Eternity

It's been on my mind a whole lot lately. Eternity.

It all started when we received a request from Addie's birth family to stay in contact. We'd love to. But how do you correspond with folks who only speak Russian when you only speak English? Still working on that one.

We so want to honor that request. Six years ago when we started the adoption process we went overseas for several reasons. One of those reasons was that we wouldn't have to worry about the birth parents.

How untrue. It only took us a few months of having Addie and Will in our home to realize just how much we wanted to connect with their birth families. After all, these are their children, too.

Their birth families have always weighed heavy on my heart. I cannot imagine the feeling of loss that they must have. I now want nothing more than to send them pictures of their children as they grow. To let them know that their children are happy. To let them know that their children love them and pray for them pretty much every day.

And that brings me to eternity. How I would love to touch their lives in a way that would point them to Jesus. How do we do that with the language barrier? How I would love to be able to sit down with them to explain to them the way of salvation. To tell them about what Jesus did for us by dying on the cross. We can pray....and we do....but still they weigh heavy on my heart. I want them to meet up with their children in heaven and there's only one way that will happen. If they know and love Jesus.

Eternity was brought in a little closer home last Saturday morning when my grandpa passed away. He was 87 years old and had been sick for years, but it is still sad to think that we'll never again see him snitching cookies off the snack table at Christmas. We'll never again see him snickering to himself that he got away with it without his children seeing him. (He was diabetic and the absolute last thing he needed to eat was cookies.)

I wasn't even sure that our children would remember who Grandpa was. We only saw him a few times a year as he lived several hours away from us, but Addie knew him right away. She remembered watching him get his shots (insulin) and she remembered his whiskers.

Addie was so excited to be able to go to a veiwing and a funeral. So excited. Why? I have no clue. The excitment only lasted til we got to the viewing Monday night and then the questions began.

Why is he cold?
Why isn't there any blood any more?
Why are his eyes closed?
Why won't we ever see him here (on earth) again?
Why are you saying he's in heaven when he's lying right here?
Why are those people crying?
Why are they sad if he's living with Jesus now?
Where is that box (casket) going to go?
What do you mean we're going to bury him in the ground?
Won't his glasses get dirty?...at which point little brother pipes up and explains that they shut the lid on the basket so the glasses won't get dirty. :)
Why? Why? Why?

The night we came home after the funeral she wouldn't go to sleep. After a little while and a few chats we brought her downstairs to try to get some thoughts out of her. Turns out she was a little scared to go to sleep as she had found out that Grandpa had died in his sleep.

Plus. All she could see when she closed her eyes was Grandpa being lowered into the grave. And the discussion ensued.

She was full of questions about death and heaven. It took all we had to answer her questions. How do you explain death and eternity to a six year old?

Will it rain there?
Will there be flowers there?
If it won't rain, how will there be flowers? You told me that we have to have rain to make the flowers grow.
Will I be sad there?
Will I ever feel guilty or nervous?
Will it ever be dark?
Will I ever be scared? (Currently, she has herself convinced that there's an elephant in her bedroom who will wrap it's nose around her and take her away...hence the reason for the dark and scared questions.)
Would I get to play all the time?
Would my mansion be huge?
Would I have to clean my house?
Would I have to see Satan? He's so gross and I don't want to see him.
And on and on and on.

The next morning the questions continued. We were driving through Greenville to get her glasses fixed...her dear littlest brother got his hands on them and bent the temple straight out...when out of the blue she blurted out...
"Will there be any bike wrecks?"
Me...."Huh? What are you talking about?"
Her..."In heaven, Mom. Would there be any bike wrecks?"
Me...."I'm sure there won't be any bike wrecks in heaven."
Her..."Sweet."

And so our days continue. She's befuddled yet learning that there is life after death. We're being stretched as she asks her questions and we are the ones expected to answer.

Yesterday the other shoe dropped. We've been talking about death and heaven for several days. Everything we've told her is true.

But we received a phone call that made us sit up and think a little more. A man in our church, 50 years old, was tragically killed while at work yesterday afternoon.

It's a little easier to explain to a child why an 87 year old man would die. He's old. God didn't make our bodies to last forever. He was sick. Etc., etc., etc.

