Scrooge

The other day I wanted to read a Joel Osteen book, but I needed groceries and my van hadn't had a tune-up nor an oil change in three years. I'm not kidding, I'm an awful car owner. When I got my new truck this year, a 1998 Nissan, my son-in-law, Chuck, muttered in dismay and sympathy, "May it rest in peace."

I put on my Ipod and listened to Joel Osteen while I got groceries, it was an all day trip, as the kids had been home for 5 days straight eating everything, and my dad took the van for repairs, buying me another day to do what needed to be done.

The gift of time is what I need. My mother just offered to take me to a store and buy me some new clothes for Christmas. I don't want new clothes and I sure as crap don't want to go to a store. Didn't I just say it's going to be a beautiful day outside? That means I wanna work. Shop? Are you kidding me? I'd rather lick Highway 53 clean than go in a store, and feel shut in and trapped. Jeepers, that appeals to me about as much as getting married for the third time. I don't think so.

She called me a killjoy and flounced off to put up her Christmas decorations which also annoys me. Is spring ever gonna get here?

Directing Hen's Poop As Needed

On Thanksgiving, Daniel, as expected, hooked up Carolina's computer and TV, crawling through the ceiling and making certain everything was on cable or wireless, returning a few days later to help more. I take him for granted, yes I express my appreciation, but probably not enough. Besides being extremely dependable, Grandpa calls on him often as well; Daniel is loving, kind, funny and intelligent and I do know how very fortunate I am to be his mother.

He reads my blogs on campus through his Iphone and he's probably snorting at my words right now. OK son and I'm blowing a kiss through the Iphone as well.

Jonathan melted down this morning. "Get your shoes on," I'd hollered after he'd eaten a bowl of oatmeal.

"I can't find them," he wailed.

"Find them right now or lose computer this afternoon."

"Then I'm not going to school."

"OK, now you'll lose computer for a week."

"I don't care."

"Fine."

So he did.

But it's gonna cost him and someday he'll put two and two together and not come up with three each time.

Today he can do the math and haul woodchips.

It's going to be beautiful outside so I'm gonna work and ease my mind by the sunshine therapy that gardening donates to me. My ugly greenhouse has a hen busy scratching up the soil for me, chowing down on bugs and pooping her brains out, adding nitrogen as needed.

My 2008 seed catalogs will arrive next month and I'm mapping everything out in my overloaded brain, I need more garden beds but don't have time, I've saved thousands of seeds, I could plant an acre of watermelons alone and dadgummit, maybe I will.

So there, Jonathan. My agile hen has more reasoning abilities than this son of mine.

Presenting Our Fantastic Four

Alana, Hazel Bay, Cindy Mae and Estrella all got it together at the same time yesterday afternoon allowing me to get a picture of them. Hazel Bay is nine weeks old today, finally able to join the photo.

How blessed can one Abuelita be?

Well this Abuelita musta lost her mind. I'm allowing, no I've been encouraging Baby Yolie's puppy to come in the house. It's cute and smart, and minds way better than my kids do. It's a terrier mix, my all-time favorite.They'd named it Lucky, prompting Jimbo to fall down with laughter. Lucky? With about thirty-something pairs of feet to avoid?

Sabrina has been dogging me for a North Face jacket and has been watching several on Ebay, waiting for one cheap enough for us to afford. One arrived this morning via Miss Nancy. She'd emailed me last night to pick up a bag of clothes from her van at the elementary school. Bingo - two North Face jackets - one for Sabrina, one for CW.

Jeanne, Gabby, Nancy and another Cissy all provided clothes yesterday. I even turned down a clothes offer from Miss Ellen when she called to tell me her husband's office was getting Christmas gifts for my four youngest kids.

One of my grown kids didn't pay her electric bill. Duh, guess what then happens? Dark, ain't it? This girl has a college degree. We're fixing to have a come-to-Jesus meeting this morning about natural consequences.

Two moms have emailed me recently about allowing grown children to come back home at Christmas with their bad attitudes potentially infecting their birth sibs with rebellion and animosity. Yes, we moms do have to forgive what the children have done to us or said to or about us, but we also have to draw a line in the sand about acceptable behavior at our house. When a kid crosses that magic line of age 18, we are then not legally obligated. Then it is a choice both for us and the kid. Their choice must be to act right or not come over. Our choice is to require peace, we've earned it.

I've said this time and time again - the ages between 18 and 23 can be the most challenging for us as parents. I know it has been so for me.

Ellen's Carrot Cake Recipe

Thank you Adele for posting Ellen's Carrot Cake recipe.

No one at our house hangs out in their room. No one. Why miss the party?

Yesterday with thirty plus folks milling through the kitchen, living room and family room, I was again grateful for this large house. Kids pushing babies in strollers and the jeep/walker thing, kids on the computers, Tommy riding a scooter up and down the hall, and kids helping me in the kitchen. It was loud certainly, but no one is squabbling or raging.

At bedtime, even with Carolina's entire family living with us, we still had two empty bedrooms. Most of the rooms are large, most have double beds in them, and the boys divide up depending on who they were deep in conversation with when I holler, "Bedtime!"

There are futon mattresses all over my bedroom and that's a favorite landing spot as well. It's like sleeping in a rain forest what with all my plants. Last week or so Jonathan had a tough time comprehending if he rages, I was then adverse to spending anymore time with him, sending him to his room - isolation usually works around here - finally getting a grip when that concept blazed within his hard head.

After they go to bed, Miriam usually stays up to watch TV in peace, and I pick up the stuff that's strewn everywhere. I always hear Chuy and Javy in one room, CW and Martin, JoJo and Allen all yapping until they fall asleep. Three partnerships that never break down at bedtime, they remind me of Joe, Jesse and Sergi who never seemed to be able to stop talking at bedtime. Arguing every night over how fast cougars could run. Every night, without fail, I'd hear them. Yeah, I still miss them.

By 9 or 10 at night, I'm falling apart as well, especially after I've arisen at 4 or 5 in the morning. I need them all to go to bed, I need some quiet time, I need my sleep and usually by 9 at night, my house has settled down.

I'm still trying to shake off the feelings of impending crisis that had enveloped me for months, I'm wanting my positive attitude back, I'm wanting to expect the best to happen, and I know I need to continue to feed my faith from the writings and thoughts of others.

I took hope in Joel Osteen's thought that from correction comes direction, when a bad thing happens we can use it to find the good thing. Sometimes this is how God guides our steps and as I look back over my last 53 years I see that this has always been so for me.

I'd be heading full throttle to where I thought I should go, only to have a door slam in my face. I'd lick my wounds and ponder what had unexpectedly happened until I saw that it was merely an attention-getting detour. Oh, now I get it...and I'd move on in that particular redirection, picking up speed again, and thanking God that I didn't get what I thought I wanted or needed at the time.

