The Stuff I Can't Change

Our family Christmas is amazing, unbelievable, more than I deserve.  My kids, no matter birthed from my womb, or my heart, join in the chaos that is our family.  Some people would look in our window and think that the everyday life is that, chaos. But those that know, those that love within our God given circle of children and adults, know that the chaos is just the life that flows within the ties that bind us all together.  Family, not necessarily birthed, but chosen on all fronts.

In the midst of all the traditions today, and this evening, I was caught in a sadness, a bubble if you like, of seeing life in the chaos of the kids, and grandkids, and paper, and presents.  Laughter, life, hope, future, little ones running around in their dress up princess costumes, and others having nerf gun fights, while others texting each other for the first time on their new phones, then I made the phone call to my elderly parents, one in hospital, and the other in an independent living facility.  While they were "chipper" as an Aussie would say, I know they were making the best of a not so pleasant Christmas.

I cannot be in two places at once and I know that my family in Australia does the very best they can, but there is something in my heart that breaks knowing my elderly parents, married for some sixty two years, not always joyful mind you, but married just the same, spent Christmas not with family, or even together.  I hate how life spins those twists and turns that make it impossible to be everything to everyone.  I have to admit that a few, or a couple, of my grandchildren wondered why "Grammy" was upset on this joyous day, but I hope that I am not in that position in the years to come.

I was lucky to have my mother in law for so many years come and be a part of our lives, and I wish my parents were a little closer, and not with the health issues that challenge them at this time of their lives.  There is nothing I can change, other than pray for their continued well being, and nothing my sisters can do other than be there when they can.  They also have families, children, and grandchildren who need them and, the responsibility of elderly parents, is not always clear cut, easy, or able to always work out to be the best for all concerned.

So another Christmas has come, and is about to end in just a few small hours, but the sense of family, past, elderly, young parents, children, grandchildren is with me, a blessing, a worry if I am being honest, a joy bringing love indescribable, and a commitment that is unending.  My family is the most important thing in my life above The Father, Son, and Holy Ghost and I am truly blessed to have every last one of them in my life.  I am particularly blessed to se my three eldest sons at home, who have struggled with their relationship over the last three and a half years, laugh, joke and be brothers.  There is no greater present than that for me.  Isaiah is healing.

Christmas at the Thompsons

This week has been busy to say the least, but I finally feel like it's Christmas.  We picked up Isaiah early yesterday morning from his drop off point in Gwinnett county and the planning and festivities began.  I am so proud of him, he has not only grown so much, in his education, but also in his outlook to life.  He had options this Christmas about where to spend his time, and I have to say as a parent, I did give him freedom within boundaries.  His older sister wanted him to come home to her, but with all the recent developments, her obvious resentment at him being at job corps, along with the fact that they would not pay for him to be transported there, I, as his Mum, did not feel that this was a good choice, even if she would pay for the transport.

He is "up", feeling successful, achieving at his trade, as well as his school work.  This is not a time for lectures or downers put on his rising self esteem.  I know he used us as his excuse not to go, even though he wants to see his sister, but isn't that what parents are there for?  I do know some of my older kids have regaled stories of how they used us as an excuse when they didn't feel comfortable about going to a party or event in their youth.  But, we also left the door open.  His sister is welcome to visit us here if she is willing to travel, and find her own accommodation if she really wants to see him.  I do not think Christmas is the time for disagreements so offering housing would lead to "not so good" interactions I fear.

So, we all piled in the airport shuttle, (that's what we drive) and headed to DollyWood early this morning.  I had made sandwiches for the journey, and from when we arrived, from that moment, and yes, I know it is cheesy, I felt like it was Christmas.  The lights, the family atmosphere, the hot chocolate and hot apple cider, the Christmas shows, and of course, the roller coasters.  Who, when you have nine children with you, can do without the roller coasters?

As the song goes, "Christmas Is Here" and tomorrow, we will wrap, laugh, squabble about who makes what cookies, bake and prepare dishes for the Christmas feast, and do some last minute shopping, eat treats, and watch holiday movies as we prepare for "Carols by Candle Light" at out church Christmas Eve.  Have a wonderful family Christmas everyone, and if you cannot be with your loved ones, then say a little prayer, and celebrate the birth of Christ in this special season.

Progress

So Isaiah is coming home for the holidays on Friday morning.  We pick him up from Sam's Club in Gwinnett county where the bus from college drops him off.  It was rather funny really, because he forgot, in his excitement, to tell us just which Sam's club it was.  The reason for that?  Well this last week has been rather busy for me, so when he called, I was doing sound for one of my kids plays, the phone was on mute, and he had been advised if I didn't answer to call Dad.  Well, dad's are notorious for not asking questions, so which Sam's is it?  Dad didn't think to ask that.  Only Mums want more explicit information.

On that note, I called Job Corps in Franklin this morning to be put straight though Isaiah's counselor who knew exactly where, and when.  We had a wonderful conversation about how well he is doing, but I have to say, my breath was taken away when I realized that while his grades are so much better that 1.8 three and a half years ago, his grades, while close, have not yet reached middle school level.  But, he is determined, and so are they, for the final achievement of his GED.

All the plays are finally down, and cleaning, shopping and baking are the order of the day.  We had an MRI for Jada yesterday, and and EEG scheduled for today, so I think I may join some of those that end up shopping late on Christmas Eve.  Dollywood, our annual Christmas tradition, is supposed to be Saturday if I can get it all together in time.  For those of you who have never been there at Christmas, it is the one place I know that feels like the season and the most amazing presence of family, traditions, and the reasons for the season, Jesus.

So wishing you all a Merry Christmas, don't eat too much pudding!

Looking forward.....

Some weeks go down in the history of your life, and I think this has, or is still being, one of them.  It started out with rumblings from Isaiah's older sister, who I think is on a "mission from God", that is not quite working for her, followed by another grand mal epileptic seizure from our amazing, but scary 12 year old, on top of that my mother, 85, in hospital in Australia having had another mini stroke on top of hip replacement surgery, with three shows and multiple dress and final rehearsals going down every day.  Two of these I am directing, but one of them, I not only direct, but do sets, costumes, lights, sound, props, anything that is needed I'm it.  So, you can see, that interruptions of any sort were really not needed, or welcome this week.

Thank goodness we had a Neurologist appointment on Tuesday morning for Jada, and after being diagnosed as epileptic, we went away with a prescription that should stop the seizures, and allow her to go on and dance her heart away in the Polar Express.  The other couple of hic cups are not quite so easy.  My mother is two days journey in the air from me (you skip a day on the way there), and with what is going on at home, I just can't leave for minor reasons right now.  Not only the time away when my child needs me, but, the weighing in on which is more important, and if I am letting my Mum down.  I heard today that she is going to rehab and I have to trust explicitly in my sisters who still live there, and abide by their decisions as to whether I should abandon what I am needed here for, to jump on a plane, and do what?  These sort of decisions are so hard in life.  I want my Mum to know that I love her, that I am supporting her, but I don't know that realistically there is a lot I can do other than cheer from the sidelines while she is in rehab.  A guilty place to be for sure.

And then there is Isaiah's older sister, who is married and has made many decisions that I do not agree with, but as I pointed out to her recently, she had the freedom to make those and she needs to let Isaiah have the same freedom to make his.  Unfortunately, her mind cannot accept that maybe all of her ideas are not acceptable to him, and although he wants to see her, and communicate, he will not be influenced to follow the path she is currently on.  For better or for worse, she has "made friends" with the very "parents" who tipped her out, would not speak to her for several years, banned her from speaking with Isaiah and her sister while both of them were living there, and has banned her from speaking to her younger sister for at least four years.  I do not agree with separating siblings especially those who have come from the circumstances these sibs do.

I do admit I did lose my "calm" when after several rather angry postings on a social media page became known (by older kids allowed on such) to my 12 year old, she became so stressed to hear what Isaiah's sister was venting to the world, she lay down, feeling dizzy, and had another seizure.  During all of this, some of my other older kids, unbeknown to me until later, as I was not party to the site, were defending their mother's honor.  I applaud them for that, and recognize they live daily with the truth and see both sides, but it all became mute after the real truth started to emerge and suddenly the postings were no more.

I have immense empathy for these children who have been misguided, hurt, abused, and are trying everything in their power to somehow resurrect their little family that has been torn apart by broken, abusive adoption, but I cannot let that ruin Isaiah's life or affect the other children in my care.  I know his sister wants to "suddenly" see him for Christmas, and I don't have a problem with that, but, she comes to my house, and sees him under my roof, and I hear what she has to say to a minor that has been through too much to be swayed yet once again for someone else's purposes or plans.  Somehow I don't think that fits with her plan, but she is welcome.

