CPR
$14, 425.00
That's how much money friends and family have given us for a new van in the last 10 days. And you know what my gut reaction to that is?
"Oh crap, we really have to do this now. We have to adopt again."
And then of course I think, "I can't believe our friends are so generous. We don't deserve this. And don't they know there are other causes out there like this mom diagnosed with stage three breast cancer when she was 34 weeks pregnant."
Followed by, "I can't wait to tell our new boys how there was an army of people rallying behind them and our family before we even knew them."
And also, "I had no clue that when the Bible says that Jesus came so that we would have life abundantly, for me, it literally meant I would have a truck load of children."
And then back to "Oh crap, we really have to do this now."
Don't get me wrong. We've been dreaming for a year and a half about adding to our family again. We've been doing the ground work to make it happen. We have taken classes, filled out forms, measured & re-measuerd our square footage, and then coaxed my brother and dad to build us a dividing wall in our master bedroom. We have set up bunk beds, created our adoption book, coyly asked our landlord if he was ok with 8-9 boys living in his house. And now, yes now, we have raised almost $15,000 dollars.
It's getting real and I'm getting scared.
Because our life is easy and adopting again is going to make it hard. You read that right, I have six boys and I just said my life is easy.
I mean sure there are stressful times like our witching hour from 3:00-4:00pm everyday. There's something about the initial reunion after being separated at school all day that kind of makes them all go crazy. Oh and at least 4 of them will need to poop during that hour so we have to be near a bathroom. I'm not even kidding about the poop.
Sundays can be hard too, with all the sitting still during Bible Class and Big Church. Not to mention having to keep up the facade of the perfect preacher family. Good thing I gave up on that act a while ago. If our church didn't know it before, they know it after this past Sunday, when Silas peed his pants during Bible Class and I didn't have a change of clothes with me. He attended Big Church in a pink pull up from the nursery covered by the literal (under) shirt off his Daddy's back. That side show was trumped by my parade out the door halfway through the sermon to take two boys to the van where their seat belts could help them keep their hands of each other. So yeah were not exactly nailing Sundays.
But we can rock our school morning routine. And the weekends are divine. This past Saturday Cory and I got to lay in bed till 8:00 am before anyone bothered us. Silas doesn't try to play in the street anymore. I've stopped rolling my eyes. And no one is peeing their pants. See, It's easy!!
If you took the time to follow the hyperlink trail above you can see for sure, there were some years in there where we were drowning. It wasn't just the typical splashing and flailing because we had so many young kids either. It was a deeper unsettling chaos as we were becoming a family. We were attaching with three little boys who we always loved, but who Cory and I both believe were never meant to be Joneses. And that's why my gut reaction says, "Oh crap we are doing this again." Because I remember what it feels like to be drowning.
I remember what it feels like to wonder if I've ruined by (bio) son's life. I remember what it feels like to question "Will I ever love them the same way?" I remember when I told my dear friend that my kids hate each other. I remember seeing the blackness in my own heart when I realized I loved my kids conditionally based on how hard they were making my life at the moment. I remember one of the boys getting hurt at church and clinging to his teacher for comfort instead of coming to my outstretched arms. I remember realizing that they only loved me conditionally too.
So yeah, it's super scary to intentionally take a deep breath and dive back under the water again knowing we won't surface for a while; knowing that "a while" probably means longer than last time because our new boys will be older when they join our family. And older usually means more trauma and harder adjustment periods for everyone. I'm not even sure how I am supposed to walk up to these strange boys that the caseworker will match us too and say "Hello children. Forget what you know about stranger danger. I'm your mother now. It's nice to meet you."
We wanted to get the word out that we will close our van fundraiser this coming Monday, June 8th. We never wanted it lingering out there forever making friendships awkward. We simply want people to give because they want to and not because they are trying to get us to shut about it:)
Monday, June 8th is perfect date because it is Judah's 7th birthday. He is the oldest one of our "brown boys." He moved in with us at age 3 and was just shy of 5 when the adoption finalized. I have made it no secret that we both have had to fight for the relationship we have now. Our "arranged marriage" was not love at first sight for either of us. But he is a huge reason why we want to adopt again. Like I said, I personally believe he was never meant to be a Jones boy, just like our new boys were not meant to be Jones boys. But he is one now. I'm so thankful. I can barely remember anymore when he wasn't one of us.
God is in the business of redeeming lives, but I am not just talking about Judah's.
I was drowning too and God saved me.
He saved me from a life of selfishness, material accumulation, ego, a judgemental nature, false racial superiority, and glorifying the American dream. I was half-dead when God breathed his abundant life into me.
And I woke up to these faces.
I promise if you had been through something like that too, you would jump in the deep end all over again to experience what it feels like when you are awakened with breath in your lungs and love in your heart, not because of anything you did right but because God just gave you CPR.
So thank you, thank you, thank you to everyone who has given and helped us make this happen. We truly can't get the boys until we have a means to transport them. Which means (and I mean this in the most literal and least cliche way possible) we couldn't do this without you.
I guess what I'm trying to say is thanks for being that annoying friend at the party that can see we really want to jump in the pool but we are also really scared. You've pushed us in now and there is no turning back.
