The lines have been drawn.

I haven't blogged as much lately. Not for a lack of having something to say or share. Not because I'm too busy. Though, I have been busy with my crew, our car breaking down (twice), selling one of our business locations, with schooling, replacing a hard drive only to find out the optical drive isn't reading the recovery disk, a Tough Mudder, with parenting, a homeschool convention, a birthday party or four, and celebrating Father's Day. That's life.

And in between all those things, I have been encouraged and discouraged... full of joy and down... lonely in a room full of people and had my heart filled up with just a few people around.

I have so much I think you'd like to hear, but first I need to know where the line is. What line? The imaginary line made up by people (that may or may not exist) to tell me how much of my life I'm allowed to share.  The line that is the border between protecting my family and trusting that our story is not ours to keep and alone learn from.

I think of the Bible stories. What if the details had not been shared?

Adam and Eve were in the garden. They had to leave the garden.

A big flood was coming. God told Noah to build an ark. His family got in. When it was over, he saw a pretty rainbow.

Sampson was strong. Then, he was weak. Then, he was strong.

Jonah traveled by fish to Nineveh.

Joshua defeated Jericho. 

David was a king.

The details make the story! The mistakes. The heartaches. The joys. The triumphs. The sin. The shame. The promises. The glory. The gritty details that none of us would want shared with everyone for thousands of years after we died.

Okay. I have delayed enough. I say all that to say that I am going to share what I feel led to share. How you take it and what you think about how much I tell is beyond my control. Frankly, I'm not here to do what the world says to do... their imaginary lines won't hold me back. Not anymore.

.................................

It's been 7.5 months since the first time I hugged them. I loved them before that. Much like I loved all the others before I held them in my arms the first time. Since that day in November, I have been asked many times how we are doing and how the boys are doing and how all the kids are doing together. I typically answer "well" and I mean it. Well.

I look around and see struggles that others have endured or are enduring. My struggle is less so that means I'm doing well? I'm lifting and carrying two 50lb weights and that lady is carrying two 100lb weights. We both have our hands full. We both are struggling. Hers is a heavier load. For. Sure. But knowing that doesn't take the weight away from me. It is still hard. That's where I am right now. Struggling. I'm of good cheer. I know "it could be worse." I know that this is a season. But it's stinkin' hot during this season and I'm smiling with sweat stinging my eyes.

We have death because of sin. We have orphans because of death. We have two boys that we call sons because they were once orphans. I won't ever forget that. Pain and loss was a part of their lives before they entered our family. I'm not their only mother. My husband is not their only father. My children are not their only siblings. Virginia is not their only home. Our experiences with them are not their only memories. These facts are the things that race through my mind as they attempt to show love and attach or as they act out in disobedience and push away. These facts are what I try to use as a filter to how I react. I know I see them as I my own now... How? Because I don't treat them like I do your kids. I give much more grace and mercy to your kids. I'm not proud of that. It's just a fact.

I have questioned more and more lately not how I look at them, but how they look at me. I would love to say that I know they love me and like me and are happy to have me as their momma. I do see that side sometimes... and then that look in their eyes for me fades as they put up their wall again.

I made suntan lotion and one of the boys pushed it off the table on to the floor on purpose. When I asked him why, he wouldn't answer. I rambled off a bunch of possible reasons and asked my other son if I had done that to something he made how would he feel and he said, "I would think you don't like me." The boy who had done the offense then said to me, "I don't like you." Ouch. Is it how he feels or is it him repeating? Either way, it hit me and I responded the only way I knew how.

...I'm sorry you don't like mommy, BUT I'm going to love you and show you in every way I can...

and then I told him how I try to show him I love him

... I know you have people and places that you miss. I know you have stories that you haven't shared with me yet. I'm here to listen. I'm here to talk. ...

and then I didn't talk

I waited

I listened

and the son that I hadn't even been talking to began to share with me new stories and his true emotions

and then today he wouldn't look me in the eyes again



That's how we are doing. This family that God placed together is trying to follow our new house rules and we have hope because God is good all the time and All the time God is good.

Current House Rules:

Do Good.
Listen.
Talk.
Be honest.