I guess we see if free accommodation, free access without ears to say or influence someone into your direction, and free family support, friendly smiles, and gifts are not available, will she still want to do what it takes to see her brother?  It is somewhat telling that until recently, the sudden reconnection with the former family, that she has barely made contact with Isaiah at all.  She has not been a part or even available to offer advice over the last three hard years as to how to reach him, and even posted that publicly, has visited with him twice in three and a half years, and yet someone, has made her think she has influence over him.  Mmmmm......maybe that is a romantic notion.

Gosh, it happens more than you think!

So tonight, while I really wanted to think it would go away, I got another aggressive text from one of the kids we tried to rescue, got rescued, slammed me, came back, went back to the former abusers, and is now slamming me again, because, mainly, her brother is being successful.  I will be always respective of everyone's opinions, but after a few back and forth conversations on FB, not me because I unfriended her, my little twelve year old, trying to stand up for her Mum and Dad, is on the computer, and has another grand mal seizure.

I will not tolerate selfishness and stupid opinions for a child's welfare.  Oh, the FB conversation was deleted, because of the truth being exposed, but the damage done to an innocent twelve year old??  Oh I hope that doesn't happen to anyone's child, let alone the supposedly accuser's children.

I am not in blame mode, but why are people so damaged, that they cannot consider anyone else other than themselves??  I can forgive, always, but forget???  There is a saying about being fooled.  Shame on you for the first time, but SHAME on ME after that.

My children are the most precious thing in the world to me, notwithstanding whether they were birthed or adopted.  Don't ever, mess with my children.  You can do what ever number you like on me, but, don't ever mess with my kids.  They are innocent, they are protected by me, and will always be, no matter what circumstance.   And for all those who are interested, this includes Isaiah.  He is doing great.  He finally understands what being parented is about, and I know when he reads his text in the morning about Jada is going to be just a devastated as I am, because, he truly accepts her as his sister.

Broken

Though the years we have had some "broken" kids, for a day or two, a year or two, or for as long as it takes.  Broken kids don't do well in families, because they are "broken" and do not understand relationships, in any way shape or form.  Most of these kids have had parents that deserted them, let them down, died, or disappeared from their lives to make them into very young persons who had to take control of their life, otherwise, in their minds, it may fail, end up in a way that left them vulnerable to very life itself.

I came to understand this through a child who I could not understand, comprehend, or figure out how I could parent such child.  I am thankful, that this particular, beautiful young lady, who was my first experiment in such behaviors, has turned out to be remarkable, but this is so often not the case.  It DID take a village to raise her, and I am so proud of what she has become, but, there are others that have crossed the threshold of our house that have not ended up so well, because quite often "brokenness" becomes a disorder, commonly known as "attachment disorder", or "reactive attachment disorder".  These kids just cannot let go of control of their lives to anyone, because, their parents by innocent means, or negligence, have betrayed them as parents.

In the last few years we have been exposed to children from "broken" adoptions, where parenting in the first place was broken beyond repair, to such an extent that they ended up in an orphanage explicitly designed to place children in American homes.  These children are survivors.  Survivors of war, abuse, lack of education, loss of immediate siblings and family, and lack of hope as they sit in an orphanage that could not feed them all, due to lack of funds, nor educate them, only push them onto some unsuspecting, uneducated persons who thought that love and prayer was the answer to all their problems.

I cannot tell you how wrong that perception is, much as I wish it was true.  I cannot tell you of the unplanned abuse that happened to many of these children, mainly due to ignorance of what is involved in either adopting or fostering a child you have never seen before, nor had a present relationship with, to where you visited, had week-ends with, got to know over a period of time.  Just as we would not meet a person for the first time and get married, neither should you do this when you adopt children.  The feelings of want, love, yearning are all on the parents side.  The children are just desperate to get out of where they are, and will, and do, say anything to get to the "promise" they have been led to believe.  Might I say here, that in these cases that I have been exposed to, in my home as well as by hearsay, the parents involved have had no training in what to expect.

I have been educated in the process and needs of children who come into foster-adoptive care, and was literally forced into rescuing a couple of children adopted into the above circumstances.  I am thrilled to say one is working out, mainly because he has been, and accepted being "parented"  over the last three years. The other, a sibling, unfortunately, was too old to be parented, or to accept parental advice, therefore leaving her subject to her original abusers, and vulnerable to accepting any words that would condone her actions.  It is sad for me to say some of these kids accept advice, some don't.  Some learn, some don't.  Some return to their abusers for approval, some don't.  None of this is predictable.  All I can do is pray for those that have been sent to me, but not condone continued abuse or ignorance.

IT happens

Well the last couple of weeks have been hectic as well as emotional and life changing.  Last week, one of my sweet, innocent twelve year olds had a grand mal seizure, which really caused me concern.  Upon arriving at the ER, where she was totally normal now, not remembering anything other than being really tired, we were thrown back six years to worrying about a heart defect that was cured.  Thank God, it was cured, no doubts at all at the heart specialist, but then, my mom, who is 85 years old, is suddenly taken to hospital, in Australia, with a bad fall, resulting in hip replacement surgery, with knee repair (from the fall) surgery as well.  I am informed that this will take place with epidural surgery, not anesthesia, because she has had a few mini strokes, and upon entry to hospital, they discovered, has an enlarged heart, so in the end it was anesthesia.  She had another "mini" stroke a couple of days ago, leaving her with slurred speech and fear of her next surgery.

Australia is a long way away, and although I have two sisters there, who are amazing and keep me informed, that is not much of a comfort.  My Dad is almost 93 years of age, and really spry, and still driving, but is also concerned for his wife of more years than most people get.  On top of that, I am involved with my children in more than one production at this time of year, in fact three, two of which I am directing.  Crunch time, in every way possible in my life.  And then?  Oh yes, and THEN!

While parts of my life that are God directed are blossoming, opportunities beyond my imagination, the stuff between my feet, trying to falter me, is just too time consuming, emotionally, and physically.  It is time to cut ties that make trouble, that is beyond my control.

My family call me "soft", I think I am strong, but with propensities that lead me sometimes to be more sympathetic, or empathetic,  than I need to be.  So, my strength comes from my Redeemer, and I rely on that at all times, so, as scripture tells us, "strength will arise" and it has.  I do not, ever, back off from the truth, that includes the "adventures of Isaiah", nor responsibility, that includes my children, including Isaiah, my mother, my father, and extended family, and also the commitments I have in the coming week or ten days, as well as emergencies that arise, but for those who think they can manipulate, threaten, or frighten me into something I don't believe in?  Think again.  My strength cometh from the hills, from the Lord who strengthens me.

Give Thanks With A Grateful Heart

This week has been what Aussie's call a "doozy"!  I still have images of my beautiful twelve year old having a full on seizure flash through my mind, but am so grateful that she has recovered, and is her usual self.  Jada has a laugh that tinkles, and just makes you smile, while her twin has a full throat belly laugh.  It has always amused us that though they are very alike in some ways, their laugh is distinctly different.  It is wonderful to hear that tinkle floating around the house.

We went to the cardiologist yesterday, and my heart soared to hear her heart is NORMAL!!  Jada was diagnosed at about two with a three prong heart defect, and we attended the heart center for four years, until, about six years ago, on a checkup, she had a very unusual exam, which led to another sonogram. As we went into that room, and I watched her being hooked up to the machine, I asked questions about how, and why, and the possible surgery that was being mentioned.  Maybe a balloon in one of her arteries to help blood flow.  I could see her lying there, and imagined that tiny body with a scar running down her chest, and almost automatically told God to heal her, because, it was Christmas and it was time to get this done.   Imagine my surprise, when He DID!!   I remember watching the technician running the doppler over her small body, and seeing her puzzled expression.  We already had a sonogram that showed the defect, but just as I assumed she was seeing something worse, she excused herself, and went to get the doctor.  Now I was sure it was bad news.

The doctor came in, and began again, peering into the screen.  He suddenly stopped, looked at me, and announced that while he couldn't explain it, Jada's heart was perfectly normal.  He discharged us on the spot, shook my hand, and told me he didn't expect to see Jada again.  So, you can imagine how I felt when we were told a few days ago, that there might still be a problem, but, I have learned, by all means check it out, but never doubt that when God heals divinely, unexpectedly, believe it, and stand on it.  It sticks forever.

Now we just have the neurologist to see, and I am praying for the good report.  I am not afraid of the hurdles God puts in our life, I will jump them one at a time, because I am not alone, He is with me.

Unexpected curve balls

So, the day started with being woken up by our home phone, just a little early, which immediately had me on the alert.  We didn't get to it in time, but realized it was my Dad, calling from Australia.  He never calls at this time, so my full alarms went up as I dialed him back.  He was bright and cheery for a 93 year old at 10.00p.m at night, and I thought, well he may have just got the time wrong or something.  But, no.  He went on to explain that the fall my Mum took about this time last week, which I knew about, had done some damage.  My mum has had a couple of "mini" strokes which have led to black outs and falls, one where she broke her ankle.  She had fallen last week again, and my dad had trouble getting her up, and from then on she had suffered pain throughout her leg and hip.

