Whispers

 The Lord said, "Go out and stand on the mountain in the presence of the Lord, for the Lord is about to pass by." Then a great and powerful wind tore the mountain apart and shattered the rocks before the Lord, but the Lord was not in the wind.  After the wind there was an earthquake, but the Lord was not in the earthquake. After the earthquake came a fire, but the Lord was not in the fire. And after the fire came a gentle whisper.  God was in the whisper.  1 Kings 19:11-12  Bold words mine.

Years ago, I sat at a basketball game between my high school and the cross county rival.  Each time their cheerleaders did a jump, the crowd for our side would groan to magnify the pressure on the floor and  convey how heavy they were.  After all, girls were supposed to be light and pretty and meek.  I'm not sure why this scene bothered me so other than the realization that those girls were powerless to stop the insults being thrust upon them.  I could identify with that.  I have spent much of my life thinking if only I was more powerful, this or that would or would not happen. 

Fast forward 20 years and my daughter's cheer team literally practices the smack on the floor during the dance, the goal of unified back tuck landings that make the floor vibrate and boom.  They scream "POWER" with every jump and stunt.  I watch them and allow myself to feel that this daughter is safe from harm and hurt.  After all, she is everything I never was; physical and mental strength in her every fiber.

As we have traveled this horrible journey of anorexia, I have wished this child had such power. I have clung to verses that express the power of God.  "I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me"  "Greater is He that is in me, than he that is in the world."  I have viewed this as a literal fight and even screamed at my hurting child to "kick this demon in the teeth."  Find your power.  Be strong. If only she or I were powerful enough I have thought.

I was somewhat taken back on our arrival at residential treatment.  While there were plenty of Bible verses and inspirational quotes on the walls, nothing spoke of strength or power.  I had to wait on a driver and got the blessing of being able to sit in the corner for 30 minutes or so and just observe and listen.  This was a really calm and peaceful environment.  The word that kept coming to mind was light.  The movie playing (it was a Friday night) was about the value of friendship and how each person (horse) mattered.  The girls had verses in their cubbies "You are fearfully and wonderfully made"  "You shine like stars in the universe"  "Look at the birds of the air; they do not sow or reap or store away in barns, and yet your heavenly father feeds them. Are you not much more valuable than they?"

Elijah, the prophet of the story above, had literally just been apart of one of God's amazingly powerful moments.  Elijah had called down fire from heaven.  He had slain the prophets of Baal.  He had witnessed a corrupt and evil people repent and turn to God.  And yet..... he himself, ran into the mountains in fear for his life. All the power of God did not stop his personal descent into darkness.  He had to find God in the whisper.

I am learning that the pathway to healing will look alot more like breaking down the strength with which she has clung to starvation and replacing it with a weakness that acknowledges "I am not in charge."  And then allows God to set her worth; not a number, not an accomplishment,or the world.  It will be choosing to hear the whisper and not the earthquake or the wind.  I guess I am there as well.  My power has not been enough.  My Mama bear, overprotectiveness. My insistence on "fixing" this.   I have too often listened to the loudest clang or bang.  I have allowed "false prophets of Baal" to speak over my child.  I too have been seduced by the power.  God is powerful.  Sometimes we too are powerful and it can be an amazing moment.  But at the end of the day, I have to make sure I am looking for the real and only God in the whisper.  Not a mighty military leader sent to save by the sword, but a savior sent to humble himself even to death on a cross.  She and I have to stand on the mountain and wait for the whisper and as we pour out our pain, the Lord who could have anything and yet still chooses us, will as he promised, bring peace and light and healing.  Dear God, come and whisper to us.

My Grown Up Birthday Wish

Long ago and far away, I took my brother in law, Michael, and another young man on a 4-H trip. As teenage boys sometimes do, they got in trouble.  As we started down a very long hall to the scene of the problem, the other young man kept saying "She's not that mad, she isn't even yelling."  A much wiser Michael responded "This is worse, when it's really bad she stops talking."  How right he was.  I am a yeller by nature, but when it really gets bad, I go underground.  The last week or so has been no different.  A close friend commented, "we knew it was really bad when all the updates began to come from Brian."

