Nineteen Weeks

Hi Pal,

This morning I sat down, looked at my calendar, and

realized that it's Wednesday.

Nineteen weeks ago, I held you for the last time.

I talked to you for the last time.

I kissed you good-bye for the last time.

It seems like nineteen million years ago.

As much as we talked about you dying, as much as I knew

I would miss you, I wasn't prepared for this.

This ache of not having you.

Missing your laugh, your smile. Missing going to movies,

dinner, and shopping together.

My Pal, I miss you.

Dad brought me your Mickey Mouse light. It had been over in

your office at the church. I remember when we bought if

for you.

Sometimes, when I turn it off, Mickey says, "See you later

Pal." I miss you. I miss my Pal.

In nineteen weeks, life has changed.

I'm not the same person I was when I talked with you last.

I've lost someone that I love very much.

The kids are growing up every day, and we talk about you all the time.

Today, at lunch, we were eating celery. Big K. was

remembering how much you liked celery.

Easter will be here soon. It's hard for me to think about, because it

was always your favorite holiday. Last year, you were here. We cooked together.

I took a lot of pictures. We planned on you feeling so much better this

Easter. I can't believe you won't be with us on Easter Sunday.

Mom, I miss you. I love you. I miss you every hour of every day.

Sometimes I get busy, and then life slows down, and I remember you're gone.

I wish that you weren't. I can't wait to see you again. I can't wait to

hold you again. I can't wait to talk with you again.

I can't wait to see you at Heaven's gates and

know that we will never have to say good-bye again.

Mom I love you.

Your Little Pal

Bath Time Finger Paints

Bath Time Finger Paints

What you Need:

1/3c. clear dish washing liquid

2T. cornstarch
Food Coloring
Willing Helpers

What you do:

Mix soap and cornstarch.

Divide equally into ice cube trays

(or egg cartons)

Mix in desired colors.

Take a bath and enjoy!

These soaps have been a HUGE hit in our house.

We've made them every night for the past three nights.

The kids have never been so clean.

On Being a Mother

I love being a Mom. Yes, there are days,

but generally speaking being a Mom is

a career choice that has been

both fulfilling and rewarding.

Foster parenting is not something that I ever wanted

to do. Yet when our county's foster care

department asked us to take back the

two little boys who had been in our care,

neither of us could say no.

So, for the past month in a half, I have

enjoyed being a Mom to two little boys

that I love as much as I love my own children.

I have enjoyed remembering past times together

as well as making new memories with them.

I have thought about my Mom a lot. How much

she loved the boys. What she would think

and say about their return into our family.

I have talked to God a lot. Searched for His

will in all of this.

My Mother's illness and death taught me a lot

about waiting on God. It taught me a lot about trusting in God

even when it seemed impossible.

Today, we learned that the court system has agreed to give P. and

Baby D.'s mother another year to try and get her children

back. I have mixed feelings about that news.

I love the boys mother. I want to see her

succeed. I want her to become the type of

mother that her children deserve.

I also want her to fail. I want to adopt her boys.
It seems like God must have brought them back to us so
that we could adopt them. That makes so much sense to me.
I know that what I think is best isn't always
what God knows is best.
The news from court today wasn't surprising.
These children have been in care for three years.
A judge that has never met them just made it four years.
I know that God loves the boys more than I ever could.
He knew they were coming home to us, and He knows if and
when they will be leaving us.
Meanwhile, I just enjoy each new day that I get to be a Mother.

Thoughts On Heaven (from my daughter)

"Mom, will Oma go trick-or-treating

in heaven with different children?

Are the angels cooking for her, and

does she get to eat cheeseburgers?

Is she wearing clothes?"

How I wish I had the answers for her.

"Mom, will I ever forget her?"

"NO."

Parties, Parades, and Pain

Two years ago, my Mom was here.

His was not. His Mom was still using

drugs. My Mom was excited to

spend a birthday with her newest

grandchild.

Last week, as we celebrated P.'s

birthday, my heart was sad.

I missed my Mom.

There are some things that I can prepare myself

for: Easter, her birthday, Mother's Day.

I wasn't prepared for the pain

of missing my Mom on P.'s birthday.

