Forever Knit 2gether

Melancholy Girl

2011-01-28T21:44:00.000-08:00

Melancholy girl,

soft, quiet, Sadness ~

she is your constant companion.

how to escape such company?

smiles erupt, laughter bubbles free

and she waits...

finger gently tapping, reminding -

she is there.

she beckons from behind the mask

friend familiar, comforting.

you are drawn to her:

in melodies & rhythms

poems & stories

crowded rooms & silent solitude.

you find her in everyday pictures:

the lone hill-top tree

the single, empty red chair

forlorn flower in last moments of bloom.

your favorite things are full of her:

soft, grey rainstorm days,

season of dying- leaves returning to earth

as vibrant colors fade, awaiting rebirth.

objects old & forgotten.

how is it you walk hand in hand with her?

does everyone cradle her heaviness?

at times I curl in around her weight &

she carries me back to places buried deep.

she holds me captive.

more often, she becomes the perfect lens ~

forcing me to pause, contemplate the moment,

see the beauty only found in her.

I have learned many things, she has taught me well.

deeply known to me ~ a gift.

I recognize her voice in others.

I help them travel her furrows,

bear her intrusion.

I think now we are tightly fitted.

there is no dividing one from the other.

I am a melancholy girl...

and that makes me happy.

Sifting Season

2010-07-21T08:00:00.000-07:00

Heart so raw, tis aching sore
and yet I look to Thee for more.
A sifting time of all that's mine
is my request, O Lord Divine.

My soul doest tremble when I do ask
for Thee to make complete this task,
yet freedom's call is stronger still
than any path my flesh would will.

So on humble knees I beg again
for sifting season to begin.
Put to fire my weakend shell
expose to Light where darkness dwells;

Let naught remain entrenched, unfound
sift and sift till all's unbound.
Be my strength my Rod of Light,
my Truth throught out my pain-filled plight.

To know Thee is my one desire,
all else consume O Flame of Fire,
reduce my life till what remains
is full of Christ and free of shame.

As Ann so beautifully said today, " we must listen for the Lord, or the wagging tongue of the world will keep us deaf." I pray for us all as we are sifted, refined, broken... that we will listen for His still small voice of instruction, correction, encouragement, comfort, truth. He is always there, waiting to see if we are willing to be made more free. Longing to break our chains of bondage, that we may walk in true freedom in Christ. Listen to His whispers - true grace is the willingess to be made more beautiful in Him, no matter the cost.
all my love,

aimee

I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings... and Why She Doesn't

2010-01-29T07:55:00.000-08:00

I don't remember much of my childhood.
The every day living is fuzzy, clouded, absent.
There are a few snapshots I can replay, and they are clear as day, but the rest...
missing.

In place of memories- the feeling suffocates everything.
Shame.

I don't recall conversations with my mom full of wisdom, or life changing advice, though I'm sure there were many of those. But I do remember...
driving down the road when I was 11 or 12, listening to a radio discussion about sexual abuse. I turned their words over and over in my mind till finally the question forced it's way to the surface. I faced my mom and asked "Mom, did that happen to me?"

"Of course not honey, we would know."

I didn't know at the time why I was compelled to ask - I had no memory of anything, then.

But I knew the SHAME.
It was my constant companion- dictating all my thoughts, actions, beliefs - it shadowed my life, keeping me always in the dark, with the light just out of reach.
The Enemy used his weapon relentlessly until I took over the job and built my cage bar by bar - heaping up the SHAME till I was completely captive.

Faces blurry and dark - echos of a long forgotten defeated will - I didn't know I had lost my voice - pushed down long ago, pleadings suffocated - a little girl whose song was silenced. I didn't remember her. She was locked away behind layers of pain and self protection.

But GOD...

He didn't let me go.
He remembered the little girl,
now a young woman perpetuating a life of pain and shameful choices because Truth was buried deep.
But His timing was perfect, His way gentle, and He knew how to make the caged bird sing again.

I was at a coffee shop with a friend and a group of people came in and with them was an adorable, laughing little girl about five years old. I watched her play, interacting with her family as my friend went over to talk with them having realized she knew them from church. When my friend returned to our table, I commented on what a cute little girl they had. She replied,

"Yes, you would never know from looking at her that she has suffered terrible abuse."

My friend went on to explain what had happened to this precious child and deep within my soul a most uncomfortable feeling began pressing upon me. As her words fell away, emotions overwhelmed and I felt as though I was moving through a dream.

So on that very dark night, on the long drive home, Truth began washing over me, and horror settled deep as I turned to my friend and asked the gnawing question,

"do you think someone can have been abused and not remember it happening till years later?"

