When A Mom Is Sick

Having just experienced what may classify as the most horrendous stomach flu, I now believe there is a series of unfortunate events that occur when a mom gets sick. Things spiral over the course of time, albeit no one in the household quite understands what really happens when Mom takes a bucket, cold washcloth and Tylenol to her room. The flu. As mom tries her best to sleep off the hideous headache that keeps pounding at the backs of her eyelids, NO ONE is pounding on the very-out-of-tune piano in the next room over. Mom is said to be hallucinating during this time of duress as she lie in her chambers, and coming out of her room to correct the children who are possibly swinging from the livingroom light fixture probably are not really misbehaving nearly as much as mom supposes. Mom just has the flu. Just as mom falls asleep it is a sure thing SOMEONE needs to know just which vegetable would be perfect for dinner, even though, #1 - no one usually cares what vegetable is cooked because, no one will eat it, and #2- mother is sick and does not really care if anyone eats a vegetable this night or not. All mother wants is to go back to sleep and not hear the banshees In the next room practicing their tribal calls. Mom is not available, when she is sick unto death, to squeeze the toothpaste tube back Into shape, return the cap and place it back in the drawer, and further more, when Mom is this sick, she really doesn't even think about the children brushing their teeth. At this profound stage of illness, mother could care less if their teeth all fell out. Or if they miss the bus, join a traveling circus or marry a biker. Mom is too sick to care. If mom is sick, no one keeps the cats away from the fishbowl. It's every fish for himself when mamma has the flu. No one realizes how many times the rolls of toilet paper are taken away from fish-bowl-tormenting-cats either. Apparently mom will clean up the shreds of tissue all around the house once she crawls out of her stupor. No one dares bother mom when she is this sick. Except to borrow her cell phone, get the code for the Internet, or tattle on someone who is doing something that can not possibly, at all ,be worked out by dad. Moms sickness also seems to slow down the laundry schedule. Although dad is great at sorting and keeping it clean, he really has no clue how to sort it correctly, thus creating yet ANOTHER reason at least one or nine children must wake mother up to ask where their tights/favorite shirt/ undies/ pet snake are. Although the teens have been washing/drying/ putting away their own laundry on the same weekly schedule for the last three years, apparently mom is the only one who knows what that schedule is. So being sick, mom has to yell out of her illness to said teenagers to do their laundry on the scheduled night, or be woken up in the morning after a sleepless/sick night to borrow MY clothes/sweater/belt/ earrings. Obviously teenagers really miss mom when she is sick in her room for two days, because they can't seem to stay away. Especially if they were told to do the dishes/clear the table/pick up livingroom/ watch your baby brothers til dad gets home without making sure the other teens are getting just as many chores as they are. A very sick mom can not usually ignore what is going on in other rooms. Partly because the noise level is so intense it can not be ignored even if mom was asleep outside in the van down the road at a nearby park and also because a mom knows there may be something that she will have to jump out of bed and deal with (as she is holding wet cloth to aching head, and kicking bucket along in front of her so as to not make a mess on the carpet as she screams at no one in particular ). Meals will be cooked loudly when mom is sick, because her quiet room is directly off the kitchen. That way, she can tell no one is left in the kitchen when she smells the food burning and she knows immediately all the children are once again in front of the television and can not hear neither the smoke alarm or timer going off to alert them its time to call dad and have him pick up pizza for dinner. Of course the nine children decide to play Dreidle on the night mom is sick, LOUDLY so she doesn't feel as if she is missing out on family game night. When mom is sick, she really doesn't care about Dreidle, hopscotch or making moonshine, as long as the nine children (or 17 or 31) are playing quietly. Mom tries her hardest to get well. She prays, sips weak tea, and eats nothing for two days. The teenagers, however, decide to come talk to mom as she lies dying in her dark room whereas they had not spoken directly to mom two weeks prior to her illness except to ask for money and a ride to the game. When a mom gets sick, she usually gets back into action sooner than anyone else who gets sick. A two day illness can last a week to a kid who wants to skip school, until the neighbor shows up to play and the kid who threw up his gizzards all night long insists he was never really sick, just didn't want to take a shower. Moms really can't get sick gracefully. It's hard work to stay down and get enough rest to get well. It's harder yet to spend so much quality time with all the kids parading through your room to ask questions every 10 minutes when you are nauseous and just want to sleep. I have learned if I can plan my next bout with the flu, I am checking In at the local hotel and maybe, just maybe, a good nights sleep with no distractions will put me back on my feet much sooner! Mommas must stay well! They just can't live without us!

