my funny valentines..

Valentine's date

 15 years of marriage to my best friend.

What a crazy journey.

I'd never have imagined it quite like this.

But I also wouldn't trade it for the world.

I love him, I love him.

Nothing says romance like a new supportive pillow to help prevent future vertigo attacks...

Caroline's surprise from Daddy on her dresser.  

My funny valentines.  

providence...

our first picture of Jameson smiling... in the ER, of all places

Sometimes I'm blown away how God works.

If you've followed this blog for awhile, you might remember all of Jameson's health issues as an infant.  Between silent reflux, ear infections, and breathing troubles, it felt like we were always in a doctor's office.  (we literally had to take him to the doctor the very first day we got him!  "This is our son," we couldn't believe our own ears as those words rolled off our lips to the doctor.)

You know, with all of these health issues, we only made the 4am pilgrimage to the ER twice, I think.  (where we captured our first picture of Jameson smiling!  How fitting!)

On one of these trips to the ER, he'd had a particularly high fever and the doctors felt it was best to admit Jameson to the hospital and keep a watch on him for 24 hours since he was so little.

It's a terrible thing to sit in a hospital room with a little one so helpless and so lifeless.  

After doing the all-nighter shift at the hospital while I stayed home with Caroline, Marc went home to quickly grab a shower and some rest.  I sat alone in the room next to the metal hospital crib, and Jameson's nurse would come in and perform checks on him every so often.  Her name was Pachi.  She was very warm and caring, she was from Brazil, and she and I instantly hit it off.

It was a slow day for the hospital, and so throughout her shift, Pachi and I shared amazing conversations about adoption, faith, singleness, etc.  Seeing Caroline at the hospital later that day, I could tell she was intrigued by our family, and she was SO great with both of my kids.

 When Pachi's shift was over that day, I never thought about seeing her again.  We didn't share any contact info.  

As far as I knew, Pachi played a role in our story.

Who knew we'd actually play a part in hers.

It turns out Pachi and her roommate, Rachelle, were looking to change churches in town.  After work the day we met, Pachi came home telling Rachelle general things about our family and the conversations we'd had.  (of course, no names mentioned, etc.)

"Well, where do they go to church?" Rachelle asked her.

"I don't know.  We never actually talked about that," Pachi answered, and it seemed that lead had hit a dead end.

A few weeks later, a friend of Rachelle's invited her to visit a small presbyterian church in town that meets in an elementary school cafeteria.  Pachi had to work that day, but Rachelle agreed to come check it out alone.

Jameson's baptism, January 2013

Wouldn't you know, it just so happened to be on the one DAY our family was STANDING UP FRONT for Jameson's baptism.

Now, Rachelle didn't know any names.  But let's face it... how many families do you see with a bald daughter and a black son??

Rachelle put two and two together and then ran home to tell Pachi she had found the church where our family attends!

Pachi and Jameson two years later

 And you can guess the rest of the story, right?

Two years later, Jameson's nurse has become a sweet friend.

 Pachi and Rachelle have joined our church, and Rachelle plays piano on our worship team.

It's so crazy to look back and remember our relationship began in a hospital room with a sick little baby.  (who's obviously not sick anymore!)

God's providence is simply AMAZING.

prince charming did come, his name is daddy...

 Friday night I sent him off on a date with another gal.

(she was excited she got to wear a little make-up and perfume!)

He was so excited to take Caroline to the father/daughter Valentine's Day dance.

These two had a blast dancing the night away and enjoying dessert to their hearts' content.

Prince Charming did come.

And his name is Daddy!

My date back home wasn't so bad himself.  Maybe just a tad on the rambunctious side...

 But so, so cute.

Man, I love him.

("no, no, no, I love YOU!" he and I say back and forth to one another now.)

I love this gal to pieces, too.

The day after the dance, Caroline was invited to enjoy a girls' tea party at the community center across the street from us.