But 50 years old? A husband, a dad to five (four still at home), a grandpa to two sweet little boys? How do you explain that? I don't even understand. I can say all the right things...Jesus was ready for Jerry to come home to heaven, it was his time to go...but it makes not one speck of sense to me, so how can it make any sense to our children?

And now Addie is concerned about more than dying in her sleep or elephants taking her away.

Now she's a little concerned about HER daddy dying.

My heart is aching for the wife and children of Jerry. We know that he is now in Heaven, singing with the angels, worshiping Jesus, dancing along the pure gold streets...thoroughly enjoying every moment and so thankful that he lived his life for Jesus. But his family is still here. They have to now face their days without a husband and daddy around. They have to pick themselves up and move forward into the future. They have to deal with death in a way that I have never had to do.

Please pray for them. Please. The next few days will be far from easy...but really? I wonder if the days and months to come will be when it's really the hardest. When the people all go home and it's just them again. When they have to create a new normal.

Death isn't easy, but unfortunately it's a part of living here on earth. How very thankful I am this morning to know that Jesus died for us all. That Jesus provided a way that we don't have to experience death in Heaven.

It's a comfort to me to picture Jerry sitting at the feet of Jesus.

If you don't know Jesus, would you look for Him? Pick up a Bible and start reading. Start attending a Bible believing church. Find a friend who loves Jesus and ask questions.

As we have learned here in the last few days (again), we aren't going to be here forever. Someday we will die. Someday we will either go to heaven or hell. There is no middle ground.

Which brings me back to our children's birth families. My heart is still heavy, but all I can do at this point is pray. And trust that God will bring a Believer into their lives who would point them to Jesus...the only One who makes life worth living.

Blessings to you all~

All Are Precious In His Sight

Jesus loves the little children
All the children of the world!
Red, brown, yellow, black, and white
All are precious in His sight
Jesus loves the little children of the world!!

A few Sundays ago we had the privelege of meeting up with several adoptive families in our area. Children were abundant....from all over the world. Ethiopia, Russia, Liberia, Haiti, the States...with a couple on the way from China and a few biological sprinkled in.

Our children had a blast. They absolutely love playing with any and all children, but something about playing with other adopted children simply makes their day. They have one main thing in common. Adoption.

Especially Addie. She loves all things adoption. She loves to know that there are other children out there just like her and her brothers. She loves to have that commonality with other little girls.

Will? He really could care less. As long as the little fellas he's with are willing to be rough and tumble, he's happy.

Jack was in his own little world. Didn't even know that there were other children around unless he decided he wanted the toy that someone else had.

I also love being with other adoptive parents. They get me. They understand what I'm talking about when I say something about sleep issues. They understand what I'm saying when I talk about parent shopping and how thrilled I am that Jack hasn't really had that issue. They understand the ups and downs of adoption. They understand all the heartaches that my come with the territory.

You could talk to me all day about the trials and headaches of pregnancy and all that goes with it, and I would likely sit there with a blank look on my face. That stuff I don't get. I've never experienced it. I've never had to deal with feeding a baby at 3:00 in the morning...but I have dealt with children who won't go to sleep til midnight...and then wake up seven or eight times every night in tears...for months on end. I've never had to deal with the little personalities of a six month old baby...but I have dealt with the terrified screams of a three year old who wanted nothing but something familiar and normal. I've never had to deal with starting the potty training from scratch....but I have had to deal with re-training due to upsets in little lives. I've never had to deal with picky eaters...but I have had to deal with lots of choking due to huge bites and no chewing, which is a direct result of experiencing not nearly enough food.

I know. Biological children aren't that much different. And yet, I wonder if maybe they are. On the surface, no. To look at our children you wouldn't have a clue that they are any different than yours. They appear to be well adjusted children who know how to have a grand time. But at home, when life is just normal, the truth comes out. It's going to be difficult to bring a child home from an orphanage setting who doesn't have some sort of trauma in his/her history. The simple fact of being away from their birth parents as an infant would be more than enough.

But the fact of the matter is, any child who can survive the setting of an orphanage is a very special child. They are strong. They are tough cookies. And that is not something that is going to disappear instantly upon being thrust into a loving family setting.