Two brothers. Two houses

The aunt and uncle that I grew up living directly next door to, have their home for sale.
Well, technically, they have both since passed on to Glory, so their daughters are arranging the details in their absence.  Being that my siblings and I are also arranging the sale of our parents home since their passing, I totally understand the agony, yet need, to accomplish this huge endeavor.

I have a dear niece that is looking for a home for her growing family, so when she Arranged to see my aunt and uncle's home, I was delighted to be a part of the home tour!  We had already peeked into the solid front picture window, trespassing although it were, and got excited about seeing the home from the inside out, and not just sneaking a limited view of what lay beyond the front glass.  I had already explained a few of my recollections of the homes layout to my niece, but as memories flooded back to my heart, I was excited as we turned the lock and entered.

The double garage was added years after I had married and left the neighborhood, and the green home that I mostly recalled by memory was now sided with vinyl in a pleasant taupe color.  It made a nice solid background for which the bushes stood out against, and the roof on top looked clean and strong.  But as the door to the front of the house opened, I was astonished at the memories that flooded my senses!

I was the child again who came to visit my oldest cousin as she lay in her bed with an injured heel that sustained a nasty bike accident (of which I was the driver of!), icing a painful foot of stitches. Oh I felt so very sorry for what my carelessness had caused.  I hoped then that she would have forgiven me sooner than later!  I felt tremendous guilt and couldn't stay around to see what the verdict would be!
Or the time she had her tonsils removed, I visited that room again, wondering if her voice would ever sound the same again, and feeling sad for her painful throat, but secretly wishing I, too, could have my own tonsils removed so that I would get to eat as many Popsicles as I wanted like she was enjoying this day.

I could smell the overly salted pretzels we made with her Easy Bake oven, hardly tempting I am quite sure, yet my dear uncle swallowed them up with smiles as If we had presented a glorious 8 course meal on a silver platter to a king!!  We were so proud!

I remembered where every piece of furniture was placed in the minty green living room,and could hear, once again, my aunts tinkling laughter as she served up her newest concoction to the love of her life as he returned home from work. She had infectious smile and a twinkle in her eyes. Then there was the time I could hardly wait to see the newest member of their family! Just after school we quietly peered into a bassinet, marveling at the bundle of pinkness that lay sleeping there. It was my earliest recollection of seeing a brand new baby, and I could hardly take my eyes off of the tiny roundness of her nose, and how each little finger looked slender and perfect. Her two older sisters enjoyed showing her off, but were quick to frolic Off to play, but I just couldn't stop looking at her. It was better than I could imagine, and I loved that she was now a part of my life. The middle sister was best friends with my baby brother. I imagine they were about the same age, but it was clear they were "cut from the same cloth." Family often commented on how much they were alike, as if they were twins born to differing mothers, but genetically very much the same. They laughed at the strangest things, and even in their growing years, remained close and connected. I didn't have time for them, as our days were filled with swings, forts, neighbor children and late night firefly hunts. The dark would settle in all too soon, as we separated for the day, just waiting for the next episode of our childhood that simply couldn't come fast enough. It was all here now, hitting every sense in me as I stood in their family home, inhaling the memories like a crack addict. I needed this reprieve from today's life. I had to reconnect, although just for a few moments, to a precious time I feared I had lost. My closest aunt and uncle have been gone for a few years now, grief has been pocketed away, in the same compartment, I suppose, as the tidy place I now keep my own parents since their death. Today was the day I took out those feelings, rolled them around in my heart, holding them in my shaking hands and cried. What was the value in all we had lost when we laid them all to rest? They were not properties and accumulations of their meager wealth, but were just all-too-short caregivers of the lives Entrusted to them. They all died, and I am quite sure there were accolades and praises given by their creator for how each of them valiantly carried on the years they were each given. Above all, between the two brothers, they successfully raised 8 children in a tough world, and each boasted of grandchildren and great-grandchildren that will continue use the legacies they left behind. Two houses now hang in the balance. Two homes built together, side by side on a quaint road off the beaten path, lovingly carved out of timber and shingles by the hands of the brothers, brother in laws, their growing children and the patriarch of them all. What will become of the homes, the lots, the yards and memories? I imagine when I am gone, some of my children will recall these homes, as they stand today, empty and longingly looking for the next set of lives who may build new sounds and laughter to their walls. I dread the day they will be deemed unnecessary or undervalued, and torn down for progress. It is sure to happen as progress deems important. But how I hope it's not too soon. I want to hear laughter in these walls again. Fresh, engaging laughter as a new generation builds on top of the memories already so grounded in the soil of this neighborhood. I want to see dogs, and chickens and swing sets and bikes fallen over in the yard, as a new family of children trot off to see what is happening under the big trees. Is it wrong to envision picnics in the shade or make believe stories being played out once again in the safety of their parents watchful eyes, just as a whole generation had done all those years before them? It is hard to watch the changing of the guards. But what a joy if those hands who turn the keys would be an extension of what our mothers and fathers began more than fifty years ago. What if a hundred years from today these homes were shored up, made stronger still, and another generation could stand and hear the echoes of their own memories flood back to their senses when things in the world just feel so out of control? Somebody will love these homes, just as the ones who built them did. Oh that I would see that happen and could rest in my soul and know their life work was not in vain! They are not just houses. They were where two families called home. Our homes. Our memories. Our past. Not crypts of days gone by, but stepping stones to another generation who needs shelter and a place to build their lives. Cornerstones strong enough to shield their whoas, gentle enough to give them peace at the end of their days.