Osteen also said, "don't function in your dysfunction." My dysfunction has been this unusual negativity that I'm shaking off as fast as I can, functioning like this sucks. I don't like it, I won't have it.

I'm uneasy about Fabian returning, but rebuking myself over having such negative thoughts. Jeepers Cindy, what's the point of therapy, or him spending time in a therapeutic camp, if I doubt the cure? Obviously he's not made a 100% turnaround but what can I reasonably expect? He is much better, that's obvious.

On my other blog I'd been asked about setting boundaries for myself and I was momentarily confused until Yondalla explained it to me in another comment. I'm a literal thinker, even my bedroom has no door, you just walk upstairs into a cavernous, plant-filled open space. Kids go in my pocketbook for pens or gum, we rarely lock our doors, and obviously my heart is open and available to be stomped on as the children falter and lurch into adulthood.

Then another reader asked me, "Who to adopt?" and again I was at a loss. These are hard questions, my only thoughts and answers only come from my own limited experience with my own children. I've never seen a bigger chasm than in the minds of traumatized children, an abyss so deep that it is bottomless, their inner pain is unfathomable and we adoptive parents must walk a tightrope for decades.

I know nothing about infant adoptions, I only know the very odd world that I inhabit with my own children (these words too were picked up on in the comments section). Maybe my tombstone should read, "Flew by the seat of her pants at all times."

I listened to Monica Sunday afternoon as she talked gratefully about the over-protective manner in which I raised her, the entire time back while then her older sister rebelled in stark contrast, yet she too called me yesterday, despairing over the loss of two teens in our area. The girlfriend of the driver attended the school where Cristy works and my words were spilling out of Cristy's mouth to this young girl, "Well this is why your parents didn't want you to date him. They love you and were protecting you from stuff like this. This could have been you in that car. Your parents are right."

Cristy used to fly out of my window at night, fighting against my every attempt to parent her, running away for good at age 17. Now, 14 years later, she understands that all my smothering of her was simply for her protection. Jeepers did she think that was my exercise back then? Yes, of course it is gratifying to come full circle now.

Everything I've ever done for my kids has been steeped purely in my love for them. Everything. Even when I've been wrong, my heart was right. All I have ever desired was what was best for them.

A Lice Situation

I didn't tell Tabby that I was driving to Union City today as she gets worried and can't function in school on any level. She had a tough time going to sleep last night, my kids hate to return to school after a long time at home, and she was fussy and slow moving this morning. No one said a single word to her about me leaving.

She wasn't at school five minutes before her teacher called my cell to tell me Tabby was melting down, worried and crying that I wouldn't be there at 2:30 to pick her up.

I'm never not there. I've never not picked her up, she's never been abandoned by me. But the fact that she'd been left all over Texas in hundreds of places by her birth mom has scarred her for life, amping up her desperate need for constant reassurance that I must provide on a minute by minute basis lest her finely tuned radar picks up on my truck mileage-to-be.

I talked her down from the ledge, promised to be back at 2:30, which I was, thus helping her minutely to begin to believe that I'll always be there for her.

When I picked her up her teacher informed me there'd been several cases of head lice in the school that day. I'm supremely gratified that it doesn't involve my family. Lord knows we've been there enough, but we live in our own little self-contained world so deeply, that I'm surprised to see challenges befall others; oftentimes it seems it must only be the fate of my family - as if our numbers draw calamities towards us when in reality I know it's the issues that do so.

Eating Turkey

Gina sent me this too-cute picture of Ray that I'm using to point readers to Sarah's hilarious post today.

It would probably be no fun to be a vegetarian in a non-meat craving family. Who'd we then have to poke fun at?

I'm literally ready to barf at the thought of all this over-cooked food when all I truly crave is one of my summertime five pound pepper salads from the garden.

Fabian's Home Stay

First morning here with three more kids to get out the door: Baby Yolie, Blanca and Mauri, all hyper and happy to be living here with us, but of course dreading the reason they are here, that their father will be returning to El Salvador soon to get his residency papers.

Fabian has had an excellent home stay for five days, he's been helpful and sweet, but maintaining this great behavior will be an ongoing challenge for him when he returns home next month for good.

Vanessa joined us in church and for the day yesterday, pleasant and making sure she was still loved. Duh.

On Thanksgiving and again yesterday Daniel, being Daniel, helped us tremendously, making sure Carolina was set up on cable and internet then working on our hookups.

We're getting more rain today thankfully, now we're only about two feet shy in the deficit.

I have a five hour round trip jaunt today so I gotta get chores done quickly as I'm losing my free time.

Viewing Other People's Gardens Via Word Pictures

Although Thanksgiving Day was warm, Georgia historically has unpredictable, very changeable weather and the last few days have not even reached 50 degrees. Dreary is the word so I've stayed inside which rankles my nerves something fierce.

Jimbo left yesterday after our new morning habit of vanilla soy lattes, I so hate to see him go, but hopefully he'll come back next month from Tallahassee. He bought his house some 15 years ago and I've never been to visit him - a byproduct of a large family and the constant demands placed upon me.

I'm having to help Lily take a bath what with this ungainly cast on her drawing arm. I'd made her a haircut appointment for tomorrow without realizing that I'll be driving Fabian back to meet his OTP van on the south side of Atlanta. I guess Grandpa will have to take Lily as Grandma has her Bridge Club.

Fabian has had a great visit home, he's been happy and appropriate, talking to me about some plans for his future. To say that I have misgivings would be understating my sense of dread. I've been here before, but hopefully Fabian has learned to manage his deep anger better now. It has been a very calm 5 day homestay for him.

I accomplished my minimal pre-set dumb goal which was to stay home from Wednesday afternoon until Sunday morning, some kids reacted in shock when I reminded them to shower this morning.

"Why?" protesting as a group, surprised that several days had passed, now we're getting dressed to go out, leaving our cocoon, realization dawning that tomorrow is school... not Nintendo playtime.

I used to have a huge desire to see the world but now honestly I feel as if it is nothing but strip malls and shopping centers, Wal-Marts and McDonalds. I'd rather be here with my family, either working in the gardens or planning them for next year, reducing my world to a main goal - food production. My once very restless nature now soothed either by age or the joy of soil structure and photosynthesis.

At least in cruddy weather I find time to read more. Now I'm starting Beautiful Madness - a story not about insanity, but rather is subtitled: One Man's Journey Through Other People's Gardens.

WHO Doesn't Like Lasgna???

After Tabby's Pre-K Thanksgiving Feast last Monday I took her with me to Publix where we picked up 8 gallons of Greenwise Organic Fat Free Milk plus 4 half-gallons of their Greenwise Organic Soy Milk, now long gone, and I've sent my mother out for more this morning, but the odder story would be the glances cast over at my Mexican Indian Princess AKA Ray's Best Friend. She insisted on shopping in full regalia.

Sarah blogged about her lasagna that was the best I ever ate.