"yes"

There she was... little girl; raw, remembered, released - images flooded my mind and I knew my story, my truth.

Shame struggled for it's power and position, and fought violently as it's grip began to crumble - emotions warred inside, but I was determined to take His hand and walk out into the light - where shame had no dominion, where healing could begin, and Truth would not be silenced.

The hardest moment came - when returning home - facing my husband - I had to form the words, breaking open the shame that was my prison, finding freedom for the first time in the telling of my story.

This journey has been difficult - this breaking free - this living free.

I often find myself back inside the cage, Shame hemming me in. But my voice has grown stronger, He has returned my song to me, and I remember it well. So I continue the telling, and I sing again - because of Him.

My Jesus has overcome all - every ugly thing in this world has been defeated.

Freedom is mine -

But I must choose to walk in it's liberty.
I must choose to sing it's melody'
I must exchange the lies for it's Truth.

And remember, it was bought at great cost.

"You turned my wailing into dancing;
You removed my sackcloth and clothed
me with joy, that my heart may sing to
You and not be silent." Psalm 30:11-12
*beloved necklace... reminder of rescue, redemption, & freedom -
lisa leonard designs www.lisaleonardonline.com

*for the ones in my life, who have also found freedom in Him: "B","L","G",&"A"

The God of All People

2010-01-19T18:37:00.000-08:00

The heat was almost overwhelming, the air - still, close, with new and pungent scents drifting across my face -

Clothes stuck to my back and dust made tracks between my toes. Small, brown hands reached for me, tugging at my hair, pressing my skin, not to hurt, but only to explore that which they had never seen.

I hardly noticed all the things which should make for my discomfort because I was here, the place I had dreamt of since I was young - a land foreign, strange, beautiful.

I looked around me at the sea of dark, shinning faces - their ebony skin soft, lovely, warm, and I felt home.

It was here in this distant place, full of vivid, brilliant colors, I found Him... God of All People.

In a small village church with dirt floors - He made Himself real to me.

As voices deep and melodious lifted high with new and naked rhythms, free and unafraid - joy unrestrained, praise, and pure worship rang loud, harmonious with words I did not understand - I realized they were singing to Him, about Him, for Him.

I did not know their song, but He did. For He was their God too. He is the God of all: on earth, in heaven, color, language, country, heritage - He knows His own. He know me... as I am, broken in spirit, humbled.

I found myself overcome with the magnitude of His love for us all and I began to sing... surrendered with them - praise to Him in their language. I knew not what the words meant save one...

Yesu
Yesu
Yesu
Jesus.

The only word that mattered, because it transcended.

The Name that drew us all together - made us family - made this jungle- home.

We're connected, across the vast oceans, immense continents, diverse cultures, irregular languages, various skin colors. We are family... adopted by Him, through Him, because of Him.

I think we forget, in this land of excess, and comfort, where we argue in our churches which is more holy - traditional hymns or praise and worship music, where we feel perhaps we matter more because of our wealth, education, or tradition - that to our God - The God of All People - worshiping Him with dirt between toes and hands beating drums in tribal rhythm, a worship without pretense or restraint is accepted with equal love because...
He is the Messiah of every tribe and nation.
He bled for them as well.

We must remember our brothers and sisters throughout this world... they are not strangers, for we have the same Father - the same Saviour.

I had gone to this place to minister to them...
teach them beneath the trees of His love for them, and of the Life His Word brings.
But there, as voices floated high, I was humbled. I understood. I was the one who had been taught. In this wild and savage land He made them my teacher. He had shown me the breadth of His love, and the Truth of His Kingship. We all belong to Him.

He is our God...

The God of All People.

Yesu
Yesu
Yesu
Jesus.

(photos: visions of Ghana... my heart longs for you - 3/03)

Winter Comes

2010-01-14T18:43:00.000-08:00

Winter comes hard
this year
the dying is deep.
her cold creeps, seeps,
in - through out - between
surrounding
exposing
suffocating
self.
the dying is swift.
the dying is slow.
The battle for Son
never ceases.

I could succumb to winter's
numbing blanket
stay buried, insulated from change-
from pain
or allow sudden chill to
regenerate life
spark a quiet ember,
a seed of growth.

I'll linger in her
silent algor
As He strips me bare,
tilling my heart,
transforming my soul
for
spring.

"Truly, truly, I say to you, unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains alone; but if it dies, it bears much fruit." John 12:24

Love bears all things... even this

2010-01-02T16:17:00.000-08:00

My daughter pushes Her away - laughing, giggling, teasing, refusing to be held, respond to "I love you", or give a goodbye hug. At first I think she's playing, just being silly - and then as it continues, I realize - she's in pain. My daughter's false joviality her only way to cope with feelings she does not understand.