Independence Day 2013

One of my favourite childhood memories was the warm summer night we packed a huge bag of popcorn in a brown paper grocery bag, a new pack of cookies and a thermos of koolaid and loaded up the family car just before dark. We were headed to the small city airport in our town for the annual fireworks display. It was often on a weeknight when my dad had already worked a long, most likely hot day as a sheet metal journey man, tired and barely rested after his shift of climbing ladders or crawling through an old building to install duct work, when he would slip his comfortable loafers on, take the wheel, while four children squirmed in the back seat of the auto and we made our way to town. We usually met other family members there and would park our cars side by side, throwing old quilts on the ground while adults leaned on the hoods of their cars or set up lawn chairs. I remember smelling the faint cigarette smoke in the air as the men puffed on the sticks that eventually were banned, listening to the parents conversations with one ear, while leaning into the stories of the cousins gathering around our blanket. We ate snacks, talked like crazy trying to get it all in, while anticipating the show that couldn't begin until the last rays of sun sunk below the skyline and it was perfectly dark. The years were all different, but so very much the same. Laughing, talking, waiting in community until the first pop and bang signalled the show had begun! It was like magic to my young eyes, and so,sorely missed as an adult when I lived away from my childhood home the first July after my marriage. Even then, my soul sought out the crackle as the booms sailed over my head and sulfur smells as the fireworks lit up the sky , no matter what town we called home in those days. A variety of events in adulthood gave me experiences I wouldn't trade for the world, but none can compare to those summer nights, as a family, that we gathered under the massive sky, watching the heavens light up in declaration of our country and her independence. Tonight is the time where we have continued the tradition with our own family. Though grown, I hope my first three children are looking at the night sky tonight and watching for the colours to erupt and shimmer down like magic. I hope my grandsons out East are seeing colours in the clouds and hearing the boom, boom BOOMS that shake the ground. I pray that all are safe, and the night explodes in pride for our country, and we all remember the great land we live in. But tonight, I am missing the displays. I am in the hospital with our youngest son, Isaiah, (3) as he recovers from the breathing difficulties he had earlier today after a routine surgery to replace his feeding tube. Isaiah is a fragile child medically, which we tend to forget until something like this disrupts the normal routines we have grown accustomed to since he came to our family 15 months ago. It feels as if he has always been a part of us, but it's just been this year that our lives have learned to slow down to accommodate a sick child. His smile - oh, I wish everyone had a child who smiles like our Zay! He has a complicated history, including abandonment in his own country (which saved his life!) to the prized "baby of the family" here in America, where he is enveloped in the largeness of our lives, getting the medical support he could have never gotten there. His life is a miracle even now, having survived two years of little nourishment, medical needs that are complicated, yet able to be managed here. He radiates love and gentleness and is teaching us more each day of the things that really matter. So I sit here remembering. America. Fireworks. Family memories. Missing my other children who are gazing at the skies in our hometown with their daddy, seeing magic like I remember so clearly when I was a child. And I remember last year, sitting with my mom, watching the last fireworks display she would ever see on earth, as this year she is seeing them from above the clouds in heaven. With dad. And I smile. Isaiah now sleeps peacefully, breathing regulated after a day of struggles, with a moderate supply of oxygen, rhythm re- established, making me believe he will be able to rest well, and return home tomorrow. He dodged another scarey twist in this complicated little life of his, and I am grateful, once again, to the ONE who keeps him safe. He had known him in his mothers womb, created to be unique and perfect, and who guides each of this breaths as HE ordained from the very first one. In a way, I am quietly celebrating a different independence tonight. Isaiah's. Although his body is entrapped in stiff limbs due to his cerebral palsy, and the tremors overtake his peacefulness much more often than I care to admit, he is free. He is free to love, to be loved, to smile, to bring joy. His deep eyes twinkle when he is happy, fill with tears when he is in pain. But he is free. He is not a slave to empty pursuit of things. He is simply content when his most basic needs are met. He doesn't crave notorious fantasies, or desire great wealth. He is a simple, although brilliant minded boy, who's biggest joy is to have me lay beside his frozen body and just BE there. Loving, cooing and stroking his frailty, I hope he always will know just how very treasured he is. I am grateful for the memories I hold dear, I am thrilled to have the opportunity to pass on the traditions that meant so much to me to the children I call my own. And more than anything, I thank God for the way He leads me and assures me I am His own. He continues to walk this medical path with Isaiah, reassuring me He will never leave us or forsake us. Happy Independence Day, Isaiah. Perhaps someday you will guide others to seeing the beauty of life from your simple perspective to love and be loved. There can really never be anything sweeter than that.