I made a dimmer version for Thanksgiving, an old recipe I've cooked for 30 years from Recipes For A Small Planet which involves adding refried beans to the tomato sauce, boosting its protein content and giving it a delicious substance. I used whole wheat noodles and spinach as well. Sarah's husband doesn't like my version either, but my resident vegetarian CW raves about it, finishing off the pan yesterday - no small feat as the pan itself is a restaurant sized pan that barely fits into our oven. I believe I either tripled or quadrupled the original recipe.

Tony is obsessed with my new Krups, making vanilla soy milk lattes this morning for the Bubbas who've since been bouncing off the walls, bubbling out the front door to the tire swing and trampoline where they're vainly attempting to quell the caffeine rush. God forbid anyone does chores....

Needing Milk...

Gina, holding Monica's baby Alana, will be 30 this spring, something that blows me away but my 77 year old mom reminded me that soon all her four kids will be in their fifties. Jeepers. Gina has a degree in environmental public health and I've been dogging her lately about a master's degree.

Life is but a vapor, we're not here on Planet Earth for very long even if we do live to be a hundred which is my personal goal. We might as well make it count for something. Eternity is a decent piece of time.

A comment indicated that our Thanksgiving must have required a great deal of work. I suppose it did, but it's something I get up and do everyday anyway. Sarah remarked that it seemed very easy this year even though she, Yolie and I cooked all day at our respective homes and I totally agree. It did seem effortless this year.

Having 39 children can be a lot of work. That's a duh, but what else would or should I do with my time at 53? This is challenging and rewarding, eventually I'm going to look back and forget all the problems, simply basking in their successes. I've already forgotten most of what I once frustratedly encountered with my older children yet subconsciously that's the Elmers glue that holds me together now.

I'm being wistful as the leaves change and fall from the tress, the view from my windows fades from a thousand shades of green to dismal browns and greys. Yesterday I weeded out back for a few minutes, knowing that mindless task alone brings me the connection with the earth that I crave every day of my life. Today I'll finish spreading some leaves that have fallen, concentrating around the greenhouses, I haven't left our land since bringing Fabian home Wednesday afternoon, accomplishing a dumb goal I'd set. Fabian is sitting with me now, reading my words as I type, snickering at my idiosyncracies, asking me what the word means as I peck.

We need milk, but Grandma has to run errands this morning so she'll do it for me, allowing me to remain in pjs, standing in the pantry planning supper before bounding outside for the pure, unadulterated joy I always feel working outside. Everyone has to eat, therefore in my mind, there's nothing more rewarding than producing food or getting ready to do so...other then watching my darlings grow up.

Cindy A - I don't have Ellen's recipe, oddly enough I rarely bake. Cooking doesn't thrill me, it's a chore. Adele, Yolie and Sarah have the recipe so I need to ask one of them to post it.

Several of y'all have asked about Audrey. She works 12 hour days, taking it home with her emotionally, her job is always on her mind. She's one of the very special social workers who always makes decisions with the best interests of the children in mind, therefore she deals with stress and heartache constantly. I'd really like to ask everyone to remember this remarkable woman in their prayers, that she'd always have strength and wisdom. The children she protects will never realize the amount of effort she expends on their behalf. She is incredible. Being a supervisor now is way more demanding.

Cherry Bombs

Zero leftovers and no one took a count of how many people were here either. Ms Carr brought her green bean casserole but more importantly described some impressive rain barrels she had, provoking me to run around our house and see where everything drained. Every downspout hits a garden since I have so many gardens. We had 1.17 inches of rain - nearly a miracle - with rain expected on Monday when I'll be driving Fabian back for the last time.

Now that we've had a frost, killing all the garden vegetation I found some wayward watermelons that I tossed to some ecstatic chickens. I just used the very last cherry bomb pepper that'd been ripening, powerful enough to flavor a vat of pinto beans, something we all craved after such rich food yesterday.

It has been so wonderfully peaceful around here and for that I'm thankful.

Krups

Yolie, Gina, Deysi, Marcela and Carolina

CJ, Nando, Tabby and Ray
Vanessa (holding Alana), Monica, Miriam and Deysi


Big Mama, Jimbo (my baby brother), Grandma and Grandpa

A wonderful drama-free Thanksgiving where 60 punds of turkey was consumed in six hours, Yolie made Sarah cry, and I ate my wieght in superb food, ending my night with a slice of my best friend Emily's pecan pie.

The police had called Audrey before she'd even left to come over here, she ended up working all morning, but being able to come eat before having to meet again...such is the life of a foster care supervisor.

This morning Jimbo surprised me with a Krups espresso maker since he knew I'd never tasted a latte nor ever been in a Starbucks. According to Jim, "If Big Mama won't go to Starbucks, we'll bring Starbucks to Big Mama."

I truly never leave my dirt road except to haul in more groceries or go to soccer games.

Still Dreaming of Tomatoes

Edgar won't be here today, he's gone to SC to his girlfriend's parent's house while Big Joe's gone to Tameshia's family, Saray is with her husband's family as is Cristy, and Jesse's in Texas, but that will still leave us with a ton of folks.

Grandma and Grandpa got here late last night and apparently my best friend's daughter came in while we slept leaving pies and cookies. By six this morning most of my children were already up. Sarah's right, Thanksgiving is a wonderful holiday. Somehow she blogged again yesterday while in the midst of cooking all day on her birthday.

My brother Jimbo is driving up from Florida in the rain. Yep, rain. Water from the sky, but still not enough to assuage this drought.

Fabian is here and doing well, clingy like his big brother Edgar, he hasn't left anyone's side. My coffee pot exploded last night so Miriam made my emergency run to Wal-Mart. Gotta have a Mr. Coffee to function.

But really what's on my mind is:

"In 1970 there were a half-dozen or so farmers' markets in all of New York Sate. Now, in 2005, there are well over 300, with more than 1500 farmers participating. A survey conducted by the USDA in 2004 counted 3,706 farmers' markets nationwide, up from 1,755 in 1994."

Yeah, let's hear some good news.

I'm reading, "It's a Long Road to a Tomato: Tales of an Organic Farmer Who Quit the Big City for the (Not So) Simple Life by Keith Stewart. Enthralled with his story since page one, I realize everyone can't farm, but who can't grow a tomato plant even on a two foot square patio area? The green tomatoes I'd picked before our frost are ripening, reminding me of summer as I ration them out.

I used to garden so hard that my muscles would be sore when I woke up the next morning. I miss that and I'm taking my life back, arranging my schedule to ensure garden time, it benefits us all greatly. Paloma had cooked up our final batch of fire hot pepper sauce that we refrigerated and are using. She boasts each time we exclaim over it's delectable flavors, "That's my batch!" and I so understand her pride.

