Under Construction - BOUNDARIES

Disclaimer: I am horrible at this I was born in 1960, grew up in a small town in southwestern Michigan, and hit the teens years in the mid seventies. My parents were still together, we managed going to church regularly, and I was taught that dads word was th

e final say (although I think mom usually told him what he needed to say!). I didn't get spankings, although my leg was swatted with the hairbrush if I squirmed or complained too much, and I actually kept long hair until I was about 16, mostly because my dad liked his girl to have long hair. I was the only girl and I was taught it was important to please daddy. I wore hand-me-down jeans that my mom would lengthen with lace when I started growing taller, and I only remember getting clothes when I absolutely needed something. I remember certain purchases were between just mom and I, and I was excited as a teenager to be able to babysit for cash to start buying my own things. I played with baby dolls probably longer than my peers. I had a limit of how much time I could spend on a telephone call, and I NEVER had a call that was in any way private, because I was anchored to our kitchen table with that old coiled cord that could only stretch so far. My brothers did the "hard" work outside with the barn and animals, or trash and lawn care, while I worked along side mom with meal preparations, housekeeping chores, dishes and laundry. Everything was divided according to gender specifics, which also meant I was the only one who had a room of my own since the rest of the siblings were boys. I was in the peacemaker position, because I was between the oldest boys and my baby brother, and yet I had a special place in my dads heart as the only girl. He always said I didn't have shoes until I started kindergarten because they were never needed. He carried me everywhere. I grew up hearing that if I complained there was always someone who had it worse. If I wanted to do something or go somewhere, there were most likely chores that had to be completed before I went. If the chores were not done, it was no use arguing,as I would not be going anywhere. I always knew my mom was the strict one, and dad was the breadwinner. He encouraged my poems and prose, and got really frustrated that I had a difficult time comprehending mathematics. It was never discussed that we would attend college, because on dads income, there was rarely any extra. I did complete college in my 40's, and both parents were really proud of me. They just never thought it was needed. I was just a girl, anyhow. We ate meat at meals, usually with a potato of sorts and canned veggie. Mom tried to surprise us by fixing liver all different ways and telling us we would like this one, but I still can't stand the thought of eating liver in any way, shape or form. Desserts were never elaborate, but we had them after every meal. My favourite was when mom would make fruit dumplings, and part of the appeal was that there was a magical time we could take the lid off the pot and not one moment too soon or too late, else it ruin our dish. We had gardens, canned fruits and veggies, and lived frugally. Christmas was never a guarantee because dad often had winter months off, but somehow there were always gifts under the tree on Christmas morning. My uncle played Santa Claus at the large family gathering on Christmas Eve, and we all pretended like we did not ever suspect it was him. He lived next door to us, and I could recognise his hands in a heartbeat. Typical life, a good childhood. Camping, friends and family around our table and sometimes an odd fellow who would stop by for a chat and we would hear later that it was a distant family member, or old friend from my folks school years. We played outside after dark chasing fireflies, and we knew when mom or dad called, it was time to come. Home. NOW. What I don't get is how I could live such a typical, good life, and have NEVER MASTERED the art of setting good boundaries. I love to help and I love having folks over. But somewhere in my world the whole boundary picture never cemented itself in my mind, and now, at nearly 53 years old, I find I am totally helpless in seeing what will happen until I am in the thick of pain or disappointment because I didn't know how to set clear expectations before I went into __________(fill in the blank.) My oldest daughter tells me I set myself up for heartache because I don't plan ahead by setting clear boundaries. She is right. When I worked in human resources, I had no problem saying THIS is it, or THAT is how IT'S done. But the people I worked with were really just strangers thrown into a building together and we had our work cut out for us. It required little, if any, emotional attachment. It required well executed plans and strict processes. Unfortunately, life is different than that. We are extremely connected and emotional beings, so setting boundaries is not only needed, but healthy! I am trying so hard to understand how this all works. I see the need for it in my life, but executing it is tough. I care too much, want to help too much, and get taken advantage of because I have yet to understand this mystery called BOUNDARIES. So please, if I am one to step on your toes trying to do this new way of living life the healthy/right way, forgive me right off. Exercise your right to boundaries for your own health, and lets dialogue about how we can do this better. I do know when I feel overwhelmed, I shut down. That's not healthy. Boundaries are. Knowing how to set them is an art. Until I get it down, continue to see me as "under construction" and realise I have nothing but your best interests at heart. I am just not very good at protecting Me, while wanting to serve YOU, and wondering all the in-betweens that life throws out there. Yet. "I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made; your works are wonderful, I know that full well!" Ps. 139:14