She plays back with my daughter trying to coax a farewell and I try to find Her eyes over my daughter's head - willing Her to understand. The denial of a goodbye hug isn't because she doesn't want to be held by Her, but because she doesn't want to let Her go.

"She's upset" I tell Her. My heart is gripped tight by pain so singular I think I might be crushed. I witness my daughter and her First Mother struggle to find peace, to find their place with one another and I do not belong here.

This is it... the moment feared most I think by many parents who have adopted. To be an intruder in their child's life. To bear witness to The connection they do not share with the child of their heart. And yet, my pain does hardly compare with that of my daughter and the woman before me. Theirs is the deepest of sorrows, shared alone by them, each bearing a different wound intertwined by the most difficult of decisions.

My eyes burn with tears as I watch Her so patiently, lovingly, with understanding, bend low and whisper words of life to my sweet, precious, girl. Love spills over, knocking down false bravado, and wee one decides to risk pain, and choose relationship over self-preservation - she hugs Her back and says "I love you too".

My eyes find Hers again, our cheeks wet with emotions only Love can bear. I am in awe of Her. To face this fear, the fear of rejection, to be vulnerable to deepest wounding - The strength of this girl, barely a woman, who gave life to my daughter, her daughter - I will never know this kind of strength.

What motivates us to open ourselves up to pain most feared?

Love.

Love for a golden haired girl, with soft, long, ringlets; eyes of green-gold; a giggle like silver bells; and a heart overflowing with grace for all. She is our motivation. What we - her First mother, and Last mother, believe to be best for her.

We will bear this now and whenever necessary in hopes for healing to come sooner for her in the future, knowing she will have access to answers from all she may need to question.

I am so thankful for Her. My daughter's First mother. For I know when deepest wounding surfaces for my daughter, She will be there, to help in any way She can.

Many people ask us how we can possibly have an open adoption. Why we chose this, and continue to pursue a relationship with our children's First families. Open adoption for us is only possible through the power of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ, Who through His own wounding has adopted each and every one that accepts Him.
We choose open adoption every day - because we believe it's what is best for our children. They have a right to a relationship with the ones who chose to give them life. They have a right to experience love from any person willing to bestow it on them. We could never withhold love for our children or from our children. We know everyone is not called to have an open adoption - but we are. And we thank God every day for allowing us to be a part of such a tremendous blessing.

Open Adoption is not comfortable. But we were never called to comfort were we?

We are called to love - unselfishly, without restraint, without consideration for what it may cost.

My daughter will know Love.

Our love, and that of her First mother.

She will know the Love of a Savior that gave all for her.

She will know a love beyond all measure - a Love that believes all things, hopes all things, a Love that bears all things - even this.

Ann asked us to blog today about listening to God ~

My word for this next year is the same as it has been for the last five, it is the word that has enabled me to live the above story, it also happens to be the same as Ann's...

"Yes"

"Yes Lord", that is my answer to everything asked of me, even those things that seem impossible.

My husband and I decided years ago, at the start of our adoption process that our response would always be positive, always willing, always yes, concerning our adoptions and other matters of life. We would leave the responsibility of opening and closing doors up to Him.

Some days, the only thing in me saying "yes" is my mouth... every other part of my being is pulling back, trying to hide, trying to protect, trying to reject - trying to control.
But I remember the commitment I made and so I return to the one. small. word.

"Yes"

So many things distract from truly listening to God. Not just hearing Him, but listening to Him - His heart on an issue.

For me, the best solution has been to surrender fear and follow His lead with a simple nod of the head, and a willing heart. For I cannot see the plans laid out before me, I do not possess the sovereignty required to always make the right decision, but I know if I place my life and that of my family completely in His hands, "Trust the Lord with all my heart, and lean not on my own understanding, and in all my ways acknowledge Him, He will make my paths straight."
He will tell us when to say "no" - but first our answer must be "Yes."
To His ways, His time, His plan, His work, and His Love.
Without this decision 5yrs ago - this "yes" plan, we may never have adopted one child, let alone three.

Saying "Yes" first, has allowed me the freedom to truly hear God's heart on a matter, rather than wrestling with my decision on what's best. For God's plan is always best - even if the ultimate answer is no, not now, or never - I can have peace in knowing I was willing.

I pray that for this year and all those to follow, I will continue to listen to God, to the Still Small Voice, and even in the face of impossibility, I will surrender self and say -

"Yes."