Today is my 39th birthday.  The event has been largely overshadowed by the dark state of our family right now.  Even an abundance of bright shining candles atop my pudding filled angel food cake can't penetrate the shadows settled over our home. Not just shadows, but a deep moonless night.  An inky blackness.  The stuff of a Frank Peretti novel. But..... I can still dream of birthday wishes.

My daughter is hurting.  Our hearts are breaking as we make decisions no parent should ever have to make.  Our younger children are angry and overwhelmed.  Sometimes it seems we are all drowning.  We are fighting professionals with differing opinions and agendas, and sometimes we seem to fight the very demons of hell.  And we pray as we have never prayed before.  We pray for healing.  We pray for wisdom. We pray for peace.  We pray "I believe, help my unbelief!"

As Southern Baptists, we pray for missionaries on their birthdays.  I have been told that missionaries intentionally plan huge even impossible events for those days because they are so confident they will see the majestic hand of God as thousands of Christian brothers and sisters stand in the gap and bring their concerns before the throne.  We do not know all the details. We rarely know the outcome. We simply pray.

 My birthday wish today is that you be willing to do the same thing.  I can not share all the details.  You may never know all the events of the outcome.  We need to see the mighty and amazing hand of God.  We need a miracle. Simply pray.

Colorado 2012

 

I am willingly acknowledging, the yearly Colorado ski trip is not my favorite thing.  Brian and the big girls really enjoy it, but the last few years the trip has been a struggle for both me and Lucy.  Altitude sickness and not being able to ski left us feeling like prisoners in a foreign place. Even options like sledding ended with me and Lucy on the hill behind the house and everyone else on the tubing hill.  I promised her and myself it would never happen again.  When it became clear it was indeed happening again, I started looking for options.  I’m not sure many people understand how extremely hard it is to live life as a forced spectator; to sit on the side and listen to others joy and be told you should learn to be content with your limits. Very thankfully, we discovered an adaptive program at Breckinridge, and so began the adventure.

The Breckenridge Outdoor Experience is a hole in the wall with an assortment of adaptive equipment, a handful of staff, brilliant volunteers, foam pieces, duct tape, and a “nothing can stop us” spirit.  Lucy waited patiently with Daddy.

This is sort of like a big wheel seat mounted on two skis.  She is seat belted in and you can see the handle behind that one of her guides used to steer her down the hill.  The guy on the right told Brian he sold Harley Davidson's all week but he lived for this job.

Jack had his own great instructor at regular ski school.

Lucy got to ride the regular ski lift.  The chair slid between her seat and skis and away she went.  How wonderful to watch Jack, Brian and Lucy all within a few seats of each other.

This girl is front of Lucy also had CP.  She was skiing with a walker that had skis.  We also saw a blind skier and every other issue imaginable.

Gasp!!!  They even skied through the trees.  Lucy moved her arms up and down the entire 2 1/2 hours and moved her body with the turns.  Obviously, she ended each morning completely exhausted.

We didn’t even get her clothes off or lunch in her before she was in really deep sleep.

Skier Jack of course kept going!

Firecracker

 

Hadley turned 11 this week.  We should have known she was a firecracker when the first video arrived.  It clearly stated she was 6 months old, but it displayed a bright eyed, curly headed girl hopping from one foot to the other in her crib.  We were confident they were wrong about her age.  Of course they weren’t, that’s just Had.  By the time we left Russia, she was speaking in English.  And she is still talking, albeit with a VERY southern Kentucky twang.

Hadley once heard Josh Turner’s “My little darlin is a firecracker”  and was confident it said “My little daughter.”  And who could blame her.  By the time she was 3 there was considerable concern she would never live to see five.  She was and is a daredevil. We sometimes joke that we enrolled her in cheer to keep her from tumbling off the roof of the house.  She swam so well that her swim test at the YMCA is signed only with an “H” because she could swim the length before she could write her whole name.  At Hadley’s re adoption in the USA, she gave the judge her name, address and phone number- she was  barely 3.  I asked the guidance counselor at school to place Hadley with a teacher trained in explosives.  Hadley can be nothing short of dangerous, but in the hands of the right person, she can be an amazingly beautiful, colorful, night sky filling, celebration of life.

Ahh the tummy showing days.

We still see this expression.

Hadley is always willing to help with Lucy.