Good news, no broken hip, or ankle, although bone deterioration not good in the hip, but knee torn up again, bad news as it was operated on for the second or maybe third time just earlier this year.  I was put in the "keep you informed" line and hung up with a number to reach my mum, now in the hospital, back in Australia.  So, I go about the day, which is always hectic at least, and suddenly notice a message that asks me to teach vocals for the afternoon as well as a private vocal lesson.  I lock in, and am preparing to fill in some vocal classes as well as my private lesson, just one?, or so I thought.

In the midst of all this carry on, Rog, hubby extraordinaire, is hanging all our guitars on the wall, and finds a beautiful Tacoma guitar that I bought him eons ago, has the neck broken from too tight strings.  So, we pack it up and take it over to the guitar shop, and as he is working that out, I am shopping in the thrift store for one of my upcoming shows I am directing.  We come home, both feeling like we have achieved what we set out to do, and I go to attend to my email, and then, oh and then.  My hubby calls out as I hear a thud on the floor in the library, just off the kitchen, and find one of my twelve year old twins, Jada, on the floor in a grand mal seizure.  No time for anything, but damage control, so Rog, absolute infinite partner, husband, lover, friend, calls 911, while I keep her in the best position while watching her stiff and convulsing from head to foot, rejecting panic, and only accepting wisdom, and calm to keep control of this sudden turn of events.

911 is amazing and fast, so we are at the ER within about ten minutes of the beginning of the seizure.  I am thinking this is not so great a day, but at the end of all of it?  Well yes, Jada, is probably going to need  medication for epilepsy, a condition her biological mother has, but the reason for all of this?  Well Jada is a fetal alcohol baby, with mild CP, and was cleared, cured miraculously from a three prong heart defect several years ago, but there was always this little nagging thought in the back of my mind, which I put down to "oh ye of little faith", but it turns out, that God did take away the big bad major stuff, but we may be left with a sticking heart valve.  If not for the seizure, we would not know.  Praise God.

Isaiah, home for the holiday

Well, I knew that Isaiah had earned a week-end home, but I didn't realize that he had been such a great student, and team mate, that he had earned a whole week for Thanksgiving.  I have been in contact with his counselor a number of times, a really nice young woman who is also a foster/adoptive parent, but I was still was somewhat in the dark about how the reward system worked at Job Corps.

I have received a few questions, as well as a few, "what is he doing there?", to "why can't I get in touch with him?", etc., so will try to answer or fill in the blanks.  Isaiah, or Friday as he is proudly called at school, did not receive any formal education before we rescued him from Liberia some three and a half years ago, and has really struggled to try to catch up in an impossible situation.  As well, he has been thrust into a family that is close knit, has rules, and knows where everyone is at all times, or at least to the very best of our abilities.  There are some times that one will try to sneak under the radar, but not for long.  I am afraid that I am an old fashioned mother who believes in extreme communication, for the betterment of the child whether they like it or not.  I am that bad penny that turns up when you least expect it.  That took Isaiah a little time to get used to, but, after Job Corps, he has a much better idea.

He is in school, either studying for his GED, or learning his current trade, Cement Masonry, from 8 a.m. in the morning till 12 noon, lunch, then trade in the afternoon until four or five.  Dinner is at six, so he hits the weights room in between, then has his laundry to do, as well as other dorm duties, as he is assistant dorm leader.  There is then social activities up until curfew, or lights out, which is about 9.30p.m. only to be up early in the morning, 6.a.m to start again.

He grinned openly and told me he "cried" the first day, because it was so overwhelming, but is so adamant now that he "loves" school, and I believe him.  We were all wondering where he would be in the relationship issue, because he has found this part of the family extremely hard, only because he could not trust or lose control of a situation.  Well, it seems, that being at school has somewhat cured those ideas.  He started out in an open dorm, and could not move out until he proved himself to be a team player, respectful of others, non aggressive of authority, and willing to help.  He did all of that and more.  He laughed as he regaled the compulsory kitchen duty.  When he was at home, he was so "Slow" in the kitchen, everyone would say "hurry up Isaiah" and I know he thought we were all picking on him, but, he was just about doubled over laughing recalling how his other team members on KP duty, were constantly telling him to "hurry up".  He learned to go fast.

He is well on the way to getting his GED, even though it is very hard for him.  His teachers know that his education only started three years ago, and are patient, but also pushing him, because he is "SMART".  His trade class has already helped to lay the foundations of the new laundry, and is on the team to learn how to cement a swimming pool for the facility over the next few months.  He is very proud of his achievements.  It is a great mixture of school, and trade, or learning one.  He can get up to two trades here because of his age, and they are already talking to him about advanced education, or college.  He can choose to go to one they offer, or, amazingly he has another offer from the principal of our kids school, to attend a very well known college, all expenses paid, as long as he gets his GED.  His eyes are set upon his goal, and I very much doubt that they will be shifted by anyone.  He can see the end of the rainbow for the very first time.

His next scary step is he is moving out of his first dorm where he needed to show that he could be a team member, not swayed by anger, or control, and is moving to what he fondly calls the "suburbs".  We sent him back with his own DVD player, as many kids have DVD's but no player, and I expect he will move up to a nice apartment on campus, where he only shares with a couple of other kids, own TV, play station, video games, etc.  This is a great program that instills in kids the need to respect, and be respected.

I am so proud of him.  He is on the second top level in school, silver, which entitles him to free outings (movies, festivals etc), and we have encouraged him to go for gold, a level only a handful of students hold.  Silver is only about a fifth of the campus, but gold?  It is a challenge.  He has to write an essay, frightening for a kid who doesn't have a lot of reading or writing skills, but we have encouraged him to write a little each day, get used to it, go for the GOLD!

Can't wait till he comes for Christmas in just three weeks!  Oh, and by the way, the team skills paid off. He started to rebuild relationships with the boys that he thought were gone, with just a small smattering of humility and understanding.  Sadly, he has learned of others who have had terrible circumstances affect their short lives as well, and his eyes have been opened about how if you let others abuse, control and lead you in bad directions, then only hurt and sorrow follow.  He is moving past being a victim, to being a leader, an achiever, and feeling pride and self esteem for the very first time.  Go Isaiah! Go!

Isaiah's Strength

So, there is always so much more to the picture than on the page, and I always follow my "gut" on situations that are not clear.  One thing that I will give Isaiah, he is loyal, to both his biological family as well as the family who rescued him.   I cannot believe or comprehend the changes in him over the last seemingly few weeks, but in reality, eight or nine, to where he has emerged to a place where he is not reliant on opinion, or, being coerced into a situation that he doesn't feel comfortable, or believe in.  He is in counseling in his school, because of the nature of the students that come into this program, and has learned to discern, and to recognize that "anger" is an emotion that is not responsible for it's fallout, or it's target, and that is to make someone feel either small, inadequate, or needing to make someone else feel good, no matter the consequence.

He has much pressure from sources that should know better right now, to bend, forgive, forget, all the atrocities he went through in Africa, and what for, their own needs, not his.  Memory is such a forgetful thing, if you let it.  His peers who surrounded him in the abuse he went through, suddenly have selective memory, and it is very easy for them to forget.  They were here in America, oh yes, in somewhat not so favorable circumstances, but, not in the heart of the interior of rural Liberia, suffering malaria, getting African chiggers dug out of their feet, not once but three times with sharpened bamboo, without painkillers, getting one meal if they were lucky a day, and having to learn to climb a coconut tree if you were really hungry.  Count in that you don't know the language, and can't for the the very "life" of you hunt a fish down with your hands.  Then, the worst imaginable thing, watching your young five year old cousin die from the disease your are suffering from, whilst she is lying on the pallet next to yours.  Seeing the elders of the tribe come to try to "spook" the evil spirits away, and then wailing as they picked up a body, heaving, convulsing, to the river, in the hopes that the spirits would be washed away and a small, five year old little African girl, would be spared.  She wasn't, but neither did her thirteen year old cousin from the Great America.  He stayed awake for ten days fearful that the evil spirits would come for him.

So where were these so called people who now say "oh forgive and forget"?  Just where they are now, in denial and oblivious to just what the facts of the actions that these people took in the name of whatever.  But, they can stay in denial.  I thank God Isaiah, Friday, does not.  He will always love his biological family, but will not be swayed by them, they did not live what he did.  He is becoming to understand that while his "other" families in the past demand, his current family does not.  You know why?  I trust this young man is an intellectual person who will define his own identity, and understand who has helped him to achieve that.  If that is not I, that does not matter, only the end result, him, whole, saved, moving forward in life, is my goal, and my wish for his future.

Isaiah Rocks!!

