Forty three years.
I have breathed the air of this glorious planet and built upon the foundation given, watched as my canvas was and is painted, and continue to be the coauthor of my own adventure - for the last forty three years.
We are hard pressed to find another soul walking among us that has not faced their share of distress and misfortune along with umpteen stories of miraculous survival and strength. These word pictures play out in colorful charm and allure most of the time. However, all too often, lurking behind the shadows of that charm and allure lies deceit and good intentions laced with self absorption that inflicts deep pain.
With a recent health scare my life has been rocked, opening my eyes, strengthening my will, and shining a new light on the value of life. Now more than ever I see the the importance of bold truth, loving without judgment, seeking to change a broken world, and standing firm for what is right.
What is right? For starters, caring for the orphans and the widows. This is right. If every family opened their homes to just one child just one time we would put the system out of work. Simple? Yep. Stop telling me that you could never do what I do. Yes you can. I find it near impossible to think of doing what you do yet if it would change the world I would. In all truth, most people when faced with dire need to do what is right, they too will step up.
Taking care of the planet. Do this. It is right. We will leave this planet for our children and their childrens children so take care of it.
Your body, your temple. Take care of it. You only get one! This is right.
Put others first, shut your mouths and open your ears, let all condemnation come to a screeching halt. Feed the hungry. Seek justice for those facing injustice. Never seek vengeance. Forgive those who have hurt you. Be grateful to those who sacrifice for our freedom. For the love of Pete, NEVER burn the American flag. These things are right.
Is it really so hard to do right?

3:00 AM. Sleep nowhere in sight. My eyes may have a desire to close but can't through the tears and the spinning of my mind.
Someone has to stand in the gap for her - the HUGE gap, in our system, in our world. By now we have had over one hundred foster kids however this story, this injustice, this new reality has rocked me to the core. I learned long ago not to say that I couldn't be shocked however nothing prepares a heart for the hope and desire to be loved in the eyes of a tiny one with the biggest undeserved story.
Feel the hurt, embrace the truth in what is and move forward. This, I can do and sadly so can she. That is what chokes me up really. That she has too.
Fostering is wretchedly glorious, life changing, sacrificial, endless learning, and humbling. I love that it is what I was made to do, really I do.
Humor must encompass this reality otherwise I would be a bumbling idiot. In this, our present day truth we have in our house..... three languages that I as the mom (you know the asker of questions, answerer of all, chef, cleaner, saver of baby dolls, etc) can only speak one - English. This is a comedy show alone! Yes, I have learned "milk and cookies" out of survival thus the reason I am able to write this today.
If the language barrier wasn't enough we added in the dreaded lice. Now that I have you all itching your heads (don't worry this is a natural reaction to the word) I can say thankfully and proudly, that I am an expert at this as I have had (now) 21 foster kiddos with lice. Remember I said that fostering was humbling? One example... all those kids with lice and my kids nor husband and I ever got it! UNTIL...... I sent the kids to camp two years ago. Yes, they came home with gifts. I felt so defeated! Now our guests have made a comeback in our new sweetie and although we caught it early and only one head has fallen victim it is my least favorite of tasks.
I like a clean house (people even make fun of me for this) but I feel like a clean house holds a sense of order. With this many bodies in one house we desperately need order!
So as tears fall and I pray for our new little one this early morning laughter is mixed in as I am sanitizing what I am certain has no need to be, washing all things cloth, and vacuuming every square inch. So much for not looking like a bumbling idiot! Note to our friends and neighbors: it is safe to be around the kids. Well, as safe as it was before that is. I mean I am not promising no practical jokes or pond falling in type stuff. That is not covered in this disclaimer.

We must give of ourselves fully to what we are called to do. Our lives ought not be filled up with mere emptiness, rather abounding with excellence and a pouring out of oneself.  Go ahead, put your heart out there. Trust in what you are made to do and who made you to do it.

"If I look at the mass, I will never act, If I look at the one, I will."

 - Mother Theresa

There I sat, in a heap of unmovable pity. My own voice my enemy and my truth clouded with black smoke of pessimism.   Not my usual self. Not my normal "fighter" attitude. 

I have to honest, when we were planning our trip to Liberia to get our son, with joy overflowing as well came the emotional long awaited news of finally being able to begin the process of adopting our daughter. We had known for nearly three years that we loved her and wanted to add her to our family.  The joy was, in truth, mixed with a sense of exhaustion. It felt as if I were in the delivery room embracing my new child and the doctor telling me I was pregnant again. 

Adoption is a wild ride and full of emotional set backs, tears of joy and pain, fear, frustration, fundraising, oh my goodness.... fundraising. 

We made a promise to our family both near and far that we would carry this adoption pregnancy to term. Not out of obligation but out of a deep love and longing for our family to be complete - she is missing from our complete.

