Where is God in the Broken System?

We have several friends who are parents in the foster care system. They vary in every way from foster only, adopt only, still waiting to adopt, or celebrating a recent adoption. One family, however, is smack in the middle of the dreaded nightmare that scares so many families away from opening their home to foster children. They have had a child removed from their home after more than three years, and a completed adoption of her siblings. Every emotion you can possibly fathom at just reading those words has flooded their hearts and home, and the hearts of so many who love them and have prayed for them throughout this process. They did not have a foster child return home....they lost their daughter to a list of rules that over looks what is best for the children involved. It's unimaginable, yet it happens more often than it should. The system is flawed. Rules are in place to protect the occasional parent who is trying to get it right, but so often, blinded eyes act on rules independent of common sense.

After hearing the unimaginable happened to our friends, I was angry, hurt and confused... After all hundreds, if not thousands, of people were praying for their little girl to stay. For the judge to rule in favor of their family, not in opposition. I found myself asking, Why did you not show up that day, God? This family has put their complete faith in you. They have been such a light to all who have walked along side them through this with such grace and hope. Where are you God?

I've thought long and hard about that question as Scott and I cry considering this would be comparable to us losing our daughter now, after three and a half years in our family. As our boys pray for their friends and beg God to not let this happen, I wonder and pray along, where are you? Here's what God has reminded me of....

He is here. God is still with each of them and He is present for every tear they have, and will continue to shed. He is present in every prayer they will pray over her life. He is there with their other children who will continue to love and pray for their sister. He is there with her, tucked in her young heart, in every prayer she heard spoken over her life, in every kiss, in every hug they've given over the last three and a half years. God is the center of their continued faith as they almost comfort those around them with their words of hope and love. He has not turned His back on her, nor on this family. God is still in control of the flawed, and so often, broken, system.

So we will weep with our friends as they weep and we will bear up under them in prayer. As we read so many times in the Bible that God does not leave, or forsake us (Isaiah 41, 1 Peter 5, Phil 4), that He is our strength (Psalm 28, Isaiah 40, Psalm 119) and our comforter (2 Cor 1), we are reminded that this continues to be true today. Their hurt is real and it is deep and even though we know so often, God does not always answer prayers in the way we want, He does always answer, so we will hold out in faith, that God is not finished yet.

Whatever your trial, your hurt, your fear, your joy.... God IS there.

Be encouraged,

Jules

It's Just Another Manic Tuesday

Today. It's just a Tuesday, right? It's harmless, not Monday, almost mid-week, thunderstorms sounding off in the distance, hugs from the hubs, coffee and the Word... Per my usual mental preparedness for the day, I spend my last few minutes praying and visualizing (thank you years of coaches who taught me the art of mentally shooting thousands of free throws and walking through at bats...that now has overflowed into my parenting!)... and then the clock strikes 7:00am and eight feet hit the floor! And just like that, they're off! We have one hour to hit the road. It's a race to the toy room to play 'police' with their dollar store guns, or to the bathroom, depending on the kid. It's a holler for help with clothes from Sophia and to 'TURN OFF THE LIGHT" from Timothy. Our house is not for the faint of heart in the early morning hours... So, if you've come this far, here's just a small peek into our Tuesday home school routine, and the way it went down today.

Tuesday's are our town days. We have therapies, allergy shots, swim lessons and Kroger click list (thank you for this one Jesus!), and a swing through Wendy's drive through as we head home. My days are still very driven by our nap routine, even though I have two that have moved into the "quiet time" phase of these sacred hours, so with our drive time to get home I've had to master back scheduling in order to make it home, unload kids and groceries and still get the little ones in bed on time. Some call me crazy, or over structured, but I like to think of my particular mom skill set as falling somewhere between a loving drill sergeant and ninja nap master. Over the years, this has both made me crazy and preserved my sanity.

Every Monday night I lay out their sweats with their swim trunks to put on and have them bring me their undies to pack in our swim bag, which they did today, like every other Tuesday morning. However, this morning, I had one wake up with a tummy ache, one complaining about an ear ache and one gagging on snot, even though he's finished his third antibiotic in six weeks for a stubborn sinus infection. So, after taking temps and pushing fluids and giving four complete child assessments, I made the call to the doc for appointments, then called our swim teacher to let her know.

