love the ones you're with...

It's hard to write.  It's hard to know what to say.

Ever since Papa's death a few weeks ago, we've been in a stage of grief.  Life is moving at too fast a pace for us to feel like we can keep up.  We're going about our days, functioning enough to do what needs doing, but we don't really know how to wade through the process of grief.  We don't really know how to pick up and carry on after the death of a parent.  It just feels like we should be waking up from a terrible dream any minute.

It's probably not a surprise that Easter was difficult.  I know that Easter is supposed to be cheerful, a celebration of Jesus conquering the grave!, and while the truth of the resurrection does give us hope, it doesn't take away the very present sting of death that we are currently feeling.  

Grieving or not, we don't traditionally do much for Easter around our place-- mostly because I'm a worship director and coordinating music for Easter is a pretty big day on the job-- but I'm just not a mom who's able to pull together treats and baskets and cook an elaborate meal when I'm here in a town without any family.  (Thankfully, my kids don't care, don't ask for it, and don't expect it...)    

My poor "deprived" children were fortunate enough to do an egg hunt at a gig of mine, AND I bought an egg-dying kit 2 days after Easter (50% off, woohoo!), to which they were thrilled.   Success! 

But thankfully the one thing we can do (and that's thanks to my mom, "Mamie") is to look nice at church on Easter morning!   Well, that's until the minute we're trying to leave the house for church and I'm running around the house like crazy because I can't find a single matching pair of socks for Jameson.... 

SO, he was all decked out in his bowtie and vest outfit for church.  WITH NO SOCKS. (ha!)

(And being the perfectionistic, Type "A" person that I am, I struggled with feeling like a complete failure of a mom on the way to church just because of a pair of stinkin' SOCKS. I have issues.)  

Blue was the color this Easter! 

I eventually got over myself and the dumb sock failure.

With everything sad happening in the last few weeks, we decided to skip town after church and squeeze in some quality family time.  All four of us piled into a king-sized hotel bed.  So what if we got very little sleep?  Hey, what we got were memories.

The next morning, we visited the North Carolina Zoo.

This is what Jameson couldn't WAIT to see at the zoo:

ELEPHANTS!   (His favorite animal right now)

There was just something healing about breaking the routine and visiting the zoo together.

Watching lemurs sunbathe.

Being inches away from a sleeping gorilla.

Watching the joy across their face as they rode the carousel.

It was magical to watch this chimpanzee reach out to meet Jameson's hand on the glass.

But this moment for me was hands down worth the trip!!:

We aren't promised tomorrow, so let's squeeze the marrow out of all the moments today.

papa...

Today, Marc's father went to be with Jesus.

He was a faithful husband for 61 years.

But around my house, he was affectionately known as "Papa."

He was the grandparent that loved you to the moon and back.

first time meeting Caroline

first time meeting Jameson

From the first time meeting my babies, he was smitten.  Though they weren't through his bloodline, he loved them just the same.

When he was able to travel, he loved nothing more than to ride up the road to come and visit us.

He'd save up all his pennies and give them to Caroline for ice cream money.

Although he gradually lost his eyesight, he kept his humor as well as his title "King of the Twist."

Over the years, Papa's walking stick made for a great microphone.

And Papa's leg made for a great horse-y.

But it was Papa's love and Papa's humor that we'll remember forever.

As Papa's health declined in recent years, and the "long goodbye" of dementia set in, we watched Papa able to do less, but love more. 

We watched a faithful wife serve day after day.

Jameson loved to help Papa

And as Papa needed more and more care, God was so faithful to provide it to him.  

Our hearts are broken this day.

My children have lost their Papa.

A wife has lost her husband.

My husband has lost his father.

And our family has lost its patriarch.

But what a beautiful legacy he leaves behind.

We know death is not the end.

We know that one day He will swallow up death and wipe the tears from our faces.  (Isaiah 25:8)

Just as sure as the body of Jesus was raised from the dead, so will all of those who trust in Him be raised again.

Papa, we already miss you like crazy.   It just feels like you should still be sitting in your chair at home enjoying some candy.

But well done to a life well-lived.  

You will be remembered as a man that loved Jesus and his family above all else.

We will surely see you again.

theology over meatballs...

Can you spell your name?



And how about we try some of your catechism questions we're working on over lunch?

So, like, while you chew up a meatball and act silly, we'll be talking theology...

the white mama at the race discussion...

Being a transracial family often feels culturally homeless.  

We don't quite fit here.  We don't quite fit there.  

But our hope is that more folks of every color will become passionate about the role of reconciliation and bridge building in our community.  

What was originally going to be a weekend out of town unexpectedly turned into a weekend of delving into black history and culture.  (due to a vertigo attack late Thursday night)

A local urban ministry hosted a panel discussion called "Why do Black Lives Matter?" featuring 5 distinguished African American leaders in our area.  Questions like "Do black lives matter or do all lives matter?" and "What can an everyday person do to affirm that black lives do, indeed, matter?" were addressed, and there was good (yet uncomfortable) discussion about the subjects of race and poverty in our community. 

