Choices, choices....

On Monday, they were notorized, clearanced and fingerprinted.

On Tuesday, they dealt with the medical community.

On Wednesday when she asked him if he could bear to knock out 40 more minutes of the ten hours of online "parent training" they must complete by July 10, he responded with, "Why is it you have two eyes in these pictures and now you only have one? Well, I chose to gouge out my eyes rather than endure another minute of THAT."

When, rather than go to the website to begin aforementioned training she opened her blog and began typing and giggling, he demanded, "Oh, you're not really going to post that are you? Nothing is safe anymore."

*snicker*

Probably had to have been there. But I needed that laugh.

Only in the 'Boro, Vet edition

So, I took Nonny the Evil into the vet today because as part of our homestudy, her shots have to be current. They aren't. And why? Because I almost never know where she is so how would I stinkin' know when to book an appointment. And I forgot to budget in the GNP of a small country.

So last night I called the vet who offered me "right now or tomorrow?" Unlike 2009 when I was given one option. After I responded with "right now would be great, but the only time I have a remote clue where she is is first thing in the morning." He said, "How about tomorrow at 8:45." That'll do. Because Nonny the Evil will probably either be crying to get out of the garage....or into it.

But 8:45 on a SATURDAY? For a last minute appointment? What am I going to have to pay for THAT? But I took it, yes I did. And what did it cost me?

$54.40.

It turns out my mother-in-law isn't insane for believing $100 would "more than pay" for her shots. As opposed to JoCo where people have pets instead of children and call children expensive.

Long story short(er): No more JoCo vet visits for me.

I think I'll take another kid, please.

Conclusion; Princess and Reproduction AKA: The Talk

We had it.
I survived.
The end.


I'm kidding, but that about sums up what was quite an anti-climactic finish to more than a years worth of fretting on my part.

(scene) Breakfast table surrounded by sons and husband.
Princess: Mama, how does the daddy gene get to the mama gene?
Mom: I'm sorry. That is not appropriate breakfast conversation. Ask me when we're alone. Daddy gets the privilege of telling the boys.
Dad: I've told you and I'm telling you again. You're telling all of them.
Mom: You really are deluded, aren't you? (promptly forgets she made a promise to daughter)

(later: daughter's bedroom, Mom Shanghaid while hanging clean laundry)

Princess: So? How?
Mom: are you going to freak out on me? Are you sure you want to know? Because once you know, you can't un-know and I'm not sure you really want to know.
Princess: yup. Do they rub their tummies together? (OK, at this point mom is wondering what daughter has seen that daughter shouldn't have seen...and where she saw it.)
Mom: Well, (insert theme music of your choice, 'cause sister, you ain't reading what I said, but here's a tip: leave out "when a man and a woman love each other very much...." stick to the fact and only the facts, mam. This part, that part, genes mix.)
Princess: (asks several questions to clarify )
Mom (finishing up): I'll tell you what Granny told me. "Someday, you'll meet someone you ARE willing to do that with and you'll get married and it won't totally freak you out."

Information that was stressed: No one is allowed to do that to you without your permission. You should definitely tell me if someone tries even if he threatens to kill me, you or anyone else. And it is not your place to tell your brothers or your friends this. Mommies tell daughters. Daddies tell sons. Don't tell your friends, even if they ask. Send them to their parents.

I told Hubs, "HA! I'm ALL DONE. And I SURVIVED!" And he said, "Well you screwed yourself on that one, 'cause you just ordered yourself up another daughter."

Yes, but now I've done it and survived so I know it can be done again.

I didn't even break a sweat.

But I DID consider bringing in the ovipositer.

Sing, Oh Barren Woman

He settles the barren woman in her home as a happy mother of children.-Psalm 113:9

Our road to parenthood wasn't the most direct, nor the most traditional. And in those years of infertility and miscarriage I couldn't understand this verse. I didn't see how the barren woman could ALSO be the happy mother of children. When I was a child, one of my parent's friends made a tape (yes, tape, not CD and certainly not MP3) of all the psalms set to music. My favorite, even as an eight year old was his "Sing oh Barren Woman; you who never bore a child; burst into song, and shout for joy; you who were never in labor...." and something about shouting to the east and the west, but I lose it there. I sang it in my years of infertility with a question, but now I sing it loud with rejoicing.

God sets the lonely in families. -Psalm 68:6

Sometimes in families that don't understand you, in families is a lonely place to be. But even when my family doesn't "get" me, my family is MY family. They forgive my oversights. They love me when I'm not lovely. They are there, present and (mostly) available (to the best of their ability). And, as long as they have breath in their bodies, they will be. If I'm lonely IN my family, it is probably more than half my fault. Not only that, I got to pick my second family. And sometimes I dream of being lonely for an hour or two. (I did NOT just say that....)