Bear.

Despite the Easter basket, it really was Halloween.  Hadley has been Kim Possible, a power ranger, an Incredible, a cowgirl…. and that one year she was too young to choose and Brianna made them matching princesses.  It is hard to imagine that now.

Hadley and friends.  Aren’t they amazingly beautiful.

Where we Have Been Part 2

Once I drop kids off, I have 6 hours.  Assuming no one is sick or has a dentist appointment etc, I have 6 hours to do it all.  Everything from clean house to carry on a conversation with my husband.  Our after school time is so chaotic that even supper needs to be almost finished. Some days go well, and others seem to get consumed by errands or paperwork. Regardless, the time arrives to do the after school pickup.  When Brianna was homeschooled and the twins were off on Fridays, I seemed to have a better balance of individual attention.  This year, I seem to be racing to fill every one's emotional cups in the few short hours between pickup and bedtime.  It is hard to hear four conversations at once and just proves our minister's evolution theory- I don't have 8 arms or 4 sets of ears.  This particular afternoon, Brianna heads into the primary center to meet her tutor and the rest of us head to the library.  I really do love were I live.  While the rest of the world may claim to be handicap accessible, it rarely is.  We are blessed with a beautiful library with true handicap entrances and a family bathroom- heaven.  The holiday season was already beginning and we needed to kill time before taking Hadley to meet Brian for a chorus concert at the tree lighting.  We looked at books while Jack insisted we needed a video.  Videos from the library are not a good fit for us.  While book fines are usually overlooked or can be paid back in canned food, video fines add up at a dollar a day and we are terrible about returning them.  Jack responded by laying in the library foyer and screaming.  I hoped the fact that he was in the doorway and the door was hitting against him might make a difference, but only after we stepped over him and headed to the car did he finally make his act a traveling show.  By the time we got to Ms. Sullivan's, I was ready to string him up.  He responded by rearranging their rockers on the porch and seeing if their rain spout was "really attached."  Whew!  Get everyone back in the car and drop Hadley with Brian.  It is now dark as we head for home.  Rudolph plays on the car DVD and Brianna zones into her own ipod world.  One would think this might mean a few minutes of peace, but shortly outside of town, the smell hits. The smell that only means one thing- poop.  Hadley manages bodily fluids relatively well, but Brianna began gagging.  We were still several minutes from home so I pulled over in a church parking lot to try and clean up a little.  As I lifted Lucy from her car seat, I really didn't have a place to go other than the grass.  Cleaning Lucy in this state is an extreme challenge.  You have to try and contain her hands as well as get clothes off and clean up the rest of her.  It consumes all of your attention.  I was just finishing and putting her back in the car as a car pulls up behind us with blue lights flashing.  The sheriff steps out and approaches the car to find out what is going on.  To Brianna's pure horror, I told the truth.  Yes, this was an ugly, disgusting mess, but when a law enforcement officer thinks you are beating your child on the ground, I find the truth to be the best option.  I could tell he was unsure of my story, but as he looked in the van, I am sure the smell hit him, and upon seeing Lucy, he smiles and says "I know you.  Can you do an elephant for me Lucy?"  Thankfully, the sheriff is married to the director of special education for Allen County and it is a small town.

Where We've Been

It seems that every so often I inadvertently take a blog break.  Sometimes it is computer issues, but mostly, it is just life.  Too many events, too little sleep etc.  I thought it might be interesting to explain a day in our life so you might better understand where we go and what we do.  To see a day in our life, you have to accept that our days don't really end, the clock just turns over.  Eleven oclock often finds us lecturing to older kids about the need for sleep, or threatening to take computers and ipods that entice them out of slumber.  Jack of course makes multiple trips down the stairs for a drink, or a snack, or just to make sure we are still there.  One trip or another to take him back to bed will include a stop in the girls' rooms to confiscate the aforementioned technology.  By 3 or 4 am, Jack or Lucy or both have joined us in bed.  Some sound has caused Jack's eyes to flutter and he shoots down the steps like a cannon ball.  I bolt up as a freight train zooms into our room.  If Lucy has joined us, she is most likely signing/ talking about whatever upcoming event she is terrified she will miss or be left out of. We are careful not to fall asleep because Lucy will use the opportunity to bite or pull hair.  Falling asleep isn't usually a problem as Jack beats any bed mate to a pulp and I'm normally clinging to the mattress piping.  And then the alarm goes off.

