Weary of the Moon

Holy Roar (from Terri)

Way back when (in 2001 to be exact), Darren and I got the CRAZY hair-brained idea that, dog-gone-it, we were going to adopt our first baby from Russia instead of producing one the old fashioned way. Because really, who wants to get pregnant when instead you can do stacks and stacks of PAPERWORK and have every detail of your life scrutinized, plus deal with the endless prodding questions of local and foreign officials about whether you are fit to be a parent?

When we started announcing our plans the questions started flowing.  Our favorite questioners were those who looked at us with twitching eyes and curled upper lips and said eloquently: “Um, what’d you say?”  The conversation(s) may have proceeded like this:

Us:             We are adopting internationally; we’ll be bringing a baby home from Russia in the next year or so.

Them:            I don’t think they do that in Texas.

Us:            Well, we’ve done a lot of research and are approved as a waiting family by an agency in the state of Texas.

Them:            Can’t you have your own kids?

Us:            Yes, we can have kids biologically but we’re choosing to adopt and they will be our own kids.

Them:            Aren’t you scared of the communists?

Us:            Um, what’d you say?  

Before we start thinking poorly of our well-meaning conversation partners, look back for a minute to 2001—if you can remember that far back! Angelina had yet to adopt her first child and Madonna would not for years. There were no adoption blogs (I don’t even think there were blogs!), nor adoptive mommy chat groups.  There were no “147 Million” t-shirts or websites. For sure, parents were adopting and some of them were adopting internationally but it wasn’t as common as it is today. We did not know ONE SINGLE other family who was in the same boat as us. Sometimes we really did feel like we were operating “out of bounds.” Like we might be a bit abnormal or crazy or maybe even absolutely N.U.T.S. Mostly we just felt alone.

But once we saw the need and experienced the joy that is adoption we became quite the proselytizers for international adoption. We were passionate with a capital “P” about what we were doing. If you know our story, you know that there was no doubt in our minds that God was leading us down this path. We wrote about it, talked about it, prayed about it, and thought about it. If you encountered either one of us you learned something about adoption and orphans. When we finally brought our oldest home, we both had that feeling of “this is what I was created to do!” We could hear the melody in our souls that gave our lives a rhythm to live by.

In the midst of that personal experience we had a dream—a vision even—that one day children from all over the world might find homes right in our community. We had looked into the precious but empty eyes of the children languishing in the orphanages and we longed for each of them to find their family. There was a song I would listen to often and pray the words: “Lord, send us reaching…send us rushing” to these children. I would imagine the faces of children who might one day find safety and love in the arms of families in my church or in my neighborhood. I didn’t know what else to do so I would pray and yearn for the day when our quiet song would turn into a holy roar of many parents and children rejoicing because the Lord had brought them together.

As the years went by, one adoption turned into three and PhD studies entered my world as well as elementary school activities, basketball practices, and gymnastic lessons. That melody that was once so prominent faded to the background. Our passion for adoption faded as the realities of parenting the children we had adopted settled in! We talked about it less, wrote about it less, prayed about it less. Busyness and tasks drowned out the quiet song of our life.

Then one quiet day not too long ago there was a (God-ordained) lull in the activities of life and I stopped to listen to our quiet song. To my surprise what I heard was louder and clearer that I remembered. There were more voices! There was a holy roar!  Suddenly I looked up from life and I could count more than 20 families I knew personally who had experienced the JOY of adoption. Just a click away are blogs and websites and chat-rooms full of adoptive moms and dads sharing stories, struggles, and triumphs. I can easily find reputable organizations dedicated to caring for the orphaned and fatherless all over the world. There are conferences on adoption and orphan care with thousands of attendees. Our pastor preached TWO sermons on adoption (one less) and our church started an adoption and orphan care ministry. At the first meeting there were over 100 people who had either adopted or were considering it!

It is here—the holy roar. Regular people no longer willing or able to live with the fact that there are millions of children who wait anxiously for the family God wants for each of them.

Oh can you hear it? It’s the song of the redeemed,

The pursuit of passion for the one who set us free.

Oh can you hear it? We’re crying out for more!

Listen to our song, it’s turning into a HOLY ROAR!