Like arrows in the hands of a warrior are sons born in ones youth. Blessed is the man whose quiver is full of them. Psalm 127:4-5


My house is happiest when it is full of children. I have two off to camp this week, and though it is easier and quieter it is also all off. I rejoice in time away with my husband, because we do need to remember we were us before we were parents and good parents are also good partners....BUT...as important as that is, I also love the chaos that is our family. I refuse to treat my children as if they are a burden rather than the gift that they are. (At least for extended periods. I'm not perfect And who in their right mind likes to clean up puke at 2AM?) I like the kids to be here. I love summer when they are all under one roof. I try to keep the junk food stocked and the mess tolerance set pretty high so that my home is an inviting place to be because HERE is where I want them to be. (Mostly. Though I do like for their friends to go home sometimes. Though, I don't want my kids to go with them.) 

Hmmm.....

This post isn't going at all the way I thought it would. And yet, it is similar to the crazy tracks my mind has been taking lately. Scattered, yet pointing all in the same direction. As we work to adopt our fifth child who shall henceforth be referred to as Iris, not because that is her name, but because that is what we called her when we first saw her and KNEW she belonged in our chaos, I will keep this one before me:

I will not leave you as orphans. I will come to you. John 14:8

And meanwhile, I will sing as the happy mother of children.

Bring Blake Home

Grab This!


There have been times when I've posted or re-posted for people who are adopting, something about their story pulls my heart strings. I don't know them, but maybe I feel like I do, like some people feel like they know me after reading all the things I would never say in polite conversation.

BUT

I know these people. I don't KNOW, know these people, but I know them. I've prayed with Anna. We've chatted at the pool. I've taken one of her zumba classes. She's a real person. It isn't some person in some place who is adopting a child with Down Syndrome. I will get to watch this child grow up. So, I'm appealing to those of you who know me or think you know me, but don't yet know Anna, to help bring Blake home. He's in my sidebar and I'm relatively certain that if you click on him, you'll get to a tax deductible giving page.

And make sure you visit Anna's blog. She's doing several different fundraisers and you can read her heart regarding Blake.

My Foolish Heart

Well, I have to say, she's done it again. YEARS ago, years, why yes, March of 2006 (I can't believe I've been posting my inner thoughts for that long, but there it is in black and white) I posted about a new-to-me author and her Deep Haven Series and how much I enjoyed it. In the intervening years, I've posted about her books several more times. She wrote a little chick lit, she wrote a little suspense, she wrote a little historical fiction....so imagine my surprise when I discovered she has written ANOTHER Deep Haven book? I was sure that over the years I'd grown jaded. It takes a lot of book to impress me any more. Would I like to return to Deep Haven? Maybe, after years of reviewing books, I wouldn't be much impressed with a simple little romantic story? BUT, this was Susan May Warren, the woman who wrote the series that practically started my blog book reviewing and when Any at Litfuse asked if' I'd like to join this tour, I couldn't resist another trip to Deep Haven.

I've gotta say, the woman hasn't lost it. I LOVED My Foolish Heart. Frankly, I have grown jaded over the years. Few books inspire me to seek out the author for more. If it's at the library and I've got nothing going on (shrug) sure, I might pick up another by some random writer, but there are a few ladies that so consistently put out a great read that I will grab their books even when I don't have time. Susan May Warren is one of those.

And the return to Deep Haven in My Foolish Heart? Wasn't a let down. Wasn't silly. Wasn't just a nice  piece of fluff that she did in her spare time to remind people of an old series. It was a great story. All. By. Itself. (Though, yes, I do feel the urge to find my old books and revisit the stories, because though she sorta hinted at a couple of the characters, they were just in passing and their stories have grown fuzzy in my overtaxed brain.)

Great job, Miss Susan. You've put out another great book. I wasn't sure you could pull it off, but I'll try to not doubt you again. ;)


A little about the book:

Unknown to her tiny town of Deep Haven, Isadora Presley spends her nights as Miss Foolish Heart, the star host of a syndicated talk radio show. Millions tune in to hear her advice on dating and falling in love, unaware that she’s never really done either. Issy’s ratings soar when it seems she’s falling in love on-air with a caller. A caller she doesn’t realize lives right next door.

Caleb Knight served a tour of duty in Iraq and paid a steep price. The last thing he wants is pity, so he hides his disability and moves to Deep Haven to land his dream job as the high school football coach. When his beautiful neighbor catches his eye, in a moment of desperation he seeks advice from My Foolish Heart, the show that airs before his favorite sports broadcast. 

Before he knows it, Caleb finds himself drawn to the host—and more confused than ever. Is his perfect love the woman on the radio . . . or the one next door?