Sweet Reminder

2009-11-20T09:04:00.001-08:00

"What the caterpillar calls the end of the world, the Creator calls a butterfly."

Remember, sweet friends, the beauty that awaits all who surrender to Him.

"Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation; the old has gone, the new has come!" 2 Cor.5:17

claiming His promise,
aimee

*pic taken at our beautiful zoo on day out w/ our girls - monarch migration

The Only Comfort

2009-11-11T06:04:00.000-08:00

Words.

I lay on my bed, curled tight, trying to shield my tender places from their words.

Some like daggers, others well-meaning but still leave me bleeding.

Panic wells up inside, this is too much. Too much to bear, too great a loss, too overwhelming, too much to ask Lord, too much, too much, too much.

My body shifts slightly and then I feel it around my neck move with me. My tangible reminder of the Living Words I had inscribed on silver circle to keep with me always.

My fingers grasp, almost frantically that cool, smooth, circle. As I'm rocking back and forth I begin saying over and over the words all too precious to me. A flood of tears and comfort come as I say the Words of Life again and again. And I return. The Words of Life a bridge from sorrow back to Truth.

Other verses begin to read themselves in my mind and hope flickers. Strength takes hold.

He has overcome this world. We are more than conquerors. He will bottle my tears. He heals the broken-hearted. He binds-up their wounds. He sets the captives free. He has nailed my sins to the cross. He has me inscribed on His hand. He knows when I rise and when I lie down. He formed my inward parts. He is the Way, the Truth, the Life. I am His.

Peace comes with the knowledge I am not alone, not forgotten, not expendable. I am His, and He is always faithful, even when I am not. He will see me through this valley, and I will walk in the Light once again.

To have the Word written on your heart is to have the whispers of your Lord with you wherever you go.
They will be there when you need them.

"My soul wait in silence for God only, for my hope is from Him." - Psalm 62:5
* the Living Words I keep with me always

A Walk to Remember

2009-10-28T07:19:00.000-07:00

My Jesus... I remember.

I remember the depths from which I came, redemption from life so dark.

I remember the weight of chains now broken, in bondage no more.

I remember the lonely wandering in the shadows, as now my soul finds relief in sweet communion with You. Walking in the Light, never alone again.

I remember Your rescue, Your mighty work in my life. I remember the miracles You have performed on my behalf. I remember Your comfort, Your embrace of security. Your words, the breath of Life.

You are my Great Redeemer - of my soul for eternity, of the life I live now on this earth.

Not only do I remember, but to keep You near, walk with You daily, I speak of what You have done. I share Your story, Your redemption of me. I seek transparency of soul that all may look through me and see only Your magnificent glory, that they too might have hope- knowing what is possible through You.

I walk my path of rememberings... lest I ever forget. And if that should happen I pray others will remember for me, and remind me of all You have done, that I would be brought back into sweet communion with You. My Mighty Savior, My Rock of Salvation, My Great Deliverer.

"Give thanks to the Lord, call on His name; make known among the nations what He has done. Sing to Him, sing praise to Him; tell of all His wonderful acts. Glory in His holy name; let the hearts of those who seek the Lord rejoice. Look to the Lord and His strength; seek His face always. Remember the wonders He has done, His miracles..." (Ps 105:1-5)

My Jesus ~ I remember, I remember, I remember.

Surrendered

2009-10-07T07:56:00.000-07:00

O to live a life surrendered
To rid my heart of that which hinders
From all the pain and calloused soul
From life's injustice and wounding's hold
To dig down deep and peel away
All hidden secrets all layers of shame
To break away from all that binds
Shed desires that aren't Divine
To surrender all but trust in You
Open up let life renew
To run with freedom flowing down
Wear joyous Love as glorious crown
To uplift my face with humble praise
Seek Your grace all my days
O to live a life surrendered
Walk unchained, unbound, unhindered
To live the price of Calvary,
A child of God ~ bought, but free.

Abba, Father, sometimes my prayers find their voice best poured out in poem. May this be lifted up to You today that You would continue to complete in me that which you began. Thank you for never surrendering me, as I seek to surrender all to You.

Love is a Feather... from God Small Enough

2009-09-18T05:53:00.000-07:00

Crisp, cool breeze whispers through open window, gentle colors begin to peak through green foliage, as Fall arrives. Soft rain falls down, and tears slip silently as grief falls upon me.

It is so hard to be in this place... this house.

Memories creep up and bruise soul like grey and purpling skies.
This house of my childhood... but never home. Place I wanted to flee, place of unrest, place of anger, place of bitterness, place of sadness, place of lost innocence, place of deep wounding, place of chaos, place of bondage ~ house of loneliness.