The exhaustion has been wiped away and our whole family is more then ready to get our girl, to share life with her, to be blessed by and to her. We are now filled with expectation and anticipation. Each and every time I check my email or pick up the phone I wonder if the good news will come. We await the day that we get the call to go and get her. 

Oh wait!

As we wait for that call we have to finish working to get the funds to pay for the adoption fees. 

So we wait and we fund-raise, and fund-raise, and, well you get the idea.

It absolutely astounds me that I even have a single friend left on social media after all my posts are about our adoption. Yet, somehow not one person has been rude or even stopped saying kind words. Although I know you all think we are nuts - this may be true. 

This blog is about seeing the one - not the masses. 

Our one is a beautiful girl who with each passing day awaits to be unorphaned, to come home. I see her face in my mind every time I close my eyes and hear her raspy laugh and can't wait for her to be amongst her siblings enjoying being a Neal.

Screams and blood and chaos precede intense emotion.
I can only imagine that this was the scene that played out in the eyes of witnesses of the recent attacks, of all attacks in truth. What if for a moment we unpack these events through the individuals emotions? I am going to try. Before I start I will add that I have not ever been a bystander or victim in a public attack. However, I will add that sadly I have been both victim and bystander to a my share of traumatic situations.
First we have the perpetrator and as much as I try and desire to have compassion for him or her I struggle as I know many do. What was he or she thinking? What was their motive? Simple ugly hate? Yes, I am certain they fell away and were the victim to some pain in their life at some point. However, I as well as many have too and we don't go around blowing things up, shooting, or stabbing people. With this individual I have little to no ability to dig deep enough to find compassion. This leaves me with a bit of guilt in my stomach or maybe disgust. I'm not sure.
Victims are injured in these violent attacks. I have and many of you have read personal stories of survivors. Fear seems to be a secondary emotion as things occur so fast that little time is given to even feel it. Pain surges through their bodies and strength they never knew they had takes over as they go into survival mode awaiting their rescuers. What of those who do not make it? Of that we will never know their last emotions and thoughts. I pray that a sense of peace and calm came over them. Those that made it are often haunted by nightmares and memories for years to come with new fears threatening to take over their every move. PTSD is wretched! They have months and sometimes years of physical therapy ahead of them. The road to healing is long.
The families of the victims. I cannot begin to imagine what it feels like to await news of a loved ones safety. The pain of hearing of a loss of this type is something I cannot speak to and know not the pain. I hurt as I think of this for them. The anger that lurks with high demands to shadow all peace in the hearts of the survivors family members. In all traumatic events those who couldn't be there to save or fix can often feel weighed down by a heaviness of guilt.
The witnesses, victims without visible injuries, scared for life. They watched in horror not knowing when it would end. Seconds feeling like hours and unable to release images from their minds. Unthinkable pain!
Police officers, Fire fighters, EMT's, all rescuers must place all emotion aside for the moment and rush into the scenes of the unimaginaible, not stop and cry, not break down. They are there to rescue now and feel later. This is what they willingly signed up to do and do it proudly. For them I am forever grateful. In the extremely chaotic situations they must stay calm and remain fair to all. They do not get to choose whom they rescue, they simply rescue. When they feel I can only assume they flood with tears that dare never to cease. Yet as we know they put that uniform back on and do it again the next day - for us all. Lest we not forget the spouses and families of the rescuers that live on edge on a daily basis. Prayers for them ought to be unending.
As I am certain I did not include all who endure pain and missed someone and something, I am merely trying to make a point. My apologies for leaving anything or anyone out.
In each case and in every person a great deal of emotion is felt. One might say life changing emotion. Not one emotion over the next is more real or holds more importance, nor does the individual experiencing it.
I posted on social media yesterday my frustration in so much hate in the world and it aroused massive emotion in several people. Rather than get more upset as I read the outpouring of opinions I felt a sense of gratitude and relief for a few reasons. Our world and the people who occupy it have not by any means lost their passion and strong will. That even in our difference of opinions I know that most would save someone of different race and religious belief from a burning building because of that same passion for life. That brings me comfort. Yes, some are evil but let's  face it this is not a new fact. It is an age old truth. Evil is here and we will face it and we will have to choose how we deal with it.
My suggestion and hope for this world is that we see others with the same value as we wish for ourselves and loved ones.  No matter how many times it has been said and how cliche it sounds we are the ones that must be the change we wish to see. That change must challenge us to open our hearts and minds, to be patient with all things new, a willingness to learn, and place judgement aside. We can inspire others to do good, inspire others to others to love first, inspire others to seek peace. We have the power to inspire!
Let's live 2 inspire!