Now, you should know, at this point in the game, we've already done the "Are you dressed, have you brushed your teeth, did you make your bed, do you have on socks, did you put your undies on my bed?" dance a minimum of three times per kid (for those of you counting, that's at least twelve times!) I've made egg and cheese sandwiches, peeled bananas and poured juice that at least three of the kids ate, medicines dished out and water bottles made for the day. 

As I was wrapping up my calls, I hollered at the kids to come back downstairs and get their undies, take them up and put them back on, swim trunks back in the drawers and make sure they completed the aforementioned morning tasks. Response's ranged from moans of "but I'm already dressed", to cries of "I really want to go to swimming", the exasperated "yes, I've brushed my teeth, mom", and finally, "good, because my ear hurts" (poor baby girl). The time crunch was in effect by now, so the routine shouts for one last pit stop and shoes had begun over the sounds of cheap toy guns and shouts of "I'm not the bad guy, you are!"

Side note here.....I know some of you are thinking, I thought you said the kids weren't feeling well? Yeah, my kids don't really ever stop. Sick or not, (unless they have a pretty good fever) they are on the move. 

So, back to the encroaching departure time... My boarding call, "Time to load up!!!" came at approximately 7:59, with one kid running down and out into the van. "Come on you guys, we've got to go!" brought down another kid, but only as far as the hall bathroom, where my assistance was needed and then to the shoe basket for help with laces. Two down, two to go.... "Boys, please, we're going to be late" was followed up by four trampling feet racing to the garage. "Boys you need your shoes!" Oh yeah, help me mom, and hurry so we're not late! Seriously, kid. (Eye roll of grand proportions happened here.)

Finally, all four kids are in the van, I was doing my last walk through...got the waters, Epi pens, reading books and lesson plans for car rides and waiting rooms, glasses, five rain jackets, four kids..... and then the door opened. It's Mason. My eyes must have begged the question, what are you doing?!?!, because he ran past me, in his full on toe sprint, shouting, "I forgot my underwear!" 

Moms, there are no how to books written for this moment. Just take a deep breath and think grace. Nothing you say or do at this point is going to make him move any faster. Nothing will guilt him into doing better next time. Nothing will keep you from being late. 

I ran upstairs to offer my assistance and found one pair of swim trunks that only made it as far as the stairs, one toothbrush un-brushed, two beds unmade (despite ALL my prompting and reminders to do these things, and their assuring me all had been done) and one boy frantically stepping into his undies. I hugged him. "It's ok buddy, bring your shoes and put them on in the van, let's go." His hug was worth it.

Off we went in the thunderstorms with our snotty noses, hurting ears and shoes in hand, and arrived only five minutes late to our first therapy appointment. The doctor visit later would confirm one ear infection, one virus, and one possible stomach bug. From there we got our allergy shots, picked up our groceries (seriously, Kroger click list folks, you rock!), and had our Wendy's burger fix. 

As I got the big ones started on some school work and the little ones tucked into bed, I was giving myself a mental high five for making it through another Tuesday marathon town trip, when Eli gave me a kiss and said, "thanks mom, I love you". And just now, Mason brought me this artwork and said, "It's my Valentine for you mom, because you are our very super good mom." Who says being a homeschool mom doesn't pay? I say it pays more than you could ever imagine.

Be blessed, Jules!

A Christmas Story All Our Own

I hope you all have had a very Merry Christmas and that your lives are settling back down into a normal rhythm of new toys and final servings of leftovers. We had a.... wild? loud? busy? exhausting?  entertaining? Yes, with three boys and a girl, ages eight to three, our day was a combination of all of the above!!

They were up just before 7 am digging wildly into their piles of adventure toys from Santa... binoculars, lanterns, voice changing mega-phones, hand-held laser tag, a pogo stick and night vision goggles, and then the stockings stuffed with fun goodies. They ran upstairs with lights off to try out the night vision and chased each other through the house with laser tag while Scott and I made cinnamon rolls. We need the fuel to make it through the noisy toys, gift piles, wrapping paper and squeals of delight!

After the pit stop and another cup of coffee, it was time to divvy up packages, oooh and ahhh over piles and beg to "go next", "no it's my turn!".  But this year, there was one small change. Each of our kids went on a shopping day with Mimi and bought a gift for each of their siblings and something for mommy and daddy. This small act of ownership over choosing gifts and thinking of others in our family gave them such a sense of the joy of giving...of seeing others excited about what you picked out,  just for them. When their gifts were chosen from the pile to open they exclaimed, "That's from me! You're going to love it!" They chose, shirts, tractors, a baby doll for sister, motorcycle and swords. It was great, mostly seeing their selfless joy. But there was one small gift that deserves mention of it's own.... This is my favorite Christmas story of 2016.