Even so, my Lord has brought me back here and I know why. My Great Redeemer wants this place too. This part of my history that I thought would never be restored. He wants to break the legacy of this place - but O the fear that my children will be swallowed up in the darkness of my past.

And yet... I know He is here ~ my El Roi ~ The God Who Sees Me. (Gen 16:13)

I have always had the deepest longing to be understood - that our Almighty, Omnipotent, Omniscient, God would be small enough to meet me in the most hidden places of my soul. Calloused over places, ugly, messy, decaying. And He has met me there.

So it comes as no surprise He has brought me to this place too, this physical reminder. He has brought me here to clean house. And I am struggling, wrestling to release all.

Seeking refuge from these oppressive walls, wee ones and I walk through wet leaves, finding beauty in the season, and wondering at His creation. I speak of Him... to them, in everything we see. We collect small treasures to make into art ~ leaves, pine cones, flower petals, dandelions, acorns, bark. And then a small request, more a quiet wish from small lips... "how I wish we could find a feather mommy, to add to our basket".
"Pray about it jorja-girl, God will hear you."

We walk on... marveling at other delicate works of art, speaking of His greatness, and yet my aching heart so heavy, I fight overwhelming emotions as each step brings us closer to the place without peace.
And then I see her run through the grass, and pluck from it's blades, one dainty, perfect feather, placed there just for her, just for me, for different reasons, by God Small Enough.
"Mommy, He did it - God gave me a feather - He answered me!"

Yes child, and He answered me as well, even though I didn't ask. Once again tears flow down as I am remembered by my God Who Sees Me. He has brought Himself into the small details of my life and that of my daughter's, and Love overwhelms. He has met me beneath the deepest need. Comfort comes.

I watch her prance ahead, answered prayer in tiny fingers, and hear the most beautiful words she has ever uttered...

"I love you God."

Eyes brim, spill, but heart smiles, soul breathes, knowing ~ God Small Enough will never leave me... He is there waiting in that place. Ready to redeem, renew, and revive that house ~ making it finally, my home.

*answered prayer... will be saved, put away, brought out as reminder of All Mighty El ROI, who sees, understands, remembers, redeems, and makes Himself Small Enough to bring Love in form of feather.

Multitude Monday

2009-08-11T15:06:00.000-07:00

*posted Tuesday... just a little late (smile)

I need a change of perspective.

There is beauty happening all around me... and I'm missing it. I've allowed the distractions of living to crowd out the abundant blessings He lays out before me every day, not truly seeing the gifts He offers me.

I want to slow down... take in every corner of this life. Time to soak up every glimpse of heaven He bestows, and pause to offer up with grateful heart, praise to Him who shares the beauty.

I'm joining a Gratitude Community - those who also want to capture the loveliness in the ordinary.

I have started a 1000 gifts list... in my own personal journal, and here.

It is with hopeful heart that I start this list... that by the end He will have accomplished more in me - that I will be drawn closer into Him, and that I will be able to share the beauty with others.

~ 1000 Gifts ~

#1 soft, sweet baby hair against my cheek

#2 pitter-patter of little feet coming to find me for a good morning hug

#3 big gummy smiles, sparkling eyes, chubby soft hands reaching for my face.

#4 the sounds and smell of warm summer rain cooling down a hot afternoon

#5 walking the wet sidewalk with my brown barefoot girl ~ hand in hand

#6 sounds of husband working - trying to make this house our home

#7 sister-arms wrapped around one another and me as we sway and sing, heads
resting on eachother - "Trust the Lord"

#8 six months full of sweet newborn joy ~ our Jubilee

#9 husband hearing my heart, understanding my hesitation, and a fresh decision to
keep oldest daughter home another year... school can wait.

#10 soft lullaby sounds, seeping in with morning light, as babe discovers the
string to her music box, and giggles with delight

If you so wish... join me and the many others for Multitude Mondays as we count up the beauty!!!

* photo by me ~ lotus blooming in my back yard

Commonly me? Uncommonly His?

2009-08-06T06:12:00.000-07:00

God is doing a work in me.

It has been gnawing at me, nibbling a little more away at my soul every day, unsettling feeling falling over me, chewing on my peace - dark colors spilling in...

this question - "why are you settling to be average?"

I've been quiet here the last few months, as He has been turning life and limb upsidedown and insideout. He is pushing, pulling, molding, pruning - refining, refining, refining.
And I have been resisting, arguing, justifying.

