In The Sweet By And By.....

We shall meet on that beautiful shore.....

Mary Anna Hines Russell

My 98 year old grandmother finally made it to the sweet by and by called heaven on Monday.  She has longed to be there for quite some time.  When you out live most of those you love Heaven certainly becomes a sweeter place.  She gave us her funeral plans in 1984.  The hymn "Sweet By and By" was one of her request, as was "The Home Over There".  As evidence by the titles of the songs, she spent alot of time thinking about Heaven.....where there are no more sad goodbyes.

This is another time when words simply fail us.  I could never begin to explain what a remarkable woman that she was.  She was the perfect grandmother as well.  Her gentle spirit and her servant heart made everyone feel special.

She was a beautiful lady.  Her dark hair, olive complexion and smiling eyes were something to behold.  Upon seeing her for the first time, her future mother-in-law said, "Now that is the prettiest girl I have ever seen."

My heart is full of happy memories of childhood days and nights spent at her house.  While the passing of those days bring sadness, it is impossible not to be happy that she is finally at home with all those she loved so much.  Her parents, her husband, her eight siblings and her daughter are there.  She's been waiting to be reunited with her mother since she was nine years old.  She is there now singing in her beautiful alto voice, smiling with her eyes in a way that only she could, and worshipping at the feet of her Savior.  Now heaven is sweeter for me too.

In 1997 we each wrote letters to her at Christmas.  We will attempt to read them at her funeral tomorrow as a way to hopefully convey how special she was to each of us.  Below are the words that I wrote about her.

Little bottled Cokes were always a treat at her house.

Dear Grandma,

Why are you special to me? 

Perhaps it is the way you've always made me feel so special.

Maybe it is the way you taught me to make paper dolls by cutting them from magazines. .  You'd sit with me at the kitchen table and play with them too.  Simple things.

Maybe it is the way you let me totally destroy your kitchen while helping you cook without ever saying a single word about the mess.  Simple things.

Or perhaps it was the playhouse that you created for me between the trees in the backyard.  Nothing fancy.  Just a few old things and a lot of imagination.  And you didn't ever send me out there to play by myself.  You always played with me.  Simple things.

Maybe it is the goodies always in your kitchen:  sugar cookies, ice cream and soda crackers, and icy cokes from the freezer.  Simple things.

Maybe it is the Christmas' spent at your house.  David and I could hardly wait to get here on Christmas morning.  It is not because we anticipate extravagant gifts, but because we love the fire in the fireplace and the birthday cake for Jesus. My favorite thing is finding each person’s stocking hung throughout the house.  Every year my Dad's stocking has been empty with a note from Santa:

“Dear Ronny,  You've been a bad boy this year. Your stocking is empty.  Love Santa.”  

That always evoked such laughter in us as children.  Simple things.

Maybe it was the way you let me play the piano.  No one else in the house seemed to be pleased by my attempts, but you always made me think it was beautiful.  I loved sitting by the piano and hearing you play.  You taught me how to play the low notes on the chorus of the hymn “Send the Light” and I still love hearing you play and sing the hymns that are so special to you.  Simple things.

Maybe it was the bedtime stories that you would tell us when we spent the night with you.  They were designed to help us fall asleep, but they always put you to sleep instead.  I guess you wore yourself out playing so hard with us.  Simple things.

Maybe it was all the letters that you were so faithful to send me while I was away in college.  Just a simple note to let me know that you and Papa were praying for me every morning.  Sometimes you’d send a little money and tell me it wasn't much but you hoped I could by myself a coke or put some gas in my car.  Simple things.

It is all these simple things that have made you so special to me.  I hope now as a young mother myself, I can remember that it is not extravagant gifts or lavish luxuries that make children feel special.  It is the simple gift of time, love and attention.  As children when we were at your house nothing else mattered.  We had your undivided attention.  After dinner you'd always say, “Leave the mess, I'll get it later.  Let's spend time together.”

Thank you Grandma for all the simple things you've done over the years to make me feel extraordinarily special!  That is why you are special to me!

Merry Christmas  1997
Jennifer

Trey and Grandma shared the same birthday.  

The kids and I visiting Grandma in April 2010.
  Even when she no longer recognized us,
children always brought a smile to her face.

Enjoy yourself in the sweet by and by grandma,  I shall meet you again on that beautiful shore.

Marvelous in our eyes.....