Our five year old, Elijah was the first to go on the shopping day with Mimi. They went to the Tractor Supply where there's always wonderful goodies for farm kids and country living. Norma, my MIL, said he wandered into an isle and came out holding an item with a look of pure satisfaction and said "this is what I want to get mommy". She said, "well, why?" He told her he just knew I'd want it, that we needed a new one, and that I would be so happy when I saw it. He could not be dissuaded. She even tried to get him to choose something else and still give me this "perfect present" after Christmas, but he would have none of it. So, he continued shopping, holding his prized find firmly in his five year old grip.

Before bringing the kids back she took them home to wrap their gifts then helped them place them under our tree. Their efforts to hold their tongue were.... comical, to say the least! But when Eli brought his gifts up he pleaded with me to open it right then and there. Please don't wait, you will love it! Well, there were still ten days until Christmas and I tried to explain how sad I'd be if there was no present for me to open from him on Christmas morning. In the meantime, Norma had called me to let me know she did not know why, but he was adamant about this gift and his pride in finding it was worth wrapping it. My curiosity was piqued.

So, back to Christmas morning and divvying up the gifts... After the first few were opened by the kids, Elijah picked his gift to me and said, "Please mom, open this one next." He stood in front of me, a gentle smile across his face, as I pulled back the paper to reveal... a plunger. I pulled it from the paper and said, "Wow! A new plunger! We sure needed one, didn't we buddy?!" He said, "that's why I picked it for you mommy." as he hugged me and I told him how much I loved this gift he chose just for me!

Before you get any thoughts about how I must clog our toilets, I will tell you, I neither clog them, or unclog them when they are overfilled with toilet paper by a child! I call for Scott... to use the plunger we already have!! (I'm dying as I write this...it was SO funny!) I have no idea why he thought this was the perfect gift, or why he thought we needed a new one, but I can say, with all my heart, this was the best gift I received this year because, strange as it may be, my boy just knew I would love it....so I do.

Be blessed!
~Jules

Wonderful Christmas Time

One of the best parts of the Christmas season with kids, is passing down the traditions and stories and nuances of our own childhood Christmas memories, while continuing, and making, our own new ones each year, hoping one day to have provided memories the kids will treasure and continue the cycle.

Something I noticed this year that I do exactly like my mom did is, I unbox one ornament at a time, we oooh and ahhh over it, the kids ask me where it came from so the brief history is given, then they take turns hanging them on the tree. The glass, and more precious ornaments are put on the upper third of the tree by Scott or myself, and the lower two thirds we redecorate after bedtime for spacing purposes. I love this process. I love that they are as excited as I am with each box that opens with ornaments that range from both of our childhoods, handmade, baby's first's for all four of them, and family groups of penguins and polar bears that grew each year as our family continued to grow.

It is such a fun and exciting time as the whole atmosphere seems to change into a world of wonder and joy. Every box of decorations brings exclamations of "I remember this! This one is my favorite! Mom, where can I put this one?!" It's a catching kind of excitement that really puts their youth into perspective. They aren't too tired to decorate at the end of a day, nor do they care about the mess the styrofoam makes as we unbox each village piece. They don't care if the snowmen are set in just the right place or if the stockings are hung in the right order. Their enthusiasm just can't be contained and at this time of the year, I'm much more tolerant of it then most.

I love that they watch Polar Express and the Grinch about six times the first four days after unboxing the Christmas movies and that the song "Hot Chocolate" (oh we got it! yeah we got it! ) plays on a loop in my head for the entire month. I love that they turn the Christmas tree lights on as soon as they are out of bed and search for our elf, Winkle, in their undies. I love that our counters get sticky with candy cane drool and that their super hero and princess cocoa mugs grace the counters multiple times a week. I love that we have to hot glue baby Jesus back in his manger in front of praying Santa almost every year, because the kids won't keep their hands off of him. I love that every time I sing O Holy Night, they look at me with eyes reminiscent of when they were a baby and I held them as they ate. Those eyes that seem to say, I know you are special, I know you love me, I know you will always love me and that I will always love you. I know that with you, I am safe. I love that I still see that in their eyes when they look at me as I sing to them. And I love the debate of whether or not every Santa they see is the real one or one of his helpers!