 

Can you hear it? Don’t you want to sing it with us? 

Here’s what you can do:

1.  Adopt or foster a child who needs a family. Yep, you heard me right! And nope, it ain’t easy. In fact it is fairly difficult and risky and can even be heart-breaking. But imagine how difficult, risky and heart-breaking it is to grow up without a family.

2.  Help a family who is adopting or fostering. They may need financial help, especially if adopting internationally. Otherwise they may also need meals or babysitters or help around the house. Most of all these families need your support and encouragement! When we were adopting a group of our friends literally took my to-do list out of my hands to see how they could help.

3.  Support an organization that provides for the needs of orphans. Don’t ever think your gift is too small to count. Here are a few we suggest and their websites: Children's Hopechest, World Vision, Drawn from Water

 

. . . and here is a link to the song . . . Holy Roar by Nathan & Christy Nockles

 

Four

So our friend Syd emailed me asking where this post was since I wrote the post Six about Jacob turning six last week.  Here it is.

Stella turned four yesterday.  We had her party on Saturday at the Howard Moore Play Pool in Arlington (Arlington has lots of great pools like this) and I think all the kids had big fun.  I know I did.  I also took a tremendous number of pictures.  Then I took pictures of Jacob's baptism on Sunday (another post) and then we took pictures of the kids (and me) playing on the new Slip N Slide in the backyard (which won't be a post because me playing on the Slip N Slide does not merit attention).  Now my camera is full and I'm not sure I have room on the computer for all the pics which is one of the reason this post has no pictures -- the other being I've been kind of busy today and yesterday for loading those up.

Now then, where was I?  Oh right, Stella turning four.  On her birthday we gave Stella her gifts (with her favorite being a karaoke machine which she loves), went to eat at Souper Salad (her choice -- I think maybe her brother put her up to it) and then to play at Chuck E Cheese (where I dominated the Dallas Cowboys pinball game while Jacob dominated the Podracer game and Stella dominated the Deal or No Deal Game -- we're a family of great game players). 

Final word.  It's amazing that she's four now.  That's older than Jacob was when we went to Russia for Stella's adoption.  Wow!  But also, it is somewhat anticlimactic (maybe not the best word but that's what I'll use) because when she was three last week she thought she was 24.  Now that she's four she still thinks she's 24.  I tried to explain that 24 year old girls (at least the ones I've known) don't smear food on their faces when they eat or where day of the week panties but I'm not sure she's buying it.

Six

On July 3, 2002, a woman we know only as Lydia walked into a hospital in the city of Ryazan in Russia and gave birth to a little boy.  Today we celebrated our son Jacob's birthday with him for the sixth time.  Happy Birthday Jacob!  And thank you Lydia.

Jacob is an incredible kid.  We've got pictures from his Star Wars Jedi Training Birthday Party held last weekend (billed by at least one little girl attendee as the best birthday party she'd ever been to).  I'd show you now, but frankly, I am too tired to get up and go to the other computer to get to the pictures.  It's been a long day from opening presents before I left for work to dinner at Jacob's choice of restaurant (the Long John Silver/A&W Combo on Park Row) to Wall-E at the movies to ice cream.  Big fun for all.  Pictures soon.  And more posts.  I've decided that I now have a lot to say again.

Jacob gets it

We left the house this morning for our normal five minute ride to school, only a couple of weeks left for Jacob in kindergarten and Stella in the 3yo class.  Here was the conversation I had with Jacob (Stella listening intently):

Me:  Guess what guys, did you know Holly is having Baby Kolby this morning?

Jacob:  So that's his name, Kolby?

Me:  Yep.  They'll have Kyley and Kolby.

Jacob (very serious):  I wonder how they're gonna deal with all that?

Me (laughing):  That's a good question Jacob.  I'll bet they'll manage.

Jacob:  So where's the baby now anyway?  Where's it grow really?

Me:  Well, a baby grows in a woman's uterus.  It's near her stomach which is why a pregnant lady's stomach looks big.  The baby isn't in the woman's stomach, it's in her uterus.

Jacob:  Momma's never gonna have a baby in her uterus.

