My recent addiction to interest in Facebook has caused me to reflect quite a bit on high school and the years immediately following. I graduated in 1983. I'll save you from doing the math. I'm 43.

I've found several classmates on facebook it's been fun to reconnect with my past.

Tonight I pulled out my yearbook to assist me in my stroll down memory lane. I showed it to Zak who is one of the yearbook editors for his school. I told him this was the way they did yearbooks back in the "day". He wasn't impressed.

Sadly, as I flipped through the pages of my past, I was reminded anew that I hated high school.

For those of you who know me now as the outgoing women who can carry on a conversation with a tree and has never met a stranger, you might be surprised to know that I had very few friends in high school. And by very few...I mean none.

There were a few people who signed my yearbook with generic sentiments such as "stay sweet" and "best of luck" but nothing more. Most of my lunch hours during high school were spent walking between the library and my locker "looking" like I had places to go and people to see. I didn't attend a single party. Only a handful of football games. I wanted friends. I guess I was too insecure to reach out.

I couldn't wait to graduate and have never looked back.

I think this is why I try to encourage Caroline to get involved at school. I'm trying to help her realize that to have friends you have to be a friend. It's taken a long time to learn these lessons.

On a positive note, I read my goals that were listed by my senior picture. "Go to college, graduate, and be happy"

Simply stated: I did and I am.

The Journey

In 1999 Don and I attended a one day FamilyLife marriage conference called I Still Do. As much as the conference impacted us that day, only God knew how it would begin a chain of events that would impact one little life for eternity.

From attending the event we moved on to leading HomeBuilders Bible studies and volunteering at the conference the following year. This led to us hearing and, in an uncharacteristic moment of obedience, following God's call on our lives to leave Maryland, raise our own financial support and move to Little Rock, Arkansas and work with the ministry of FamilyLife for 5 years.

During our time with FamilyLife I felt led to participated in a FamilyLife sponsored mission trip to Guatemala where I visited orphanages and my heart was quite literally broken for the 100 million orphans in our world.

This led to the beginning of our adoption journey. A journey that would stretch our faith and finances and take us to the very limits of ourselves. As we waited the 3 1/2 years to bring our precious Maria home, watching her grow up in pictures without her family, we often questioned God's purposes. I don't think we will ever know the why for our wait.

During one of the lowest points of our wait, plagued by concerns of whether or not her adoption could be completed, someone asked what would be the worst outcome from this experience. Without hesitation I answered that Maria would never come home. I pondered and prayed over my answer and realized the worst that could happen would be if Maria never met her Savior and spent eternity separated from him. From then on my attitude changed and I began praying first for Maria's salvation and secondly that we would be blessed to be the family that would lead her to Him.

It's been 17 months since Maria joined our family and today our prayers were answered with Maria's baptism. Not only will we have the blessing of sharing this life with her, but eternity as well.

9 years of putting plans into motion, a move halfway across the United States, thousands of dollars, 4 trips to Guatemala, a family changed forever. The list goes.

I'm in awe of a God who loves so deeply that He would go to such great lengths for one life. That before Maria's life even began God knew that this would be her story. That we would be her family. That she would be His child.

I'm blessed that He would use someone as flawed as me as His tool.

I'm sobered by the thought that we could have disobeyed.

Simply Stated: The Lord is not slow in keeping his promise, as some understand slowness. He is patient with you, not wanting anyone to perish, but everyone to come to repentance. 2 Peter 3:9

"Ice" Day

A bit of freezing rain and ice arrived in Little Rock yesterday afternoon just in time for my Christmas party at work. About half of the folks headed for home early while the rest of us enjoyed a quick meal and then joined the masses in traffic. Living close to work definitely has its advantages.

Today we were blessed with an unexpected day off of school and work! Nothing makes you feel more like a kid again than a day off of work because of weather.

We've been staying busy decorating cards and cookies. I'm so enjoying the day that I didn't even freak when I dropped the bowl of egg yolk and food coloring that we were using to paint on cookies. My favorite pajama pants and demin shirt however did not survive quite as well.