So today after getting back from the beach yesterday, I piled my two eldest boys in the PT convertible, and we headed for Franklin North Carolina.  I was not sure what to expect, how Isaiah had adjusted, as our phone calls had been few in the last eight or nine weeks.  The boys wanted to come, even though they have been the recipients of most of Isaiah's angst, and I understood why.  All three of us were waiting with bated breath to hope that this had been a wake-up call, a realization that we cannot live in our own little world not thinking of all who surround us.

I arrived to this somewhat rural, but quaint, rustic campus, with a lot of buildings, and parked before the  boom gates assuming that the building in the front was the "sign in" place I had been told off.  Sure enough, I had guessed right.  I signed in and was escorted to the counsellor's office.  I had spoken with her several times, and felt right at home with someone who was on "Friday's" as he is called here, side. I had always told Isaiah that one day his real name, given by his parents, would mean something, and sure enough, because it is his legal name, he has come to see that "Friday" is special.  No-one bears that name here but him.  She is a foster parent, amazingly enough, and we had a lot in common.  She told me how Isaiah is doing so well here, and I loved the photos of her soon to be son, who is two.

We waited while she found where Isaiah, or Friday as he is known here, was.   Soon he appeared at the door, and was quite taken back to see Dustin and Devin sitting there with me waiting for him.  I could tell he wasn't sure why they had come, but I immediately noticed the change in him.  No more furtive looking around, or licking his lips wondering what was going on, he gave a solid connect with his eyes, a genuine hug, and a confidence I had not seen before.  My heart leapt, because I knew change had happened, even in the midst of being thrown into a scary place, wondering if this was right for him.  Memories from the orphanage became so rampant, that it was hard for him to discern that, this time, his "PARENTS" were doing the right thing by him.

He openly told me that he had cried the first day, not able to discern because of the scariness of it all, but quickly told me that older kids there had taken him under their wing and put him on the right path.  This is not a dissimilar story to my other kids who have gone off to college, wondering what awaits them when they get there.  But, he said, "I cried quietly, not like when I was sent back to Liberia.  I wailed very loudly then, because I was terrified".

I cannot express how PROUD I am of him.  There are four levels at school.  Green, just entered, red, Ok in the middle, Silver a cut above the other kids, and Gold really excellent.  He is on the silver level which constitutes maybe 5-10% of the campus.  My heart is bursting with pride.  He gets it finally, he knows that this road is hard, but he is willing to fight for his future.  He knows he is smart, he has pride in himself for the very first time, and was so thankful to come "home".  Yes, he said to me quite openly, "Mom, I am so glad you taught me rules, and washing, and being a part of the family, because I would not have got it here".   He has learned work ethic, discipline, attitude and respect and is currently part of the team who is going to build the new swimming pool at the facility.

There are no other words other than "God Is Good, and He Is Faithful!"  I am so thrilled and happy to have 'Friday' home for Thanksgiving.  By the way, he also asked me could he bring a friend home that has no bedroom, or a place to sleep at his home.  That brought me to tears, as he is thinking of someone else for the first time in his very short life.  I am speechless, and more thankful this Thanksgiving than I have been in a really long time.

Isaiah, the long road home.

So had a great couple of days away at the beach.  The first and last day were spent traveling, but it is something both of us enjoy, a chance to chat, plan, decide where we are going and all the other things that we have fleeting moments to discuss.  When you have such a large family, there are so many aspects that are relevant, or not so relevant, need attention, but can escape under the radar, and where we are headed as a family, and in business, goals, and extra curricular things that come across the never ending plate for decision, or contemplation.

There are many things on our "plate" so to speak, at the moment, one of which is an "article" which we committed to some time ago, but has taken a long time to come to fruition.  I do believe in timing, and I do believe in "God's" ultimate timing.  It has almost happened several times, and I sometimes have been frustrated by this, but, God, in His ultimate wisdom,  knows exactly when this should all come about.  There have been many times, I dread to say, that I have felt that I knew the perfect timing, only to be thwarted and know that my timing, is not necessarily the best, but His is.

In saying that, because I have very definite ideas on children and abuse, suffering, non education of children, the "lost" children, who by the way are just around your corner needing a family, I get impatient.  I wish there were more families who could get out of their own space, or needs, and see the need for these children who are so "lost" in our society, and who have such issues about trust and love.

I have thought more about this in the journey home today, whilst driving, with my honey, either playing his favorite songs, or snoozing, than collectively in the last few months, where things have been so chaotic, or turned upside down, in my house, because of the need for extra family and guests.   Tomorrow, I go to pick up Isaiah from school, a place he is beginning to feel not only grateful for, but thankful for, as he IS going to get an education here, and regain his self esteem as well as self pride.  Not pride that is harmful, but pride that propels us to places we could not imagine before inspiration kicked in.

My two older boys, twins, are coming with me, even though they are people he has abused, physically and mentally, the most.  They "get" his journey with all of this, even though they forgive, but cannot forget.  For that, I am eternally grateful for, because they are all similar age.  Isaiah is possibly thirteen years in, thirteen years out, or at the very least 3-4 years in and the same out.  That is physchological talk for when kids get better.  Because he was thirteen when he came to us, it could be maybe twenty-six before he comes out of that abusive cycle.  It may be just the nearly four years spent with his other family, therefore meaning four years in ours, which is just a short way off.  How we know?  Trust in God, look for signs, and fervently pray that he does not have take the long road home.

Holiday....mmmm....

Holidays are rare for us, alone or with all of the family, but, the last couple of months have been a little more extraordinary than usual.  We have had family (five, with babies) living with us because of extenuating circumstances, an anniversary, which meant visitors from Australia, and just the normal organized chaos that exists in a family the size of ours.

My mum, still living in Australia, is not well, and continues to have "spells" and falls, all of which are worrisome at the very least because I am here, and it is a very long way home.  So, with all of this on my plate, as well as other "stuff between my toes" my honey and I are trying, yes, trying, to have a few days on our own.  It really is a romantic notion, because, there are phone calls, texts, more phone calls, emails, more phone calls, more texts just to keep everyone up to date, out of bed, doing jobs, and knowing where and when to drop this child or the other one.

I give up!!!  But, I will, under every difficult circumstance, take the opportunity when given to get away, even if only physically, for a few days with my amazing husband.

Ah!  Next week, Franklin, pick up Isaiah, and Thanksgiving, with a hundred and ten or, Ok, I am exaggerating here, but sometimes it feels like that.  I hope I get to eat what I cook.  More so, I hope I get to eat what the others bring!!

Isaiah, home for the holidays!

I am so proud of Isaiah, he is on the silver level at school and is eligible not just for a week end, but the whole week for Thanksgiving.  I know this sort of sounds odd with regards to a school, his school is very special.  It is a tech college as well as a school that gets kids their GED, their drivers license, as well as up to two trades.  He can be here for three years, because of his age, and earn advanced education if he plays by the rules.  It is fully paid for by the Government for kids who come from very low income families, foster children, and those who have lost families and have been taken in by someone else.

Some of you who follow this blog know that Isaiah was a child from a broken adoption, that was sent back to Liberia illegally.  When we rescued him he was thirteen and a half years old, with grade one.eight education, not from lacking intellect, but lacking education from his previous family.  His road in the last three and a half years has been tough, from many different angles.  Quite frankly, he doesn't trust much, and who can blame him?  All those older than him, including biological and adoptive adults, let him down.  Oh yes, he made mistakes, but as a CHILD.  Adults are supposed to correct, instruct and bring a child up in the way that they should go.  That is biblical even if we don't like it.

His struggle with trust, fitting into a family that has very strong boundaries, trying his hardest to learn to be educated, even though he has never learned a work ethic, understanding it is going to be worth it, is a credit to him.  A lot of his peers, choose the low road, not the high one.  The low road leads to young parenthood, lack of education, lawlessness, and just plain trouble all the way round.  And if it doesn't lead to trouble, it leads to being very poor financially because of lack of education.

He has no current biological family that is standing with him, that is another story.  The kids that came from this situation are so messed up, that without parents, they are lost.  They seek approval, attention, and cannot see the future that spans before them that requires some form of education.  Oh, it is easy to get caught up in the moment and think that living for the present is what matters, but those of us who are older and wiser, parents of children of school age, know better.   Children grow beyond babies, and become children who ask questions and want to be like their peers.

It is coming up to Christmas, and as a parent with nine children at home, four grown children,  nine grandchildren to buy presents for, I am aware that I am deeply appreciative of my parents for educating me, and  making me aware that I need an education to have the finances to supply my family, at all times.  My only regret is that I cannot be all to all people, and that is OK.  I am at peace with myself and my family who I love more than anything in this world, other that God of course.

What's Next

After spending the last year on my book "Finding Friday", and now it is all finished, I am looking to see what to write next.  Through my two books that I have written, I realize I want to tell a story, but, have it make an impact, change something, or wake someone up.  I also realize, that people are transient, sometimes wanting to tell their story, then changing their mind because of whatever is going on in their life.  That can be a good thing, moving on to better places, putting the past behind, healthily, or it can be not wanting to face the things that have hurt, trying to gain acceptance, or approval, from the very people who have hurt, enabled, or abused in the first place.

