old love

IMG_2499Whoever came up with the saying, “you don’t choose who you fall in love with” was smoking something.

I was head over heels for the hot redneck red head in the back of my Bible class.   He was something in his flannel shirt and hiking boots drinking Mt. Dew at 8am.  Sigh.  There is nothing like new love.

At that time in my life, I would have agreed that love just hit me.  I was crazy about him and the choice was out of my hands and firmly decided in my heart, which I was unable to control for the wild beating.

That has been a few years ago.  He still makes my heart go wild, but now I am wiser.

When I stood before my family and friends and vowed “richer or poorer, in sickness and in health…..”, I had no idea what that meant and what I was getting into.  I was in my early 20’s and never had been poor or sick.  What did I know?  But that day I started a journey – one that I wasn’t smart enough to know to begin, but by the grace of God he set me on.

Since then my eyes have been opened and there have been some bumps in the road.  I have learned what love really can be.  New love is fun – but I have found old love.  This is the kind of love that you choose when things are harder – you know, when your biggest worry isn’t how to stay awake in the 8 o’clock class.  When poor, sick, rough, and unstable actually have come in to your life so that you understand what they mean – and you choose.

I choose to love my red head.

When we don’t see eye to eye – we choose love.  When we are not sure what the next month holds – we choose to stand together and love.  When he forgets to take out the trash and I burn dinner – we choose love.  When life isn’t turning out the way we planned – we choose love.

Each day that we have woken up and chosen to love each other has increased the blessings of our marriage.  14 years of choosing has added up.  Not really sure about the mathematical equation that would prove my heart correct, but somehow I love him more.  Choosing has been good to us.

Recently had a talk with someone struggling in her marriage.  She flippantly dismissed my words of comfort by saying, “You don’t understand.  Your marriage is perfect and easy.”  I almost choked on my sweet tea!  Come on!!  All I could do was chuckle and let her in on my secret….

The answer to a good marriage is simply praying to God for the grace to make a daily decision to love.  Not always as easy as it seems.

Today I am celebrating those daily decisions and digging in deeper to old love.  Love this man so much I would follow him around the world…oh, right I am!  Hehe.

For those of you keeping track….yes we celebrated a family day, birthday, anniversary and we have another family day coming up in a week. September is chuck full….you are going to be tired of hearing from me! 

Little Man is not so little

IMG_6424For the past week Little Man has been saying – “It my birthday.  We eat cake.  I get a balloon and people coming.”  So fun that he now knows what a birthday is and that he was ready to celebrate.  Soccer Dude thought it was hilarious to respond to him, “It is big brother’s birthday!”  You can imagine the three old yelling response.  “NO!  NO!  It is my birthday!”

There was much anticipation leading up to today…and it didn’t disappoint. You know your child had a great birthday when he is laying in bed saying over and over, “Grandpa, Nana, Aunt, Uncle, brother…..celebrate me.”  (It took him forever to go to sleep tonight!)

We did celebrate him in a big way today.  The whole family was here for some good grill’n and cake.  Little Man was the center of it all – right where he likes to be!  He was incredibly cute as he grabbed the car on the top of the cake to drive it around the top.  I mean hey, doesn’t he drive all other cars like that?!  As you can imagine the cake quickly became a mess, but it was all good.

I love birthdays!  It really is one of my favorite things to celebrate as a mom.  It isn’t just picking out the perfect gift, having family over for special food, balloons and birthday cups – although, all pretty fun I must say!  Mostly, I love taking a day out to really celebrate that God created these amazing little people who are in my life.

Yet, when celebrating the birth’s of Little Monkey and Little Man there is a pang of…..

not really sure what emotion to label it.

Sadness?  Guilt?  Joy?  Awe?  Frustration?  Maybe an emotion that could wrap all of those up in one.

Through the day, as I clapped for my three year old who was able to blow out the candles, as we laughed at his antics with his new gifts, as we ate his favorite food, I thought of a woman I don’t know but who haunts me.  She is the one who gave birth to this little love.  She is the one who labored, loved, and lost.  I hate that my life is so full at the expensive of another woman’s pain and sorrow.  I will wrestle with that my entire life.  I don’t understand the idea that God would use the womb of another woman to be the source of my complete joy and her devastation.  I don’t think that is how God works.

That folks is what drives a passion within me.  I believe that every child deserves a family and we should work tiresly until that is that case, but if we stop there we are adding to the injustice of the world.  As a Christ follower I also believe we should be doing everything we can to keep families together…to keep orphans from excisiting in the first place.  sigh!  This wasn’t supposed to be a blog post about the weighty things that hang in my mind!  But do you see how my day could be filled with such joy and sorrow at the same time?