Make lunches, fix snacks, fix breakfast. Take the ipad from Jack multiple times.  Argue with oldest about why actual food must be packed in her lunch box.  Finally get people to the table for breakfast so oldest can call homemade french toast "revolting", because "It tastes like dawg."  We don't make a practice of cooking dog so not sure where she ate that for comparison purposes.  Finally, I leave all at the the table so I can get in the shower and Brian supposedly loads everyone into the van.  If it is a good day, I just endure multiple trips in to tattle, but bad days mean exiting the shower (a decision usually has to be made while in the shower- hair or body; there is rarely time for both) where I am greeted by oldest with an outfit in hand because, on my own, I choose clothes that "make you look fat" or "poor."  Seriously, most days I am headed to Sams or home to make spaghetti sauce or clean out a closet.  I thought I was looking okay in my jeans without a hole and my new Allen County Basketball sweatshirt.  Finally, we fly out of the drive.  Are you keeping up?  We are just at 7:05.

The trip to school is always eventful.  Most of it is spent arguing over who's music should be playing.  We also attempt to do prayer and praise requests.  Brianna always says "Are we late? I'm thankful we aren't late."  Lucy is always thankful for cheer and herself.  Jack is thankful for something superhero related or whatever we just saw outside.  Hadley is usually asleep.  Unless of course she is belting out the latest Toby Keith song "RED SOLO CUP....." thus making her rap loving sister crazy.  Then drop off begins.  I once yelled "Have a great day" out of the window at the middle school, but this was evidently a passive aggressive attempt to ruin Brianna's day and so unfocused her she tripped in front of some 8th graders.  I am so evil, I plotted that for days.

By this time, Lucy has probably played in poop.  Yes, this is a terrible thing and we are doing our best to stop it, but as the distinguishing factor of all Lucy's entourage is our matching pinch marks, we sometime pick our battles.  On this particular day, Lucy then gets it in her hair.  I pull right up the cafeteria loading ramp and rush Lucy into the building.  Her wonderful support people helped me clean her partly up before going to the nurses station for a hair washing and clothes change.  Still with me?  8:00 am.

Part 2 is coming

Around the Dining Hall Table

My sisters used to play a game about choosing 10 people living or dead to invite to sit with you at a college dining hall table (some odd Centre activity), but none the less interesting.  Lately, I keep thinking how much I would like to really sit down with an assortment of  "experts".  After all, they are talking in my head at all hours of the day and night.  They all seem to be pushing their respective opinions on to me and I am left to agree or refute each ever louder voice.  So many of them seem to contradict, or at the least, not quite seem possible, that I would love for them to fight it out in front of me instead of using my blood pressure as the mediator.  This is not the time to tell me only crazy people here voices.  I haven't gone off the cliff yet, although a common statement in our house is "_____________ (fill in child of the day here), you are making me crazy!"  Followed by Brian, "And she doesn't have far to go!"  But I digress.

I can see Alice Gray, author of The Worn Out Woman, explaining the need for quiet,personal space.  After all, even Jesus had to push away from the crowds and go up into the hills or onto the sea for some time of respite.  This could be followed by Emilie Barnes of More Hours in my Day explaining that I didn't after all need sleep,but to accept my high calling as a mother and get up at 3 or 4am for a time of contemplation and study.  Maybe we could choose Les and Leslie Parrot, whom seem to contradict themselves when explaining that couples become closer by experiencing new things and activities together, but kids need tradition and stability.  I guess this means I should do more with just Brian,but that ignores the assorted studies and more "experts" warning against daycare, and unoccupied hours.  Studies show that 4-Hers, boy scouts and female athletes are less likely to use drugs or have premature sex, but those same activities make dinner at the table difficult and dinner at the table reduces depression and improves grades.  Playing sports reduces obesity, but The Hurried Child is over committed and stressed before age 5.  The Triple Bind points out that girls are now expected to be smart, athletic and effortlessly beautiful and polite.  Read to them, send them outside, don't make them stand out like geeks, but don't let them feel entitled.  Encourage and support,but don't over inflate ego or make them think "we all get a prize." 