An Aside Day

Sarah is 34 today. I really have been a mama all my life, a blessing as apparently it's something I've always enjoyed except for a few dark moments. For close to 40 years now I've been obsessed with nutrition, I'd watched my mother plant small gardens, she'd once had to frequent a certain grocery store back then in the late 1960s as it was the only one that carried yogurt, something I'd somehow acquired a taste for, passing the good-food gene down to Sarah, all her life she's eaten well, for her birthday she'd requested several books written by chefs with interesting backstories while I'm still poring over garden tomes all my life, now adding old-timey titles to my repertoire such as Elizabeth Lawrence and other great writers.

Tabby will be five tomorrow, putting my oldest and my youngest children 29 years and a day apart - stretching out my parenting for a very long span of time.

Pretty soon all my grandchildren except Saray's three wll live somewhere on our dirt road, yesterday though she'd dropped a hint that when she finishes her studies at Georgia State, they'll be returning as well. I sure hope so as her oldest daughter is in kindergarten in a county with a shoddy reputation, they'd even lost their SACS accreditation which is a squalorous predicament, not a real word but descriptive nonetheless.

Falling asleep thinking about Ellen's carrot cake, her daughter and her husband and his large family, I remembered Adele too had blogged this. (Mom, click the green line here and you can read all of Adele's blog - an aside as I teach my 77 year old mother the rudiments of keeping up while 600 miles away)

One Thanksgiving around the time Ellen had died, Grandma and Grandpa were up in Virginia. Yolie, then around 16 years old, took it upon herself to cook the turkey since I'm meat-challenged. Both my brothers were coming to my house so I'd prepared them Heavenly Hash, something Grandma always fixed on holidays. I knew my brothers were reeling from the loss of Ellen, yet both spoke up at dinner that day, "We never liked this s%it anyway," causing the first laugh we'd experienced together since Ellen had begun her second battle with cancer.

Now I can't fix that bowl without grinning at the thought of Gary's poor choice of words. However my younger children absolutely love it and the tradition of having it every year only at holidays. It is a glutenous mess of mini-marshmallows, maraschino cherries, crushed pineapples and cream cheese, but it makes my little kids very happy.

Audrey is joining us for Thanksgiving, now a supervisor over foster care in the next county, you'd think we'd be the last family to hang with, but I gotta think our normal suits her. She's been Yolie's best friend for years, a best friend outside the family is hard to come by for my kids, trusting someone else...there's a challenge, but Audrey immediately rose to the occasion the minute the two of them met in college. Audrey'd then worked in the same emergency shelter that eventually gave my my darling daughter, Carolina. (Another aside - yes Robin L. I will ask her what you'd asked me to check on.)

Today after my five hour marathon on the highway getting Fabian and another guy who gets to come back home for Thanksgiving, I'll make spinach quiche and a huge spinach lasagna with whole wheat pasta to serve tomorrow.

The kids are home today, I'll load up a dozen kids to ride with me, Carolina and Miriam will babysit the others, and then I hope to not leave my property again until church on Sunday.

A by-the-way in that daily I hear from folks out there introducing themselves, readers with big families, a lady in Arkansas yesterday with 15 kids, telling me this is where they see their normal verbally splashed about, resembling their families and issues so peculiar in the adoption world. I seem to have a different readership at adoption.com, but no less versed in these challenges.

Moving In Day

My son-in-law, Big Jose, is having to return to El Salvador for the forseeable future in order to get his residency papers for here. He's tried for 15 years, hired immigration attorneys and jumped through ten thousand flaming hoops. We've called a congressman who's trying to help, but in the meantime Carolina and her five kids will live with us until Jose returns. He leaves in two weeks. they moved in this afternoon, but heck they only lived a mile away for the last seven years.

Fortunately Miss Cissy's crew renovated our upstairs, 5 large bedrooms, a huge bathroom with a long wide hall. Carolina's family has plenty of room and a door that shuts giving them privacy, nearly a separate apartment so this will all work out fine if they can stand the racket we make.

God didn't give me this big ole house so I could hog it to myself.

Fortunately all five kids have spent all their lives hanging out over here, it's not unfamiliar, but having their daddy gone will be tough. I'm going to love having five grandbabies here, Sabrina is thrilled as Baby Yolie is her best friend, Blanca and Paloma are close and in the same fourth grade class, Jack and Mauri too are happy. The huge downer though is losing Big Jose.

Chris gave us eight turkeys, not the four I'd thought, so we're way covered for Thanksgiving. I'm already cooking but gotta drive a couple hours each way tomorrow and get Fabian. Chris also sent two laundry baskets of food and Miss Kimberly came by with groceries as well.

Notice I haven't mentioned my weight in awhile, I'm the heaviest I've been in a couple of years, up to 126 from that miserably scrawny nerves-shot-to-H-E-double hockey sticks 109. I feel healthy and am getting my joy back everyday. Kinda hard to smother so much goofiness.

Lily got a blue cast on her arm and Sarah blogged again. She's cooking several dishes and Yolie dug out all Grandma's recipes, picking out her favorites, noticing that the Carrot Cake was in Ellen's handwriting. That got to her.

An Orthopedic Day

Such a beautiful afternoon yesterday, all week we're having tropically warm temperatures which medicinally serves to soothe my soul.

My kids had made a tire swing and a rope swing out front and yesterday Lily lost her balance, jockeying carefully with Paloma but not as strong, breaking her arm in the process. It's the third or fourth time for Lily, once tripping over a book bag, another time stumbling when getting off the school bus.

Paloma had slipped Lily's first cast slap off her arm as they played in the family room one evening, provoking screams from the other kids in astonishment, and thereby forcing the doctor to extend her new cast over and around the elbow for stability. Alex also broke her arm three times at school during her elementary years. Edgar broke Fabian's leg in a game of soccer five years ago.

Knowing I'm medically challenged - an unnecessary weakness in a large family - the darling nurses at the urgent care facility whisked Lily through into X-Ray, being loving and kind to her.

CW and Jack were with me and the nurses who've seen my entire family over the years remarked that my children were always so well-behaved. I don't hear that a lot. They both told me how many kids come through there as little terrorists, unmanageable by the parents and that they look forward to my kids. Not that they want to see accidents at our house but if we gotta go somewhere, they're always happy to help us. Made me feel good, CW was beaming.

Miss Lisa's daughter-in-law had entered our family in a contest. I didn't get the entire story as I was with Lily when she came by, telling Sarah about it and giving us the winning Visa check card. I was stunned. $200 dollars to use towards Christmas, a super blessing.

Now I'm waiting for the orthopedic office to call me to get Lily's arm in a cast, gotta get the rest of the Thanksgiving fixings to cook and it's so warm again, I want to finish working out front, always a balm to my frazzled nerves.