Ahhhhhh, camping

I was feeling pretty low and discouraged the last few weeks, so my hubby arranged a perfect restful solution to my mood. LET'S. GO. CAMPING! So, after 48 trips to the grocery store for "a few camping items" and 2 days to pack everything we need for 10 people for a week,(Nicole is on a musical mission tour this week to New York so we are down a kid!) plus refilling all of the meds for everyone who needs them, and making sure all the laundry was caught up so we had enough to wear for a week, then having a trial run in the camper overnight in our back yard, we boarded the dogs (after the vet bill to get their shots up to date), a quick trip to the paediatrician for two ear infections on two different kiddos, then more meds needed from the pharmacy, and finding out it was time to put one of the baby boys on more meds for his spasticity (that the doctor said was 'impressive'), and packing the diaper bags and van as full as it could be, we were ready. The helper dog, Kramer, sat in my seat and had to be coerced into the back seat with the kids. A former show dog, he obviously is used to top seating privileges. Of course the hamster had to come with us, although the fish, chickens and cats agreed to stay home to tend the house in our absence. A dear friend agreed to feed and water everything at home, so we were off! "Are we there yet?" We had driven a total of ten minutes, max. "I want to swim as soon as we get there," it came out in unison. "The lake will be too cold to swim, but I am hunting for rocks anyway!" That was me. I planned to sit by the fire, after making my dear hubby his banana cream pie for Father's Day dessert. Oops, forgot the cream part. Hubby runs to the local gas station. Unfortunately, this area had suffered a very big wind storm the prior week, and had lost most all of their frozen goods when the power was off for days. We missed that, thankfully, and hubby found someone with spray whipped cream. Pies were saved!! We ate a fabulous dinner of tacos from the fire cooked burger and every thing tasted good. (Except the boxed shells were stale so we had taco salads instead.). We ate pie, made s'mores, and we turned in for the night, everyone tucked safely in their camp beds, while we dreamed of the days plans ahead. It was close to midnight. Now keep in mind, I have kids who go to sleep late and still get up at the crack of dawn. Camping only accelerates their alarm clocks. T was up and fishing at daylight, waking up most everyone else with her fish tales. It was true, a girl had caught a 17" large mouth bass the Saturday before we got there, and T was determined to catch it again. At this writing, the 17 incher was still lurking in the pond, but T holds the record for the most catches so far this week. M caught the largest bass, but was SO incredibly freaked out about it her enthusiasm for fishing has waned considerably. Boy T has now caught a sun fish, collaborated on several of Girl T's catches/releases, and basically baited hundreds of hooks this week. It appears he is not nearly as squeamish poking hooks through harmless worms as as few of the girls are. I just wanted to sleep in. I caught a tiny sunfish one day, like just a bit over aquarium size, and was so proud. My mom was a fisherman and would have been so proud of us along the banks of the mighty pond. I have been missing both my folks this week, as memories surface of the many times we went camping together. This is a week dad would have loved, at a place just perfect, the weather grand. Even the kids wondered who would be cutting potatoes for breakfast, since that was grampa's job each trip. Yes, they are smiling down from heaven at us all muddling through this trip, smiling at their biggest catch ever, their eternal home in heaven! I really just wanted to sleep in. Gb has been out of sorts, I imagine another ear infection brewing for him. He is totally into throwing rocks and dirt, especially after a bath. He has eaten everything in sight, and must be growing with all the sun,sand and pool time. Speaking of pool, baby Zay loves the water more than anyone. He cackles and screeches with the biggest grin on his face, making me wish more than anything we had a pool! Therapeutically warm, all season indoors, for him to stretch and relax those cerebral palsied arms and legs. It's such a blessing to see him laugh so heartily just by floating effortlessly on the surface. The kids who can not lift him gather around to guide him in the water, his body as light as a feather in the pool. We all join in his laughter. This morning I just wanted to sleep in. The alarm, (mike), reminds me there is stacks of laundry to do before everyone gets to the laundry room. He sorts, loads in the van, brings me a ROCKSTAR sugar free drink and a snickers bar (sorry doc!) and helps me load the washers. He returns to the RV, cooks breakfast on the fire, brings me fresh coffee and a covered plate for breakfast, returns to the RV to play with the kids and clean up breakfast, while I slave over four loaded washers and dryers with the dirt you can only get at a campground coming out of our clothing. Ahhh, the hard job of camping. We always fight to determine who GETS to do the laundry. I won today. I have taken a few naps this week, collected beach glass and interesting rocks, swam in the pool (the lake is freezing), sat by many fires, read some, crafted some, and relaxed! This past year I lost both parents, made it through many firsts without the ones who always loved me the most, and celebrated a year home with my African angels. I have been through many invasive tests, had my gallbladder removed in march, and got to be with my four beautiful grandsons for a couple months. I have felt stress and discouragement, but I think I am on the mend emotionally. There is still much to settle with our parents estates, and life will never really be easy, but I am grateful for this week to relax, unwind and have no schedule. I really, really just wanted to sleep in, but listening to the laundry machines whirring as I write is almost as good! I love camping, even all the hard work, because we are all together, good and bad, which is what matters the very most in life! Ahhhhh, camping. Worth it all!