I am sure there is a woman who is haunted by heavy thoughts today too.  A birth mom who wonders how her son is doing….

Birth Mother, I wish you could see him now – running, laughing, teasing, showing us all what can be accomplished.  Amazing.  Thank you for giving him life.  Thank you for giving me this love.  What a gift you brought into this world three years ago.  He is amazing and already leaving his mark on the world.

 

Happy Family Day, Little Man

IMG_3371One year ago – it was a day that changed the fabric of our family for good.  A Chinese nanny placed a screaming 2 year old in my arms.  What sorrow and joy mingled together that day.   The gut wrenching sobs of a fearful child who was loosing everything he knew in order to gain everything a forever family could offer.

But, how can a new mother express that to her stranger child?

We paced the floor of the civil affairs office – Hubby and I taking turns trying to sooth and get acquainted with our new son.  In the end, it was his sweet sister who offered her hand and comfort as she whispered, “it’s okay.  I am adopted too.  We will be okay.”

We knew when God gave the idea of adopting our Isaac in a dream that the journey ahead of us would be sweet (not easy mind you, but very sweet).  However, I did not know that the name Isaac, meaning laughter, would fit this Little Man just as perfectly as he fits in our family.    It is almost hard to recall the pain of August 13, 2012.  Our home now is filled with much laughter and joy due to the little guy I met that day.   Cool how God works like that.

I actually could fill this blog with many cool things like that….cool how God provided the funds we needed for the adoption.  Cool how he could lead us to the right child.  Cool how beauty can come from ashes.  Cool how he heals hearts and love can blossom.  Cool how he helps mother and child bond.  Cool how he gives a child the courage to overcome physical challenges.

You get my point.  It is fun to spend the day looking back on all of the miracles God pulled together in order to make us a family of 6 and to remind myself of how far we have come over the past year.

When Little Man walked into the kitchen to find me today and asked, “Can I hold you?”  (Which is his way of asking me to pick him up and snuggle.)  I thought back to a year ago when his body was stiff in my arms and I didn’t know how to comfort him.  Today he covered my checks in kisses, dug his face in my neck and in his toddler lingo expressed his love.  Miraculous.  Not sure how I have gotten this blessed, how my heart is this full.

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Thinking of all of you, dear children, who still live in the Maoming orphanage.  When our little man was filled with sorrow from leaving the only home he had known and you his friends….I know you were filled with the sadness of a different kind.  The pain of not being chosen.   I haven’t forgotten you.  Today I am praying that you will have the chance of a family and that your sorrow will soon turn to laughter.

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Want to walk down memory lane with me?  Read about the day Isaac became a Williams.

No Longer Colorblind

IMG_6316I have a bright pink hand. I love being fun mommy until clean up. This time my “fun art mommy mood” resulted in my hand being dyed and the worst part is the dye wouldn’t come off. Actually, the worst part was when I realized that I would need to go to the church meeting with a bright pink hand in less then an hour and Pinterest had no ideas for removing hot pink dye from your hand. Guess they put protective gloves in these art kits for a reason.

I hate to admit it, but as I got ready for that meeting I thought, “Should I try to match my shirt with my hand?” During the meeting, I found myself holding my bag in the pink hand hoping it would get hidden. Without thought, I even slid my hand under my leg as I sat down. I am a pretty self-assured person which made me almost laugh out loud when I caught myself hiding my difference.

Ends up…a pink hand at church was quite the little conversation starter.

I got a kick out of the different reactions: “What fun project did you do today?” another mom asked me right out. I sighed and smiled. Later another woman commented, “Oops, you had quite a spill.” I jumped in to explain. Both women kindly meant to start a conversation, and they succeeded. I enjoyed telling the ladies about the fun afternoon I had with my kiddos.

You know, the whole evening got me thinking. Because of the way I reacted to my hand and the way others reacted, my wandering brain ended up on a topic that has been causing our family to react.

Ethnicity.

Now, before you go all reactionary on me, please understand that I am not writing a post about how my white self all of a sudden understands my brown children since I went out in public once with a pink hand. Actually, the opposite is true.

Would I have fit in any better if another one of the 50 people at the meeting last night had a pink hand?

It isn’t very often that I am in the minority now. We live in sweet Southern town that is not all white, but there are no Asians. (Well, there is one Chinese family who runs a restaurant in town and I am told they have a daughter in the third grade.) This causes an internal struggle as hubby and I parent a multi-ethnic village.

