherness can be a bit much? I can't tell you how many times I've needed to act as a referee and separate siblings, and try to figure out "who started it." There has been much talk about attitudes, making healthy choices, and having a happy heart. But extra togetherness is also a gift We've had friends over every weekend for long dinners and conversations under the patio lights. Last night we all headed to the pool with friends and I loved reading poolside and watching Jamy throw kids into the water. Last weekend we spontaneously bought a trampoline for the kids and Jamy and I ended up putting it together in the middle of the night to beat a storm that was brewing.  We laughed as we put the crazy thing together in the dark, got to jump on it before the kids did, and laid down to look at the stars. The next morning our bodies were achy and tired but it was worth the surprise for the kids and the memories we made together. 

So here's to long days that smell like sunshine and chlorine and nights lit by patio lights, slowing down, and creating memories. Here's to making the most of what's left of summer.

Running Away

Every kid does it at least once. I guess I never did but I thought about it. I had dramatic plans to pack a suitcase and run away from home when I was especially upset at my parents. This weekend, Isabelle decided it was her turn.

We had had a particularly rough day. Nine is TOUGH ya'll. There are emotions and eye-rolling and hormones and eye-rolling and parents telling you what to do. And more eye-rolling. Teaching a nine year old girl going on nineteen how to keep emotions in check, develop self-control, and learn to trust Jesus with it all is a full time job. 

And if I'm honest, dealing with it all I have to relearn how to keep my emotions in check since I'm also raising a mini-me. We don't just look alike; we have very similar personalities which can make for some fiery dynamics between the two of us. And if my mother's experience with me is any indication, these next few years are gonna be doozys. 

So after an evening of hard hearts, harsh words, and plenty of eye-rolls, we were at the epitome of nine.

Without a word, she brought me a walkie-talkie and took the other. Then, she packed a suitcase and dramatically announced she was running away. Before I knew it, she was walking out the door. 

I quickly grabbed Jamy from upstairs, filled him in on what was happening, and we watched her from the dining room window. 

"Mom?" (she had the walkie talkie).

"Yeah, babe?"

"Goodbye." (Oscar-worthy drama. For real.)

That's when she broke down crying and ran back home. You should have seen Jamy and I scramble from the window when she turned around so she wouldn't see that we had been watching her the whole time.

She had gotten as far as two houses down. She never even made it out of our cul-de-sac and the whole thing maybe lasted 5 minutes.

The rest of the night there were more tears. But this time with a soft heart, acknowledgement of pain caused, and repentance. But one thing she said has stuck with me:

"Mom, I've been so mean. Families aren't mean to each other. That's why I had to leave."

I was quick to correct her. Actually, families are mean to each other all the time. We see the best and the worst of each other. We have sharp tongues and use them with the people we know will still love us if they see our ugly side. When we have a bad day our family is the first to see our crummy attitude. She's right that we should strive to love our family well of course, but often those we love most don't get the best of us.

But we were never meant to leave our family. Family works through it. Family has the hard conversations; even if there's raised voices and eye-rolls mixed in. Family always stays. 

Family was never meant to say goodbye.

The night ended with hugs and reminders of God's goodness and grace. And I told her if she ever ran away again, I would always make sure she found her way home.

Lessons learned:

Make sure you pack your walkie talkie. Communication is important even when you're fed up.

You can leave out the eye-rolls. You might not win the Oscar but it'll be easier to win a heart.

If you've said goodbye, make sure you don't make it more than two houses down the street before you turn around and come home.

Daddy Daughter Masquerade Ball

For the past few years, I've helped lead putting together Whitefield's Annual Daddy Daughter Dance. If you happen to be a little girl, Pre-K through 8th grade, this is the social event of the year. In the past we've created a hoedown, a sock hop, and a beach ball. This year, I worked with my favorite committee and we put on a Masquerade Ball for Daddies and their daughters, complete with black and white attire with masks, a venue that looked like a castle on a lake, and hundreds of sparkling lights. We've heard it was the best one yet.

It's hard to say what's more enjoyable. Working all year with an amazing crew of other mothers and dear friends and seeing our ideas actually pan out or watching our girls with their daddies dance and giggle and enjoy each other all evening.

There were fires roaring in the fireplaces, the dance floor was always full, and everyone loved the magician we brought in (the girls loved his sub-par magic and the guys loved his sarcastic humor). High schoolers served hors d'oeuvres and sparkling juice on platters and the cream puffs were a favorite. Admittedly at some point during the night, you could find all of the mamas hosting the event on the sidelines of the dance floor weeping together watching our husbands dancing with our babies.

And this year will go down in history. The DJ's that almost didn't arrive, the magician's assistant who was asked to change out of a scary costume, and footage of some fathers and our headmaster dancing to Macarena that I'm sure can be used for blackmail later. And the end of the night has a story all it's own (more on that to come).

As always, I'm incredibly thankful to be a part of a school that works hard and plays hard together. This tribe of people that make up our little school have become like family to us. 

Here's to another night full of memories.

Weekend Update

Time for the obligatory Easter mom blog post with family pictures and Easter baskets. But this year it includes a surgery on Good Friday, gardening, a meal shared with friends, and a soccer game. All the classic and traditional things Easter is made of...

Months after Isabelle's original wrist injury in January, we finally figured out that rather than a broken wrist, she did damage to her tendons that required surgery. So Friday morning we headed to Children's Mercy for an easy wrist repair surgery. (PS - I think when it's your own kiddo "easy," "routine," and "surgery" just don't quite go together no matter how true it is.)

Bella came through like a champ and we laid low all day Friday and Saturday recovering. While the girls watched a 19 Kids and Counting marathon (Michelle Duggar happens to be my mom hero), the boys started planting our garden.

The garden is a whole other story (or blog, or...issue). Jamy has wanted a garden for years. The problem is that neither of us has ever planted anything in our lives. (Actually, once in elementary school for Mother's Day I'm sure I gave my mom a planted geranium but I don't think that counts.) But Jamy was thrilled with the idea of harvesting his own fresh herbs and veggies for salsa. So when he talked about maybe putting a garden in our backyard last year we also paired that with the reality of needing to be good at things like weeding and watering and decided against it. Commitment to dirt in our yard with seeds just wasn't a high priority.  Enter buying a house complete with raised garden beds and scarecrow and now we have to be committed. So Jamy spent a good part of Saturday spending crazy amounts of money and time on seeds and seedlings we're praying someday turn into actual food...

Sunday was filled with church, scavenger hunts for Easter baskets, and an amazing lunch with our dearest friends. And then our crew went to our first Sporting KC game (Kansas City's pro soccer team). I honestly didn't know we were stepping into a stadium with it's own culture. The night was filled with singing, chanting, fireworks, confetti, and lots of screaming. It was the best professional game I've ever been to (and I know nothing about soccer).

Admittedly this Lenten season has been way more fast-paced and filled with busyness than usual. But this weekend and especially Easter was an incredible reminder of God breaking in to our brokenness to free us from everything. Instead of our weekend filled with quietness and reflection, it was filled with the hospital, chores outside, and time spent with each other: the stuff life is often made of. I'm thankful God met us there too.