Questions

There are a few things I have gotten tired of hearing since we began our adoptions over ten years ago. Here are a few of them: *Do you have any of your own kids? (Who do you think these 12 belong to?) *Couldn't you have anymore of your own? (Personal) *I bet that costs you a fortune to feed them! (Umm, and house them, clothe them entertain them, vacation with them...etc) *Are you competing with brad and Angelina? (We beat their record a long time ago) *You must like chaos. (No, not really) *You and your hubby are saints! (Not even close!) *So you have your own baseball team? (I hate baseball...soccer maybe) *You running a daycare? (No, we are a family) *So how many of your kids are half & half? (Really?) *Why did you bring foreigners here? Aren't there enough local kids who need homes? (That's another post. If you are interested in adopting I suggest you contact the local foster care system). *I had 2 (or 4 or 6 or 1) and he/she is hard enough. I couldn't handle one more- especially someone else's kid!! (These ARE my kids) *Why don't you just babysit? (Again, really?) It depends on the day as to how I respond. For the record, I don't suggest adopting or fostering children if you don't believe you could handle it. Children are alot of work. Children from dark places are even harder. Traumatized children are not going to get better in a few days (or weeks, or months, and maybe not years.) However, what we have done by bringing 9 more children into our home is not because we hoard, or think we are perfect parents, or have unending supplies and resources. We felt there was more to do in this world and we thought we could make a difference in a few more lives. We stand against abortion, so feel we had to provide a solution. Adoption is a valid and needful way to add to a family. It works for us. Are we done adopting? That's not my decision. God knows our hearts and our abilities. I want to remain open to whatever He requires of us. Do we have a plan to adopt more?Nope. That would have to be Gods plan. We spend a lot trying to give our kids what they need. What we spend the most of is time and energy. Yes, we do get tired. Yes, we "asked for it." And no, we wouldn't change it for the world. So when my kids are sick and hospitalized, or you see us at the doctor "again?", just know we will probably make many more visits than smaller families will due to the number of children we are caring for. We also have numerous special needs kids - many that you would never guess by looking at them - and we spend a lot of time seeking the help they need to thrive and grow. We try really hard to not ask much of other people. We appreciate the ones who stand beside us and encourage us. We are grateful for online groups who deal with a lot of what we deal with daily. We always pay for our sitters and never get enough time to get a date night or (gasp!) go on a trip. We camp so our vacations are manageable and we have more control over our kids environments. We are picky who they spend time with, and who we allow into our lives. It's called parenting. And sometimes it is just plain hard. But we feel like we can make a difference in our kids lives. We may not see it yet, but are hopeful each one of our kids will also give back to others. We know there are some of you who could make this work in their lives too. Be open. It would change your life on a whole bunch of different levels. Positively. We are glad to know so many families who have adopted some of the hardest kids too- kids who came from dark places, but their futures look much brighter already! I don't mind answering questions and love advocating for children all over the world, but please be kind. I am pretty open but some topics are really no one else's business.