I have found in my journey through the fostering and adoption process, that many people who are victims return to their abusers even though they know it is wrong, destructive and leads down the same paths that have caused pain before.  It is like a moth drawn to a flame, knowing all the while it can be burned, incinerated to the point of death.  I am reminded in particular of one of my children's mother who just cannot keep out of trouble.  When she is away from the deadly scene of drugs and alcohol she is the sweetest person, but it is the little moth within her, that when things go wrong, all she knows is the comfort of the very things that bring her down, change her, make her dependent on abusers.

I visited her in jail just recently, and once again found the sweet person, who loves Jesus, wants to amend and atone, change forever, and yet finds it exceedingly difficult to climb the mountain and claim freedom from ghosts of her past.  I know of the pain that was caused in her childhood, that turned her to this terrible world that has claimed most of her life, but I don't understand how it consumed her to the extent of losing her children as well as her life.  I cannot imagine giving my children up for any reason, but I know, that there are many whose fears are so great that they will sacrifice anything to hide, be approved of, gain recognition, be a hero, or a fraud, so long as they do not have to face their pain.

My husband always says "The best disinfectant is the light of day".  He is right.  When we try to cover up our insecurities or our fears, or my case, many years of feeling like I was the "odd" one, and begin to change our behaviors to either suck up to, or crawl if you prefer, be wrongly influenced, or bullied, into decisions we shouldn't make, try to mend damaging relationships, we need to stop, remember, and carefully consider whether this valley is worth revisiting.  For it is a deep, dark valley of bones and graves.  The mountain is worth climbing, is worth the struggle, the physical effort to take one step, one day at a time, towards healing, and reclaiming our very own life that was given to us, and nobody else, to rob, or steal, of each day that was pre-planned for us before we were born.

I feel perhaps there is a story that I will tell of someone who wants this so badly, that they will be prepared to bare their very soul and inevitably help someone else who is going through the same struggle that they have managed to climb their way out of.  "Finding Friday" is that struggle, one Isaiah is still dealing with, but, he IS climbing the mountain, and is not lost in the valley of bones and death, but on his way to freedom and life.  I know he will not turn back, for he sees where he has come from, and has at least a little "glimpse" of where he is going and that is so much greater than from whence he has come.

Fact or Fiction?

I haven't blogged in quite a while, things have been "insane" for want of a better word in my house over the last few months, but, with good results.  Summer was long, with eleven children at home, and waiting for Job Cops to call.  The eleventh is my grandson, who is no trouble at all, just another one to watch and feed.

As school resumed, Job Corps did not call yet for Isaiah, and I had to make a decision.  Keep him home until?, or send him to school until.  After one week home, it was send him to school until.  The call was a long time coming, but was worth the wait.  Isaiah is at Job Corps, and, after really wondering what was his fate the first week, is really enjoying his new found freedom, as well as his new found opportunities for education for the next three years.

He has really tried his best with us, to fit in, try to be part of the family, but when trust is broken, and a child's spirit has been broken as well, it is a long road to normalcy.  The thing is, he just doesn't trust parents, or women for that matter, in his life, but, he knows I will level with him, be honest, and not expect anything in return.  He has learned in the last three years what a normal family looks like, has realized that he is not a "bad" child, and learned that if he had been educated at a younger age, all would be so much simpler for him.

He also knows now, that being sent back to Liberia, was not his choice, but one of co-ercing and brain washing, and I didn't even have to say a word, time is a great healer.  While he struggles with understanding a "real" family, he does understand how it works, and wants to be there, have this for himself, in the true sense.

I have completed my book,  "Finding Friday", 100,000 plus words.  It is biographical fiction, but tells a compelling story.  After being rejected, the same very large Christian publishing house has asked for my book proposal.  I pray and hope that it will be accepted.  I have realized after taking in, fostering, adopting so many children, one of the things in my future is to tell their stories, anonymously, so they can be free from the torment in their lives.

Children are innocent, pages to be written upon, so why is it we, as adults, fail them?  There are many extenuating circumstances, and I, myself, as a parent, wish I could have done some things differently, but, I have never abused, neglected, or abandoned my children, even when I was a very poor single mother.  We are entrusted my God to look after the children he sends, whether by birth, adoption, or marriage, and if we fail, abuse, neglect, we face judgement for that.

Spontaneity

So, we have another "big" week-end ahead of us.  My English friends are renewing their vows for their 15th wedding anniversary.  I applaud them. we waited until 25 years and I really don't know why.  Their goal was to re-new every five years and they missed the 10th because of the recession, cost etc.  You know, these days you can't always ask someone to BYO, (bring your own), and even if you do, many don't, they expect you to provide.  In a changing economy, running a Dance, theatre Academy is risky at the very least.  A lot of people have decided these extra curricular things are the cream that needs to be skimmed from the top, and they have.  But, they have survived, through sheer hard work, and belief in what they are doing for the community.  My children have thrived in this environment, and I have seen them come into their own, in gaining confidence speaking, acting, and dancing in front of an audience.  This may seem trivial, but, as we grow up we need to be able to be confident to speak out, and not be afraid to do so.

So with the big adventure, my friend has decided to sew her own dress, which she has on two occasions before, and on many occasions when tutu's or waistcoats, or any other costume you name has to be made.  She is also teaching from 9a.m. until 3.p.m. every day with theme camps at her studio, as well as running a house that has three, hungry children awaiting selections from the kitchen daily.  So, understanding her dilemma, I have an extra three again tonight.  After three nights of excitement on some degree or another, I have ruled the 9.30p.m. bedtime, because, 7.00a.m comes way too soon for me, especially when Rog is in Vegas.

I am sure my multi symptom kid has not taken her medicine properly in the last couple of adventurous nights sleeping over and having her very best friends over twice in one week, so that adds to the excitement as well as the younger three having done three hours of ballet twice in one week, repeating for the next two days, complaining of sore muscles, and aches and pains caused from returning to ballet.  Then, Dustin, had to return to the Doctor today after having an asthma attack a couple of days ago to be given some more medicine and not a clear outcome.  I, personally, think he may be having panic attacks coming out of the frying pan he has been in with Isaiah for the last few years.  I am at this very moment putting that theory into action, and I already suspect I am right.  Adrenalin out of control is a scary thing and can do weird things.

On top of all that, the adventure for the twelve kids tonight was to put the chickens to bed.  One is up a tree, or somewhere, scared to death of so many willing caretakers!  Dustin and Devin have stayed up to find it and put it to bed.  Chickens have taught me many sayings are true.  Spring chicken?  Well chicks are only born in the spring.  Chickens come home to roost?  Yes, extremely true, so creamy chicken is really upset right now.  And my ducks?  Well they really quack me up.  But, the eggs are delicious, and they all, the ducks and the chickens, have personalities, and names I might add.  I am so lucky to be blessed with such a diverse life.  The success overwhelms the failures, and I still believe that if you never try, then you can never succeed.

And, Rog, beware, after this week-end I may want to do the whole re-new thing again at thirty five years.  We are coming up to thirty three amazing, unforgetable years, where I almost think that each year is special, and then I remember Heidi and Seal, and go, oh, ah, what.  But I guess I am not that extravagant or assuming, but only want to remember daily what a special relationship I have with my one of a kind husband.

Finally!

It has been a really busy summer in our house, of course with nine kids at home what else can you expect, but, the demands on my time have seemed greater than usual.  We have been waiting for the "go ahead" on Job Corps for Isaiah, and that has been put on hold for a couple of months, as well as my cd about the children and their stories, and the video, moved into action.  The video was a hard choice for me, but in the end, I chose the song about Isaiah.  He has been the one who has struggled possibly the most, at least emotionally, and still faces living in survival mode from day to day.

Just as I think we make progress, we go back a couple of paces, then gingerly look at whether to put another foot out.  I think this has been the biggest challenge in my history of fostering and adoption.  Emotional problems are elusive at best, while physical ones present themselves in the light of day, with many options to overcome.  Whether Isaiah can overcome them is yet to be determined.  I hope and pray every day he will, and each time he goes forward for prayer, I feel there is another dent made in the wall that surrounds him.  In fact, there isn't one wall, there are many layers.

Last night was a spontaneous night for us, which is not rare, after all we are Australian, and our English friends, who have a marvelous dance and acting studio which all of my kids attend, rolled up bringing our two home who had been helping over the summer with the office, and kids etc, with the pleading request that the kids all have a swim and sleepover.  Well when you have nine, what's another three?  Just more breakfast!  The catch was my sweetheart was leaving for Vegas at six, and they were all being picked up to go to the studio by 7.30.a.m., so it was an adventure in the making.  My reason for telling this is, that my friends are black English people that Isaiah looks up to, and he was childishly excited that their two boys were staying the night.  The sad part was, my youngest boy, Zach, is also bi-racial and the three of them have this tight "brother" relationship, which because of the ages, Isaiah is not part of, not for any bad reasons, just the age difference and the interests that the three younger ones share.

