Summer Time Fun

We have all been enjoying a lot

of summer fun.

We've spent time swimming,

relaxing,
and enjoying our summer vacation.

Hard to believe that summer is going

so quickly.

We've enjoyed the county fair,

time together,

and snow cones.

I hope that you are enjoying your summer

as much as we are enjoying ours.

My Artists

Creativity can

sometimes be
messy.

I'm sure that's why it's always so much fun.

Weekend With Papa

Growing up, my Dad often worked two or more jobs while

going to college and then graduate school. My brother

and I didn't see a lot of him, but when we

did he was always a lot of fun. He made our time together special.

He and Mom took us to McDonald's on Friday nights, after

he'd finished cleaning at an elementary school (he was a janitor).

When we grew older, he'd take us for candy, or let us

watch horror movies that my Mom would never have allowed.

Dad is just a whole lot of fun. I love seeing him

have fun with the kids.

Last weekend, Doodles and I took a trip to visit Dad.

We went with him to an eye doctor appointment at a

local mall.

In the parking lot, there was a carnival going on.

After the appointment, Dad said,

"You want to take Doodles to the fair?"

Of course I did. What fun we had.

Dad bought her lots of tickets for rides.

A HUGE treat. Then, because she

was scared to go on things alone, he went with her on

everything.

He tickled her, fooled around with her, laughed with her,

and loved her. He's a really terrific grandfather.

He even went with her into this "rock star" ride.

I watched them as they laughed and fooled around together.

I couldn't help but think, four years ago, my daughter was living

with a single foster mother. She had no strong male influences

in her life. She was described as "boy crazy", because she was

always trying to get the little boys in her class to hold her

hand and kiss her. God not only brought her a father, but

He brought her a grandfather, a Papa.

A Papa who loves her no matter what, who loves spending

time with her and having fun with her.

A Papa that will go on all of the rides with her, laugh

with her, and hold her hand when she reaches for it.

Thank you Dad for being not only the wonderful and

Godly father that you are, but also for being such a

terrific Papa. Thank you for the fun weekend at the fair.

I Have Found....

that grief is like the ocean, the tides

coming in and out.

There are days that are so hard, I feel

the crushing weight of the loss of you.

There are

days when I laugh, I feel great,

I look forward to the future.

Then there are days,

when the tide comes crashing in. The smallest

things can make me cry. The scent of your perfume

makes me long for you.

This is what I hope:

I hope I will be to my children what you are to me.

I hope that when I face death, I can say I lived

with no regrets.

I hope that I make you proud.

I hope that my children will never

forget you.
I hope that in times of crisis, sadness, grief, I will

never lose my faith.

I hope that I will be everything that you raised me to be.

Mom, I love you. I miss you.

Cherries

Life is

just a bowl of
cherries. Don't take

it serious. So live,

and laugh as you learn.

Running

I believe that running has saved my life.

Not because I'm 300lbs and running

helped me lose weight, no I love to eat

too much to lose any weight from running.

It saved me because it gave me a focus,

an outlet for my grief.

A year and a half ago, when my Mom was diagnosed

with cancer, I quit running. I just couldn't get motivated.

I was traveling so much to help her, and I was dealing

so much with my own shock that I just

couldn't find the time to run.

Shortly after she died, I started running again.

All of the grief literature talked about the importance of

exercise. The literature was right.

Every morning I would lace up my shoes and

run. Gradually I increased my distance.

Sunday I finished a 15k road race.

It was the tenth time that I've run that race.

It was the first time that I ran it without my Mom.

Without my Mom cheering me on at the finish line, or waiting

for me at home. It was the first time I couldn't share with

her how much fun I had. I was able to share the joy of my race

with my husband and children.

Cheryl brought our four children to the race course.

She waited with them for over an hour so that I could

see them for only a minute. She waited with them

so that I could hug them, kiss them, love on them.

She waited with them so that they could see me run,

so that at the end of the day, when they asked me what my favorite

part of the whole race was, I could say, "Seeing you guys. Hugging and

kissing you guys. Having you guys there to cheer me on."

That was my favorite part of the whole race.

Thank you Cheryl. Thank you so much.

My Soap Box

When our older two children came to live with us,

they were four and five years old. We were

their eighth home. They had been removed

from a family member who chose to lock them in a room,

and not feed them.

She neglected them. Doodles left her home, at the age of four with a

black eye. The Big K. left her house at the age of

three unable to talk or walk properly.

Both children were dirty, underfed, and had

never seen a doctor. They were abused.

A nasty ugly word. Despite this fact, the court granted their

relative, the woman that abused them, once yearly visitation.

Because they were not legally ours for the first three years
that they lived with us, we had to take them for a visit with
their relative. It was a strained and difficult visit. We had to drive
our children for almost eight hours, so that they could spend two hours
with a woman that abused them. Once they were adopted, we were told
that visitation was at our discretion. After that visit, our children were
distressed. They were scared they would be hurt, they would have to move again,
that they would be abused.
After their adoption was finalized, we made the decision not to allow any
more visits. At least not yet. Not until the kids are a little older.
This week, we received a phone call, from a lawyer. Apparently, our children's relative
has decided to go to court to gain access to our children. She wants to see them.
The lawyer called me. She called the wrong mother. I don't care that my children
are adopted, they are my children, and I WILL NOT put them in harms way.
I will not have them victimized again, by the same system that
victimized them the first eight years of their lives.
Social Services needs to change. Laws need to be changed. Children matter.
Children should not be forced to maintain contact with a person that
abused them. If you or I was in an abusive relationship, no judge would
tell us we HAD to visit the individual that abused us. If a stranger
had done the things that this woman did to my children, they would
be in jail. But our screwed up system deems visits appropriate.
Children are victimized again and again in the name of
connection, family, history, blood.
The fight is on. NO ONE will hurt, scare, injure, or
victimize my children again.
NO ONE!!!