Making Cornbread

Monica and I went through a rough period in our relationship a year or so ago. Sometimes it's best to distance oneself, I'd rather be there but quiet, no recriminations, and wait for the storm to pass, much as I'm now doing with Vanessa. Why feed the flames of their fury that's directed at me but has been sparked by their past before they even knew me? It's "safe" to rage against me, as much as they fear rejection, on some level after many years of living within our family, they know I'll forgive them this episode in their growing up and breaking away into adulthood. This is stuff that adopted children go through, such a pattern, so predictable, and now my relationship with Monica is stronger than ever.

She's the one wanting to move back on our land, into the doublewide with her husband, daughter and his daughter who visits on weekends. Monica misses her family, she's been living down in the next county, isolated which is a prison sentence for a child from a large family. She worked through her "stuff" apologized to those she hurt, and life goes on. We're done with that chapter, we don't dwell on it, time to move forward.

I'm taking cornbread and a gallon jug of drink, as requested by Pre-K, for their Thanksgiving Feast today in which I'll politely move food around on my plate and act like I'm participating when, in reality, there's little of that spread that I'd actually eat. Certainly not the dead bird nor any of the other dishes that remain suspect in my mind as in, "betcha they used chicken broth in that casserole." Yucko.

Sarah bought me this book, A Heart Ablaze: Igniting A Passion for God, by John Bevere, claiming it changed her life. I've listened to his podcasts, he's incredible and finally last night I settled in to read when everyone got quiet. Yep, it's gonna make an impression on me as well.

In her 34 years of knowing me, Sarah had never seen me in a depression, heck I'd never experienced one, it took me by surprise as well. The vulnerability to it sucked, not an experience I'd want to repeat and I felt very responsible for allowing myself to sink into it like a vat of mud. I should have been feeding my faith, kicking my own butt, holding my head up and working like a dog...that usually does the trick, but apparently I slipped up. I won't do that again, it was no fun.

Beautiful weather all week, windows open, attic fans on, I worked in the front garden yesterday while the kids made a tire swing so wild and crazy that three of them vomited after spinning for so long. They called that fun. I dumped a sack of molding leaves that I'd been saving on the garlic bed and protected some nicotiana that'll bloom super early next spring.

My baby brother, nearly 50 now, is coming this week and my other brother called this morning, putting his trip off until after Christmas, giving me two things to look forward to.

This REALLY puts a smile on my face.

Gotta go cook the cornbread in my big cast-iron skillet...

Pictured here are Monica's in-laws, great people, holding Monica and Dewayne's children.

Fried Birds

With Grandma out of town, Sarah is taking over as our Thanksgiving Director. Assigning jobs and doing most of the work herself, plus blogging yesterday and tending to two small children and her husband, I'm fairly sure the nut didn't fall far from the tree as I may have scrambled the cliche beyond recognition. Sarah will straighten me out.

Chris, Lisa A's husband, provides four turkeys for us each year, his company has been doing so now for quite some time. I may be a vegetarian but I do not force this choice upon my children. This year it appears that Sarah's darling husband, Preston, is going to fry them all.

My very El Salvadoran son-in-law, Big Jose, absolutely adores this Pilgrim holiday beyond explanation. He looks forward to it for months, mentioning it often, and this year it has a bittersweet significance that I'll disclose at another time.

I spend so much time outside in the summer in my gardens, that coming into a darkened house soothes my eyes that have squinted for so long, resulting in more than my share of eye wrinkles. In the fall and winter I notice that I amp up the wattage of light bulbs, flipping on too many lights as if attempting to replace the sun that has retreated, fighting against Seasonal Affective Disorder. It seems unnatural to spend so much time indoors. This horrendous drought bears down on my spirit as well.

A new reader from Kentucky, Lori, commented that she'd found my blog while I'm slogging through the tail end of this unusual blue period. I'm embarrassed to have been caught like that, what kind of a role model am I presenting for the kids? Shake it off Big Mama, move on.

I've earned these crow's feet - 34 years of gardening - my friend, Dottie, a horticulture major, helped me plant my first garden when I was pregnant with Sarah. Who knew then what an affect that fresh organic foods would have on her? Full circle now, we both feed folks the most nutritious way possible, and neither of us will touch the dead fried bird on Thursday. I'm holding Sarah's baby, Hazel Bay, who will likely grow up disdaining bird-eating as well.

Our Super Qualified Art Teacher

I often remark, brag actually, about our local school system. I know how much we're blessed to be in this county, and I never want to take it for granted.

Lily is an artist, she draws constantly, paints and creates things. I am not an artist, even my gardens reflect this. I have no sense of design, scale or juxtaposition. I just wanna eat. I admire gardens that I see and read about, but their positioning escapes me. I say all this to explain how challenging it is for me to make certain Lily has enough art opportunities.

Her art teacher at the elementary school has a PhD. This impresses the tar outta me. She's warm and loving, and Lily admires her greatly, all my kids do since she puts up with them, overlooking their idiosyncrasies that sometimes get in their war of learning. Like Ms. Carr, Dr. P's influence over my children is phenomenal.

Lily has been in Art Club every year, this year is her last since she'll go to middle school next year. Lily has been with me since birth and doesn't struggle with the loss and rejection issues like many of my other children, but leaving Dr. P's influence will be tough. There's an Art Garden at their school, imaginative and beautiful, art adorns the school walls, and Dr. P collaborates with the also incredible music teacher on three musical productions a year.

We really do have a premier school system that has blessed my children with knowledge and understanding, with massive support and it has fostered their emotional growth and academics at the same time. It is absolutely stellar and I hope to never lose sight of that fact.

Our middle school is equally wonderful, I retired from there and am very aware of its strengths. The high school also excels.

Our parks department hosted Middle School Madness last night where I allowed Javy, Martin, Sabrina, CW, Allen, Chuy, Mayra, and Baby Yolie to go and let off steam. Games and inflatables, highly supervised...honestly I don't know how folks raise kids in large cities where the temptations and dangers seem too prevalent to me, maybe it's my small town naivete, but it just seems so much easier here.

Mayra's friend spent the night as did Baby Yolie for Mayra's 14th birthday, Chuy's turning 12, Alex 18, next week Big Jose will be 34, Sarah hits 34, and Tabby turns 5.

Both Jonathan and JoJo had rages yesterday for zero reason. Jonathan started tearing up his bedroom door, there's no reasoning with a kid who is blind with anger. Tabby had a toy that he wanted, heck it was Tabby's toy. I was angry after Miss Cissy had worked so hard at our house but then I remembered that alone was a trigger for my emotionally unstable children. An adverse reaction when nice things happen that stirs up their inner feelings of worthlessness. If their birth mother seemingly rejected them, the primal scar is again ripped off, and anger explodes...this cycle we are trying to break.

There's no stopping these rages without me being hurt. JoJo kicked my leg where I'm already hurt from when I'd slammed my shin into a cart, an egg - an ugly bruised raised egg popped up immediately. For weeks it's painfully been there but I'm still running around so I know the bone is not broken. It'll take longer to heal after JoJo hurt me worse last night.