Walking Shoes

Staring at him sleeping ever so peacefully my heart borders on the brink of explosion. His story, our story, our worlds morphed into one, and my mothers love spreads farther then that of the largest ocean.
From a trauma at birth to a selfless love of a birth mother to a perfectly timed adoption to an infection caught in the nick of time to... well, today. Here, now, I get to be his mother and I get to be part of the story of his uncrushable goals. He is driven and determined with such splendid effervescence.
Emmanuel is, along with the family are slowly but surely learning some sign language. He has a few words that are favorites like 'more', 'eat', 'please', 'thank you', and his newest favorite is 'shoes'. Fully understanding what was upcoming and the outcome of being able to wear shoes following surgery Emmanuel has been focused on shoes. Without fail every trip to any store that sells shoes he has to touch them and hold them up to his feet. Until just yesterday that was a far out of reach goal, honestly a strong doubt for me. Nevertheless I let him hold those shoes and embrace the dream he had.
Thankfully for my sanity, the busyness of opening a second Peak Physique (no we are not the owners), a few foster kiddos, and a multitude of parenting dilemmas I had little time to dwell on the fear and doubt I carried.
The morning of surgery went miraculously smooth from getting out of the house and traffic to Emmanuel not being bothered that he couldn't eat. He was all smiles and hugs and kisses for the nurses. He even raced his favorite nurse who happens to be in a wheel chair too. Jason held up beautifully without completely passing out as person after person came in to repeat in detail what they were going to be doing in the operating room.

Emmanuel squealed with delight as each new person came in declaring them "his". I thought he was just being his happy self but I now believe different. He understood every single word and with a peace I envied and excitement seeping from his pores, he was ready!  He wanted to get those walking shoes!
I held it together exceptionally well all the way into the O.R. as he drifted off to sleep with a smile on the entire time and patting the nurse' hand reassuring her it was okay. Then it happened, a nurse said "I'll walk you out" and the floodgates opened. All the 'what if's' and doubting fears fought to take over as the tears just fell. "What if the surgery didn't work and they couldn't get his feet flat'? and "what if he would never be able to wear shoes?"
Thankfully my husband was as hungry as a bear straight out of hibernation and had mere moments to get food or someone was going to be in danger. This "hangry bear" pulled me out of my tear-filled funk. After filling our bellies we began our 8 hour wait for our son to come out of surgery.
The first call came informing us that his Botox and Phenol injections went smooth and were all done and they would be starting the surgery with updating us every hour and a half. The second call came and things were going well, really well, in fact the nurse said the doctors were "very proud of themselves for some reason" and she would call again in another hour and a half. Less then a hour later the third call came in informing us that the reason the doctors were cheering is that they were done and were closing!
The nurse asked if we had any questions. My voice quivering I said "Yes, we have just one, are his feet flat?" She could hardly get out the word "yes" before she began to sob along with me.
His dream, his goals, his faith are undeniably solid.
Let the shoe shopping begin!!

Was that you I saw protesting outside an abortion clinic? Was that you I saw at the town meeting speaking about the need for unity and love for all? Was that you serving at church on Sunday? Was that you volunteering at the local soup kitchen? Was that you I saw an article about in the paper glorifying all the public good things you do? Yes, indeed it was.
Was it you I saw helping the filthy woman with several children bag her groceries after she paid with food stamps? Was that you helping the orphan get an education and clean water? Was it you that stepped into the elderly mans apartment to keep him company? Was it you who I saw unashamed walking into the prison to visit? Was it you that had lunch at an immigrant owned restaurant? Was it you that people referred to as merciful, kind, and selfless? No, sadly that was not you.
Rather you were seen as a bystander and witness to it all yet never lifted a hand. What you didn't do speaks far louder than what you did. What was left seen and untouched was done by a grotesque heart with awful intent.
Closets are meant for clothes and closed doors for proper privacy, they are not meant for selfish secrets lying in wait. The pathetic example this sets for others falls on the shoulders of the self righteous leaving one more empty then a corpse. Act with sincerity, speak with honesty, live with integrity. Let your secret and public self become one.

Its claws dug deep as my thoughts became wildly engrossed, temptation slithered in like the snake it was. Holding tightly as my grip slowly began to give way, my loyalty and values quickly making way for excuses and justifications. Could I really do it? Could I really be that person, simply walking away? I have been happy, loved, cared for, doted on, and yet I made a choice. 

I cheated. 

After years of passionate and sincere concern, and the pure desire to see only the best for me I walked into another's hands. I will never be the same. 

I didn't intend to do it really, it just happened. In a moment of desperation I reached out to another for comfort. I picked up the phone and before I knew I was in the hands of another hair stylist. She meant nothing to me. I felt dirty the entire time, holding all intimate details about my life a secret, a secret that I only share with one. 

I am so sorry Danielle! 

Danielle, it was never you, it was me. How could I think for one minute that the drive was too long and too far? There is no there you. There is no other GB and Co. 

If you will have me, I want to come back.