Lessons of life

We had just come back from the neurologist appointment with Gb and my mind and heart was still reeling from all of the information I had to absorb (or adjust to again!). Bella had traveled with me, since she takes a very personal interest in just about anything her special brother does! We were hungry and needing a distraction before the hour and 1/2 ride home, so we stopped at a Kentucky Fried Chicken for supper. It was completely empty at first but customers streamed in one right after the other once we got there. As we ate, a large lady came in, ordered and took her place directly next to our table. She had extremely colorful makeup on, which Bella noticed right away and commented on. When the lady looked up, I said "my daughter said she likes your pretty eyes." She looked stunned, but said, "thank you. Thank you." As she ate, she grunted quietly, poured salt over her food with abandon, laughed like she was in a crowd of extremely funny people, and yet stayed completely focused on her interior thoughts and world. It struck me, she was not used to anyone talking to her. For whatever reason, she was alone, lonely, focused on her inner world, and only broke free from her thoughts long enough to hear a compliment from a tiny child. She was stuck inside of her self. I recognize her in my son. From traumatic early life experiences, to malnutrition and need, to enormous brain malformation that will forever keep him young, he tends to function best in his own little world too. We pull him out and teach him signs to communicate so he will have a way to express his needs, but often he is lost in a faraway world, happy with his own thoughts and play, drastically far from any of us, until a sibling or friend gently lifts him up, or calls his name so that he jolts from his hidden world and (for at least a short time) gives us glimpses of a part of his mind that still seeks engaging in life outside of his interior one. In some ways I am saddened. But I look at Gb and see how very many people are investing in his life. His loving sisters, caring brothers, plus teachers and therapists who refuse to stop teaching and reaching him. I compare it to a depressed life in his country of birth, to his blessed life here, with countless doctors, educators and loved ones who will stand in those mental gaps and love him through to this world to be as perfect as he could ever be. Peacefully, we remain determined to bring him out of his inner world to help him thrive as the contented individual who can make everyone smile with his antics. His giggle is refreshing, his determination to be applauded, and his tenacity to carry on when most of us would never be able to face the challenges ahead. He is Gods gift to the world, a teacher as well as a student. Thank you for loving your precious brother, Bella. It has already made you more accepting of those around you who may not be quite like anything you have ever know before. And I know you are a great example of love and Jesus when you wipe your brother chin or share your cookie with him. The special people in the world have so very much to teach us. I pray we will be open to learning how to reach each one .

The Eyes have It

I sat at the eye doctor appointment with the boys today. Not only do we have two African boys, they are both in wheelchairs and both, obviously, have special needs apart from their vision issues. I can't really take the boys anywhere alone anymore. Too big for strollers, they each have a chair for transporting easily. Except it takes one person to push each chair. Of course, that usually means mike needs to take a vacation day to help out. Or sometimes we can fit it into a lunch hour. The general clientele here is over 55. Probably closer to 70. We get alot of stares. Some folks smile as we stroll past, but mostly we see blank looks like they are trying to figure out what we are. This is always quite traumatic for GB . I don't know what he had to face in his first 4 years of life in Africa, but he starts screaming as soon as we walk into almost any medical facility, especially if there are white sheets. Today was a bit different, since he let the doctor do a small exam of his eyes without crying. Until the eye drops. The nurse kindly says, "he's got good lungs." They changed his prescription today. He squints more with one eye which seems he's trying to focus. He only hears with one ear, so he needs his vision to be as clear as we can get it to help him maneuver through his world. As our appointment came to a close today, I met a wonderful older couple who struck up a conversation with Gb. He smiled and clapped and charmed his way into another life again. The couple were open And receptive, relaying their own experiences with adoption when they welcomed two of their grandchildren from an orphanage in Russia. They get what we are doing. And they smiled genuinely at our little man. We don't get that type of encouragement everyday. It felt good. It's a challenging life at times but we wouldn't trade it for any other.