(Technically, the party was for the girls in the after-school program at the center, but since my kids are always at the park playing with their kids, the community center staff have been so gracious to include Caroline in special things like this!  It's so sweet to see my daughter making friends in our neighborhood and to see them being so welcoming to her.)

Miss Ashley came and gave the girls two etiquette classes to prepare for Saturday's tea party!

(well now, that's surely one thing we could use a little more of around here...)

During class, she taught the girls how to correctly set the table, so Caroline helped with that job upon arriving.

I'd say the tea party was a success!  

Here's to a fun-filled weekend, before both of my kids started running fevers and we've now missed the last three days of school....

the many sides of two...

Oh, the many sides of a two year old.

From times like this:

To times like this:

i did the right thing...

Dear friends, last week we were presented with an opportunity to take two children into our home.  For a time, but maybe much more.

As I waited to gather more information from those involved, it was crazy to wrestle with a gamut of emotions.  How could we take in two little children at this stage in our lives? quickly changed over to How could we NOT take in two little children at this stage in our lives?  

I haven't done so much praying in long time.

Marc and I weren't looking into fostering, though we have batted the idea around in our heads many times.  But here, an opportunity to sacrificially bless another family with the blessings He's poured out upon us, was suddenly falling in our lap.  I honestly didn't know how in the WORLD we would do it, (If you're from a big family, you won't understand this.  If you know me well, you understand this right away.) but I almost didn't care.  We were going to do it.

Jesus didn't just tell us to do what's easy or comfortable.  So we would find a way to make it work.

Our hearts, though overwhelmed, were excited.  Several years ago, we watched Marc's brother take in five children.  Now they have permanent custody and our family has grown so much richer because of those five!  We've seen the challenges and the heartbreak, and we've seen what a stable, loving home and unconditional love can do for children who did not initially have that luxury.

What a picture of the Gospel-- beauty out of brokenness.  Redemption from tragedy.

It's also our call as Christians to look after the fatherless. (James 1:27)  As this traveled from being a nice idea to now a very tangible possibility for very real, tangible children who needed me, I began reading and thinking incessantly about foster care as it relates to MY FAMILY.  It moved from theoretical to the practical.  Where would they sleep?  How would I fit them all in our car?  

I began talking to current foster families and former RUF students of ours who are beginning training to become foster parents themselves.  Our hearts were suddenly now open to this beautiful mess of fostering children.   Though there's alot of talk about "pro life," unfortunately there are never enough families to open their hearts and homes to fostering and adopting.

I finally received the call.  I gathered the information, expecting to take on whatever insurmountable challenges there would be.  I was going to love these kids, after all!  How could I say no?  Sure, I knew it would be a strain on myself and my own children, but we were going to tackle this head-on and grow through the whole process.

And then.

Something was said over the phone about what type of home might be best for the kids.

And that something didn't line up with my home.

Suddenly I realized how in this process, I was so eager and so zealous to serve that I had lost sight of what might be best for these children instead of what would be great for me.

And that's when the Lord brought another family with a heart towards fostering to mind.

It was through tears that Marc and I decided what was best for these children actually wasn't us.

I'm still trying to cope with that statement.  I didn't expect to feel this way.  I expected to feel relief-- after all, now I don't have to think about parenting four small children for a time!!  But what I didn't expect was to feel a sense of loss and grief, sadness, and guilt in this decision.

In the smallest way possible, these feelings actually help me to understand my own children's adoptions a little more fully.

Their birthparents wanted them, too.  They wanted to find a way to make it work.

But at some point through tears, they, too, realized they weren't the best ones to raise these children.  It wasn't the best fit for that particular parent with that particular child at that particular time.

My kids' birthparents made a gut-wrenching decision to place their children in another's care, not because it was convenient for them (as people often mistakenly believe), but because they acknowledged they couldn't be what they believed was best for their baby.

It's humbling.  In all honesty, I think we're a pretty good little family.  But right now, we're not what's best for THOSE kids, and it hurts in my gut to even admit that.