All I could think was eight more years and it'll be over. Eight more years to teach him how to behave normally or he'll end up in jail. My prayer is for some very strong emotional growth for him.

Eight more years though and I'll be free of the anger that is so often vented from him. I feel as if I'm serving time.

Flinching For Nothing

With Thanksgiving sneaking up on us plus several birthdays, I find myself behind again.

Fabian has earned a trip home from OTP for the holidays so I need to factor in the time and ability to drive several hours each way to pick him up Wednesday when the kids are home from school and I need to be cooking for Thanksgiving. Grandma and Grandpa are still in Florida, I'm hoping they get their stuff done and get home.

Some grades and school attitudes are slipping around here. I know that several of my children will not be scholars but with a little effort, we'd see improvement. However I'm not getting any attempts at any effort and that bothers me, I believe it is indicative of what kind of future one will have. Not just the level of education but at least the ability to work towards a goal. I'd be happy with C's in some of my kids.

If I could invent one vaccine it'd be one that stops impulsive behavior that costs everyone in the long run. Life is difficult at best and one needs to try very hard to do right, to make correct decisions and to manage one's behavior in order to succeed at all. Balking at mama, the one who represents authority, is not a good start.

A teacher had stopped me in the school hallway yesterday and I inwardly cringed, waiting for the blow, the words that'd tell me what all my son had done incorrectly that day. Honey, I know, I live with him, I spend all my time redirecting recalcitrant behavior, the oppositional spirit is constant, I'm aware and working on it.

Where'd my positive attitude go?

She grinned at me and told me how well this son of mine was acting this week. I'd braced myself for a torrent of negativity that didn't come. I'd flinched for nothing, nearly ducked down another hall in avoidance when I should have been expecting better news. He's done well at home lately also.

Dr. Mandy is working hard with my children, reinforcing their strengths, and delving into their issues. We're blessed to have her dedication and intuition to say nothing of the vast knowledge she brings to the table.

Can't See the New Carpet Under The Kids

I still can’t get over our recent blessings. That was exactly Miss Cissy’s words to me a month ago, “Darling, we just want to bless you.”

And being the hard-headed, overly independent, I can do everything my own self fool that I can be, it was hard at times to let go of control, to simply sit back and receive, yet I’m also the same person who rails against our family’s own perceived injustice and undue criticism...certainly not an uncomplicated mama.

So get a grip girl. Allow the blessings; deal with our family’s other stuff on the side.

A whirlwind of phone calls last night, not bloggable, let’s get some prayers out there going up to God.

Someone had emailed me their admiration for my discipline at getting up so early each morning. Well thanks, honey, but it isn’t discipline, not even a choice, but it is a side product of being an old bat that can’t sleep anymore so why just lay there? My motor churning, I just get up and start my day way before any alarm clock clangs.

Our internet was down this morning, I’m drinking coffee at 5 and wondering what to do. Duh girl, read a book, blog in Word and post it later.

Jack’s class is having their second grade parent breakfast this morning plus Alexander is staying with me while Deysi does a side job. That limits where I can go today.

I have my new room in the garage to clean up and work on, thoughts to mull through in my head, some plans and some dreams, more than enough to keep me busy but thankfully, due to some prayers that I greatly appreciate, I’m back on top, having slowly pulled myself out of this unaccustomed blue funk I’ve been in for too long.

The issues have not been resolved but I feel better able to face them and plow on through.

God didn’t call me to these challenges without equipping me to face them, I need to dig down deep inside of myself and remember the source of my strength. Duh.

Later...got to eat breakfast with my friend Robin, now I'm at Sarah's house who surely must soon blog about her newest recipe that I just chowed down on - blonde brownies with cranberries and dark chocolate. Probably the best I ever ate in my life.

Sarah blogged also.

Podcasts

I drove a hundred miles each way to meet with Jose's treatment team at the psychiatric hospital. I really like the psychiatrist and his therapist, I liked everyone there. No one had an agenda, there was no head butting nor jockeying for position, a dozen folks plus me all on the same page with the same goal. Jose was pleasant and fun to be with, realizing aloud how much help he needs and able to articulate this fact. That's already huge progress.

I'd plugged in my Ipod for the trip, listening to podcasts from Zig Ziglar, John and Lisa Bevere, John Maxwell, Joel Osteen and Dave Ramsey. So much information out there, so little time to learn, yet at age 53 feeling I've hardly scratched any surfaces on what all I crave internally.

Dave Ramsey telling folks to, "Act their wage," provoked a big old amen from me. This is why I don't have name brand clothes, fine furniture or new model cars. Fortunately I have zero desire for anything, easy for me to live beneath my means.

Joel Osteen was encouraging folks who believe they've been called and anointed by God to do certain things to forge ahead in the face of their critics. Don't let that stop them. I needed to hear that, I always need encouragement and motivation...the negativity of the world weighs me down at times.

I came home and jumped back into my pjs. The kids get nervous and edgy if I'm not home where they think I belong 24-7. I'd mentioned in passing that I was going to see Jose, but never said what day or time. When they walked in the door after school for reading time at 3, I was here waiting like I'm supposed to do for them.

All is calm here. Like a fly on the wall, I'm enjoying reading about Claudia and Bart's new kids. That spurs me on to work harder with AAN.

My house renovations are fabulous, no other word for it. I'm stunned by Miss Cissy's generosity and the incredibly generous folks that work for her. More than stunned, mightily blessed, my kids even more so, this helps them understand that the world is inherently a good place, there are wonderful people who care - in very stark contrast to their early childhood years in foster care and before.

Spitting

Sarah blogged again and the bird part cracked me up - dadgum I busted out laughing and accidently spit my yogurt on the screen. Way to model good manners for the kids.

Looking Up

Miss Cissy's work crew is here again, telling me that I'm allowing them to store treasures in Heaven for them by them working for my children. My pride, so often in the way, my fear that folks will say, "Why'd you have so many children if you need help?"

I've deferred so much maintenance here, leaky pipes, a bathroom that's been untouched for 30 years, now completely redone, both dishwashers down are now up and running again. I'd been hand washing all the dishes for a month or so, I didn't want the kids to waste water so I've been doing them carefully my own self.

We have a new backdoor that shuts properly and all the outside doors now lock, new ceiling fans and light fixtures...the wear and tear on a house with this much traffic is pretty impressive.

Most importantly is the amount of prayer poured out upon us, my frightening and surprising bout with depression has dissipated, I'm energized, and ready to face the many challenges that I've not blogged about since we're butt deep in several of them at the moment.

I feel like I'd emotionally lost my way there for a spell, so many bad choices made by my kids, some terribly serious - life-threatening even, and it's been a dark hole lately.

Big Joe ruptured a disk in his neck, a great deal of pain last week, is slowly mending but has lost a week of work. Chuck's turning 28 today, Lily has Art Club and Scotty has Science Club.