I love these things for so many reasons, but the driving motivation to embrace the craziness, for me, is that I know this time will be gone before I know it. They will all too soon lose the wonder of the Polar Express and Winkle. They might enjoy candy canes and cocoa for a while, but will no longer need me to clean up as they go, or to "add more mallows". And probably much sooner than I'd like, they'll realize I don't sing well and be less than impressed by my rendition of my favorite Christmas song, and the truth of Santa will temporarily dash their young dreams.

Fortunately, we also focus our hearts and minds on the truth behind this time of year. We know and celebrate the birth of our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ. We pack boxes with scripture and prayers, toys, toiletries and supplies to send to children in parts of the world and in living conditions my kids cannot begin to fathom actually exist. It's a growing and learning process, but we hope to teach our kids that the greatest part of the Christmas season is not Santa or his elves, it's not presents or lights, but it is Jesus. That's what makes this time of year amazing. "Oh night, divine, when Christ was born."

For unto us a child is born, to us a son is given, and the government will be on his shoulders. And he will be called Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace. Isaiah 9:6

May you know the hope that rests in knowing Him this Christmas season. From our house to yours,

Merry Christmas,
~Jules~

A Thanksgiving to Remember

It's been a few days, so I figure it's safe to write about. You know those great holiday stories that end with a gasp and a shout of "No he didn't!" followed quickly by the nearly hopeful, "Shut up! You're kidding me!" Well, we had one such Thanksgiving, and I'd like to tell you the story.

It all started with a visit from old friends, a houseful of family, and a magnificent twenty pound bird. We bought our turkey two weeks ago in preparation of our Thanksgiving dinner for our nearly thirty expected guests. It was to serve as the center piece to an island full of lovingly prepared side dishes for our feast of Thanks. We began the thawing process three days in advance, then cold water bathed the beauty for two hours Thursday morning before she was finally ready. We bagged her, then rubbed her breast, wings and thighs with a slightly melted stick of butter, massaging it into her skin for that perfectly delicious exterior that serves to protect the sweet juicy meat inside. I then coated her buttery exterior with a succulent blend of seasons, taking great care to cover every inch of our soon to be main dish.

Thankful and Blessed

When the preparations where complete, we sealed the bag, tucked her into the roasting pan and slid her into the oven. Within two hours the aroma of our delectable dinner was wafting up the stairs from the basement stove, filling the room full of family and friends who had gathered to share in this feast. Almost three hours later, the time had come. Our turkey was perfect and ready to be presented. Scott took the platter down the stairs, removed the turkey from the bag, releasing all her savory aromas for our expectant guests, and proceeded back up the stairs where we were anxiously awaiting. Conversations were taking place, friends were laughing and sharing. I was on the back side of the door when I heard it.... THUD! I thought someone had pushed over a chair, so I whipped my head around to my friends husband, Ed, and said, "What was that?" His wide eyes stared down the stairs then looked up to me as he said, "He dropped the turkey." His words were almost fake, and thinking of it now, was like a really bad joke. I said, "He did what?!" as I yanked the door back to get a better view. Sure enough, there it was...our beautiful turkey laid broken in pieces, her legs straight up in the air,  meatless, where the perfectly tender morsels had been flung off at impact. With his eyes wide and his hands empty, Scott looked up at me and said, "I dropped it. I don't know how, but I dropped it." 

I could have died!!! I started into the, "Why? How? What in the..." but then I stopped, told him to pick up her mangled breast and get it back on the platter and realized instantly that this would make a great Thanksgiving story....in about a week!!! We started rolling....not Scott of course...he was mortified, but the rest of us enjoyed quite a laugh. As his mom and sister jumped in to clean up the rest of the pieces, I wiped off the buttery juices from his jeans and said, "It doesn't matter. Not at all. There's more than enough food to feed a small army up there and this is going to make Thanksgiving 2016 one we talk about forever!" So, with his tail tucked a little between his legs, Scott emerged up the stairs to a houseful of family and friends all ready to laugh and fill our plates with side dishes! 

Upon closer inspection, we decided most of the meat could still be salvaged, and what's a little dirt or dog hair really going to hurt anyways!? So, with a prayer of thanksgiving and hearts full of laughter, we ate the magnificent feast...bird and all!! 

In the end, none of that really matters at all. What makes Thanksgiving great are the ones you love, far and near, sisters and sons, moms and dads, friends new and old, kindness, laughter and a little pumpkin pie when its all said and done. 

Eph 5:20 Giving thanks always and for everything to God the Father in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ.

God bless,

Jules