But we haven’t always been in the majority. When we lived in a city of a million people in China – now, that is a time when I was in the minority. I was watched, was questioned, was misunderstood and just plain did not fit in, no matter how hard I worked at knowing the language and the culture. I wasn’t Chinese. Never would be. I could act Chinese, eat Chinese, speak Chinese – but on the outside I would always be different. I vividly remember how that felt, and it makes me sensitive to the needs of my multi-eithnic family which is living in a mono-chromatic world.

This sensitivity is the exact opposite of how I grew up. I am from a small ( I mean one stoplight small) farming community in Michigan where my whole world was white. Actually, if you had asked me back then, I would have told you that my whole world WAS NOT white. (I had one friend in science class who wasn’t. I think she was adopted. And there were a couple of girls on the track team…..) My world was small and I thought that everyone was the same and I treated everyone the same. Colorblind is how I would have labeled it. Naive is how you should have labeled me.

I often have heard people say that they don’t notice ethnicity. They are “colorblind.” And while I understand what they are trying to say, I do find it interesting that I have never been told that by any of my African-American or Asian friends. But I am getting ahead of myself in the story.

I added to my naivety by attending an almost all white Christian liberal arts school. What I learned in those four incredible years shaped my faith – but looking back, I must admit that my world view was still somewhat lacking. It was my years with InterVarsity that began my journey to really understand what it means to live in a multi-ethnic world. I had some key folks from different ethnic backgrounds who were willing to shake my rose colored glasses off my face. I began to consider the role ethnicity plays in how I view the world and how I connect with God — a learning curve that was greatly enhanced by reading and openly discussing “Being White” by Paula Harris and Doug Schaupp with our staff team.

(Side story: During this time our oldest son, who was attending pre-school, said he hated “that black kid” on the way to school. Inside, I came unglued, hyper-ventilated and was sure I was raising a bigot! I pulled it together and walked my son into pre-school where I ran into Mrs. Black whose son had been picking on Soccer Dude at recess. You can’t imagine my relief to meet the Black family who was very white. hehehehe.)

So why am I telling you all of this along with a stupid story of a dye mishap?

I am wrestling. I don’t want to raise my children to think color doesn’t matter and I sure don’t want my kids to think that they need to work hard in order to fit in and be something they are not.

But how?

I watched a documentary based on the lives of some adopted girls from China. One teen described herself as a twinkie, yellow on the outside and white on the inside. I am sure that is how many adopted children feel. Kinda white. Kinda not. That is how Roo, our second daughter, felt after spending several of her formative years in China. She announced that she wanted to be the first Chinese-American president of the United States. Hmmm. So cute, and so mixed up.

So my journey to understand ethnicity has taken on a whole new level of ferocity. For my children, (not just the two Asians, but all four), I want to instill in them a deep level of knowing who they are. We have started by teaching them they are all made in the image of God – I am still looking for ways to take it from there.

So that will be the next blog post on ethnicity. I want to keep talking about this and hearing your ideas. I am sure many of you have been at this longer and own it more deeply – so please share your wisdom and I will add my tid-bits to yours.

For now, my wisdom. Wear the protective gloves that come with the tye die kit because color does matter. Allow God to help you take off the rose colored glasses because ethnicity matters too.

Will you join me on this journey?

I need the manual

IMG_5481I feel a weight on my shoulders.  More than anything I want to do this mothering thing right….but there are oh so many days that I doubt myself.

There is a story tucked in the Old Testament that I can so deeply relate to.  The more popular story is Samson and his love Delilah, but before this strong man gave away his secret, he was a baby born to a childless woman.  An angel of the Lord came to her with news that she would have a son, Samson, who would take the lead in delivering Israel from the hands of the Philistines.  The excited wife runs to tell the soon-to-be dad.  His response (Judges 13.8) was a prayer to the Lord:  “Pardon your servant, Lord.  I beg you to let the man of God you sent to us come again to teach us how to bring up the boy who is to be born.”

I so see myself doing that.  “Thanks God for the big news, but HOLD UP!  I need more instruction!”

I want the instruction book. I have looked mind you.  Read books.  Scanned hundreds of magazine articles and searched for the best blogs that can give me the formula for parenting my children the right Christian way.  I have found a few that I have latched onto.  Read a great book that helped me get Soccer Dude on a schedule when he was a newborn.  Thought I could write my own book when he was a happy child sleeping through the night at six weeks.  Then it didn’t work for Roo.  Read another great book on teaching my child first time obedience….then I adopted children who didn’t trust a word I said.  I actually am reading a book right now about parenting from a place of grace.  I will let you know how that turns out.