On top of all the 'normal' child issues, adoptive families often deal with the aftermath of neglect and abuse. Not always. There are some super orphanages out there. But adoptive families will always deal with the issue of rejection to some degree. No matter the circumstance of the child's history, that child will likely feel rejected and the results of that feeling are not easy for a child to overcome.

So we had a great evening. Concerns were shared. Fears were tossed around. Ideas were handed out. Encouragment was abundant.

And the children played as any children would do when there are slews of them around. They loved life. They grasped the joys of childhood with both fists. They strengthened friendships and made new ones.

For a few hours their troubled pasts were pushed to the far back corner of their minds and they allowed themselves to be children.

What a blessing it is for parents and children alike to be able to share. To be able to share with folks that you know have been there, done that. To be able to pray for someone who you know is dealing with the exact same issues that you are.

I thank God for those few hours of time spent with friends.

Final Campout of 2011

It started as normal as the three weekends before had. I spent the week doing laundry, packing the camper, and making sure that I had all the needed groceries.

Which I didn't. Friday included a last minute trip to the grocery where I grabbed yet another bag of marshmellows...which are now sitting in my cupboard awaiting a lovely fall bonfire.

The camper was packed. The bikes were loaded. Supper had been eaten around 5:00 and all we were waiting on was daddy to get in from doing chores.

The children and I were showered so we wouldn't have to worry about that little inconvenience that night right before going to bed.

My children do strange things while waiting for Daddy. Apparently they didn't realize that it was 90* outside.

All was going well....and then Jack threw up all down the front of me. Right before we walked out the door to head for the state park where we were going camping.

I changed my clothes, mopped up the bit that had made it to the floor, grabbed a towel in case of a puking emergency on the way to the campground, and followed my little family to the pick-up.

What a lovely start. About 40 minutes into our little jaunt to Hueston Woods I glanced back at Jack to see a funny look on his face. He pointed to his mouth, I shoved the towel in and out it spewed. By that time I was wondering if we really needed to be going camping.

After all, we were camping with an old group of friends and between all of us we had 14 children (I think) ages six and under. Um-hmm. We have no problem keeping busy when we're all together. And to think that the annual campout started back when not one of us was married.

Anyway. We kept going. We arrived at the campground and had the privelege of setting up our camper in the dark. Not that that's unusual. The only campout we made it to while it was still light was the one that we had to pick up our camper from the repair shop on the way to the campout. It was a shocking experience for all involved. We have a very bad reputation of always being late.

Back to the weekend.

Camper set up, we all joined the ring around the campfire. Our little family ate hotdogs (except Jack) while the rest of them were wisely putting their children to bed. Finally bedtime came for our children as well.

Unfortunately, Jack didn't get the memo. I was up with him several times during the night while he vomited and experienced a most lovely case of diarrea (which he is still experiencing...any suggestions?!) Needless to say it was far from a restful night for Jack and me. Somehow we managed to not wake the rest of the camper, which included a couple of my friends.

The next morning I simply wanted to crawl back in bed. I don't do too well after not getting the proper amount of sleep. I didn't though. I crawled out of bed, got the children presentable, shoved them out the door (gently of course), and managed to get outside myself in a timely manner.

In a matter of minutes (I wasn't even out of the camper yet) Will was crying on the playground due to some little fellas who decided to gang up on him and his cousin. Seriously. One fella said, "Let's get that one!", tackled Cade (my cousin's son), and the other little guy started punching. I didn't witness it all, but was given the lowdown from my friend who did witness it. What is this world coming to? What are we teaching our children if they take out an unsuspecting five year old just for the fun of it? I have a hard time blaming those two little guys. Where were their parents?

Sorry about that soap box. Stepping off.

The day started off with a bang. All the children of the 14 who could ride bikes hopped on and were riding well before breakfast was ready. It was the sport of the weekend.

Breakfast was eaten and Jason headed off toward home. We have animals, you know, and animals must receive their proper care as well. Kind of a nuisance, but the life of a farmer who has some livestock.

Before long (about noon) it was pretty clear that the two little boys of our family desperately needed some additional sleep. They were tucked in bed with a minimum of clothes on as they were filthy dirty, and I tiptoed out the door with high hopes of both of them sleeping for several hours.