Compared to those around me, my life is not that different. I'm pretty common. My goals and priorities seem to measure up to the standards I see. The colors of my life seem to paint a similar picture.

And yet... has He called me to measure up to any standard but His? Am I called to be average? Do I have a right as His child to just be common? Hasn't He called me to be " a common bush afire with Him" - a light unto this dark and dying world.

Who am I to compare my life and my service with any but He who laid down on rugged grain and offered up body, soul, and spirit for my redemption. He who let the crimson flow.

I am ashamed.
To "settle" for anything other than what He has called me to be is indefensible. I do not want to be status quo. I do not want to blend in and have all my rough edges smoothed away by living a life compared only to those around me. I want my life to reach out and snag those who are lost and lonely. Those who need something different than what this world is offering. I want the "fragrant victorious life of Christ in me" to leap off of the canvas of this world and lead others to Him.

How can I do this if I'm only average, if I look the same as the world around me? How can I reflect Him if the brush is held by my own hand? I must let my brokenness, my woundings, my joy, my praise be seen by all. The shadows and the Light, the gray hues and the vibrant must equally be displayed. My "common" life on fire with the brushstrokes of His genius.

Changes must be made.

Dear Father, help me to be all that you have called me to be, that I may be Your Son to those around me, that I would refuse to be average and would allow other's to behold the unique, creative life you have fashioned for me and each and every one of your children. Help others to know they do not have to blend into the common, but in boldness can stand out - displaying Your Glory, Your brushstrokes, Your beauty.

May the colors of my living reflect the Master Artist's design.

"Earth is crammed with heaven,
and every common bush afire with God"
- Elizabeth Barrett Browning
(thanks Ann for reminding me of this poem and encouraging me to be more than common)

"But thanks be to God who always leads us in triumphal procession in Christ and through us spreads everywhere the fragrance of the knowledge of Him. For we are to God the aroma of Christ among those who are being saved and those who are perishing. To the one we are the smell of death, to the other, the fragrance of life." 2 Cor. 2:14-16

Mother's Day

2009-04-30T08:43:00.000-07:00

I love Mother's Day... now.
For years it was one of the most painful days of the year. It is so hard to explain to those who have not walked the path of barrenness, what a day like "Mother's Day" does to the hearts of those with empty arms. And while now my arms are full to overflowing, there are three other women whose arms are now empty, missing the daughter that I now hold.

One of the blessings of open adoption, is I have been able to talk with all of my children's 1st moms, and all of them express confidence in their decision to choose adoption. But I can't help but imagine that their their hearts must experience the pain of their decision every Mother's Day no matter how at peace they are with the outcome.

The Saturday before Mother's Day is national Birth Mother's Day. On Sat. we are going to attend a ceremony and celebration at our agency for all first mothers. We will have the honor of attending and spending the day with Jubilee's first mom and older sister. I look forward to being able to honor her and every other first mom on that day. But even still - establishing a national holiday for first moms can't begin to take away the sting of actual Mother's Day, and my prayers will be abundant on that day for them. I would hope you will join with me in praying for them.

Many years ago, after we lost our only biological child to miscarriage, I wrote a poem on Mother's Day. I have never shared it before, but after reading it again, I can't help but think some of my emotions expressed in this poem may in some way reflect how first mothers may feel. I know many of them feel they have to hide their adoption story, and go unrecognized on mother's day as mothers. I believe they have every right to that title, and deserve to be honored as such. So I am including my poem in the hopes that it will be a connection between myself and other first moms that may feel like Mother's Day does not include them. I know what that feels like, and I will be praying for you all!

Almost Mother's Day

I write this on my first

"almost Mother's Day"

I write this for all women

who like me

were almost a mother.

We have no pictures

of our children to share.

We have no toys

littering the floor of our living room.

There are no small voices

calling us Mommy.

We do however have hidden away -

tiny shoes,

shirts,

hats,

and blankets-

folded up like our hope

unrealized but not forgotten.

On this Mother's Day,

my grief is overwhelming.

Well-wishers are all around me,

saying to one another

"Happy Mother's Day"

exchanging a knowing look, or smile

that does not include me.

And my heart constricts again and again.

I'll never know how many others

suffer through this day.

We mourn our children

silently, invisibly, alone.

No one remembers,

I was almost a mother.

No one remembers the life

that was almost my child.

We are not deserving of the title "Mother"

even though

like all mothers, today my thoughts dwell

on my baby - who would have been

seven months old.

Our almost children don't count.

I have a mother's love preserved inside my heart,

but that is not enough ~

I am still just a woman,

almost a mother.

5/12/02

I praise God for His deliverance - I praise God for making me a mother - I praise God for easing my pain.

