We are very excited to announce that we have been matched with our daughter!
Joya Christine (A.K.A. Mrs. Nesbit) will be in our arms and home with our family where she belongs sometime in the next four to six months. Even after doing all the paperwork to get here, we already feel that the wait to travel and get her is definitely the hardest part.
Her future medical needs will involve mouth and jaw surgery, but we consider her perfect in every way!
I'm sitting here on our first snowy morning of the school year. Yup, you read that right - snow. Although I'm not really ready to give up flip flops and short sleeves, I know this is the price we pay to live in the mountains and enjoy all the benefits of a ski town.
So, I'm choosing to embrace it. I have a hot cup of coffee sitting next to my computer and the fireplace is roaring to keep me toasty.
My problem this morning is that I'm also sitting here staring at Sauce's binder that contains his homework that he so diligently worked on yesterday afternoon, and every day for that matter. He rarely gives me much trouble when requested to complete his homework before having more fun. He is careful with his answers, has neat handwriting, and generally takes pride in a job well done.
My first instinct was to hop in the car and bring it to him at school. But, after some internal-parental-decision-making-wrestling, I decided that the only way he won't depend on Mommy to make sure his homework gets to school one way or another is to NOT bring it to him.
Ouch. You see, this is the first time I've had to do this with my #2.
Our #1 has been giving us a run for our money for years with things like this. Last month, when fifth grade grades started streaming in, The Hunter was trying to explain away three zeros on homework assignments and a D+ on a quiz.
My man and I had to make it undeniable that the buck stopped right then and there. The Hunter is passionate about karate training and he had a quarterly testing event to advance to the next belt color coming up. It was harder for us than it was for him to miss that testing and remain at his current belt level.
The boy was heartbroken, angry, and embarrassed in front of his karate friends. It was really hard for us to endure and he tried every way he could think of to change our minds.
Lo and behold, two weeks later we are seeing nothing but A's and an occasional B streaming in. Admittedly, it has taken much more effort on my part as well. I'm having to pester him to remember to bring home his homework, review each assignment with a fine tooth comb, make him redo incorrect work, and remind him to actually TURN IN his completed homework.
But, I'm seeing more proactive behavior from him. He's learning how to succeed and little by little he is developing independence in this area. It has NOT been easy. But it HAS been worth it.
So, after reflecting on that victory, I'm expecting Sauce to come home from school upset about forgetting his binder. I might even get a call from him asking me to bring it in. But I'm holding out hope that this tiny lesson will reap great profits of personal responsibility for him in the future.
Generosity breeds generosity. This I am sure of.
Meet our friends the M's. This family dove head first into the adoption world last year. After deciding to adopt domestically, they endured the heartbreak of a failed adoption before their littlest guy A was born and came home with them, his forever family.
Since then, their eyes have been opened to the plight of the fatherless both here and around the world. They are currently pursuing another adoption of a sweet brown skinned beauty (or maybe two), only internationally this time.
Although they are facing the tremendous costs of their own adoption, they keep a jar on their counter called the "Adoption Jar". In it, they collect spare change and put money in it when they are consciously making a choice to forego a treat such a coffee or a meal out.
Their children have gotten very excited and involved. They look for spare change on the sidewalks and in couch cushions and have at times chosen to donate some of their hard earned chore money to the jar.
Every so often, they choose a family in the adoption process or an orphan related cause to give the contents of the Adoption Jar to.
Then they take the empty jar and start all over again.
We enjoyed the M's company for dinner last Sunday and had no idea what they had in store for us.
$283.77 towards the cost of bringing Mrs. Nesbit home.
I was blown away and full of emotion when they unveiled it. We are grateful beyond words and our kids immediately wanted to start a jar of our own.
Generosity breeds generosity.
I have written about the crazy unusual timing of our decision to adopt a child. By the world's standards, it made no sense. My Beloved changed jobs and left the company that had a $10,000 reimbursement benefit toward adoption and gave up his company car. We had just emptied our savings on refinancing our house as well as buying a new(er) car for our family.
We are known by those who know us well as pretty financially anal conscious. We plan ahead for things we want to purchase, track our monthly spending carefully (envision DETAILED Excel spreadsheet), and other than our home mortgage, we haven't carried any debt in our fourteen years of marriage.
I'm not bragging, but that was an important detail to my story.
So here we are, new job, cash poor, and deciding to adopt a daughter with special needs from China. To us, that kind of decision could only come from God.
I have been very open with others from the beginning of this process that I am FREAKING OUT very worried about where the money for the adoption expenses will come from. Really, we had just accepted that we were going to be taking out a loan for the thousands of dollars of adoption costs.
Accepted is a bit of an overstatement. I should say that we realized while kicking and screaming and throwing a toddler-sized hissy fit about it.
But, pretty soon, we were in too far to quit. People kept reassuring me that God would provide for this.
Blah-blah-blah.