Yes, there are days when I want to throw my hands up and say, "Lord, I can't do it all."  Yes, there are days when my patience is too short and my tongue is too sharp.  Yes, I go to bed exhausted and leave behind a million things undone.  Yes, I often say no to friends, and activities, and more because being a mother of 5 just doesn't leave time.  Yes, my budget is ultra tight, I wish there were more vacations and more to spend....

BUT..... even with all that said, I realize how incredibly fortunate I feel to be exactly where I am right now.  Crazy busy, crazy tired, crazy broke, crazy in love.

Yes indeed,
"This is the Lord's doing and it is marvelous in our eyes."  Psalm 118:23

Photos - Done

I have wanted for quite a while to attempt to take some good photos of the kids.  We need some updated ones and I just couldn't afford a professional.  So, without too much whining and complaining, we had a short photo session in my mother-in-laws backyard after church today.  I still have some editing to do, but I'm quite proud of my amateur results!  Saved a heap of $$$$ too.

I have some more serious posts swirling around in my head and my heart.  Lots of thinking and praying going on in our house.   I'll share all that with ya'll later, but for now, endulge me and enjoy my precious kids..... growing up much too fast.

.

Uncomfortable

I'm pasting today from another blog today.  I don't have permission from the author, but I've seen this wonderful piece of writing posted several other places so I hope it is okay.   It really moved me. My life isn't quite the comfortable life I had envisioned for myself, but I'm choosing to be uncomfortable because of the things I have seen and can't forget.....

Choosing to be Uncomfortable

March 16, 2011 | Author Amy Dinello

I realize something lately. I have been getting way too comfortable. See, it’s been almost 3 years since we adopted Hope, and over a year and a half since we brought home Sam, and things are settling down (relatively speaking).

When first home from China, the thought of your child having lived in an orphanage, having gone hungry, or having suffered, is so heavy that it sometimes it seems hard to breathe.

The enormity of it is overwhelming.

You look into the eyes of your scared and fragile child, and they are still so haunted by what has just transpired. They are scarred by what they have gone through, and most times will never form the words to tell you just how bad it was.

You are confronted with it like a smack in the face every single day.

Every single time they look at you.

The gut-wrenching fear when you leave the room.

The eating hoards of food as if there will never be more.

Or in Sam’s case…the not being able to eat since you were never given the chance and you just don’t know how to swallow.

The scared, distant look, or silent cries with puddles of tears that go on for weeks, months, sometimes longer.

It is easy after you have a year or more under your belt to see your now 33-pound toddler–laughing, playing, and loving…

to forget.

It is easy when your now 5 year old gets a glowing report from preschool at how “advanced” she is and how she is a leader amongst her friends and doing so well that she is sure she will excel next year in Kindergarten…

to forget.

To forget that your toddler was skin and bones and couldn’t walk, talk, or eat. That he was hosed off in dirty water and slept in a snowsuit because of the cold–and no heat at his orphanage. To forget that most pictures sent to you he had blue lips, despite their best efforts to keep him warm.

To forget that your daughter was once so petrified when she was handed to you that she actually caused other parents to cry at the pain she felt at being separated from all she has ever known. To forget that she had to be pried away from her caregivers at the orphanage–and that she screamed until she passed out. That she came home hyper to the point of where she couldn’t sit still for more than 3 seconds at a time.

It is easy to get comfortable. It IS easier to push all that unpleasantness far away in your brain and live in the now, relish in how they are doing now, forget what they went through. It is easy and comfortable to do that.

But it is so important NOT to do that.

You see, when you “forget” or “move on,” you forget that there are millions of kids out there–millions of Hopes and Sams. You are ignoring the fact that just because your kid is okay now, that many others are continuing on in that existence who we try and push to the far recesses of our brain.

So I will choose to forever be uncomfortable.

When my babies are sick, and I am holding back their hair while they are vomiting, and nursing them with ginger ale and crackers, and running them a hot bath, cuddling them into clean, cozy jammies…

see the baby in the back?

I will remember the baby I saw in pictures from Sam’s orphanage–face burning with fever, tied to his/her crib in an upright position, probably sick with a cough of some sort. I will look at that picture and the sadness in that baby’s eyes…

and I will feel uncomfortable.

While we are out to eat as a family, ordering appetizers, meals for each kid, and dessert–and most food doesn’t get finished…

I will think of the children who hoard their food, saving for the next pang of hunger to strike. Or think of the babies with prominent ribs, malnourished and waiting for any morsel…

and I will feel uncomfortable.

When we have a birthday party, inviting friends, family, spending money on cake, food, decorations, and most likely a blow-up thing of some sort….