Grief

What is a normal time to grieve? There have been several emotional hurdles to bolt over since moms death in January, like her birthday in March and Mother's Day this past month. Now I am nearing Father's Day next month, and realize I am almost gritting my teeth and clenching my jaw in anticipation. Since my dad had the very best Father's Day last year, his graduation day to his heavenly home, I probably should be viewing it as a celebration. I don't. Grief is weird like that. I find myself avoiding places where we used to eat breakfast together, because just passing the restaurant causes me to tear up and swallow harder than normal. I look at things while I am shopping and think how much mom would love this or that little trinket, and I have to remind myself she is gone. For good. End of relationship here on earth. After Mother's Day, my oldest daughter brought her gardening set and we went to their grave to tidy up. We planted a dahlia . Seems like a good place to put something alive and colorful and bright! It thought it would make my grieving easier. Or put a different feel to what goes in circles around in my mind. Or maybe, just maybe, put an end to the pain surrounding my heart. But it really didn't. I feel good we honored them, but it really didn't bring the peace I was searching for. I have had two different friends lose their fathers in the past month. I want to be a available to help them heal, and I know the words I have hated hearing since my parents died, so i want to avoid saying them, but I am at a loss for words. Everything seems so trite in the midst of great loss. Yes, we believe they are in glory, surrounded by family and friends, and we will all be together one day! But the reality is, I saw my folks most every day until their passing, and there are huge holes in the spots where they used to sit. I am glad they are out of pain. I am sad they couldn't live here pain free. I am getting used to them being gone, but I really don't like it at all, and I have no words to say when someone else loses their father or mother that would ever make it seem ok. This is our new normal. This is the circle of life. This is the hard part of being loved and accepted and challenged and protected. When your parents are gone you suddenly realize no one else can or will ever love you more than the ones who brought you into this world. I have nine adopted kids. Kids from dark places, kids displaced from their families or origin. We have taken on the roll of unconditional love to these kids, trying to help them heal emotionally in an area of great loss. We are the parents who will not give up, will not accept less than they are capable of, and will continue to be their biggest cheerleaders. They may have biological parents aching and caring, or they may not. But we have agreed to step up and be the parents they need today. Tomorrow. For their futures. Someday, as life goes, ours will be snuffed out and they will be left to ponder this circle of life. I hope they all will grieve our passing as I have been grieving the loss of my parents. Not because I want them to suffer, but until I grieved their loss, I never totally understood how magnificently my mom and dad built into my life. And someday I hope and pray everyone of my kids will feel the ways (though far from perfect) we have done our best to build them up and make them the very best they could ever be. That they will have know the unending love of parents who cared. Deeply. Someday they will face death too . I hope we have prepared them for a life worth living. I hate loss and grief and carrying on in the midst of pain. But I move ahead for my children and do my best to love them to death. Literally. I hope beyond our deaths they will all understand. I do. I miss you both so much, dad and mom. I don't know that I will ever really stop grieving.