Me (again laughing):  You're right about that Jacob.  Momma gets her babies in Russia or maybe another country next time.

Stella:  We're Russians!

Jacob (matter of factly):  I bet our little brother is about 7 months old by now.  I hope he's doing good.

Me:  You're probably pretty close Jacob, and I hope he's doing good too.

And then off he ran to his next to last week of kindergarten.

A few pictures from Easter morning

On Easter morning we woke the kids up early and drove to the park.  We'd been reading different parts of the Passion Week story to the kids each day during the week and had talked to them the day before about Holy Saturday and the hope of Easter morning. 

It was cold and a little windy but we sat and read about the empty tomb on the first Easter Sunday, lit our Easter candles (our family tradition -- each candle tells us something of Jesus we learn from the cross and resurrection), and then sat under a blanket to watch the sun rise.

After our family sunrise service, after church, and after eating too much lunch, we went down to the zoo to take a few pictures of the kids in their Easter clothes.  Our kids, like most, like to overpose and oversmile, so I thought it might be best to let them smile more genuinely and try to catch them in the act.  Here are a few of the better ones.

   

  

 

 

I think there is something about enjoying God's creation (which they both certainly do) that is right, especially on Easter morning.

(By the way, take that SydCham -- we have pictures too).

Are You My Mother?

When we brought Jacob home from Ryazan to live with us in Texas he was 10 months old.  Sometime within the first 12-18 months of him living with us, we acquired (I don't say bought because frankly I don't know how we got it) the book Are You My Mother? by P.D. Eastman.  Oddly enough Jacob never really liked it.  In fact, he often cried if we tried to read it to him.  Terri and I always found it strange in an ironic sort of way that he was so sensitive about a baby bird searching high and low asking all he would meet, "Are you my mother?"  But he was sensitive about it so the book was shelved in favor of books about dogs and trains and dinosaurs and pirates. 

I bring all this up now, more than 4 years later because tonight Jacob insisted we find the book Are You My Mother.  Apparently his kindergarten class read it last week at school.   Being the dutiful father I am I found it (in Stella's room to no surprise).  And here is the crazy part . . . Jacob read it to me.  For the first time, he read a book.  It wasn't memorized and he couldn't make out every word without help, but he slowly and steadily made it through 62 pages of the story of baby bird searching for his mother and finding his way home.  I can't believe our little boy is learning to read and has learned so much already.

And most of all I am stunned that the first book he ever finished was this book.  That he read with me.  After I searched high and low for him and he looked for me.  And we found each other.  At home.  Together.

This Dad stuff can be pretty cool.

True Texans

I just submitted this photo of our two little Russians who are clearly now Texan through and through to the Adoptive Families magazine photo contest.  This was the kids while waiting to head to the rodeo last week.  Seriously, how cool are they?

(Click on the picture for a larger version.)

What I did on my summer break . . .

. . . I watched my kids grow up.  And it was great.  And hard.  And fun.  And tiring.  And I wouldn't trade it for the world.  But I want it to stop.  But not really.

This has been a full summer for us.  Jacob and Stella have both been busy with fun, and if you haven't had young kids in a while, let me tell you, that can be taxing on the parents.  Jacob turned 5 on July 3 and Stella turned 3 four days later.  But is isn't just their ages changing, it's them growing up.  Especially Jacob.

This summer Jacob has been to camp, played t-ball, had tennis lessons, and swimming lessons.  That of course doesn't include "Cousin's Camp," trips to visit family and having family visit.  It seemed each activity brought changes to him.  Over the last five days we've had "Family Vacation".  We stayed in and around home in Arlington and Dallas/Fort Worth but took in a month full of fun in those few days.  Being with Jacob for such a constant time and in those various settings shocked me.  He's a little boy now.  When did that happen!!!