Jack agreed to my plan. He fell asleep and stayed that way for at least an hour. :) Will, on the other hand, was not the least bit interested in my plan. In fact, when I checked on him about 20 minutes later, he had a lovely piece of his sleeping bag in his mouth. Yep. He actually chewed a little piece of fabric off his sleeping bag and was munching on it. That's our Will.

Betsy kept the rest of the children entertained by drawing smiles on their fingernails and topping them off with acorn hats.

Jack finally woke up and I leisurely took him to the bathroom (in our camper). I was just ready to start getting him dressed, or perhaps I had his shirt already on (it's kind of fuzzy), when Betsy (Jason's cousin and my good friend) came to the door and said that Addie had wrecked her bike and I needed to get there.

I told her that I would be there as soon as I had Jack dressed.

She firmly informed me that I needed to get there NOW.

I heeded her instructions.

I stepped out the door and could hear Addie's screams from quite a distance away. Jack was shoved into Betsy's arms and I took off at a slow canter. If you know Addie, you would know that she would be screaming because of a little scratch on her knee. I didn't expect it to be anything more than a scratch that needed a bandaid slapped on it.

I was wrong.

She wiped out while going down a nice, long, gradual hill. The children had been cruising down it at high rates of speed all morning and we just didn't watch. It's one of those things that it's sometimes better for a mom to not see. We can't tell them to not do the things that children do.

She had been riding with two other girls, Ella and Kaitlyn. According to reports, she got too close to the edge and tried to get back on track. Didn't work.

Perhaps my first clue of her questionable driving skills should have been earlier in the day. A sweet little boy in the campground came cruising into the playground on a gator. As a true gentleman, he proceeded to give rides to all the children. He went so far as to even let them drive it. Poor Addie. She wasn't driving very long when she smacked into a post. The little boy assurred her that he had done the same thing before and let her drive it again. Bad move on his part. She turned, drove just a little bit, and smacked into a tree. And that ended her driving career.

Anyway.

The lady who picked her up had the good sense to apply tons of pressure to the cut on Addie's chin and by the time I arrived on the scene the bleeding had pretty much stopped. Good thing. I'm not a huge fan of blood.

Turns out, I'm not a huge fan of seeing exposed jaw bones, either.

The lady holding her asked me if I wanted to call 911 or if we would prefer to just haul her in. I kind of chuckled and said that I had some band-aids in the camper. She pulled the towel away and my mind was quickly changed.

Photo snapped by Simon while in the ER. Don't zoom in unless you have a fondness for the sight of bones.

I sprinted to the nearest pick-up (I didn't even know I COULD sprint, let alone while carrying my six year old), the driver piled in (yes, I knew him :) ), and my cousin shoved her way in as well....after she had raced to my camper to grab my purse.

Off we went. Poor Jack and Will. They were left to fend for themselves. Not really, though. I knew that Betsy would take good care of them for me.

Before even reaching the exit of the campground, Addie started to drift in and out on us. Her eyes kept rolling around, and it was clear to me that we needed some help. Just as Simon was calling for a squad to meet us en route, we met an ambulance and managed to get them to stop.

I think the guys inside thought I was nuts when I told them that my daughter cut her chin open. :) All it took for them to herd us to the back was me pulling the towel away. Somehow, seeing a little pint-sized jaw bone (about 1/2 to 1 inch of it) exposed, and seeing little flakes of asphalt on the pearly white bone, was enough to get them convinced that we needed some help. The poor lady who was waiting on that ambulance to get to her. She took the next ambulance to the hospital and ended up being right down the hall from us.

Addie was terrified. Being placed on the bed in a real-live ambulance was enough to drag her out of her shock. All she could say was, "Mommy, you will not leave me. Mommy, I'm serious. Mommy, don't let them hurt me."

It wasn't very fun.

They got us to the hospital in seven minutes and there was a bed waiting for her.

While waiting for the doctor she said two things that I don't think I'll ever forget. "Mommy, did I get a scratch on my chin?" and "Mommy, can you paint my fingernails?" She's never even had her fingernails painted. :)

At first check, her right eye wasn't working right and she answered a couple questions incorrectly. Simple questions. How many brothers do you have and....I don't remember the second one. I wasn't in the room at that point. I had to, um, take a little break in a different room. And no, I didn't pass out.