ONE YEAR HOME

In just a year, two little African boys have grown like weeds! Starting around 20 pounds or less each, they both weigh 30-32 pounds. They are 34 and 37 inches tall. The oldest one started school in the fall, and my baby, the youngest, just started school this month. They both wear glasses to correct their poor vision. The oldest one will be getting his very own wheelchair on Tuesday, while the youngest one is still borrowing his wheels. They have both endured surgeries to correct health issues or injuries. They have been the test subject of mommy learning to cut tight curly hair, and they have been lotioned from head to toe nearly every day for an entire year. They have been tested and tube fed, and measured and weighed. They have met family, friends, and those inbetween! They have learned to enjoy campfires, with s'mores, and loud birthday parties with a lot of off-key singing. They have slept in cribs and moved into big boy beds now. They have had colds and an ear infection, but no pneumonia or hospital stays due to illness. They know who most people are who walk through our front door, and they have had the fun of holding baby chicks and kittens. They love their baths and bedtimes, and both boys seem especially fond of music in any form. One cries when it's too crazy around here, which always makes the other one laugh. They have a tenderness with each other, and love to be held and cuddled before falling asleep. One has no interest in the tv, while the other one will fuss until certain shows are found. The oldest one is the smAllest, while the youngest is the opposite, and is actually quite tall. They came home wearing 12 to 18 month clothes, but are into 3&4 toddler clothes now. The oldest wears the shorter shirts and the baby wears the longest. They both have leg splints now, and we are quite sure the oldest will walk unassisted this year, while we know for sure the baby never will. They both celebrated birthdays since coming home, but one is five and one half, and the other will be turning three in May. What have the rest of us learned this year? How to speak in baby sign language, and read eye expressions to know how two little boys are feeling. How to comfort a child who can not tell you how or why he is crying, and how to tickle and laugh with a child who is equally non-verbal. We have learned to slow down the pace when we can to accommodate differently abled children, while also keeping up a pace that includes the schedules of 9 other children who are busy all the time. We have learned that most people are understanding when the children's needs must come first, and others who can not make exceptions are not really much a part of our lives anymore. We have come to accept the parts of our children whom will never reach the potential that other kids will, while all the time realising their lives are still so new there is simply no telling how far either of them will go. We are used to friends not really knowing which boy goes by what name, and the others who can even tell you more than one special part about each boy so you know they really have cared. We know we have to be flexible with our plans, but more rigid with their schedules. Each day is "who goes where for what" and as long as appointments are written in the master planner, we tend to make 98% of everything scheduled. We have learned one doctor appointment usually results in at least two specialist appointments in the coming weeks, but nothing is more satisfying than hearing, "you are doing a good job with their special needs." We have learned paperwork is not done after the children come home from an international adoption, and getting any assistance for medical needs is like submitting another dossier. We have learned many people have no problem expressing their opinions of your children/your parenting/your decisions/your housework or home life. We have learned some people think of us as heroes, while others think we are crazy/rich/child hoarders. We have learned you must be awfully thick skinned when you adopt children from other another race, but we also learned many people love to hear how our family found each other and they start to think maybe they.could.do.this.too. We are finished with our first year home. No more adoption post placement reports, no more prying eyes. We are just responsible to send a report to their home country once a year until they are 18. We were told we could never handle two disabled children at one time, and now the home study agent wondered when we would plan adopt again because we are, I quote, "a wonderful family, very loving and capable of taking on another child if you wish to." This past year has been one of learning for us all. Feeding tubes, wheelchairs, brain injury and hearing losses, special needs school program's, and busses for the disabled. It's a different world. And we wouldn't change it for anything! We love you Gborlee and Isaiah. So very glad you came to stay!

Adoption can be ugly

I was honoured to attend a welcome-home-adoption party in the last several weeks, and there are so many parts of it drifting through my mind that I had to write it out. The guest of honor wore a pink dress, a big bow in her hair and lacy dress socks. She flitted around the room, with a special sparkle in her eyes. Each table was dressed with thoughtfulness, representing different children's stories with every detail woven perfectly to fit the story. It was a colourful, fun event where even the food treats matched the stories each table told. Simply lovely on a grand scale,yet simply set out for the reigning princess! Just so perfectly right! The sweetheart of the day was smiling, practically dancing, simply loving her spotlight moment. She had made a gramma happy with her entrance into their family, and young parents out of her childless mom and dad. She was given a bunch of books and games, clothes and even a bike, on this, her very special day. She rounded the room, smiling bigger than any eight year old I have ever seen, personally thanking each guest with a timid hug and delicate words. It was fun for us to make her feel so special, and especially rewarding for those of us who knew her past. I tend to put a warm spin on most of my writing, at least a friend accuses me of that, but this story ended much sweeter than it started. You see, this princess has had a rough bunch of years. She was adopted internationally round four years old, probably seeing more in her first few years than most of us care to admit. She may have been a street kid, and she may have suffered abuse at the hands of friends and family. She came from a depressed country, either orphaned or abandoned, and no doubt, suffered through her early years. Her home may not have been a haven, or given her what she needed to feel loved and safe. She may have scavenged for her very existence, all the while building up her own perceptions of a cruel world. Fast forward to her adoption. Kids in other counties who wait for a family have time to dream about new parents. Maybe they hear what an American house will be like, or maybe they are terrified of what is ahead for them in a strange new place. Either way, they come to America full of fear and dreams, expectations and wonder, struggling to express emotions they can not begin to understand, in many places hearing languages they have never heard before. They are forced to eat strange food, sleep in beds where they may have only slept on a dirt floor in their own country. They hear new sounds, see new sights, and begin to form opinions of what their new life has become. Could you, as an adult, imagine the terror? Have you ever travelled from your home land to a different place, and felt relief to know when your trip was over you would finally be coming back home to all the things you know and love. For the orphan, even if their first years were traumatic, that is all they knew. And once they are adopted, there is no "going home" again. I know that when this little princess came to America, for what ever reasons, her first adoptive family couldn't ever bond. She had "issues", or they had "issues" and the adoption, after four hard years, was disrupted. The family who re-adopted her now have the years of her homeland, and all the experiences there, and the former four years where she has been in America, but never felt wanted, loved, appreciated or secure. I am not writing to blame the family. God knows, this child, whatever the reasons, needed a new family. My friends boldly stepped forward, saying "could that be our child?", and have taken her on, lock, stock and barrel. They said, YES! And are beginning their life as a beautiful new family that seems to now, finally, be a perfect fit for all. Will it be perfect? No. No ones life is ever perfect. But this angel has a family, a room, a dresser and extended family who are thrilled beyond all their dreams. She is sleeping at peace, knowing when she wakes up she will be fed and welcomed, and asked if she slept well. She has someone who cares if her homework is done, and someone to help her deal with her traumatic past and initial placement. She will have a bright future, and a family to help her reach her potential. Adoption can sometimes be ugly. Re-adoption can be painful but needed, and the child can be lost in the network or be redeemed into a new family. This particular princess has a new start. At eight years old, she is being born again, with all the hopes and dreams of any new family bound together by love. When I first saw her picture, I saw potential of a young girl ready to bloom. Now she is grounded where her heart can soar and her past can become a faded memory. She is loved, and oh so willing to flourish. Thank you to my sweet friends who saw her potential, and planted her firmly into their lives. Princess, you can reach for the sun!! Bloom, little flower, and grow!