While taking pictures of the days activities I also took a few pictures of our decorations to share.

This is our tree. At last count we had over 200 bear ornaments.
This is the shelf in the living room. The stereo components and video games add a particularly festive touch!

This is our mantel. I'm sure the boys love having teddy bear stockings. Santa still fills them though.

Finally, the mistletoe. Needs no explanation :)

Simply Stated: Merry Christmas!

Tis the Season!

I love the Christmas season. Last night was Caroline's Christmas Choir Concert and it was outstanding. I'd post a picture but after almost 20 years of parenting the camera rarely makes it to these events. Oh, but the memories will live on in my mind. Plus 20 years from now we'll have the liberty to embellish stories while those with video cameras and digital pictures can not. MY kids will have been the stars in every production. AHA!

Back to Christmas. We got the house decorated last weekend...almost. As usual, there are a few loose ends that I need to finish. One of the best moments came when we put a new ornament on the tree. It looks like this:

Finally, our family of six. (Yes, we should have done this last year but better late then never).

And the old ornament has been given a proper burial.

Simply stated: Six is my favorite number!

Maria-isms

I love listening to Maria tell a story. The combination of being six and not having a complete grasp of English lends itself to some pretty entertaining story telling. For instance...

(Note: if you are offended by stories about "tooting", read no further.)

Several weeks ago our precious girl had an ear ache which required treatment with antibiotic. Unfortunately the antibiotic didn't set very well in her digestive tract and she started having some problems. Gas to be quite blunt.

Since the day we brought Maria home she has been able to clear a room with one of her toots. I remember standing in line with her at a store and she kept tooting. And it was obvious. So let me ask you. If you are the cashier and there was a plus-sized woman at your register accompanied by a petite child who are you going to assume is causing the offensive odor? I finally leaned down to Maria and whispered in her ear that she could not let loose one more toot until we left the store.

Fast forward to several weeks ago when she was on her antibiotic. I walked into her classroom on Wednesday night at church and the smell just about knocked me over. I knew immediately that it was Maria. Obviously we have fully and completely bonded to each other. I scanned the room and she was nowhere to be found so I headed to the bathroom where sure enough Maria was taking care of business. I asked her if she had pooped and she grinned and asked how I had known. I told her because she had stunk up the joint. She giggled.

The next day when I picked her up at school I asked her how her tummy felt. She said "a little good" and went on to explain that she had tooted in class and all the children started grossing out. At which point she claimed it and apologized! Oh, honey girl, that's taking honesty a bit too far. I tried to explain that in a room full of people you don't really need to admit to tooting. Does that make me a bad person?

The next day I picked her up and asked the same question. Yes, she had tooted. Yes, the class had groaned in disgust. No, she didn't admit to it. I asked her if she was tooting on person. And here's the best part...

"Oh, no Mommy. I just couldn't wait any longer. So I relaxed and let the spray go!"

Simply stated: What more can I say?

An update of sorts

Hard to believe it's been almost a month since my last post. For as long as I can remember I have always had an over abundance of words and ideas. Many of which are not worthy of sharing, but they were there nonetheless. But working with the public for eight to nine hours a day seems to exceed my allotted words for the day. Consequently, when evening comes and I might find a few moment to blog, there are no words left. Just an overwhelming need to be quiet.

I'm sure that the men in my life are loving this because they have always been a bit...how do I say this nicely?...challenged by my need to talk incessantly. Truth be told, since beginning my job I will often think of something I need to talk with Don about and I won't have the words or energy to start the conversation. Who knew that the woman who was once described as opening her eyes and mouth simultaneously each morning could be silenced?

Today is a different kind of day. I'm home sick. It seems I've had a perpetual cough and cold for about 4 weeks now and just yesterday started getting congested, again, and running a fever. I'm gonna act like a grown up and go to the doctor's at 2:15. Hopefully I'll leave with some antibiotic.

So while Maria is watching Noggin, after all it is "preschool on TV", I thought I'd write a quick post. A lot has happened.