Days later, I still feel the sadness over my decision.  For birthparents, that probably never fully goes away.  The only way I know to comfort myself is reminding myself I put the kids' needs above my own wants.  I know I could've loved them well.  But I know another family can love them even more.  I pray they will find their way to that family.

It's one thing to blog about a birthparent's pain.  It's another thing to feel just a taste of it.

I did the right thing.
I did the right thing.
I did the right thing...

trust...

Today I will trust Him.  

Even as my heart feels sore. 

I have to believe that His plan is for my best,

even when I don't understand.

I've been in this place before.

I know today's sadness will lift.

I know He is with me.  

And I trust He is guiding every step of the journey.

There is purpose to what He gives and what He chooses to take away.

Blessed be the name of the Lord.

the humor of hair...

Five years ago, I'd have never guessed how much the subject of HAIR would rule my life!  I've gotten to the point where it's humorous, really.  

I mean, who'd have thought my daughter would lose all her hair at age 2 and be BALD?  Whew- what a unique and challenging feat!

Then!  God graciously gives me my chocolate-skinned baby boy, and suddenly I'm now learning how to do BLACK HAIR.  (Also, no small task.) 

And as if all that wasn't enough when it comes to hair, then one more hair comes into my life.... 

frizzed out American Girl doll hair!  Aaauuugghhh!!!!

Lord, no!  I can't take it!  (ha ha)

Yep, it didn't take long for my daughter (who has no hair and thus, little ability and experience doing hair) to turn her new American Girl doll's hair into ONE. MEGA. FRIZZ BALL.  

Leaving ME googling yet another genre of hair and hair "disorders."  (ha!)

So after some research and a couple of hours with a spray bottle and a wig brush, I got it back to this.  I'd say I did alright, eh?  (Note to future moms of AG dolls... maybe consider ones withOUT curly hair??  Of course, guess what Caroline wants her next wig to be... blonde and curly...)

HAIR, people.  

This, my friends, was an attempt I made after reading about ways to create twists in hair without heat.  This time, using rolled-up magazine pages and bobby pins.   It's amazing what you can learn on the internet.

Sometimes I think I must be crazy.  This life I have with hair sure is!

But whether you've got hair, no hair, black hair, wig hair, 

or wild, synthetic frizzed-out hair, 

I love you all!

what they'll do for ice cream...

It's been 3 months since Caroline's bike accident which left her in surgery to repair a broken wrist.

 The scars are still healing.

And so is her heart.

She's been afraid to get back on the bike.

Thankfully it's been too cold to try anyway.

But on a warm Sunday afternoon last week, 

it was time.

We'd already talked about this day.

She wanted to ride on the level basketball courts across the street.

We promised her ice cream if she could face her fears.

 This guy wanted to come along, too.

"I ride, Mama!"

She wanted Daddy to walk beside her for the first few seconds.

 And then she was off!

From the look on her face,

you could tell she was so happy to be back on that bike again.

(though she wasn't the only one that was nervous, honestly!)

My turn to run alongside her.

Man.  He's so cute.

I'm so proud of her for conquering her fears of the bike!

Even if it was for ice cream.

at (almost) 7...

flower girl in our RUF students' wedding!

Where does the time go?  How is my baby girl almost 7?

God is fashioning her in such a beautiful way, and I'm so privileged to have a front row seat in her life.

At almost 7...

•  This gal is quite the little leader.  Really, she always has been, but she cherishes any opportunity to lead.  Give her a job leading others and she'll relish it.  Her teacher told me she turns down candy for the opportunity to read out loud to her class. (??!!)

• Her vocabulary and spelling is on par with a 4th-5th grader.  (she's in 1st grade)  

• Caroline's favorite things to do right now are: drawing & writing, playing tag/chase at the park with other kids, "screen time," dressing fancy, building forts, going to the children's museum, and playing pretend.  She wants a Frozen-themed birthday (like every little girl this year...).