Unfortunately, an event like this that is SO needed, was not well-attended.  I'd guess there were 30-40 people there, and only 8-10 were white.

(I'm much more comfortable now than I used to be in a setting where I'm the minority by far, but to think, that is almost always my Jameson's experience...)

As I sat and listened to the shared experiences and struggles of being black in America, even from PhD's, it was honestly very difficult and uncomfortable.  Honestly, this was a world I knew nothing about until just a few years ago.  And even though my eyes have been opened to see and my heart opened to caring, it all feels so heavy and overwhelming at times.

But I must continue learning,
must continue listening,
and must join up with others in the slow road towards reconciliation.

I have a son who needs me to understand.  A son who needs me to prepare him to live in today's world as a black man.

I do not pretend to know what I'm doing in the least.

But it's important that I'm doing everything in my power to try.

In addition to the panel discussion, we were able to visit a multi-ethnic church downtown, just blocks from our house.  As a worship director, it's rare for me to get a week "off," so we took the opportunity to visit.

Of course, as expected, the small congregation was amazingly welcoming.  Everyone spoke to us.  People we'd never met gave us hugs afterwards.

At one point during the music, Jameson pointed to someone up front and said, "Brown!!"

I whispered in his ear, "Do you mean brown skin?"

"Uh huh!" he said with a smile.

Finally.  A Sunday where my son was in the majority.

It was a beautiful picture of the Gospel to seeing all nations, all ethnicities, all ages, all socioeconomic levels worshipping Christ together.

Out of my two children, I guess I thought Jameson would stir up the most attention at the multi-ethnic church.  (And he did get lots of great attention, don't get me wrong!) But it was my daughter's bald head that drew several people to ask her how she was feeling, etc.  One older gentleman, whose intentions were nothing but kind, asked to pray with us, and IN FRONT OF CAROLINE said, "God, we pray that you would give her hair.  We know she is so pretty without it, but God, you'd make her prettier with it."   (!!!!)  

(You better believe I brought that one up later in conversation with Caroline... I think she's just used to all of it at this point...)

After church, the four of us headed to a diner downtown, and as Marc walked up to pay for lunch, the cashier told him, "This bill has been erased.  Someone else has already paid it for you."

Thank you, sweet stranger.

And thank you, God, for this simultaneously amazing and crazy life you have given to me.

8 is great...

"Mom, this was the BEST birthday EVER," she told me at the end of the day.

It started with a lunch visit at school.  We LOVE this girl.

Aaand it was ice cream day!

After school, we took Caroline and her best friend, Lizzie, to the children's museum in town and the girls had a blast playing.

Afterwards, we came home for dinner, cake, and presents!

Sweet Lizzie got Caroline the perfect gift, "Best Friends" necklaces!  They proudly wore them to school the next day.

I could not have hand-picked a sweeter friend for my daughter.  Thank you, God.

And the present she'd been hoping for and had NO idea she'd get.... Samantha, the American Girl Doll.  She was SHOCKED and so, so happy. (if you can't tell from her smile...)

We kept the actual birthday simple because we had plans to party hard with our South Carolina family this weekend, but I became sick and was dizzy and vomiting late Thursday night, canceling our trip.  We were so bummed, but we will get down there as soon as we can and make up for it! 

But even a seemingly simple day with a friend was MAGICAL for my Caroline.  I love how grateful she is and how easy it is to make her day.

Happy birthday, sweet Caroline!  

We hope 8 is great for you!

cc on the keys...

8 years ago...

8 years ago tomorrow I became a mom.  

Not in the traditional way, but through the loving, gut-wrenching sacrifice of another.

The story of Caroline isn't complete without her.

And neither is mine.

As Caroline turns 8 tomorrow, my mind is flooded with so many wonderful memories.

Meeting Megan for the first time.

Eating mexican food together the day before she gave birth. (pictured above)

Going to the hospital to have a baby, but not because I was in labor.

Rushing back into the room just before it was time to push, and watching Marc cut the cord.

I'll never be able to fully express my thankfulness for the opportunity Megan gave us to be present for Caroline's birth.

8 years ago we were all huddled up in a hospital room, taking turns diapering and feeding her through the night.  (truly a bonding experience...)

Our families became forever linked through adoption that day, and I wouldn't change a thing.

Adoption doesn't end the heart-breaking day a birthmother places her baby in your arms. 

Though it was the hardest day of her life, and simultaneously the happiest one of ours,

it thankfully wasn't a goodbye.

8 years later, our story still continues together.

 I can hardly wish Caroline "happy birthday" without reflecting upon all that God was up to in that time surrounding her birth.

Through adoption, we're ALL crazy for Caroline!  Here's to many more years to come!

We love you, mommy Megan and Brayden! (and all the family!)