The Election. I hate election years because it divides my extended family like no other event. For the most part none of us talks politics but everyone knows where the other stands and the tension it creates is not good. I don't presume to know who's the best candidate for our country. Truly, I think we are subjected to a lot of rhetoric during the campaigns and the issues get lost in a bunch of polictical mumbo-jumbo. My Dad says that "figures lie and liars figure." I think this is true for most politicians. What is most important is that I voted and I did so with a clear conscience and no hidden agenda. Bottom-line. My God is bigger than any election or president. In Him I will trust.

The Twilight Zone. Caroline just finished working on her first play at her new school. Even though she's only in middle school she tried out for a part in the high school play and she earned herself two small parts in two different episodes. The play was a compilation of 6 Twilight Zone episodes and was really fun to watch...twice. The schedule of practices, school, homework, and church activities just about did Caroline in but she prevailed and did a great job. Try outs for the spring musical "The Music Man" starts in a couple of weeks. Even though musicals are Caroline's favorite she says she's not ready for another production.

Downsizing. The unemployment woes hit close to home last week. Don's company had lay-offs and Don was the last one hired so there was a brief moment of worry. Fortunately, his company took into consideration his years of working for Haagen-Dazs before our hiatus for ministry and he was spared. It was a wake up call and a reality check for me that instead of complaining about jobs or having to work that we need to be grateful that we are both employed.

Grammy and Gram: Don's mom (Grammy) has been very sick and has been in and out of the hospital for several month's. I won't write much because they are a private family (unlike me who was born without the ability to self-censor) but it has been a very difficult time for her. I'm so glad that we made the decision months ago to spend Thanksgiving with them in Seattle.

Gram (my grandmother) fell and broke her hip on Monday and had surgery yesterday. She's 86 years old and hasn't rallied well from the surgery. Although the family was warned about this we still hate to see her suffer. It's hard being so faraway from family at times like this. Please pray for Grammy and Gram.

Simply stated: I need to go blow my nose.

Interesting Reading

When I'm not checking out patients or falling out of chairs at work, one will often find me reading the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders (or DSM as we in the biz will call it). For those of you unfamiliar with the DSM it is a manual published by the American Psychiatric Association (APA) that includes all currently recognized mental health disorders.

So what began as an earnest attempt to educate myself on the issues that many of our patients deal with has turned into a quest to diagnose myself. And everyone else around me.

For example, I am convinced beyond a shadow of a doubt that I have sleep terror disorder. The DSM describes this as night terrors, also known as pavor nocturnus, characterized by extreme terror and a temporary inability to regain full consciousness. The subject (me) wakes abruptly from slow-wave sleep, with waking usually accompanied by gasping, moaning, or screaming. It is often impossible to fully awaken the person, and after the episode the subject normally settles back to sleep without waking. Thereby leaving that subject's spouse to scrape himself off of the ceiling.

For any of you who have had the misfortune of spending a night under the same roof as me, you know this to be all too true.

For those of you who have had the extreme misfortune of sharing a bed with me, I am truly sorry.

While often comical, my night terrors have proven to be dangerous as well. My "episodes" have inflicted countless bruises, nasty scrapes and even one round of stitches. My children have become immune to the sound of mom's pounding footsteps running down the hallway in the middle of the night. Even the blood curdling screams are no longer cause for alarm.

Not so much for poor Don. I don't think one ever grows accustomed to being woken from a dead sleep by a screaming lunatic next to you.

There is no cure. No telethon. No awareness campaign.

Anti-anxiety meds are the only treatment. And, until Don is at the point of slipping a Klonopin in my late night diet coke, I don't see that happening.

Simply stated: Do you think it's a coincidence that my co-workers took my manual away yesterday?

P.S. I believe that mental illness and mental disorders are no laughing matter. I'm a strong proponent of therapy and medication for people suffering with a variety of mental disorders and illnesses. I also can't pass up an opportunity to use self-depricating humor to get a cheap laugh. Maybe some more diagnosing is needed.