It was a reminder to me of how damaged this young man, of sixteen and one half years, is and probably will be for some time.  It saddened me to see him on the front porch this morning trying to relate to three young boys that were much younger and less mature, just because of their color and race.  It also pointed out to me the desperate need he feels to fit into this society and has not a lot of ability in knowing how to.  I am such a "fix it" person, but I cannot fix this.  This is a long journey because of past abuse, lack of education, and such a need to survive one day at a time.

I have mentioned previously that an article has been written about Isaiah, and his other Liberian brother and sisters with regard to the abuse suffered at the hand of their previous family, well, it is finally here.  It will be published and within the next few weeks I believe.  I hope justice prevails, although, I know that works in strange ways.  I hope I get the opportunity to put my "two bob's" worth in, because I think it is more that 20cents, in American money, it is a price I could not fathom because of the depths of pain, suffering, mis-trust, lack of guidance and parental input that the two children I have taken into my family have been affected by.

I do not know the outcome of their lives, but I hope, that I have at least stepped up to the plate and been a real mother, not a friend, or an abuser, not someone who, because they have difficulty caring for me, to turn away and forget they exist, but a Christ minded person who thinks about What Would Jesus Do?  I know that's a cliché, but there is truth there as well.  If I didn't think like that, I would not have survived the last three years and neither would have my family.  I am immensely proud of the fact that all of my other kids, young and older, have been supportive and have not only tried with these kids, but loved them, and ultimately tried to understand what they have been through.  Not an easy task, but then, I have amazing kids, and that includes Isaiah and CeCe who continue to strive towards the goal even though they have no idea what that is.  I hope, I pray, that I can teach them, and encourage them towards what God had in store for them.

The article that I have spoken about is being published soon.  A five thousand word article that I hope is freeing and informative.  I am eternally grateful for my friend, for her passion and dedication to put her heart and voice into exposing the exploitation of children.  I will let you know when it is being published, I only have tentative dates right now.  Also, my book, or novel based on the truth is finished,.  On that I shall also tell you when, and how to get a copy.  Here is a link to my cd that is not quite released yet, but, go have a listen.  For me this is not about sales, it is about information so that we are not ignorant of what is happening in our back yard.  Please listen to the stories, that's all I ask.  If you click on music you will be able to hear four tracks, the first one is the one I wrote for Isaiah, and also the video.

EPK link: http://www.tatemusicgroup.com/epk/?id=17950

Divine Appointments

So, in the interest of a new cd about to release, and a music video, as well as a book I am very passionate about, I mustered all I had within me, which wasn't much after 10 loads of laundry, cleaning house, grumpy children, all because of our week of total freedom from all of that at the beach, and then an eight hour drive home, and took myself, as well as Rog, to a supposed open mike at a Tapas Bar in East Cobb, Georgia.  My purpose was to "sus" out the open mike, and see if they would accept the songs I would sing here, but, that was my purpose;  God had a different one.

The open mike was no longer, a memory of last year because of lack of support, but we soldiered on and felt we would sit at the bar, the most interesting place to sit if you are a people person, order something small, and go home.  But, as God would have it, I was never there for the open mike, I was there for the "open heart".  The bar tender, as Rog noticed, had no sense of humor, which of course made us even more idiotic than we really are, proving the statement she made later that Monday was the beginning of her week-end.  Now I know why she was so grumpy.  But, still we held in, ordered, took the usual umpteen dozen phone calls from home, mainly from the Aspergers' kid about who was telling on her, just to have a few minutes on our own, even with interjected conversation with the cell phone.

I have just discovered I am a little gluten intolerant, so I ordered from the GF menu thinking I am getting something delicious.  Rog orders something I know is delicious.  Mine comes, and I am thinking that they are lying on the menu, but, I have too many manners to complain, so I start a conversation with the woman who is sitting almost next to me at the bar.  If you can imagine a corner, well I was on one side of the corner, and she was on the other.  I am not sure, mainly because how fast this conversation progressed, as to how we got to the "God" subject so quickly.  But, suddenly, I am telling her where we go to church, and what a wonderful church this is in all locations, and then in the midst of ministering to her about an accident with her niece, a marriage that is not on solid ground, and that both her husband and herself are musically inclined, we find common ground, and she realizes that "God" in in the midst of us, in a Tapas Bar.

Well, Jesus never did hang out with the right people, or talk the excepted talk, walk in the ways that he was supposed to, and now, after 2000 odd years we all go, yeah, we get that, but, curses on the people called to do close to the same thing in our day and time.  Why is it that we cannot sit in the pew, with the people of God, and receive the message, take it to our hears, and then, God forbid, take it to a bar, either a Tapas bar, or any other for than matter, but proclaim the gospel to the very person who is in dilemma, no matter where they are, or what their circumstance.  It is the road I walk, somewhat tenuously, because it is not the road normally travelled.   It is the road that is normally condemned.

Before I  finish and go to bed which I really should because I am really tired, I will tell a little story that has haunted me for twenty four hours.  Yesterday we were driving back from Florida with nine kids, and two dogs, and different temperaments rolling around the car that was just about exhausting my patience, when we needed a bathroom stop, as well as a gas stop.  We pulled into a gas station on the wrong side of town, but we couldn't wait any longer so, that was that.  As we turned up the side street to have to u-turn back and find the entrance to the gas station, all of us could not ignore an elderly homeless man sitting under a tree on the upper side of the station.    My kids all had a nervous giggle, and we explained that he was a homeless person, and obviously an old man, and not to stare because that was rude.

I watered and gave the dogs a restroom stop, then put them back in their crate and started towards the store and restrooms of the gas station.  The homeless man was now leaning on the wall about half way up the wall of the station.  I had taken the dogs for a walk where he had been sitting under the tree just a few minutes before I had taken their leads off and put them back in their crate, leaving them in Roger's charge as I went to the restroom.  This small voice came to me as I saw him, fragile, sunburned,  soaked through his clothes with sweat, sipping on a styrofoam cup a with a straw.  He looked exhausted, old, and defeated.  Tears came to my eyes, and I tried to remind myself that I couldn't give too much money in case he was an addict.  It came to me then in an instant as my children were inside the store pondering about which ice-cream they would choose.  I turned to my eldest boy with me, and asked if he had some money, I had left mine in the car, and said I wanted to buy the homeless man an ice-cream.  Dustin grinned back and said he had thought the same thing.  We went to the freezer and chose the best one, he paid for it, and we took it out to the old man.  His face broke out in a big smile, and tears came to his eyes, as he said "Thank-you" and told me what cute little dogs I had.

I was broken, as was Dustin, and reminded of our blessings, all and each and every one of them.  I was so proud of Dustin for thinking about this old man, who was alone, in the devastating heat, and cared enough to spend his pocket money on a treat.  I went in and organized all the kids with their purchases when Rog walked in.  I asked him for his wallet, and promptly went outside as the old man was retreating to his place under the tree on the upper side of the station.  I handed him the money I felt God had asked me to give, just enough to give him a meal, not enough for drugs or alcohol if they were his demons.  His face was radiant, humble, and grateful.  Dustin and I have not been so privileged for a very long time.  Who knows when there are angels amongst us, or just an old man who had no-one, and needs an ice-cream in 106 degree temperature.  God forbid that I would pretend not to see him for the 21st time.

Light in Sight

We have been at the beach this week, which in the end turned out much nicer than when it started.  We arrived in Panama City to rain and tropical storm Debby who was being very indecisive about what direction she was taking.  Then, after vacationing at this apartment for several years, we get informed that we have too many children, we are not within the fire code.  Now I respect rules, but I would have liked to know that a few years ago, or at least last year, and not at this moment with waves crashing, wind and rain, along with nine kids holed up in the living room twenty one stories up.  Lucky for us, it is a family unit, and a phone call put us back in the car, after repacking of course, and headed west for Sandestin, where we have been ever since with great weather, and sparking water.  This is our last day, and although a little windy at the moment, looks to be another beautiful day.  I believe it is 105 back in Hotlanta, so I will enjoy the cool breeze while I can.

So apart from getting a tan, (haven't had one of those for years), I also have been writing.  I joined another twelve week writing course with the famous Ms.B. or Belinda Smith, who is such a great mentor.  So got my first of twelve songs down for the record, and am really close to finishing "Finding Friday".  The end of the book has been so hard to write, mainly because I couldn't see "light" at the end of the tunnel.  Isaiah has struggled with many things in the last three years, but the hardest for him has been learning to "learn".  School has been difficult, from more than one perspective for him.  Not only passing grades, but fitting in, finding a place.  I mean how many kids is he going to find that have one once of understanding the roller coaster journey he has been on.  Even the kids from other countries have been to school, and while their English may not be great, they have basics.  Isaiah has so many "holes" in his education that it began to look hopeless in the last few months, that was until his Principal, an amazing woman, suggested Job Corps.