Read an excerpt here: http://www.susanmaywarren.com/novels/contemporary-romance/

Susan May Warren is thrilled to announce the release of her latest Deep Haven book, My Foolish Heart!

Read what the reviewers are saying here.

To celebrate this charming novel about a dating expert who's never had a date, Susan has put together a romantic night on the town for one lucky couple. One grand prize winner will receive a Miss Foolish Heart prize package worth over $200!

The winner of the Romantic Night on the Town Prize Pack will receive:

* A $100 Visa Gift Card (For Dinner)

* A $100 Gift Certificate to a Hyatt/Marriott Hotel

* The entire Deep Haven series

To enter just click one of the icons below. But, hurry, the giveaway ends at noon on June 16th. The winner will be announced that evening during Susan’s Miss Foolish Heart Party on Facebook! Susan will be chatting with guests, hosting a book club chat about My Foolish Heart, testing your Deep Haven trivia skills, and giving away tons of great stuff! (Gift certificates, books, donuts, and more!) Don't miss the fun and BRING YOUR FRIENDS! 

Susan May Warren is an award-winning, best-selling author of over twenty-five novels, many of which have won the Inspirational Readers Choice Award, the ACFW Book of the Year award, the Rita Award, and have been Christy finalists. After serving as a missionary for eight years in Russia, Susan returned home to a small town on Minnesota’s beautiful Lake Superior shore where she, her four children, and her husband are active in their local church.

Susan's larger than life characters and layered plots have won her acclaim with readers and reviewers alike. A seasoned women’s events and retreats speaker, she’s a popular writing teacher at conferences around the nation and the author of the beginning writer’s workbook: From the Inside-Out: discover, create and publish the novel in you!. She is also the founder ofwww.MyBookTherapy.com, a story-crafting service that helps authors discover their voice.

Susan makes her home in northern Minnesota, where she is busy cheering on her two sons in football, and her daughter in local theater productions (and desperately missing her college-age son!)

A full listing of her titles, reviews and awards can be found at:www.susanmaywarren.com.

On My Mind

Times

Good Friday and the Tabernacle

I was supposed to post this yesterday. Of course it was a self-imposed "supposed" because now I'm getting all out of order, but I really, REALLY wanted to post this at 3 on Friday. You'll see why in a bit.

We went to see a life sized replica of the tabernacle of those desert wandering Israelites. It was in the middle of the Negev. And it was raining. We were in on the one inch they get a year. Aren't we special?

It was considerably smaller than I'd imagined. As were most things in Israel besides the Temple--which I only saw in miniature--but the proportions were spectacular. Here I am standing, inappropriately dressed (it was the theme of the week) before the Bronze Altar.

Here is our temporary guide at the bronze laver. She asked us before we went in if we wanted the Old Testament tour or the New Testament tour. We asked for the "both" tour. She lit up like a Christmas tree and began one of my favorite tours of the weeks. She walked us through the tabernacle and gave the entire story with a Hebrew accent of how the tabernacle points directly to Y'shua. (Goodness, I hope I spelled that correctly.) She would have nothing to do with the name Jesus. "Is He American?" She asked. "No? English? No? So what was his name?Y'shua." She is a beautiful woman.

The table of showbread. I don't remember the significance. Study Hebrews 9. It's next on my list. I also hope against hope that Spence videoed the entire tour because I want to show it to everyone I know.

The lampstand.

The Altar of Incense.

Creepy blue-eyed mannequin dressed as the high priest complete with breastplate.

The Ark of the Covenant.

With the ten commandments, Aaron's staff and the jar of manna inside.

Me, crying. And why? I'll get to that in a minute.

This is a shot within the Holy Place. Those navy striped curtains in front of you are the entrance to the Most  Holy Place.

I don't know about you, but when I've read the cricifixion story, or heard it told, the versions go something like, "All our sins were piled on Jesus, and God could no longer look on him because he was so ugly to God with all our sins on him" thus the reason that Jesus said, "My God, My God, Why have you forsaken me?" 

And, frankly, I have always been bothered by that. How cold. How unfeeling. I mean, this was HIS SON. I can imagine looking away because you can't stand the sight of the suffering of your child, though I find that when my children are suffering is when I'm most likely to look on them. I cry with them. I lock eyes with them and hope that by sheer force of will I can make the pain go away with my earnest stare. (I look away from the wound. I can't stand that.)

I've decided, in all my wisdom (that IS tongue in cheek), that Jesus, like most humans, cried out to God, feeling forsaken more than being truly forsaken, but that's just me. Although being the sacrifice for a bunch of ungrateful humans seems rather forsaken, I suppose.