Life Happens

In December, a faithful reader asked why I hadn't posted anything for a few months. Well, Life Happens. In August we had spent a wonderful two weeks with the grandsons (and their parents!) in Puerto Rico. In Septmenber I started getting a small pain in my side, that by the beginning of November had become a LARGE side pain, and extremely sick me! I spent many nights laying on the bathroom floor, and a visit to the ER that my brother and his wife graciously excused the horrible emissions that erupted from my weakened body that night. (Did I say I was sorry, Scott and Linda?) Well, Life happens. I had a nice visit with a GI doctor that scoped me from one end to the other (I was due anyway, being a tad bit over 50 now) and reported that other than a tiny polyp that they biopsied to be sure, everything looked great! My abdominal ultrasound was awesome (her words), so, I was assured all was well. Then, Life continued to happen. I layed on the couch in pain on the saturday morning after my scopes 3 days earlier, and dear hubby just knew something was missing. He called nice GI doctor, and she guessed treating for parasites seemed logical, since after all, he reminded her, I had been in africa three times and puerto rico once in the past year. So, after twisting her arm and crying, she agreed to give me a strong antibiotic that would wipe out anything foreign that was living inside me and making me feel like I was dying. The good news is, within 6 hours of the medicines I FELT GREAT for the first time in months!! So my faithful reader asked, why not blog and catch up? Well, Life Happened again. Things like, even though I felt terrible, Tyler turned 16. Then Gborlee celebrated his first American birthday by turning 5. Then Nicole turned 15, then Jenni turned 29, then thanksgiving (the first without dad). Then I got word that there were, in fact, no "monsters living inside me," and I was welcome to finish the expensive prescription that had, for some unknown reason cleared all my pain and symptoms...We were blessed to have all my siblings and their kids and their kids kids here for Christmas eve. One busy, huge gathering, (over 40 now!) which I always look forward to. Mere turned 9 and even midst all the holiday festivities, we had a fun party at her favorite pizza place. And then, instead of having a big New Years Eve party, we decided to slow down, enjoy the cold outside while we sat by the fire inside, and we just let Life Happen. New Years Day my cousin Mindy came over with TACO's for dinner and we laughed and chatted and even made a midnight run to McDonalds for ice cream. Now I realize in the midst of Life Happening, that was mom's last hurrah. The next day, sitting by the fire and crocheting, mom said she felt tired and was going to lay down. She had been having a few chest pains, but this time, they came hard enough to stop her. She left my house for the last time in an ambulance, but was still making jokes with the kind EMT's that took her. We met up at the hospital in time for her heart catherization, and bolstered our hearts for the "there is nothing we can do now..." talk. She was transfered to a room, made comfortable, and we all said goodnight. The next morning we realized she had suffered a large stroke, which now we realized was the beginning of the end. This was dying. But that is how Life Happens. Mom had the opportunity to tell us all goodbye in the few days that followed. We had some crazy laughs, some beautiful moments together, and we faced the future. We had promised her she would never be alone, and we encouraged her to join Dad. The last words I had with her I will always treasure. She asked, again, "Am I dying, Faithy?" I stood at the end of her hospital bed, with nieces and family around, and said, "Yes momma. You are." She looked at me and said, "Then why are you crying?" Well, because in the midst of Life Happening, I knew I was losing her. The one who I cried with, and spent the last seven months staying frustrated with! The mom who loved me even when I was unlovable for the last 52 years, and shared my passion for the orphans of the world. The one who taught me sarcasm, but also how to love someone who was not "bone of my bone." The one who knew how to make fun in normal life situations, because with all she had been through, she knew, Life Happens. Why am I crying? "because I am going to miss you mom." After that, she spent a few days slowly slipping farther away. She was ready, and we gave her permission to go. She ended her life at Hospice House, believing she was safe and sound in the arms of Jesus, envisioning with our human eyes, all that she could be seeing with her new heavenly eyes. A new, faultless body, robed in pure white, shining with the stars! Eternity. Grace flowed. Life had happened. We celebrated her life, laughing, crying, in the same church mom and dad married in, and we all said our last goodbyes. It was cold at the graveside, but we knew she was not there. We celebrated a life well lived, a goodbye that was in God's perfect timing, and we buried the shell that we had only known as mom. Because once Life Happened, Death was inevitable. And it is okay. Our life continues to happen. Tara turned 11, with a celebration at the same pizza place. We missed gramma being there. We sort thought her things and prepare to sell their home. We each treasure things differently, and remember her by what we choose. I wish I had hugged her more. I plan to hug everyone else in my life more because of it. I will miss her. An awful amount. But, Life Happens. I am packing for another trip to Africa. I am taking a couple suitcases of supplies to more orphans. I intend to hug alot. For mom. For me. For Jesus sake. I have a new grandson, Kainoa Seraphin Kanda Cameron, coming home any day now from the DRC. In our pain and suffering, in our joy and sorrow, our hope and forever days ahead, Life keeps happening. In our lives, in our kids lives, in our family lives, in our friends lives. Our son got a fabulous job and is headed back to the states. Our daughter in Oregon has been on call to help him out through this adoption process. Our daughter in town has been a rock to all of us as, well, Life Happens. Life, precious life. You lived it well, mom. You died as gracefully as dad. No regrets. So as long as I live, I hope to live it well. In honor of my parents, Thomas and Bonnie Meador. As you both rest in peace, surrounded by the glory of your heavenly Father, I will continue to do all I can to love, serve, and well, LIVE. Or, LIVE WELL. Because Life Happens.