We just received a ton of shoes and clothes, it's a warm, beautiful day outside and life is looking up in a very big way. Miss Montana is painting rooms upstairs, we have a new bannister that came down years ago, walls are patched, and electrical problems are repaired. I'm so very blessed by these folks who've taken days off from their careers.

Vision and Provision

My house is about to tip over with the number of family and friends that's been through here lately. After church Carolina and Jose threw a big party for Mauri's 8th birthday but the really big event landed here today.

A couple I hadn't seen in years, they'd recently left the mission field in Africa at gunpoint, arrived here with Miss Cissy and a dozen others. My front yard was filled with trucks and a large work crew. They built me a room in my garage, gutted a bathroom, put in new ceiling fans and lights, painted...all in one day. Tomorrow will be equally as wondrous.

The couple, Wayne and Terry, back from Africa, a little disillusioned, still following after God, awaiting his plans for their life told me something I'm taking to heart. They'd been told that God doesn't necessarily provide vision and provision; He uses others to supply that aspect of a vision. They have to work for their financial support and have had to examine their own pride...as do I on a regular basis.

Fiercely independent, yet there's no way i could have done, on my own, what Miss Cissy provided for us today. She'd provided supper, so weird for me to not start dinner mid afternoon, and none of my kids acted out at all.

How To Help A Large Adoptive Family

When asked to call folks if I ever need help, I usually smile and respond with gratitude, but rarely if ever do I call anyone to ask for anything, outside of prayer requests. It's not a pride issue on my part, its simply that unless I am cloned, no one can help, all the kids want is mom. I can't call someone and ask them to come over and hug the kids, read to them, or spend time with them. They only want Mom. Period. The same mom they constantly figuratively push away while simultaneously clinging.

However Miss Cissy figured out something that had never occurred to us, she had a dumpster delivered here on Friday, and we have been absolutely and joyfully enthralled. The kids helped me clean all day yesterday, even jokingly asking for a dumpster for Christmas. I gave up on telling them to quit climbing in it, "Mama, we're dumpster divers, you taught us that."

A mother on the U14 soccer team also came by to take Mayra, Javy and Martin to a party in the late afternoon. That truly helped me. She wanted to go to the party, I sure didn't, plus with Grandma and Pa gone I'd have had to take a van load of other children there and make sure they behaved. Kids who were glad to have a Saturday at home and would have resented leaving.

A true choleric, if I'd have been forced to attend the party, I'd have been bored, chomping at the bit, wishing I were home working, trying to make polite talk when my hands would have been dancing at my sides, wishing they were digging in the dirt.

I'm a trueblood workhouse, the feeling of accomplishment spurs me on, there's always something I'm behind on, projects to do, repairs to be made, mulch to put down, tomato cages to be put away...my mind churns constantly allowing me to be an introvert, a preferred pastime. Believe it or not, although I live with a couple dozen folks, solitude it my ideal. I love being alone with my thoughts and my chores, because to me work is not a chore, but a lifestyle.

If I'd have gone to the party, I wouldn't have eaten the hamburgers and hotdogs, nor drunk the sodas. Yuck. Preferring water and the hummus I ate for lunch, I don't care if I go against the grain, it's what soothes my soul and strengthens me for the daily demands of my family.

Edgar came by and took Miriam, JoJo and Allen out for the day, a trip to the Atlanta Zoo, spending time like any other parentified sibling, reminding me of a non-custodial parent, helping out, very much blessing the kids with his time and attention. He means the world to them.

I'd bought several boxes of vegetable bouillon that every single one of my kids will sit and sip like coffee drinkers, Allen making me cringe though as he described its taste as just like, "Ramen noodles." This is our winter choice of drink, another tradition we have chosen that soothes my children.

So, still in my pjs all day, never leaving the farm, by the time I finally took a late hot shower, exhausted but pleased with our efforts, excited about next week's renovations and this week's cleaning jag prompted by our dumpster gift, I realize that this is how I do it, in response to all the usual comments I hear from caring folks.

"Cindy, I just don't know how you do it," shaking their heads in consternation, glad they're not me.

This is how I do it, driven and determined, anti-social almost, preferring to be home with my family, checking off my internal to-do list, planning next year's gardens in my head, always pondering our life and working to better it.

We ate the last lone watermelon last night, that's it folks, dreaming of next year's produce and praying for a great deal of rain as the entire state is badly reeling from its lack.

I'm glad the kids will be at school next week when the dumpster deserts us, this has been a true treat that never occurred to us.

Sarah's Cooking

Sarah blogged again.

Middle School Attitudes

The dumpster, in my driveway, awaiting our home renovations is proving to be an irresistible draw to the kids, as exciting as if someone had rained chocolate down on the dinner table.

I didn't go to yard sales today, feeling overwhelmed by all the stuff we own, why buy more? Why spend money?

Happy to see Dave Ramsey featured in the AJC this morning although I felt like it had a condescending, negative tone. Maybe the reporter is drowning in debt and took his frustration out on ones who aren't? I'm so thankful that I'm not tempted in this area, that consumerism repels me, makes it way easier for me certainly.

JoJo came unglued last night, it's been boiling and seething within him for a few weeks, bothered by Edgar moving out, Vanessa too has frustrated him, and he blew sky-high on Mayra over nothing, taking me down with him. "F%^K*#$ old b*$%H!"

OLD? Fifty is the new 40, son.

This in the middle of supper while I'm standing at the skillet browning tortillas for those who preferred them over tacos. Sabrina took over while Mayra, Martin and I talked JoJo down from the ledge.

An hour later, forgetting I'm a b%$#h, clinging to me, wiping snot on my shirt and asking for a plate of burritos. Such is my life.

The middle school assistant principal had already called me about some rude bus behavior from most of my kids plus another incident. I'd met them coming home from school in the driveway and we'd had a "talk" so, of course, Javy was mad at me for having his behavior corrected and I can't say for sure, although he was the only one in the vicinity of my cell phone and the kitchen trash can where I found it late last night.

I'd searched everywhere, finally calling it, hearing a muffled ring, I dug it out of its prison, anger rising in me at the constant assault on my senses. I'd already put everyone to bed so I simmered in silence, clicking channels, trying to find relief from the constant pounding that my nerves absorb.

It may cost a little more, but Publix has reasonably priced organic milk and I'm making an effort to filter the pesticides and crap that goes into my children. I drink soy milk, so do a few of the kids, preferring it over animal products, and my Light Plain doesn't come organically for some dumb reason so I switched to regular just to get the better version.

A lady in front of me was buying an individually wrapped baking potato. I stared in disbelief, not even knowing they existed. Individually wrapped? Oh my goodness, why not buy a five pound bag? I've seen three pound bags as I've hunted and prayed for 20 pound sacks.

