Grief in the Midst

A friend recently posted on Facebook about the passing of a loved one, that 'grief is a strange beast'. That line has resonated with me since I read it, and I can't seem to get it out of my head. My Gram, I've mentioned her several times in my writing, has been sick again. Under the circumstances, she's doing well, but I find myself grieving even while she is still with us, in the midst of moments I cherish.

Now, at 66 pounds, she is only 10 pounds heavier than Timothy, her oldest great grandson who at 7, is 83 years younger than she is. She is tiny, but still mighty. Her mind is strong, she is still doing for herself in most situations, but she is slowing, and my goodness, it makes me sad. Knowing full well it's the natural order of things, and knowing, when we asked her to move here with us six years ago, that this time would come, it is still hard.

Gram has always been the first on my list to call when I needed just about anything. After ball games in college that she couldn't make it to, she'd call to see how I played and how many hits I got, then she would congratulate or encourage, which ever I needed. I remember calling her from Korea for cooking advice. Sometimes, if food wasn't being scorched at that very moment, she'd ask if I could call back because she was busy watching the Braves play ball! She's mended hearts and buttons and woo-woo's galore, hemmed dresses, baked goodies, kissed boo's, read stories, cuddled babies...  If one of us cries, the other does as well. It's as if our tears are connected to each other. Right before I started having tests run for my heart, she would call and, after a few minutes, she'd say, "Something's wrong, I can hear it." It's always been that way for both of us. I know in just a few words if she's feeling bad. I love that we know each other that well. I love that my Gram has always been my 'go to' as long as I remember needing someone. And I love that now I'm hers.

I love that she is just downstairs so I can tell her goodnight, every night, like I did when I was little. I love that she knows when it's been 'one of those days' and she pats my hand and tells me I'm doing just fine and tomorrow is a new day. When she says she's proud of me and the mom I am, it makes me cry. Every time.

I have no idea how long she will be with us. That's the difficult side of this, but then again, who really wants to know the hour? I just hope we are able to keep laughing together in the midst of it all. My Gram has a great laugh. In fact, just this morning, since she's been sick lately, I've been asking about her poop, just like I check on my kids when they are sick. (Those of you who know me best are NOT surprised by this!!) But this morning, as I went down to check on her, she gave us a good laugh when, knowing what I was going to ask, she asked me first, "How's your poop today?" We both fell out! And I know this is good, because that's my Gram. Quick witted, funny, sassy to the core.

This grief, I know it's not the same as the grief I will feel when her time comes. But, it's a heavy feeling to know that it will come. I will enjoy every moment I have with her, as I always have. Her house will be flooded with the kids, as it always is. We will smile, and laugh, and share, and our hearts will be full.

Grief, it is a strange beast. I would never wish the hurt away....there is way to much love and happiness attached to it.

Celebrating Adoption

After we adopted the boys in December of 2011, we had a 'celebration' at our church, inviting church family, along with our families and many friends who had walked with us from the beginning. We gave our testimony and shared what God had done in, and with, our lives, and how we came to be the Akin5.

This past weekend we celebrated the adoption of our daughter and becoming the Akin6, this time at our home, but again, inviting family and friends who have loved, prayed for, and shared in this journey in small and big ways.

Some of the family

Gram and Aunt Emma

It was a nice gathering and mix of new and old friends, and family from near and far, but all present shared a common bond. A joy and excitement, an understanding, to some degree, of the life changing event that had taken place in this little girls life, and in ours. We are humbled and honored that each one here that day, and many who were unable to make it, took the time out to celebrate and acknowledge the moment with us.

Sophia and Mommy

The Sophalitas

As I looked around at friends gathered that day, I saw a beautiful thing. Aside from our three adopted through the foster care system, I saw three beautiful little girls adopted from China into two different and amazing families. I saw my dear friends with their daughter (and grown son), adopted traditionally eleven and twenty years ago. I saw another friend who's son was adopted approximately eleven years ago from Guatemala. I saw our brother in law who adopted his oldest son, now serving in the Air Force as his parents did, when he married Scott's sister some fourteen years ago. I saw Scott's dad who adopted him when he was four, and thought of my dad, unable to attend from Oklahoma, who adopted me when I was eight. Maybe there were more, but those are the ones I know of for sure. When you consider, not just the eleven present that were adopted, but their families, most of them represented here that day, about half of those present were directly involved in some form or fashion, in an adoption! That's a beautiful thing.

Sister sweetness.

Beautiful girl.

Whether called to oversees adoption, traditional, through marriage, or foster care. Whether it's out of a desire to please God, a desire to adopt, or driven by infertility. There are kids around the globe in need of a family to say yes to them. "Yes, I will love you." "Yes, I will call you my own."

Bounce house fun.

Two of my boys walking with a sweet friend. 

It was not out of our greatness. It is not cause to boast. It does not set our family above. But, adoption has been a gift. God changed me forever when He brought us a family and made me mommy through adoption, and in the process, gave us a biological son. We called him 'magic and miracles' because after eight years, he was a miracle and the sight of him...pure magic. But the truth is, they all are. The perfect time and the perfect way that God brought each of them to us, is nothing short of a miracle, and the sight of each one....pure magic.