When I am not sure how to instruct my children’s hearts, when the discipline isn’t working, when I am exhausted and can’t come up with what to do next, when I am falling short…….I want a manual or a list of the exact right thing to do in order to love my children well and usher them into adulthood as well adjusted, loving servants of Jesus.

Now before all of you email me wondering what tragedy is hitting our family.  I will honestly tell you – nothing.  There is nothing huge.  Just the same things.  The kids fight.  They don’t want to help out around the house.  You know the story; They are selfish and disobedient and I sound like a broken record.  “We treat each other with kindness and respect.”  “We are a family so we help each other.”  “We think of others before ourselves.”  “Obey your parents so that it can go well with you.”  Seriously wonder when it sinks in.  I must be doing something wrong.  I should just record these sentences, download them on a mandatory ipod that hangs from the neck of every child in the Williams village.

That is when the weight gets heavy and I could get overwhelmed with guilt or I can remember that just like my children….I am not perfect and I need some grace.

I am on this journey with my kids; We are learning together. In this fast food culture it is tempting to want to see immediate results from my efforts as a mom.  It just doesn’t work that way.  I will need to be in this race till the end and I am starting to realize that the end…..well, the end might be when I am old and senile and these four crazies are taking care of their crazy old mother.

Adding Little Man into our family has thrust us back into two year old tantrum world.  I had almost forgotten those days.  The thing is, tantrums all look the same.  I have watched them in all four of our kids.  There was a moment during one fit of complete selfish meltdown that I stopped seeing my toddler and saw myself.  Whenever I focus on the hard things and want my own way more than God, in essences I am throwing a tantrum and God is there holding me and coxing me to see truth and turn.

The truth that I am trying to hold onto today…..yes, raising kids is a responsibility that I should take seriously, but I am not Jesus.  I can’t do this thing perfect nor can I expect my children to all of a sudden “get it” and be perfect themselves.  So I am shrugging off the weight and turning towards grace.

p.s.  I do still kinda wish kids came with a manual.  Just saying.

 

Maiden Voyage

IMG_6159Part of our trip north entailed hauling our pop-up camper.  It has been sitting for a year crying out to be used, but life has been crazy.  Not that hauling a camper to Michigan rather than breaking it in slowly isn’t crazy, but you know us.  We don’t do anything half way.

I grew up camping and love it.  I am not talking about the “park on a cement slab, plug in your air conditioning and go to the pool” type camping.  I am talking about “out house, fire pit, playing in the woods and bathing in the lake” type camping.   As hard core as I am portraying myself – I must admit I was shaking in my hiking boots at the thought of rustic camping with four (one of whom is potty training still.)    Little Monkey and Little Man have never been on one of our family camping trips.  But I shouldn’t have feared….they did great.   You should have seen Little Monkey, our picky eater, when she figured out that we got to eat all of our food outside and that we cooked over fire.  Little Man enjoyed himself some roasted marshmallows too.  He also embraced “going potty like a deer.”  He isn’t to happy about me insisting he use the bathroom inside now that we are home!

Soccer dude has a new love of fishing, but I think he actually enjoyed reconnecting with his cousins more than anything.  Oh yes, I didn’t even tell you that part….my sisters and their families came along.  Let’s just say that nine children and two dogs don’t always make for a peaceful vacation in the woods and my parents deserve to be nominated for sainthood!  Here is a peek at our fun:

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Okay, I promised my sisters that I wouldn’t post the whole family shots.  (We hadn’t showered for many days by this time in the trip.  Can you smell us?)  But, look how fun this is?!  How could I not post it!  Love my family.

 

I should stop.

IMG_6027I don’t know about you, but I often get caught up in the monotonous tasks of my day.  If I don’t watch myself, it is easy to moan under my breath at the dark green carpet in our house that needs to be vacuumed again.  “Didn’t I just do it yesterday?   That crazy dog and his shedding hair!”  That is where it starts and quickly can escalate.  “How can those kids possibly dirty this many clothes…..”  You get the picture.  I should stop.

Maybe I am the only one, but I am betting not.