"He gives the childless woman a family, making her a happy mother. Praise the Lord!" ps 113:9

EGGstravegganza

2009-04-14T09:13:00.000-07:00

We had our outdoors egg hunt on Sat. since the lovely Oklahoma weather was going to be a bit drippy on Sunday. We hid eggs at my parents home, and the girls had a great time hunting them down!

I opted for a more casual easter dress this year for several reasons:

~ It was the only dress I could find alike for all three that didn't cost an arm and a leg - yes I know some of you may think dressing them alike is cheesey, but I really do have a good reason for it... first of all, part of the fun of having 3 girls is to dress them alike when possible... and secondly, it let's other people know they are sisters even though they all look different.

~ Also, I thought they would get way more wear out of these dresses this spring and summer than a super dooper dressy one :) (just call me miss thrifty).

Anywhoo... a great time was had by all, including miss jubilee who was given several empty eggs, by her more than generous sisters!

I told them to get ready... next year baby sis will be in the hunt too!

A Mother's Love Liberates

2009-03-12T08:25:00.000-07:00

"A mother never forgets her child."

I have been thinking alot about this phrase the last few days, and the faces of the many women who embody the statement.

On Tues. night, the baby and I drove up to visit with D. (jubilee's 1st mom) It was D's 22nd birthday, and it was also birth-mother support group night for our agency and D wanted me to go with her. It is just one of the many wonderful services our agency provides life long for birth families. Adoptive parents are welcome to attend, an invitation that both humbles and amazes me.

From what I've been told, these meetings can some nights be fun and light-hearted, and other nights they discuss weightier issues. Tues. was a weighty issue night. The pain those women carry seems overwhelming. Not just pain about their adoption plan, but pain from a life full of damage - some inflicted by others, some inflicted by self. To witness their wounding was in a word heart-wrenching.

One young woman there had only several months ago placed her three-year-old son she had been parenting with a family. I happen to know the family, as the adopting mom helped facilitate our adoption at the hospital. I had seen pictures of her newest son, and heard parts of their adoption story. When we arrived and had all sat down, another bmom handed this woman a picture of her son, the same new pictures I had seen at the hospital. She immediately started crying, and holding the picture near to her heart. She was unable to speak and could only hold her son's picture and cry.

I have heard many callous and IGNORANT statements made by those outside of the adoption triad, about how first mother's can't possibly love their children with the "right" kind of love or else they would never place for adoption. THese statements infuriate me, and ANY person that has such thoughts, or expresses these opinions should sit with these wonderful, amazing, broken women, for ONE night and hear their stories - be faced with their pain.

As I looked around the room, at the many faces - some older than me, some younger, some the same age, all from different backgrounds and stations in life, some who had already placed children for adoption, others just getting ready to, and some only weighing their options - I was struck with how much these women love their children. To suggest their love is some-how less than the love parenting mother's have for their children is completely false and offensive. The love they have for them does in fact require of them something I myself am not willing to give. It is the love that recognizes they can't provide for their baby what they deserve and therefore it is a love that requires them to allow another set of parents to raise their child - another set of parents to be called mommy and daddy - another set of parents that will experience all the things that they themselves may only hear about through letters, or phone calls or witness from afar in pictures and videos. I don't believe I personally possess what it takes to be that selfless, that loving.

One of my favorite quotes - given to me on a picture from my oldest daughters birth-grandmother says " A Mother's love liberates" - maya angelou

I find myself struggling with this very thing as my Jorja Grace get older and is preparing to enter school years. But I think this statement is so true and representative of what my role as a mother is. And that is to best prepare my daughter for all things in life and then allow her the appropriate freedom at the appropriate time to be who God has called her to be. It is the kind of love that places other's needs above self, no matter the pain, no matter the fears, no matter the outcome of being left-behind. I believe this is the kind of love a first mother has for their babies-the willingness to release them to a life they believe will be better, a life that will allow their child to become who God has called them to be - but it is a life that will forever change the role that they could have had in their child's life.

There are many things that I had to "miss out on" not having biological children - pregnancy, birth, seeing mine and my husbands physical features in a baby, and many more... but that was not by choice. When I consider all of the things and experiences a first mother must choose to sacrifice I am humbled and incredibly grateful. I will never fully understand making a decision of that magnitude and am so thankful I will not have to.

These women LOVE their children and should be given nothing but the highest honor and esteem for loving their children in a way no one else can. A mother never forgets her child.

I hope I will bring my girls up knowing how amazing their first moms are to me. And how much they are loved by ALL their family.