We waited for a while and finally Simon headed back to the campground while Kara stuck around to keep me company. I will forever be greatful...er..grateful...or...however you spell that word.

The doctor came in and told Addie what she could expect. The numbing process was worse than the actual cut was, I think.

Once it was all numbed up, the doc scrubbed and scrubbed and used tweezer thingys to pick out the asphalt that was on the bone. I know. I didn't watch. I perched on the chair that they provided for me and talked to Addie. Something about that process simpy grossed me out.

About 35 stitches later, we were sent on our merry way. But we had to call for a ride and it was nearly 45 minutes before the ride showed up. It was Jason, who had hoped to catch us still stitching.

Back to the campground we went, just in time for supper. Poor Addie. She chomped into a pepper and screamed. One glance into her mouth and we discovered why. Her back tooth had snapped off. Not bad, but definitely bad enough to cause some discomfort.

She was such a trooper, which was a miracle in itself. I stuck her in bed that night with a dose of ibuprofen, expecting her to be awake in the middle of the night crying with pain. Didn't happen. In fact, it was about 10:00 the next morning til she had another dose.

The next morning we discovered something else. The tooth right in front of the snapped off one was cracked. Cracked enough that it was hanging on only because it was still attached at the gum. Monday evening she FINALLY got that little piece to chip all the way off. She was pleased, I was not.

A couple days later, when she complained of yet another tooth hurting, we discovered that it, too, was broken. Aaarrrggghhh.

The camping weekend didn't go exactly as we had planned. It was pretty rough. We still had fun.

Addie was back on her bike Sunday acting as if nothing had happened...but the hill was banned. Silly paranoid moms anyway.

We are so thankful that it was only her chin and three broken teeth. Not ideal, by any means, but we were told that she landed mere inches from a 4x4 post. Her head barely missed smacking into it. Only God.

Anyone have a football helmet or three for our children to wear while riding bikes? While you would think that her little accident would deter her from any and all hills while perched on a bicycle seat...it didn't happen.

Monday evening...a mere two days after her stitch-up...we caught her riding her bike off the ramps attached to a trailer that was sitting in our driveway. And she hit the camper at the bottom of the ramps. No injuries, but her mother informed her that there would be no more ramp riding...at least until the current cut had healed.

Now? Two and a half weeks later? The stitches have nearly all dissolved. We had to trim her 'beard' :) a couple times as they were coming out, but otherwise there was no problem with the healing. Only God. Only God could possibly create our bodies in such a way that a mere two weeks after being able to see a jaw bone the cut is completely healed.

Praise God for his protection on our little girl that day...September 10, 2011.

Cutest Munchkins in the County

This morning we had an impromptu photo shoot. The clothes were purchased weeks ago, and finally it was time.

The children were excited. Thankfully.

Without further ado:

So there you have it. Three cute munchkins. And for some reason God has chosen to allow us to be their parents.

Now to decide which one I'd like for the wall.

Whew.

Ah. It's good to be back. Seriously. This is kind of like therapy for me and after the past few weeks, I think therapy is a definite need. :)

It's really not that bad.

First off. I had to grin when I checked my stats. This little spot in the blogosphere has been so incredibly boring here lately that I cannot for the life of me figure out why 146 people checked it out yesterday. 146. Someone needs another bucket of beans to snap.

Just kidding.

This won't be long. It's after 9:00 and I really, really need to be greeting my pillow. It feels as if it's been several days since my pillow and I have met when in reality it's only been 15 hours.

So. What have we been up to?

This should explain a little

- picking, snapping, and canning green beans. And it takes me a while to do just one single five gallon bucket. And I've done multitudes of them here lately.

- picking, shelling, and canning lima beans. It takes even longer to do one five gallon bucket of these. Thankfully, I've only done three of them. And I discovered an interesting tidbit of information for any other loons who may happen to plant them. A bucket of lima beans can last for one whole week, unshelled, sitting in the middle of the kitchen floor. It's annoying to step around them all the time, but they don't spoil in that amount of time. And that's without air conditioning so I can't imagine the life of them WITH ac. I aim to be helpful.

- going on four camping trips. Only for one weekend at a time...but they happened to be on four consecutive weekends.

- doing boatloads of laundry after every camping weekend.