So our guide says, while indicating the curtain between the Holy Place and the Most Holy Place and talking about how thick it was in the Temple, etc., "And the Bible says that it was torn in two from top to bottom. Why was that?"

We, good Christians, gave the good Christian answers. God opened himself up to us, He is no longer separated from us, Jesus is the door way to God, yadda yadda yadda. You know, all those things you are taught in Sunday School, right? And like a good Sunday School teacher she says, "yes," and "uh, huh," and "What else?" 

And THEN she says, "What do Jewish parents do when their children die?"

Oh. My. Blessed. Risen. Savior.

The tear their clothes from top to bottom. My God, my "unfeeling" "uncaring" "cold" Father in Heaven MOURNED His Son. He ripped his clothes from top to bottom.

Yes, to give us access to him.

Yes, to indicate Jesus is the pathway.

AND to show His grief. He ripped his clothing right in two.

Oh, Sweet Jesus.

I cried for hours. My God is not an unfeeling Father. He loves His son. And by allowing His Son to be OUR sacrifice, how much does He love us? 

That's just amazing.

And I'll sign off in the same way our guide sent us off, but I'll give the English because I don't know Hebrew. But let me tell you, it is Beautiful.

"The LORD bless you and keep you; The LORD make his face to shine upon you and be gracious to you; the LORD lift up his countenance upon you and give you peace." Numbers 6:24

I highly recommend you go here and listen to it in Hebrew. And here to read about how the LORD delights in us as a father. And that page gives more on the blessing as well. 

He is risen! He is risen indeed!

But more on THAT tomorrow.

Jerusalem! Jerusalem!

"As he approached Jerusalem and saw the city, he wept over it and said, 'If you, even you had only known on this day what would bring you peace--

The old city.

 but now it is hidden from your eyes.

Mount of Olives

Dome of the Rock

 The days will come upon you when your enemies will build and embankment against you and encircle you and hem you in on every side.

More old city.

 They will dash you to the ground, you and the children within your walls.

synagogues, temples, shrines chapels, mosques all crammed together

 They will not leave one stone on another,

part of the "new" city

 Because you did not recognize the time of God's coming to you.'"

I probably knew when I took it.

 Luke 19: 41-44 (Jesus speaking)

Muslim tower for calls to prayer

Jerusalem, how I love it.

The First, But Not Only, Time We Cross the Desert

 The last we'll see of the Sea of Galilee. *sniff*

 Driving along the Israel/Jordan border. Razor wire. Imagine that. Lots and lots of razor wire.

 And then.....desert.

 Camels! In the desert! *gasp*

 And....more.....desert.

 Oasis....in the desert. Man made, I'm sure.

 Bedouin encampment....in the desert.

 Bedouin herding sheep and goats....in the desert.

 Crossing out of the West Bank. Why yes, we did. What you aren't seeing? Razor wire and Uzis.

And finally....Jerusalem.

The desert really is gorgeous in its own way.

But Jerusalem is better.

The Jordan

 Otters. And enormous carp. And freezing cold green water. Which of these things did YOU think of when you pictured the Jordan river. Did you picture lots of trees? How big was it? Did it look like this?

 I know! It could totally be in Missouri. And this, as far as I can tell, is it's WIDEST point. To be honest, I expected a wide, shallow river in the middle of the desert. And I suppose at it's Southern point it was in the desert, but it wasn't in the sand, because, of course, it is water and things grow near the water.

 These are my friends. They got baptized with me. I can see a few got cut off. It doesn't make them any less important. If you got baptized, there is a very good chance I have photos of you dripping wet. Let me know if you want me to email you a copy. I didn't think it very nice of me to post drippy pictures without permission. I'm taking a risk posting Brent and Pastor.

 I've been redeemed! (I've been redeemed!) By the blood of the Lamb (By the blood of the Lamb)

 

 I've been redeemed! (I've been redeemed!) By the blood of the Lamb!

how cool is it that Brent helped baptize me?

 I've been redeemed by the blood of the Lamb, filled with the Holy Ghost I am! All my sins are washed away, I've been redeemed!

 And that's not all (And that's not all). There's more besides (There's more besides).

 And that's not all (And that's not all) There's more besides

 And that's not all there's more besides, I've been to the river and I've been baptized, all my sins are washed away I've been redeemed!

Spur of the moment, Pastor got baptized, too.

 They had the baptism of Jesus story posted in every conceivable language. Including Hawaiian Pidgin, which cracked me up enough to justify it's own photo. We also have them in Hebrew, Aramaic, Chinese, Italian, etc..

You know? It may look corny. The robes, the fence to keep the carp out, everything commercialized.

It was just pretty darn cool.

As Princess said, "What an opportunity."

I agree.