 So the paper work is done, and now we are waiting for the call for him to be accepted into the North Carolina Campus where they will help him get his GED, and teach him a trade at the same time.   I am praying this all comes to pass for him.  This is the best possible outcome for this young man, who struggles to connect and trust in a family setting.  He can begin to be his own person and build self confidence, which hopefully will be begin the journey of healing, not only for him, but within the walls of our family, where it has been difficult adjusting to the "loner" in our midst.  God is good, there is "light" in sight.

Update on Isaiah

As many of you know, we rescued a kid, in fact Isaiah, from a broken adoption some three years ago, when his former family sent him back to Liberia.  I cannot tell a lie, this has been a struggle, a hard journey, not only for us, but for him as well.  So much so, that I have almost written a book.  I am up to nearly 100,000 words and need a final chapter, which, thank you Lord, I now have.  While we have tried as a family of eight children at home, four others married with children, and ourselves, parents to all of them, he has struggled with being in a family, let alone trusting parents.  His biological mother died in childbirth resulting in his sisters being sent to the orphanage where they would be adopted into the "Great America" and him being kept by his father, only to be rejected by his new "mother" two years later and being sent to the same orphanage.  You can see where I am going.  His trust in "mothers" was not real great, so by the time he got adopted, rejected, and rescued by me, he didn't have a lot of of belief in parents, or particularly mothers.  At least I can say without a doubt from me or him, that our relationship has been real, if not normal.  He knows I "get" him.  He knows I know he cannot feel much for me or the rest of the kids for that matter, and he knows I hate that for him.

He has what I call "survivor" disorder, where he survives each day entirely one day at a time, not recalling much from yesterday, and waking to survive the new day dawning.  On top of that he has post traumatic stress from, mother dying, father leaving, orphanage horror, adoption failing, Africa again with hunger and death, and new family who just look too good to be true.  In all of this he disconnected with everyone, was abused, both physically and sexually, an became an abuser himself for a short period, which caused hatred of his own self at the ripe old age of thirteen.  I did not survive the last three years without a Savior, Redeemer, and Lord.  But, tragically, even though Jesus is all of that to me, Isaiah cannot believe He can be that to him because of his past, and the things he daily does that he cannot understand.

But, in all of this, God is good.  He brought Isaiah to us knowing the struggles we both would have and trusted all of us, all eight children at home and four others married with children, to accept, try, believe and hope that Isaiah would come through in the end.  Now, I will remind you that our children at home have issues, learning as well as, cerebral palsy, bipolar, Tourettes, Aspergers, ADHD, OCD, and sensory issues beyond your comprehension.  I think God has a sense of humor.  I have thought many times I would go "under" but my faith in God and his path is more than what I see, that is most of the time.  I can't tell how many times I have felt like a missionary where I cannot go to a church service because of duty calling in the field at home, not abroad.

But, thanks to my amazing Principle of our Christian home school, he has been accepted into Job Core, which is a Government program where he will not only get his GED, but, his driving license, up to two trades, and three years in a trade college, with all expenses paid.  I am continually amazed, astounded, and thankful for a God who knows what we are going through, from both sides, and see the solution for each. I think this track applies to all children whose wings have been broken and only Jesus can teach them to fly. This is the title track to the album Broken Hearts and Broken Wings played acoustically.

Out with the old.......In with the new

A few months ago I took this intense writing course with Belinda Smith and wrote lots of songs about things I had never thought of before, like writing a song about an object.  The object came to me very quickly, but the writing turned in a direction that made me ponder on how we easily discard the old for the new.  I wrote about my grandmother's piano, the one that was center stage in her living room which was full of furniture hand carved and crafted by my grandfather.  When I was little, I always looked longingly at that piano, and desperately wanted to play it properly, but every time I climbed up on the too large piano seat and put my small hands on the keys, I was very plainly told not to "bang" on grandmother's piano.  I didn't think I was banging, but in reality, I probably was, and she loved that piano.  Of course part of the fascination for me was that it was not only a piano, but a pianola, which was a version that played music by itself with rolls of old yellowed paper, with holes in it that were the notes, and it rolled around and played magically by itself.  I was a very big fan, and my biggest wish was to learn to play those ivory keys.  When she died, I never did know where that piano went, but I would have walked a million miles for it to have sat in my living room.

I never did learn as a child, and am still trying to co-ordinate both hands together as an adult.  I mastered guitar, I plan to do the same with piano even if I am eighty.  As I thought about the piano, my mind wandered to other things.  The theatre where I performed my first professional role at the age of seventeen, aptly named "Her Majesty's Theatre", situated in Queen Street in my hometown of Brisbane.  You could smell the grease paint, and see the rodents that roamed those ancient hallways and dressing rooms that were freezing in winter and hot as hades in summer.  No air conditioning, no sound systems in a three thousand seat theatre, but so much atmosphere and history that I remembered arriving for call time dead tired, and just the smell of the place could make the blood rush through my veins.  I loved that old theatre, but it fell, demolished in a pile of dust and rubble to make way for "finer, newer" buildings that were more comfortable.  History gone forever in the name of progress.  I protested along with a lot of others whose lives and careers had been changed on that stage, but she came down nonetheless.  Shows moved to the "modern" theatre up on the hill that had a sound system and air conditioning, but not much atmosphere, or history for that matter.  But all in the name of progress.

My mind then turned to how music itself has changed drastically in such a short time.  What happened to EP's, and LP's and a small black round disk that was known as a "single".  I have one of those of myself singing in a radio competition at the age of fourteen.  I have it carefully put away for my grandchildren and great-grandchildren to know something of their "Grammy".  Of course I digitized it and have it stored on my I-Tunes, another leap in the music industry.  Soon, we will not even remember cd's, they will become like cassettes, if you remember those.  I still have an old turntable and my first four track recording system, my first DX7, and a pile of music I recorded way back then on a more than a few dats, and cassettes.  I still have a Dat Machine as well as sheet music from when I was learning singing at ten.  Those are old, and fragile, but memories I treasure.

Then of course my mind turned to the elderly, who we discovered while Roger's mum was in a nursing home at the end of her life, were very rarely visited by their families, and the children whose parents prefer a pill, or a bottle of ale over these precious little ones resulting in so many children in foster care. I could go on and on, but I'll let you remember your own precious things that have disappeared from life, some good, some bad, only time will tell.  I sure hope in twenty years we don't look back and think we were living in the good old days.  Here is the link, hope you enjoy:)
http://theadoptionthing.org/DustLeftOnMyCover.mp3

Real Issues

Well life has been busy, no, let me correct that, chaotic.  End of year at school is always hectic, but it seemed more so this year with ballet shows, musical theatre for both my company and BAPA, recital, field day, it just seemed to go on and on.  On top of that, I had music commitments of my own, writing deadlines, and mum duties, the most important.  Grandbabies being born, other family crisis situations that always need Mum and Dad's attention, pool motors burning out, pool parties for all and sundry for birthday parties and end of year parties, Mother's day (yeah that's a laugh, isn't that every day?), my own mother and father in health troubles all the way back in Australia, with no possibility of me leaving, guilt over that, teenagers needing learning licenses, gym calling somewhere way back in the foggy part of my brain, and maybe least, but most for me, older kids needing Mum to babysit overnight, a pleasure not a chore, except, I am going to crawl to church next week if I have to.  Thank God for IPad's and free editions of the whatever bible edition you want.  It maybe somewhat personal, but my Ipad is in the bathroom where I, mostly, sometimes if I am lucky, cannot be interrupted from reading scripture when I am desperate for it.

I am living in a memory of where I remember when my older kids reached teenagedom I realized that the kitchen was not my own, their bedrooms, as well as other rooms in the house, were subject to utter chaos with clothes, books, left over what ever, and my days of containing them in a room, gated of course, where I could control mess, was over.  I am back there, only two and a bit times over.  The first lot measured four, the second, nine.  My coveted, (yes,repentance is in order) 6 burner, flat grill Viking range, is also coveted by five, yes five, avid chefs who refuse to clean up after themselves.  They see me seamlessly cook Chinese, Indian, my famous breakfast potatoes, eggs, etc, and experiment with some of the same, and some of whatever, but clean up?  That's what mother's are for, aren't they?  I think not, but my impressions of this upon them are not working.  I may be reduced to something like a strong broth before the end of summer.