- folding the five loads every week...though I won't mention the fact that they often remained on the couch for several days til I finally found a break in the day to fold them. Oops. Guess I did mention it.

- cleaning the camper. Four Mondays in a row. Or maybe it was four Fridays in a row.

- re-packing the camper. The first two weekends it waited til Friday about 3:30. The last two I got a little smarter and did it on Thursday..or at least Friday morning.

- enjoying two sick children. Addie a couple weeks ago, and Jack now. It's not too bad. Just requires trips to the bathroom every 20 minutes or so and it only lasts about a week. No joke.

- making last minute trips to the grocery on Friday mornings. Without fail I would forget some portion of my meal for the weekend until then. And we now have several bags of unopened marshmellows that will be great to roast this fall when life slows down and we can have an unhurried camp fire out in our back yard. Ahhhh.

-getting in the groove of having a little girl in school. Three days a week. Some days til noon and some days til 2:30. I walk her there and go pick her up. Usually I walk on the pick up too. I'm sure I'm getting sufficient exercise though it's only a two minute walk each way. Maximum.

-spending time in the ER due to a bike wreck that ended up with a certain little girl receiving 35 stitches and two broken teeth. More on that later. That happened this past weekend while we were camping so I guess in reality it didn't really keep me from typing up a post. Unfortunately, the accident didn't teach her much. We caught her this evening riding her bike down the ramps on a trailer...and she ran smack into the camper. No injuries. At least none that she was brave enough to tell us about. This time it was nearly her mother who had to be hauled in in an ambulance. Not for a bike wreck. For heart failure. Bikes should be banned. But then again. Maybe not. What would my children do if it weren't for trying to learn new 'tricks' on their bikes?

That's it. I think. Reading over that little list doesn't really seem like it should be that time consuming, but, trust me. It has been.

And now? I'm tired. I'm going to go meet with my pillow once again.

Exciting News: Orphans at Play Store is Now Open!

I'm sure you've all been waiting on pins and needles for the store at Orphans at Play to officially open. :) Well, here you go. It opened today.

All proceeds will go toward the Grandma mentoring program which I explained before but will explain again. The Grandma mentoring program will fund several grandmas in Russia to get them into the orphanages to have one-on-one time with the children. Something the children greatly benefit from. While the children typically have to share the one or two caregivers with quite a number of other children, the grandmas will come in and give them the TLC that all children deserve. Sure, it won't be the same as having parents, but perhaps the little extra attention will help to save one more child from the streets. Perhaps the extra attention will give one more child the needed 'umph' to find a job when they are booted from the orphanage rather than turning to drinking and selling themselves. Perhaps the extra attention will save one more child from committing suicide.

Yes. It is that bad. The statistics show that only one out of ten children will actually get ahead in life once they are kicked out of the orphanage at the ripe old age of 16-17. Several of the ten will commit suicide. Several more of them will sell their bodies in an effort to buy alcohol.

It's bad. So the fine ladies at Orphans at Play (not including me) have gone to tons of work to come up with fundraisers that will help fund this grandma mentoring program. I'll let you read about the nitty-gritty details in the post that HunterAnn wrote for the Orphans at Play website.

Without further ado:

Check out the new custom designed necklaces. These are perfect for showing your Russian adoption pride, bringing awareness to children in Russia and supporting Orphans at Play's Grandma Mentoring Program. Proceeds will directly be given to our Grandma program and helping the children of Vladivostok who are waiting for families.

Interact in play. Support Through Love. Increase growth and development.

Simply put: Play. Love. Grow.

New products will be released throughout the next few weeks. Need a special birthday gift? Thinking about the perfect present for a family coming home from Russia? Or a baby shower gift? A wonderful teacher? These special designs come with a ribbon tie necklace and a special note to say thank you for helping us give back.

We will be releasing the rest of the designs in the brochure throughout the week!
Orphans at Play Store

Incorporating Birth Families into Our Family

A week or so ago, someone asked me how we incorporate our children's birth moms into our family.

Honestly? I don't really know. It just kind of happens.

I think the best move that we have made is to hire an investigator in Vlad to find our children's families for us. We did Addie's and Will's searches the winter after we brought them home and have someone doing one for Jack here in the next few weeks.