The past two weeks have been filled with a very different pace for our family.  Hubby led a group from our church to Nicaragua so while he was gone the kids and I packed up and went North.   I figured that spending time with my extended family was much better than staying at home wishing that I was in Central America too.  Crazy I know, but this momma doesn’t mind traveling around the world with kiddos in tow.  At least I thought that until we were half way through the 20 something hour drive to Michigan.  Lord have mercy.  I should stop.

There is just something about spending time in my childhood haunts.  As I tucked the girls in to the room I shared with my younger sister and as I watched the kiddos jumping rope and running through the sprinkler in the front yard just like I did…..well it makes you remember the sweet times and helps me to focus on the precious moments that will fade all to quickly.

Desperate to hold on to the moments, I pulled out my camera.  These are the things I want to focus on.

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Now, I am not going to end this post with the words “enjoy every moment because they grow up so fast.”  I hate that saying.  It makes me feel guilty.  Sometimes it is just plain hard to enjoy the tantrum my two year old decides to bless me with.  So little old lady in the grocery store, your cute saying might seem appropriate for the moment when all four of my blessings are sweetly licking the suckers the cashier just generously handed out.   But, in the van when the sugar crash comes and I still have two more errands…..I should stop.

Instead of guilting myself into trying to enjoy it all, I am trying to gain a bit of focus.  I want to train my mind to dwell on the good things (because they ARE there) rather than dwelling on the difficult moments and running a list of complaints through my head.

Finally, friends, whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is of good repute, if there is any excellence and if anything worthy of praise, dwell on these things.  Phil. 4.8

When first impressions fall short

I am guilty of rocking little ManIMG_5966 to sleep at nap time.  (Let’s not mention this indulgence to Hubby.  Ok?!  He still wonders why I am the preferred parent when it is time to head to the crib.)  Today as we snuggled, Little Man was patting my face and gazing in my eyes.  Those perfect almond shaped eyes that make him look so very Chinese.   We were humming Itsy Bitsy Spider covered up with a Cars blankie and he was sporting a smudge of strawberry jam leftover from his PB&J lunch.  Not so very Chinese of him.

His almond eyes and dark spiky hair may fool a stranger into labeling him different, but he is quickly becoming very white on the inside.  I mean we try.  We eat Chinese noodles for lunch as often as peanut butter.   We speak Mandarin from time to time and even celebrate Chinese New Year.  But that all doesn’t make you see the world through Chinese eyes.

At times I feel like I look at the world through almond shaped eyes.  Making Asia my home for several years changed who I am.  Tofu and dumplings are on my list of comfort foods.  I don’t like ice in my drinks and hot water is the perfect drink to relax to at the end of a day.  I really do believe that everyone should understand my unspoken message between the words I say — and I am constantly  reading between the lines when hanging out with others.   More than once my understanding husband has said, “They probably mean what they say….remember Americans are more blunt.”

Just a few ways that living cross-culturally forever changes you.  At times I feel more Asian, but you sure wouldn’t call my big white self Chinese either.

I realize that my son with his almond eyes will actually view the world as if his eyes were blue like mine….and I might surprise a friend or two by thinking much more Asian than my white face reflects.  Kinda funny how that might work out.  Both of us being different than a first impression would indicate.  We are the same – seeing the world in ways that are not expected of us at first glance.

Gotta love a trip to a small town lakefront while on vacation.  The teens openly stare.  For a brief moment I wonder if my bathing suit is somehow not covering everything that it should.  Maybe Roo is making silly faces at strangers again.  Is soccer dude making music in his pits?  Oh wait.  Three of us are white two are brown and one is missing a leg.

Roo noticed the teens too, “Mom, why are those girls all wearing those same little bikini suits?”

It isn’t so bad to not fit in.  Why not proudly draw a few stares at the beach?  I remember the crazy teen years of wanting to be just like everyone else.  It really is highly overrated.

Tofu is yummy.  Gotta love peanut butter.  Why not add to the joy of life with both.

I am not always good at being comfortable in my own skin.  (Remember I did wonder about my bathing suit for a second!)  Just saying – I am trying to love life with a foot in two worlds not really fitting in either, but thankful for the journey God has placed me on that has made me uniquely me.  Now that is something to pass on to my children.

Wanting to teach my four to stare back at those teens who were all wearing the same style bikni.   Isn’t it weird that they are all the same?!  How sad.  Let’s take joy in our uniqueness.

A second chance

My blood ran cold.  For a moment I couldn’t breathe as I read the words in a news article that defined in great detail the injustice and pain that many Chinese birth families face.  The article’s setting was the province where Little Monkey was found.  A grim picture was presented of the one child policy, how it is enforced and the reality of pain caused.  Could I really be reading what it was like for the birth mother of my child?