Then there are real kid issues where real prayer without humor is necessary. A rescued child who is not making it in the real "America", a grand child who may be on the Autisic scale, not a real biggie because we have an Aspergers child, but, a situation where comic relief is impossible.  As Forest Gump said, "Life is like a box of chocolates", so true, but sometimes the flavors are not what you expected.  Am I glad that God is Good, God is real, and God is here, available, to give comfort, help, and encouragement into what seem like a cloudy future, but not to Him, who sees and knows all things.  I pray my vision will clear.  Maybe my new contacts will help with that???

Finding the right path.......

One of the things that I always question is "am I on the right path?"  I am currently at the Objective in Nashville and I find myself surrounded by lots of different looking, and sounding, Christian artists, songwriters and musicians, who all have the same heart, but, very different paths.  There is no "cookie cutter" definition of anyone's path with the Lord, and finding it can be the hardest thing that we ever do.  From lessons learned, I know that walking your own path doesn't work, and in fact, leaves you without peace, leaving a striving after things that our soul wants, but is not in the plans that "He" has for us.

There has been a lot of teaching about that in the last couple of days, and while I was glad that "seeking the Kingdom of God" was the first and foremost thing that all of us should do, especially thespians and musicians, artists of all kinds, I was saddened that this teaching had to come so strongly in a seminar setting, and not necessarily from the pulpits of our home churches.  As a "called" artist, singer/songwriter, speaker, whatever, I know how easy it is to be lost in a large congregation where my particular "calling" is not necessarily the largest concern in the church.  Yet, shouldn't "seek ye first the Kingdom of God and all things will be added to you" be a strong teaching for everyone?

Both Rog and I learned this lesson very strongly some 21 years ago when the Lord called us to the USA. There is no reciprocal agreement between Australia and the USA for work, so for us to come here and earn a living to support four children, it had to be God.  We did seek, and we did knock, and the door did open in a miraculous way, and yet, I still have to watch that I do not put both hands around something I want, and wait upon the Lord for His best, not mine.  How many things have I missed in trying to direct my own paths?  I am sure one day I will see them, and will be glad that I did learn the lesson of "waiting upon the Lord", well enough to not miss so many of God's opportunities just by heeding his small voice inside my heart.  In saying that, I might add, that this lesson is one to be reviewed often, if not daily, because how much more could we do, and how many lives could be touched if as a body we all moved in this direction.  I don't know about you, but I have to check myself all the time that I am not walking by sight, but am walking by faith in what I am called to do, even if it is the hardest thing I have ever been asked to do.

As an artist, singer/songwriter I live with feelings of inadequacy, as well as thinking just how does this work for a mother with fourteen children?  Well, lucky for me, that is not my problem.  The Lord did the calling, and the Lord will order my steps on the path he wishes, even if I wish he would hurry up.

A sigh of relief, or maybe not.

So the curtain went down on "Goldilocks" and it was hilarious!  My two youngest sets of twins were in the production, one played "Sand Witch", one played a French Weasel, one was Goldilocks and one was a pig, a member of "The Squeal Sisters".  Hilarity for all, especially when they skipped a scene, went back and did it out of order, only to have an unprecedented chase, even thought there was one already  choreographed in the show, with characters running in, then out.  The audience just laughed and laughed. Of course the cast party followed with a "heated" pool party at my house, with hot dogs and chips and brownies, all that a small child's heart desires.  It really was perfect considering that there were storms moving through the area and they all cleared by the time the show went down.  God is good.

So after pulling set, packing it up to be picked up in the morning by my wonderful husband because I have to be in the studio by 10, which is an hour plus drive, getting all the food out for the hungry hoards, I got to play a few songs for everyone.  The fingers get better every day, and I got to sing to an audience, one that IS biased, but an audience all the same.  Playing guitar is hard for me.  I am a little dyslexic and the co-ordination of playing and singing and making both hands work was extremely hard for me, but determination will get you there.  I am SO more comfortable singing out front of a band or to tracks where I can just sing the "stories", but life isn't always set up for that, and you have to be able to do both.  I mean, if you are in the middle of a jungle, or somewhere where there is no power, meaning electricity, then you better know how to play.  I love the idea, and would dearly love to be able to play piano better, and maybe one day I will, but it is a struggle, which is becoming a little easier each time I MAKE myself do it.  I guess I have been spoiled having a guitarist for a husband, who is head and shoulders above me when it comes to playing, and still he writes me scales to improve my finger skills, and encourages me, and even tells me I play OK.  Mmmmmmm..... I think the jury is still out on that.  I have done many singer/songwriter nights and got away with playing for myself, but, when I see and hear so many excellent players, my abilities fade into the background.  Don't get me wrong, I am very grateful for the skills I have acquired, but my real instrument has always been my voice, and I am very aware of that.

Having said all those things, I LOVE playing guitar and will never give up.  One day, my determination will pay off, just as my kids determination to learn their lines, know their blocking, cues and sequence of the show paid off, so will practice, faith, and being truthful with yourself.

Another day in the life

My little actors continue to surprise me.  Today, with still one light blown, and yet to reposition another one, they stepped up to the bar.  With lights, action, no camera's, but a determined director, they delivered a show, well by their standards anyway.  I know they will be brilliant tomorrow, even if I think about every cue tonight.  They had fun!  They even tried to do some improv, but unfortunately couldn't remember where they left off!!!  BUT, they tried, they stepped up, and that is what matters in the end.  They will deliver in spite of my fears.

I am off to the studio on Friday to demo a new song which I wrote during a mentoring class with Belinda Smith on my selected color.  Of course I am a black and white girl, so writing a song about black somewhat stumped me for a minute or so, but then I remembered that when you are behind the sun, as well as the Son, it is black, just like a shadow, and we need to walk out of that into the light.  Hence the song "Black Is The Shadow".  This song is so not my usual writing, but I love it.  A little different, but then so am I.  And, who wants to write the same song over and over.

We are up to the last week of school for my kids, and finals are at hand.  It continues to surprise me as to how each of them handle testing and learning.  Of course, we have several learning disabilities, but, we go round the mountain and somehow come out the other side.  I do believe the whole small farming thing helps them.  The goats need milking, the "kids" need feeding with only one bottle a day now, and the chickens and ducks need looking after as well.  The garden is planted and the rabbit fences are in place, learned that lesson a couple of years ago, but I still love the baby birds in at least three trees, the rabbit warren in the mulch dumped in the garden that we didn't quite distribute, the Canadian geese with their five babies, who by the way try to steal the buck's grain, so we gave them their own, and my four legged kids who are still adorable, but, need to give up their last bottle.

A last thought, as I sat in the dark black box theatre last night working out and setting lighting cues, I was reminded of a time where I lived in a dark place, not knowing Jesus, not understanding that there was a Savior who would guide my life and order my steps, then the light came on, illuminated the stage and brought all the characters to life, just like when the "light" turns on from Jesus and you understand that the  stage you are on is nothing without the love and guidance of Christ.

Update

Well life has been more than busy lately. I had "tech" week last week for my high schoolers in the Lighthouse Theatre Company and tech week this week for my 3rd to 6th graders.  Last week's show was amazing and with a little "push" my younger actors will be stellar for Thursday's performance of Goldilocks and The Three Pigs.  As I write this Alicia, second eldest daughter at home, and the crafty one, is making my Storybook Land story books look amazing with butterflies and sparkles on their covers.  Earlier, the sound board didn't work, and #10 light, which I replaced the bulb in last week, went out on me, so I guess I move the lights and re-program or give a new bulb another try.  I love the fact that we have our own wonderful black box theatre, but it is old, and the lights are old and I feel a new "can" coming on.

I am so looking forward to going to "The Objective" which is orientation for possibly going out on "The Extreme Tour".  I was really bowled over to be asked to this, but the more I read about it in the emails, the more I know that is is a ministry so close to my own heart.  This is outreach to "at risk" groups.  Well, that goes on in our home, which makes it more important to me, but I do have to get up there and show them what I do at some time during these four days, so, I have been hard at it with the guitar.  Because of my shoulder injury and subsequent surgery, the guitar was out of my options for at least a year, so boy are my fingers sore.  I do thank God for muscle memory, but the blisters have been "really good".  My callouses are back, and you can see them.  Great!!!

Isaiah, our child we rescued from Africa after a broken adoption, is really struggling with assimilating into normal family life.  It has been nearly three years since we found out that he had been "dumped" back in Africa, and all the efforts we have tried seem to not quite fail, but not hit the mark either.  After much consultation he is applying for a wonderful Government funded course called "Job Core".  I hope this can finally help him put the past and all it's difficulties behind him and move on to better things.

My new cd, now called "Broken Hearts and Broken Wings" is looking like being released mid July, and I am very excited to see it moving along.  It is truly the best music I have done, I guess because these are all stories of the foster and adoption process of my "at home" children. I still have a video to do and am really looking forward to putting my acting and singing skills together.  I have never done a "music video" before, and I am really excited about the whole adventure.

Well I will try to blog a little more over the summer when things get a little less crazy, or maybe more crazy if I end up on the "Extreme Tour".