I will think of the children who never have their birthday marked with any special recognition. I will think of the fact that two of my children had birthday’s “assigned” to them since there is no real record of their birth. I will think of the pain of that day for their birth parents…

and I will feel uncomfortable.

When my 6 kids are digging for sandcastles on the beach, frolicking in the waves, and screaming with joy as they do on vacation, getting ready for their 5th night of ice cream…

I will remember the children who have never, ever, left the four walls of the orphanage. Never rode in a car–except when they were brought there. Maybe they will get some time to play outside once and again…but their days, nights, holidays, are all spent within the confines of those walls. Some of them aren’t babies; some are 11, 12, 13 years old and have never left their orphanage. I will remember them, and, yes,

I will feel uncomfortable.

When I snuggle in front of the fire on a bitterly cold day, I will think of them.

When I fill readily available prescriptions,

when I sign kids up for sports,

when I browse the aisles in the grocery store filling my two carts with food,

when I tuck my kids into bed, kissing their sweet smelling heads goodnight,

and when I greet their sleepy eyed, bed-headed selves in the morning…

I will think of all the beautiful children waking to no greeting, no morning kisses, cuddles, and hot breakfast…

and, yet again, I will feel uncomfortable.

When I stop those feelings, is when I am forgetting. Forgetting means orphans do not exist.

To be comfortable is to be ignorant.

And in this case, ignorance is not bliss.

Ignorance hurts children and their chances for a better life. For even one person like myself, sitting and staring at my computer screen in my slippers, can make a difference to them. If only by caring and remembering they are there.

On this very day I urge you…

FEEL UNCOMFORTABLE.

Remember them.

Do something to make a difference.

Think of them every single day.

They just might change your life. They sure did mine.

Home One Year

Today is Mia's "Gotcha Day". It is the one year anniversary of the day that we met her in China.  In some ways it seems like a lifetime ago and in other ways it seems like we just walked out of the civil affairs office yesterday.  I must admit I do not recall the events of the day very often.  It was the most emotionally gut wrenching experience I've ever been a part of.  How can so much pain and so much hope co-exist in the same moment, in the same room, in the same heart?
A year ago tonight Mia was broken.  Heartbroken, terrified, confused and angry.
Tonight as I watched her daddy wisk her off the side walk and carry her over his shoulder through the restuarant parking lot it was hard to imagine this was the same little girl we met that night.  Tonight her laughter filled the air as her daddy ran with her through the parking lot.  Quite different than the sounds that filled our small hotel room on the other side of the world a year ago.  It has been the hardest year of my life.  Mia's transition has gone as well as I could have ever hoped, but still it was difficult emotionally, mentally, physically, and spiritually.  I'm glad the year is behind us.  The intensity of the sadness we witnessed and experienced, has made the joy even more beautiful.  I'd do it all again for this daughter of mine.

 

"Weeping may stay for the night, but joy comes in the morning."  Psalms 30: 6

January 31, 2010

Xi'an, China

One of the few smiles we saw the first day.

 January 31, 2011 - Home Sweet Home and loving it !

 Happy One Year Home Mia !!!! 

** I've been trying to catch up on the blog tonight......  Check out 2 other "new posts" below.......

Chinese New Year PARTY!

We were fortunate to get to be a part of a Chinese New Year celebration on Sunday.  Some super cool adoptive families put this together so that our Chinese children could come together to celebrate their cultural heritage.  We had a great night watching the kids interact and it was nice to spend some time sharing adoption stories as well.  We are looking forward to more good times with these families in the future !!!

 

There were quite a few kids there!

 

Mia thought it was especially awesome to be hanging out with so many  "kids from all same place"! 

There was lots of playing with new friends......

Jillian fell in love with this little cutie!!!!

 In typical Lainie fashion, she had to take it all in before she felt comfortable enough to join the fun!

There was acrobatics!

 

 

And there was cuteness.... galore!

 

I think maybe the cute little fella in red had a thing for my girls.... he kept appearing in my pictures !

 

Trey and Will found a new little friend too!  This cutie liked helping Trey tie his shoes!

It was a great night spending time with friends, new and old.  I'm so glad our entire family got to participate. That seems to be a rare happening these days!

Mia is 8!

Today is Mia's 8th birthday, but in someways it is her first.  Her birthday was never celebrated in China, so we went all out.  We had a friend party, a family party, an extended family party, etc., etc., etc.  She LOVED every single minute!

 

 Mia has been blessed with the sweetest friends!!

Her cake request - "Mama, you make it.  I want it chocolate with a sprinkle peace sign."

Not the prettiest creation, but she LOVED it!