On Thursday Jacob rode his first roller-coaster (a kiddie one) and then his first real roller-coaster (Judge Roy Scream).  He was terrified but held my hand tightly and trusted me.  The next night we went to the rodeo and there he was, down in the arena, chasing the sheep with all the other kids.  No thought about nervousness or fear.  He just jumped in.  Truth be told he was mad he didn't get to ride the bull.  Yesterday at Burger's Lake he decided he wanted to slide down the slide.  About 30-40 feet high (see the picture).  While I nervously watched him climb to the top and wait his turn, he didn't look back.  He got to the top and let go with some small trace of fear on his face.  In an instant he was at the bottom with his goggles knocked off.  He came up half crying and half shouting "Again!"  The second time he sat at the top for an instant, looked way down to me waiting at the bottom and shook his head.  I looked back to him and put my thumb in the air.  He took a breath and came down again.

Now for an older kid, that may be no big deal, but that's just it, he's not supposed to be an older kid.  He's my little boy.  The one I just brought home from Russia.  The one I rocked to bed night after night.  But not anymore.  Now he's a big brother opening doors for his sister.  He's a son telling me I hurt his feelings by getting onto him.  He's a little boy learning to read and write with a tooth falling out and a smile on his face. 

Last night we talked about how much fun we had on Family Vacation and how today I would be back at work.  I had to go back to his room because he was crying inconsolably.  He said he just didn't want me to go back to work.  He wanted me to stay with him.  Still my little boy.  I made him promise he would still feel that way when he was in junior high or a senior and high school.  But I know it will be different.  I know these days will pass just as quickly as the days when I raced home to help him learn to walk.  Today he plays t-ball.  I'll turn around and that #7 standing on the base will be much older, taller, more muscular.  But I hope with the same smile and the same spirit and the same desire to spend time with me.  I can't keep him from growing up.  But I can help him do it.  And that's the most important job I have.

The craft of construction

A few days ago our son, Jacob, made the observation that he wanted me to teach him how to build things and use tools.  Keep in mind that Jacob is not quite 5 and therefore sees me as being a wonder at many things up to and including basketball.  In other words, he doesn't know what he's talking about.  My dear wife, upon hearing Jacob's observation, said, "Jacob, Daddy's not really good at building things or using tools.  You might have to get someone else to help."  How would you take that?

Being forced to agree in principle with her, I did point out to Jacob that if he wanted to build a solid case or construct a persuasive argument I was the man to show him how.  A couple of days later Jacob asked for the millionth time in a five minute period whether he could take some toys in the car on the way to church.  "No, Jacob,"  I said.  "I've already told you no toys at church."  "I'll just take it in the car," Jacob replied.  I said, "Jacob, that's not a good argument.  You are just asking the same thing again.  You need to explain to me why it would be beneficial to let you take a toy in the car . . . something like if you have a toy, you'll not fight with your sister."

Fast forward to tonight.  As we are leaving to go eat, Jacob says, "Dad, can I take a toy in the car and to the restaurant.  If I take one, it will give me something to do and keep me occupied."  Really.  Now that's a persuasive argument.  And Terri said I couldn't teach him to build anything!

Looking forward to when we look back

A couple of years ago, our good friends, Chris and Sydney, brought a sweet little girl named Ryley into the world.  The blog was pretty new at the time, and I used it to welcome Ryley into our little clan.  Today, Ryley got a little brother and a little sister, Jack and Lucy.  Syd was a complete trooper carrying those two, and I'm sure she's worn out tonight.  Jack is still getting through some issues so if you happen to read this, pray for him and his sister. 

How's this for growth of community . . . Jack and Lucy are three weeks behind Kyley who was three weeks or so behind Henry.  Jack and Lucy are about 8 weeks ahead of another little one who will be about 6 weeks before another who will be 6 to 8 weeks ahead of another.  All this with three one year olds, four two year olds, a three year old, three four year olds, a five year old, and a six year old.  If you're counting, that's 20 kids we'll soon have.  20 kids.  That's full teams for the Final Four.  And that's community.  We are obviously in a period of growth.  Years from now we'll look back having watched our children grow up, having celebrated birthdays, accomplishments, joys and no doubt some pains.  We'll watch these kids mature and learn, win games and be in school plays.  And we'll do it all together.  One day, we'll sit and think of these tired days of young children.  And we'll be thankful for the blessing.

And so today we welcome Jack and Lucy -- and belatedly (but no so much so) Henry and Kyley.  You kids stay out of trouble . . . you've got a lot of family watching!