I AM SECOND

2009-02-24T08:07:00.000-08:00

Check out this amazing web site. It tells the stories of people both famous and ordinary - how their lives were changed by relationship with Christ. The artistic set up is simple and beautiful. I think you will find their stories encouraging and inspiring.

www.iamsecond.com

ENJOY!!!

RED ENVELOPE DAY!!!!

2009-02-21T12:30:00.000-08:00

I have been greatly concerned about the new presidential administration's stand on abortion and the changes that will be made to the "Freedom of Choice Act". (www.lifenews.com/nat4359.html ; www.barackobabma.com/2008/01/22/obabma_statement_on_35th_annive.php)
Just yesterday I was sent information about an event that will take place to enable the voice of the unborn to be heard and the outrage the pro-life community feels over abortion to be demonstrated.

What: get red envelope and mail them to the White House on March 31st

When: March 31st
Address it to:
President Barack Obama
The White House
1600 Pennsylvania Ave. NW
Washington, D.C. 20500

On the back write the following message:

This envelope represents one child who died because of abortion.
It is empty because the life that was taken is now unable to be part of our world.

It is my fervent prayer that as many people as possible will participate in this. I wish we could flood the white house with 50 million envelopes representing all those babies who have died. I will be hosting a "red envelope party" as soon as I can get all the details together.

My three children could have been aborted. I have them now, only because their birth mothers chose life - chose adoption over abortion. Please send the message to our President that we will not accept the attack on the unborn. - Let these children's voices be heard!
I believe the heart of our President can be changed, and even if not... it is our responsibility to do what we can. God has called us to be a light unto the world - Let's expose the terrible darkness of abortion - SEND YOUR ENVELOPES!!!!

peace & blessings

for more information visit www.RedEnvelopeDay.com

Mean Mommy?

2009-02-19T08:34:00.000-08:00

Jorja Grace - my oldest (4yrs) asked me yesterday... " Mommy, are you mean?". Trying to hide my giggle, I asked her "Well honey, what do you think?" She replied, "I think your just having a rough time."
So apparently I have been less than loving and patient with my children in my very tired state of being. And it's also very apparent, I have truly been mean. But with all her four years of wisdom, my daughter found it better to be encouraging and understanding than throw the reality of my transgression in my face. That in and of itself is encouraging to me, and enough motivation to try and do better.
I am so thankful that the Lord will use my children's small voices to get my attention, and remind me of the little eyes that watch my every move and are at the mercy of my every mood. So pray for me friends, to change from "Mean Mommy" into the one He has called me to be!

peace & blessings

2009-02-17T14:42:00.000-08:00

I know people... are you shocked. Less than a week since my last post - I promised I would do better!
However, I'm afraid there is nothing earth shattering to share. I am trying to compose in my mind just exactly what I want to use this blog for since our third adoption is almost complete - I think I have decided to use it for a little bit of everything - but most importantly to share information about open adoption, and our experiences with our different birth families. I think there is a great need for better understanding of what open adoption is and is not.
I will be posting our latest adoption story soon, and pics of our newest blessing.
But bear (bare?) with me... I'm still in the sleepless nights with a newborn phase, and I'm not feeling quite human :)

peace and blessings!

Let's try this again :)

2009-02-11T07:41:00.000-08:00

Okay... so apparently I'm not that great at blogging... considering I started this blog FOREVER ago, and we are now a family of FIVE! I have decided to start trying this blog thing again... And hope I do better with it the second time around.
I will be posting at a later date parts of our adoption story to hopefully encourage others, and let you know the AMAZING things God has and continues to do for our family!
Don't give up on me... surely I'll get the hang of it.

Beginnings...

2008-08-18T08:38:00.000-07:00

Okay... here it goes. It is with much trepidation and excitement I attempt to enter the blogging world. I have only been reading blogs for the past 6 months or so and am amazed at how invested I have become in total strangers lives, especially when it comes to stories of infertility and adoption! I only wish I had this kind of outlet when I was struggling with my own infertility and adoption journeys. But alas, I guess it's better late than never.

We have already been blessed through the adoptions of our two beautiful daughters, and are now embarking on our next adoption adventure. The main purpose of this blog will be to walk you through the ups and downs of our journey to add another precious life to our family. I only hope to provide as much encouragement and inspiration to others as I have experienced through reading the amazing stories of adoption on this wonderful thing called blog-land!

My other hope is that through sharing our story you will be drawn closer to the One who has and is designing our family. For apart from my Heavenly Father and all He has done, I can't imagine where I would be, or what, if any, family we would have.

I can't wait to share this journey with you all!

xoxo,
aimee