•  She doesn't like anything she can't succeed in the first time.  She gets frustrated and quits very easily.  Playing board games or anything competitive with her is not enjoyable if she doesn't win. (though it's obviously for her best)

• I couldn't be more grateful for how much of a help she is to me when it comes to caring for Jameson.  She often fixes him snacks, entertains him, and is quick to do whatever needs doing in a given situation.  

• Her favorite foods are: ice cream (or anything with sugar, really), grilled cheese sandwiches, soup, pizza, all fruit, thai food, noodles with butter & parmesan cheese, and bread.  Yep.  This is the same gal who was on a gluten free, dairy free, soy free & JOY free diet just a few years ago when we thought her hairloss might be related to gut issues... :)  

• She's at the age where she asks for everything, all in one sitting.  "Mom, can we go to Amazement Square?" "Mom, can I take ballet lessons?"  "Mom, can we go to Fresh Market?"  "Mom, can we make banana bread?"  She loves a plan and a schedule.  Hmmm... sounds a little like her mama....

she's 6.  he's 2.

•  This gal is (and has always been) my good sleeper!  Even with a little brother up and down the halls every night, she sleeps right on through.  Sometimes she needs a little extra TLC from us when she fears monsters in her room at night or wakes up from a bad dream.

• She is still my confident alopecia gal!  On occasion, she'll wear her wig to school for fun, but as soon as she hops in the car, she's pulling that thing OFF!  I know she'd definitely prefer to have hair, but I feel like she's caring less about people's stares these days.  I'm so proud of her.  I can see it helping to shape the amazing woman she will become.  She teaches me what true beauty is every day.

• Caroline cares about how things are "supposed" to be.  I guess it's a first-born thing.  She's the rule follower.  If you don't do what you "should" be doing, don't worry.  She'll gladly let you know.

Words to describe Caroline would be: smart, confident, social, verbal, active, strong-willed, caring, intense, encouraging, anxious, musical, and assertive.

Sure, she can be quite the handful at times, but I couldn't have a more special gal to love and cherish.  Thank you, God and Birthmommy Megan, for this precious girl and joy of my life.

lil' chefs...

white mama at the black barbershop...

Put a white mama in a black barbershop and there's bound to be a good story to tell.

This time, for sure!

We decided to try a new barbershop that had been recommended to me.  Marc and Caroline came along for the experience.  We pulled up to the address, but couldn't find the barbershop in the store fronts.  There were no signs for the place.   We knew it had to be here somewhere.

We saw a door that looked like a possibility, and Marc encouraged me to go check to see if it was inside.

"I wanna go!" Caroline immediately jumped out of the car and grabbed my hand.

We walked through the door, and down a hallway.  I heard boisterous laughing and talking coming from one of the rooms on the left, but there was still not a single sign in sight.  This place is simply word of mouth? I thought.

I cracked open the door, and together Caroline and I peeked inside.  It was most definitely the barbershop!

Their guffawing suddenly stopped when they saw us.

"Hi, are you _____ Barbershop?" I asked them.

"Yes we are," they answered.

"Would y'all be able to cut my two year old's hair?"

Now.  Normally that question wouldn't be anything but typical, right?

However, when you're a WHITE WOMAN showing up at a BLACK BARBERSHOP with only a BALD GIRL right next to you..... you can understand why a few of them started chuckling under their breaths.  (Is this a joke? maybe they thought.  Does this girl even know where she IS? Hahahahahaha!  I was so nervous in the moment that I didn't realize how humorous everything looked until later!)

I didn't have the one thing with me that would've made our entire encounter make sense: my SON!

"Go tell Daddy to bring Jameson in," I whispered to Caroline.  She took off running outside to where he was waiting in the car.

Upon seeing Jameson, immediately the comfort level between all parties began to rise.  He was like our ticket in.  Okay, whew.  That was quite an awkward beginning!  