Just about the time that fight is getting hot, lets bring in Gary Smalley to discuss how often you should date your spouse- once a week!!!, and a longer weekend every quarter to six months.  But before he takes center stage, make sure we get Dave Ramsey seated to clarify how much all these different things will cost and keep us on budget.  Once he gets it all budgeted, bring in David Platt and Francis Chan to challenge the whole group to be Radical and Crazy and find the money to spend equally on missions and time on community service etc.  Let Po Bronson have a few minutes to point out the value of sleep from his work Nurture Shock before David Platt sends us all to all night "Secret Church" and then let the father and son Raniers discuss how we really didn't need the program, but Simple Church and a Simple Life.

Where’s Ms. Whittamore When You Need Her?

 

One of our public school casualties has been field trips.  No one teaches Kentucky History like Ms. W but I did my best to fill the gaps.  We took one day of fall break to visit Fort Harrod and Shaker Village.  Jack loved it and his older sisters tolerated yet another teachable moment.

Despite some bad attitudes, we still let everyone have a chance at throwing a small ax.  I hoped there were too many witnesses for Brianna to be truly dangerous.

Jack’s version of this activity was a little like a good fisherman’s tale.  However, reality is- choose Brianna if you are under attack.

My favorite sight.  Made me very thankful for my double ovens and large capacity washer!

We picnicked under this wonderful tree.  It just screamed to be climbed, but Brian had to stand on a table and lift Hadley down from her highest perch.

self portrait

All the learning exhausted Hadley.

So glad we purchased a jogging stroller for less than wheelchair friendly outings!

I learned my lesson this fall break.  We have big plans for spring break so I thought we should stay home for fall.  I seriously underestimated the emotional fall out from kids and Mama alike when it seemed that EVERYONE we knew was traveling somewhere great.  Of course I spent 36 hours of the break laying in the bathroom floor, but I’m sure a bathroom floor at the beach would have seemed better!  Stay tuned for next year’s plans.

Bringing in the Shrimp

 

Southern Kentucky is blessed to be home to Buck Acres freshwater shrimp farm.  The last weekend of September and the first weekend of October are the scheduled yearly shrimp harvest.  It is an amazing sight to observe.  Watching the ponds drain and seeing the prawns (freshwater shrimp) and tilapia lifted out still thrashing and flipping is a locavore’s dream.  It requires lots of teamwork and a good deal of patience.  Jack and Hadley couldn’t get enough.  I was sure we would be pulling Jack from the drain spillway and while I waited to get my shrimp, Grandma pointed out that Hadley had put on gloves and was actually helping with the harvest.

Shrimp are bottom feeders so as the ponds drain, they settle in the mud and must be gathered by hand.

The water drains through a large concrete “colander” that traps the shrimp etc.  These men are scooping them out and transferring the shrimp and fish to live wells.

Turtles also got caught in the nets and were set aside to be released.

Brianna was my photographer for the day, which means I have beautiful shots of the happenings and not a single shot of our family experiencing them. Sigh.

Ready, Set, Fly

 

I took Brianna and two friends to Incredible Dave’s to celebrate her birthday.

White Chili Nachos

Gotta love any recipe that is mostly opening cans and turning on the crockpot.

 1 lb ground turkey
  1 chopped onion
1 package dry taco seasoning
2 cans white beans drained and rinsed
1 can corn (avoid the super sweet)
1 large can petite diced tomatoes
1 can chopped green chilies
chicken broth till it looks right (sorry this is not a better measure- I struggle with cooking measurements)

brown the ground turkey and onions together.  Add the taco seasoning and a little butter and water. (I know- measure!!)  Put the meat and onion mixture in the crockpot and add other ingredients.  Vary chicken broth based on desired outcome.  More for a true soup, less to serve over nacho chips.  salt to taste.  Allow to cook on low for several hours to break down beans a little and blend the tastes.  Serve with cheese and sour cream.

The Games we Play

 

I was floored at the number of runners.

Jack is 26.  He does not get grabbing flags.  He does get tackle!

 

Teams make campsites in the field.  Brian laughed at me for saying I “worry each girl across the line”  But it’s true.

I have to become a better photographer.  Brianna is in the blue and white.