He was able to get pictures, lots of pictures, of their birth parents, aunts, cousins, grandparents, and siblings. We made all the pictures into a collage and they are now hanging on their bedroom walls. The children love it.

Addie gets told all the time that she looks just like her mommy by folks that don't know that we aren't genetically related. She just smiles. But often after we leave that person, she'll look at me, grin, and say, "I do look just like my mommy." So true. She's the spitting image of her birth mom....just with brown eyes rather than blue.

Will always gets told in town that he must look like his dad. :) Jason's never with us, so they assume that since he looks nothing like me he must resemble his daddy. We can head up to his bedroom and see quickly that he actually looks exactly like his older brother...who looks like their mom.

The investigator was able to talk to their birth parents. He found out information on their backgrounds, their health...everything about them, really.

That information made it easier to put it all together in a life book, which the children love to look at. Who wouldn't like to look at pictures of family members that they don't remember ever seeing before? Who wouldn't like to know as much as possible about their birth families? Most of us know that and take it for granted.

The thing that is hardest for me is when Addie asks me if she did thus and so when she was a baby. I don't know. I don't know if she was cuddly. I don't know if she liked to eat. I don't know how old she was when she started to talk. I don't know if she had a special blanket to sleep with or if she sucked her thumb like Jack or if she threw toys when she got upset. I don't know how big she was when she was born. I just don't know.

We have only one picture of her as a 'baby', though she would have been about 15 months old, I believe. The picture off the registry.

Same with Will. We don't know much about him as a baby. One picture. We only missed 21 months of his life, but sometimes it feels like a lot longer. He doesn't ask as many questions as Addie does. Perhaps the gender makes a difference in that?

We make a point to talk about their birth moms on their birthdays. We ask them questions...what do you think Mama Tatiana (or Anna or Larisa) is doing right now? Don't you suppose she'd love to see you all grown up?

The children always have answers. They learned while we were in Russia that if we were awake, those in the states were asleep and vice versa. So. That question (what do you think she is doing right now) is always answered with "She's sleeping." Brilliant. :)

Other than that, the children bring up their birth families themselves. Not a lot, but typically we'll hear something about once a week.

For example, when Addie got her glasses this week, she said, "I think we should go to Russia." "Why?" I asked. "So Mama Tatiana and Papa Alexandar can see me. I don't think they would recognize me with my glasses on. Plus, I want to go back to my orphanage cause I don't think they would know me either. It'd be a surprise!" was her reply. I didn't have the heart to tell her that her birth parents wouldn't likely know her either way. But. I was so glad to hear that. After her horrid trip back to her orphanage in January, she has been declaring that she would never go back to Russia again. Time has allowed her to work through her feelings and she's ready now to head back to see where she used to live.

Praise the Lord.

Will doesn't really bring up his birth family at all, though. Again, I think it's likely a gender thing. It seems that most boys aren't quite as emotional. He really doesn't care who gave birth to him and what she looked like. He doesn't care if he was a cute or ugly baby. He has much too much to do to worry about that stuff.

So that's that. We don't make a big deal about it, but our children know that if they want to discuss their birth families we'll be there for them. It's an open topic. Our goal is to make them aware that they are adopted, but also that we love them to the ends of the earth and back. They are our children...they were loaned to us by God. While we don't understand why God allowed them to join our family from the other side of the world, He did. Their birth moms are a huge part of their lives.

We hope that in being open about it now perhaps we'll ward off some of the anger and confusion when they are old enough to truly understand. Perhaps by allowing them to talk freely about their birth families now, they will someday know that we have hidden nothing from them. Sure, they don't know all the nitty-gritty details as to why they were in an orphanage in the first place, but they do know the story in little children terms. As they grow we add details and hopefully by the time it's all clear to them they will be so used to hearing the story that it won't be too big of a deal.

While to many folks it may seem a little odd to discuss your children's birth families, to us and to many others it is the normal of our homes. I can't talk to them about how fun they were as infants or how adorable they were when they were born or how they cried all night but we loved them anyway. I CAN talk to them about their history, which includes the families they were born into and the baby homes they lived in for a couple years.

It's the least we can do, talking about their families who still live in Russia. If it weren't for them, we wouldn't have children.

Praise the Lord for birth families!!!