Road trip benefits

My oldest son at home, Tyler, accompanied the baby boys and I to the children's doctors for appointments yesterday. The drive is about 4 hours one way so I really enjoyed his company. He also is much stronger than I am. By the end of our day, I was really ready to hit the pillow but he helped empty the car and get the boys in. One of the best things of having individual time (well, plus the babies!) with the kids for the medical trips is that I get their undivided (mostly) attention. It's fun talking about drivers training, politics, religion and relationships. It's also nice to see him interact with the boys and to watch him meet their needs, whether it's sharing snacks,or wiping drool. I was even surprised when he fed Gborlee before he even began eating his own lunch. I really want what's best for each of my kids as they grown and learn, but I must say, there are parts of Tyler's growth that I am thrilled to be witnessing. It hasn't been a basket of roses for tyler to learn to know and love us, just like it has sometimes been more like a bin of thorns to love and accept him. But for the record, I think he is growing up to be a pretty nice teenager these days, and it makes me appreciate him even more as he attends to our disabled boys. For me, this is all I need our family to be. Helping each other to become people they can be proud of. I am proud of tyler this week.

Real Life phase

We just completed our second post-placement meeting last night with our social worker, which signals the boys being in America for nearly 6 months now. I am amazed every day at all the changes, even the little ones, they continue to make. So we are settling into the phase I call "Real Life with Disabled Children."- A few highlights would include: *learning not to faint when the total medical bills for two small children already add up to over $100,000.00. *automaticaly packing an overnight bag when traveling to the children's hospital, rather than being down there and finding out i am going to have to stay over, and not being prepared! *actually getting a shower most days, even if it means waiting until naptime to take it! *scheduling NOTHING until I check my planner *referring to their doctors by first names, especially the ones I see more than my family! *meeting the NICEST people in the world - parents of other special needs kiddos *counting a therapy play group as a time to talk to other adults *having a diaper bag packed and ready to grab as I walk out the door, with enough in it to last at least three days *laughing and snapping pictures of the messes they make, even though I was just in the bathroom for a minute I have to plan a little more, be a bit more flexible and make sure I have the emergency seizure kit with me at all times, but these CP boys are not much different than any of the other kids when they were toddlers. Someone told me the other day they could never do what I do. Really? It's easy to love these angels, and if you got to now them, you would do all you could for them too. And I disagree with my friends' last statement: "they are lucky little boys to have you" No, I will always believe it is me. I am, by far, the luckiest woman alive.