That's how much money friends and family have given us for a new van in the last 10 days. And you know what my gut reaction to that is?
"Oh crap, we really have to do this now. We have to adopt again."
And then of course I think, "I can't believe our friends are so generous. We don't deserve this. And don't they know there are other causes out there like this mom diagnosed with stage three breast cancer when she was 34 weeks pregnant."
Followed by, "I can't wait to tell our new boys how there was an army of people rallying behind them and our family before we even knew them."
And also, "I had no clue that when the Bible says that Jesus came so that we would have life abundantly, for me, it literally meant I would have a truck load of children."
And then back to "Oh crap, we really have to do this now."
Don't get me wrong. We've been dreaming for a year and a half about adding to our family again. We've been doing the ground work to make it happen. We have taken classes, filled out forms, measured & re-measuerd our square footage, and then coaxed my brother and dad to build us a dividing wall in our master bedroom. We have set up bunk beds, created our adoption book, coyly asked our landlord if he was ok with 8-9 boys living in his house. And now, yes now, we have raised almost $15,000 dollars.
It's getting real and I'm getting scared.
Because our life is easy and adopting again is going to make it hard. You read that right, I have six boys and I just said my life is easy.
I mean sure there are stressful times like our witching hour from 3:00-4:00pm everyday. There's something about the initial reunion after being separated at school all day that kind of makes them all go crazy. Oh and at least 4 of them will need to poop during that hour so we have to be near a bathroom. I'm not even kidding about the poop.
Sundays can be hard too, with all the sitting still during Bible Class and Big Church. Not to mention having to keep up the facade of the perfect preacher family. Good thing I gave up on that act a while ago. If our church didn't know it before, they know it after this past Sunday, when Silas peed his pants during Bible Class and I didn't have a change of clothes with me. He attended Big Church in a pink pull up from the nursery covered by the literal (under) shirt off his Daddy's back. That side show was trumped by my parade out the door halfway through the sermon to take two boys to the van where their seat belts could help them keep their hands of each other. So yeah were not exactly nailing Sundays.
But we can rock our school morning routine. And the weekends are divine. This past Saturday Cory and I got to lay in bed till 8:00 am before anyone bothered us. Silas doesn't try to play in the street anymore. I've stopped rolling my eyes. And no one is peeing their pants. See, It's easy!!
If you took the time to follow the hyperlink trail above you can see for sure, there were some years in there where we were drowning. It wasn't just the typical splashing and flailing because we had so many young kids either. It was a deeper unsettling chaos as we were becoming a family. We were attaching with three little boys who we always loved, but who Cory and I both believe were never meant to be Joneses. And that's why my gut reaction says, "Oh crap we are doing this again." Because I remember what it feels like to be drowning.
I remember what it feels like to wonder if I've ruined by (bio) son's life. I remember what it feels like to question "Will I ever love them the same way?" I remember when I told my dear friend that my kids hate each other. I remember seeing the blackness in my own heart when I realized I loved my kids conditionally based on how hard they were making my life at the moment. I remember one of the boys getting hurt at church and clinging to his teacher for comfort instead of coming to my outstretched arms. I remember realizing that they only loved me conditionally too.
So yeah, it's super scary to intentionally take a deep breath and dive back under the water again knowing we won't surface for a while; knowing that "a while" probably means longer than last time because our new boys will be older when they join our family. And older usually means more trauma and harder adjustment periods for everyone. I'm not even sure how I am supposed to walk up to these strange boys that the caseworker will match us too and say "Hello children. Forget what you know about stranger danger. I'm your mother now. It's nice to meet you."
We wanted to get the word out that we will close our van fundraiser this coming Monday, June 8th. We never wanted it lingering out there forever making friendships awkward. We simply want people to give because they want to and not because they are trying to get us to shut about it:)
Monday, June 8th is perfect date because it is Judah's 7th birthday. He is the oldest one of our "brown boys." He moved in with us at age 3 and was just shy of 5 when the adoption finalized. I have made it no secret that we both have had to fight for the relationship we have now. Our "arranged marriage" was not love at first sight for either of us. But he is a huge reason why we want to adopt again. Like I said, I personally believe he was never meant to be a Jones boy, just like our new boys were not meant to be Jones boys. But he is one now. I'm so thankful. I can barely remember anymore when he wasn't one of us.
God is in the business of redeeming lives, but I am not just talking about Judah's.
I was drowning too and God saved me.
He saved me from a life of selfishness, material accumulation, ego, a judgemental nature, false racial superiority, and glorifying the American dream. I was half-dead when God breathed his abundant life into me.
And I woke up to these faces.
I promise if you had been through something like that too, you would jump in the deep end all over again to experience what it feels like when you are awakened with breath in your lungs and love in your heart, not because of anything you did right but because God just gave you CPR.
So thank you, thank you, thank you to everyone who has given and helped us make this happen. We truly can't get the boys until we have a means to transport them. Which means (and I mean this in the most literal and least cliche way possible) we couldn't do this without you.
I guess what I'm trying to say is thanks for being that annoying friend at the party that can see we really want to jump in the pool but we are also really scared. You've pushed us in now and there is no turning back.
posted by Christina at
12:30 PM
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