I was so happy to share our little five year old's day with

both him and his mother.

How fun it was for him

to get to spend the day with his mom.

At the end of the day, we all sat down to

watch a video Jon had made of P.'s third birthday.

My Mom was in it. She was healthy, laughing, making

smart comments with Jon. I ached to

hold her, to hug her, to kiss her, to

be with her.

On Saturday we took the kids

to see their first St. Patrick's Day

parade.

What fun they had watching

the bagpipes and running after candy.

How fun it was to be together, all of us.

How much I wanted to tell my Mom about

our day, about our week, about the kids.

How much she would love seeing

how big all of the kids are getting.

She would love to hear about Doodles and what

a young lady she is becoming.

She would have loved to hear the Big K. as he

told P.,"We're brothers. We have to

stick together. That's what brothers do."

And she would have loved to see the baby dancing

to the Bagpipe music and then screaming

because he didn't get any candy.

I have had a hard week. My Dad's life is moving forward,

we are all leaving my Mom behind. I haven't wanted to.

I haven't wanted to lose what I had.

This morning, the Lord gently reminded me that

He holds the future. He carries not just my children, my husband,

and myself. He carries my Dad and my Dad's future.

I realized, if I could give my Mother to God,

I can surely give my Dad to God.

I can trust that God, the lover of all, the healer, protector,

father, and friend loves my Dad more than I ever can.

God will walk us all through this time.
God will heal the broken parts of my heart.

God has given me so very much to be thankful for.

Mickey Shirts

I remember exactly what I was wearing that day.

I remember exactly what I was doing that day

when the phone rang, and my life changed

forever. I was so excited to hear from my Mom.

We hadn't talked in a while, both of us busy.

She'd had an ultra sound, there were masses on her liver.

Ultra sounds aren't reliable they told her.

This one was. For the longest

time, I wouldn't

look at that sweatshirt, even though it was one of my favorites.

I couldn't bare to wear it.

Then one day, my sweet Big K. said,

"Mommy, will you wear your Mickey shirt. I'll wear mine, and

then we'll match."

How could I resist my little man.

Now, my Mickey shirt makes me think of my son. What a gift

he is, and how short the time is that he'll be small

and want to dress like his mother.

I look forward to the days when we wear our Mickey shirts.

Our Morning In Pictures (With A Few Words)

Water Play
Floam

Brothers

Math

Social Studies.

Gotta Love a Toddler

This morning, he spilled some milk on

the table.
His clean up solution, potholders.
This is what I saw when I turned around.
Gotta love a toddler.

Grief

This past week has been hard for me.

I am selfish.
I've been acting as if I'm the only one that's
lost. I hold a monopoly on the pain.
No one loved her more.
I'm wrong.
My father lost a best friend and lover of 38 years.
My brother lost his mother.
My children lost their grandmother.
My husband lost his mother-in-law.
My aunt lost a niece.
My grandmother lost her daughter.
We have all lost.
I've been selfish. I've been holding on to something
that I cannot change. I've been trying to go back
to before. I really liked before.
I never wanted my life to change. I really liked my life.
I wanted to watch my parents grow old. I wanted to
talk with my Mom about my kids and share with
her my life.
I have had to let that go. I'm watching my father's life
move forward. I am happy for him, sad for me,
happy for him.
I have watched my daughter grieve this week.
She's been giving me all sorts of pictures of
her and Oma. She's been working through her
grief. There has been nothing harder
than watching my children hurt. I've wanted to protect them
so much. I hate to see their tears, to hear their questions,
to feel their pain. I want to fix it for them, bring my Mom back,
take away their hurt. I think of my Father in Heaven.
How He must feel as He sees me hurt, us hurt.
How He must want so much to take the pain away.
There is a song by JJ Heller, it's one of my favorites.
It talks about God hating to see us cry. How one
day, He will make all things right.
I know He will.
I know that He walks with me and before me.
He holds our future in His hands. He carries our tears.
He is my Father, the healer.
His love is never ending. He holds me.
I am so thankful that He knows the words I cannot
speak. He heals my grief, our grief, and
gives us all the strength to move on.