It can be easy to paint birth parents with broad strokes….or not to think of them at all.  I mean really think about them.  Shoot, I can conguer up all kinds of senerios.  Some birth parents are poor and can’t afford healthcare.  Some are busy professionals who aren’t ready to parent, others simply have made bad choices.  Some face family pressure to have a boy to carry on the family line, others are victims who wanted to keep this precious girl but were unable to pay the fines for a second child.   These are the stories of many children in chinese orphanages, yet I can’t wrap my mind around them.

More than anything I want to fill in the story of my children.  My version is filled with happy background music as the birth parents make the best choice for their child.

I think that is why the article made my blood run cold.

The music stopped and entered in the nightmare some families face.

It made me think.

Adoption never starts with happy background music – no matter the story.  Those of us who have been blessed by adoption if we don’t stop and embrace that fact then we are living with blinders on our eyes.

In my first year as an adoptive mom, I heard many things from a hurting four year old.  I will never forget the sorrow of those dark brown eyes as she asked me why I had to be her mommy.  What did I say?  “I am so sorry that your birth mommy couldn’t take care of you.  That is sad.”  It never crossed my mind to say….God made you for our family.  You are better for it.  God is not in the business of causing someone else pain in order to bless another.

As an adoptive parent who deeply loves her children and can’t imagine life without them, I am acknowledging the fact that adoption wasn’t God’s first plan or His best.  

Hear my heart.

God did not set the one child policy into action so that I could have the joy of Little Monkey in my life.  Yet, He sees the children who are innocent victims and He declares that pain will not have the final word.  He set plan B into action.  The Father of the fatherless provides for His child and I was blessed to be a part of that plan.   This is how I want to explain adoption to my children.

The world is fallen and the best doesn’t always happen.  What adoption is…..redemptive….a second chance.  In this world of pain, suffering and injustice God gives us a plan B.  Second chances are beautiful, amazing and miraculous.  That is the gift we have been given.  Can you hear the happy….NO JOYOUS…..background music now?!

This is why I have learned so much about faith as an adoptive parent.   I know that my blonde brain would not understand my adoption in Christ without the real example I have living through my family.  The cross wasn’t God’s first plan.  Sin entered in and a second chance was needed.  That is my adoption story.

Redemption.

I have been laboring over this post for three weeks now writing and re-writing fearful that I will not explain all that God is teaching my heart about adoption.  My adoption.  The adoption of my children.  And may I be as bold as to say, the culture of adoption that I see rising up in the church.  Not sure that I have done it justice yet.  sigh.

I guess what I am saying….I am thankful for second chances.  God gave one to me.  He gave a second family to my children.  I am believing for one more.  I cry out for all that has been lost by the birth parents of Little Monkey and Little Man; I know God has redemption in mind for them as well.

Come to the end

When the huge box of homeschooling curriculum came in the mail last July I was excited and wanted to cry at the same time!    It seems like a lifetime ago.  (It was before Little Man joined us and at times I forget there was life before four children….so yes, a lifetime ago.)  But we have come to the end.  We all survived and dare I add thrived.  The kids are all more educated than when we began and I certainly can say that I have learned a thing or two as well! 😉

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Some of our favorite moments of the year have surrounded our in depth study of birds (which led to us being proud chicken owners) and then our study of plants (which is now yielding much produce from the kids’ garden.)  A big thanks to Grandpa for helping make this project so successful!

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Another favorite part of using SonLight curriculum is seeing my kiddos enjoy great books.  Soccer Dude has been such a good reader and this year Roo has really started to see how books can unlock new worlds.

IMG_5964Little Monkey had the desire to jump back into learning Chinese.  It was good for me too!  Rosetta Stone and the China Kit from Sonlight helped us succeed.  I was proud of her hard work!

What does Little Man do while the “big kids” work hard on learning?  Well…..on a lot of days he happily listens to the reading.  He loves books.  Believe it or not, this little ball of energy at times will slow down to line up a basket of cars!  I took advantage of those moments to help the other kids with lessons.

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But, at other times when I would look away for just a few seconds he would find his own fun….to my dismay.  Can’t you just hear his innocent reply to me calling his name…. “What?!  This is the mud puddle you told me to stay away from?!”  He learned a lot this year too!

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But more than anything, I am thankful for the year we have had together for bonding.  The kids truly have become best friends and I have been blessed to be at home watching each little miracle unfold in their hearts as they have learned and played together.

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