Getting ready for his cut

One of the guys ushered us through the barbershop into the waiting room in the back.  They turned on a movie for the kids.  As we waited our turn, Marc and I couldn't help but overhear the black talk radio they had blaring from the boombox.

On the program, they were discussing stand-your-ground laws.  "I bet he was a conservative..." I heard the talk show host declare, and from the emphasis on the word "conservative," it was evident that wasn't a good thing.   I didn't catch much of the conversation with all the noise around me, but at one point I did hear a caller recounting an interaction with a WHITE man.  (again, the emphasis on the word "white" also made it clear that wasn't a good thing.)

Ummm.... I began feeling uncomfortable.  Do they see I'M white?  :)  Was I not supposed to be here?  I'm honestly not familiar with black talk radio, but I quickly figured out I was definitely the outsider!  I've never felt so... well, "white" before.

Would a paci and Mommy's hand keep him from crying?

And then it hit me.

Do you think this is how they, as minorities, must feel in white culture every single day?    

You see, before Jameson came into our life, I didn't have to venture out into places like the black barbershop.  I could stay in my insulated, predominantly white world where I'm not the one standing out.  I could go places where I would never have to think about my race as a factor.  I could walk into job interviews, or gas stations, or get stopped by the cops and never think about my race affecting the outcomes of those situations.

But here I was the minority.  Suddenly I felt what it is to be aware of my race, my culture, and my differences.  It was a great cultural experience, even if it was a little uncomfortable.

No it wouldn't.  Or Daddy's arms.

As we expected, the guys there were GREAT.  SO great and communal.  Once Jameson started his cut, they all so beautifully shared in the experience with us, laughing with us and talking to him.  They were warm, personable, and welcoming.  (I noticed they turned off the talk radio when it was our turn to come in the room- ha!)  They tried offering us things to help Jameson stop screaming as he thought he was being murdered the entire time...  uggghhhhh, so hard and awkward, especially because I'm the white mama and I don't know what everybody's thinking as they watch me deal with my son.

But we got the haircut, and even though it's a little shorter than I wanted to go, Jameson's still my little cutie.

All done, though not so happy

What a fun, crazy, challenging & rewarding journey it is to be a transracial family.

I wouldn't trade it for anything.

six year old guest blogger #5...

Our resident six-year old blogger is back again, ready to share her photos and her thoughts with you all.  Enjoy!










Photo's by Caroline

Hi! So happy to start another blog! This blog will be about our Washington D.C. trip! How pretty is this? I took it from the steps of the Lincoln Memorial.  Down where I'm standing (In this picture) you can't see it but MLK's speech was on the ground.

Mom, Jameson and me are standing IN FRONT of Abraham Lincoln! (statue) I think dad took this one. On the right side of the Lincoln Memorial there is Abraham Lincoln's speech!!!!!

OH MY GOODNESS!!!
Look how pretty the reflection is in the pond! That is so pretty!

Who has ever been THIS close to the White house? I think I zoomed in a little bit. Sorry it's blurry.  My hands wobble mostly when I take a picture.















This is Nick and Megan's dog. We stayed at there the whole D.C. trip.
The dog's name is Moose.

My FAVORITE! THE METRO!!!!!! The first time we got on, We got in the first car and sit right near the driver! The Metro goes super fast!

Here is a picture of the outside of the Metro.
I loved looking at the sign of when the next train  would be there.

The metro took us to the zoo!

The elephant was doing tricks!!! That was so cool! We saw so many animals.

The cool part was that a monkey was climbing on wires! ALL around us!
So cool!

I think I told mom to just pretend she was taking a picture of me. Ha ha! :) :)

This is a Hope Diamond. Ooh la la!

I am pointing at the Washington Monument.

We were walking back to the Metro when all of a sudden, 3 helicopters flew over us. The middle one came down TO THE WHITE HOUSE. That was the President. I'M SERIOUS!!!!!

Bye! See you again soon!


by: Caroline