Some Source of Proven Strength

It's amazing how little one needs in order to be happy. A spading fork, a Bible, canning jars, and a canner would be essential, the rest seems to be overload for me, weighs me down needlessly. I love the internet as there's so much to read without feeling as if I need to save the articles.

Miss Cissy had a dumpster delivered to my house this morning in anticipation of next week's work project that she and Miss Montana are so generously donating to our family. I'm wanting to toss out everything, to just skid through my house in socks and not have to pick everything up everyday; I'd rather just water the plants - imagine how many more I could grow without all these sofas in the way?

I haven't changed my clothes in three days - why do I even need two pairs of pjs? I pumped gas at my favorite country store in pjs and houseshoes yesterday. Who cares what I look like? That's an added benefit of being 53 - an invisible middle-aged mama. My Miriam works so hard at appearing cute everyday. Dadgum she's already a beautiful woman who does not need all the trappings of make-up, trendy outfits, and a hair straightener.

While we are readying the doublewide for Dewayne and Monica, Miss Cissy's crew will be concentrating on the upstairs over our garage and redoing a downstairs bathroom. I have not blogged yet why we immediately and dearly need an upstairs redo, it does not involve a new adoption, rather it is an INS thing that has broken our hearts. I've called a congressman (thank you Judy G for the idea) and they're supposedly helping us.

For years I've stashed away extra clothes and supplies for potential new kids, that's behind me now, and the elimination, the decluttering is thrilling me. I'm in love with being 53, without caring about the stupid stuff, the unnecessary possessions, that weighs one down in one's earlier years.

Miss Kim, at DJJ, and I had a long talk yesterday. Just as my life seems unbearable and incomprehensible to others, so too do I view her job as nonstop negativity, yet she told me a wonderful success story that keeps her going. I hope someday to add Fabian to her list of positives. He's being released in December to return to us from his OTP experience. he has made some improvements, they feel they've done all they can do, yet it is with huge reservations that he's returning home. I have a Plan B in the works.

I'm on Plan C for another semi-adult child and Plan K for yet another.

Right now I'm typing in solitude, utter silence except for the clicking of the keys as I pound the keyboard with zero typing skills. I never took typing in school, my mother didn't want me to grow up to be a secretary, so I type like a second grader but fast. I have to look at the keyboard and peck.

Speaking of Judy G...last night at supper in response to the question I usually forget to pose, "What did y'all do nice today for someone outside our family?" CW claims he hugs Mrs Judy G at school each day. I took Chuy's computer privilege away for disrespecting Miss Ellen J at school, CW had ratted him out, and we again had a talk about Martin and Javy's continuous yammering on the bus and aggravating the driver.

Javy, Tabby, CW, and Chuy all ate two heaping plates of tuna and whole wheat pasta - I mix it with mayonnaise and an entire bottle of spicy mustard. Martin asked me this morning to cook pinto beans, heck we've gone a whole week with pintos, someone call the food police. No joke though, if I mention I'm cooking them, Yolie will be over in a flash. A nursing mom, she'll eat supper here with us and later with Chuck, still losing weight. Sarah too, already at pre-baby weight, an added benefit of breast feeding.

These dinner time behavior discussions are so much better than this time last year when we had fights and rages around here, a busted in half kitchen table and broken chairs. Joey's been gone almost a year, his younger birth brother wanted to celebrate. No son, not a good idea. I think we need to continue praying for Joey.

And check out this atheist. Very interesting story. It's long and I read it late last night before bed, thinking how glad I am to have had this spiritual strength for most of my life. I simply can't imagine facing life without God, without some source of proven strength.

It's a Hope Issue

Paloma made this pillow for me last night, her way of showing love since she never speaks it aloud to me. That's OK, I'll work within the constraints and needs that she has, I'm grateful for the demonstration this evening.

Waking up before four in the morning, I figure it's because God wants me to pray for someone which I did, for several people as they came to my mind, but I couldn't go back to sleep as my mind starts racing before I even touch coffee. I can't blame my two roosters since the windows were shut.

I came downstairs to drink coffee, read my Bible and think. I'm thinking my down mood lately has squirmed out of a dark hole of hopelessness. Why try so hard with such damaged children if they're going to just end up in jail or on the streets? Why compromise my health and my own sanity, why spend every penny I have, make so many sacrifices, endure hardship, criticism and slams for nothing? Why bother?

I read about this crusader and am linking it before I learn if he has lost his hope.

I'm so angry at the system here regarding Danielle's potential move. Very angry. She is so loved and the system is going to punish her for that? I'm so deeply angry on her behalf and for all the children who are treated this way constantly.

These are the children who are moved countless times, jerked around for nothing and the very fortunate few who end up being adopted will still rage for those who once loved them...or never loved them. These are the children I'm parenting; this is where they cane from figuratively. Danielle needs to not be moved. Period.

Kari's struggles highlight every adoptive parent's walk through the system. Do you think there were sober birth parents?

Hal Lindsey's books spoke to me strongly 20 years ago. I should get off the sofa and go find it as I highlight stuff, but the gist of it was how many days one could go without food and water, yet how strikingly few days a person could survive without hope.

I've tried not to overly quote Scripture for fear of offending folks or driving them away from my blog but I gotta tell you...I won't read my own blog if there's no hope. I went to a concordance this morning and found 291 references without even using hopeful or hoping. I read many of these verses to build my faith which has not wavered. Only my sense of hopefulness for the future has often been threatened What comforted and strengthened me this morning came from Romans 5:

1Therefore, since we have been justified through faith, we[a]have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ, 2through whom we have gained access by faith into this grace in which we now stand. And we[b] rejoice in the hope of the glory of God. 3Not only so, but we[c] also rejoice in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance; 4perseverance, character; and character, hope. 5And hope does not disappoint us, because God has poured out his love into our hearts by the Holy Spirit, whom he has given us.

So even though Jonathan had a meltdown in school and I had to go pick him up and later JoJo was hateful, and Scotty and Tony raged-over-nothing which should become one word in my lexicon...I'm not going to lose hope. If I do, I'll just rebuild it each day, praying for strength and wisdom, and remembering I'd do all this just to have the grandchildren - a generation removed from foster care - to remind me that life is good.

Ray and Hazel remind me that Sarah blogged again yesterday.

There's an old picture on my living room wall, when I only had 11 children in the early 90s, and all of the top row has now either completed college or will do so this year...eight out of that original 11, and that keeps me going. I'm holding Daniel here when he was seven years old. In this picture, he's the youngest, now he's 22.

I had my original very dark hair and an unlined face, I was 38 and hopeful, life got really, really hard, then we spent many years in relative calm. Life is full of mountains and valleys. Duh, Cindy, that's where one builds character, hope and perseverance. Maybe I should find a Bible version directed at hardheads like me, slow learners who need to step back and comprehend what's really going on? See why I pray constantly for wisdom? Lord knows I need it.