After a pastor (and friend) at our church told me of several ways that God had provided for their adoption costs years ago, I quickly countered with, "That's great Eric. But you're a PASTOR. It is SUPPOSED to happen to you. I believe that God does these things, I just don't believe that He will do it for us! We're just 'regular Joe's! My husband has a good job that pays our bills, and we live in a nice place, but we don't have the money to pay for a $20,000+ adoption without going into debt."
Lord, help me with my unbelief.
I believed that God thinks that adoption is a good thing. I believed that He laid it on our hearts for a reason. But I thought we would be on our own to figure out the financing.
Our homestudy was approved in July, at which point we were responsible for the next portion of payment in the process to the tune of $3,000. We didn't have the money and we decided to wait until we had all of our documentation ready to move forward before we took out a loan to pay it. Unfortunately, I was informed by our lovely non-human government that we would likely see the page of October on the calendar before we would receive this lovely $890 piece of paper in our mailbox.
Between July and September, we made significant household cutbacks. Bye-bye cable television, meal plans, hand-me-downs, etc. No extras around here.
Two Saturdays ago, my Beloved and I sat down to look at our Excel spreadsheets from the summer and put together a plan for moving money little by little into a savings account for adoption expenses as they came in. We didn't want even one extra dollar just to be absorbed by the miscellaneous expenses paid out of our checking account.
We were expecting to be able to put some money in there, we each had a number in our head of how much we should be able to save after expenses. We don't have huge amounts of surplus income each month, so both of our predictions were only a portion of what we already owed.
After studying our checking account and comparing it with our budgetary tracking, we realized that there was exactly $3,000 waiting to be moved out of our checking account.
Isn't that just like God? Not $2,800, not $3,150. Exactly the amount on the adoption invoice waiting to be paid.
My Beloved is a numbers man. When the budget is finished each month, I depend on him to make the pie charts and the summaries and savings decisions.
He looked over everything again carefully and made the statement, "I have no idea how we had that much to save. I can't find it anywhere."
With plans to move the money on Monday when the bank opened, we went outside to take a bike ride with our boys. Sweet Rufus went to get the mail from the carrier as we all waited in the driveway and he handed the stack off to me.
Nestled in the middle of junk mail and bills was a simple envelope with the return address "Department of Homeland Security."
God's perfect math. God's perfect timing.
Amen.
The next invoice we see will be in the ballpark of $11,000. I'm excited to see how God's math will add up for that one.
First day of school pictures are finally up. This is the last year these three will go to the same school. Rufus is in first grade, The Hunter is in fifth grade and Sauce is in third grade.
They were literally running to the bus stop.
Until I made them slow down so we could enjoy the walk together.
With their buddy at the bus stop.
No tears from Squirt this year. He happily rode home on his bike and enjoyed the day with Mommy.
Twas the night before school started and all through the house,
Not a boy was stirring because the Melatonin knocked them out.
The backpacks were tossed by the door without care,
With hopes that no homework tomorrow they would bear.
The children were nestled all snug in their beds,
With the memories of sleeping late still stuck in their heads.
And Mom at the counter, and Dad on a trip,
Both prayed hard that all boys will flourish.
When out of the folders that came home from open house,
Came such a stack of papers Mom was forced to fill out.
She found her favorite pen and a comfortable seat
Because filling them all out would be quite a feat.
Names, grades, parents, and allergies,
Phone numbers, addresses, and who to call in emergencies.
Not so bad if it was just one,
But the three copies ruined the fun.
But she made it through every single last page,
Even though her wrist cramped like someone twice her age.
She let the dog in and locked all the doors,
Then prepped for breakfast so they'd be sure to want more.
She then climbed the stairs with the dog right behind,
And checked on each boy with kisses to remind
That these years are short, though days are long for the parentals,
And someday she would look back and be quite sentimental.
She collapsed into bed and gave a big sigh,
And drifted to sleep to a fan turned on high.
But when the alarm rang, she wiped off her drool,
And said, "GET UP SLEEPYHEADS!!! IT'S THE FIRST DAY OF SCHOOL!!!"
My man and I were fumbling with an attempt at hooking up a television antenna on our roof(something we're absolutely not qualified to do) between dinner and bedtime last night.
Mistake number one.
At first, the boys were just playing in the yard, screaming and laughing and having a sword fight with the weapons they were awarded as party favors at a birthday party earlier in the day. Cut a pool noodle in thirds, stick a two-foot PVC pipe in the end, and ta-da, you have hours of entertainment for boys.
It started to get dark outside and we hollered to the troops to get PJ's on and brush teeth (as we were balancing a large television on the edge of a mantle, while managing marital harmony over a wire that was too short to reach where it needed to go).
I'm sure you can imagine that we were not able to actually follow through and reinforce our instructions until we finished the project-that-we-should-not-have-started-until-AFTER-the-kids-were-in-bed.
As instructed, the little angels trotted up the stairs and did exactly as they were instructed to do.
N.O.T.
We heard squealing, yelling, running, stomping, thwacking, giggling, whining, thumping, hollering, and screaming.
My beloved and I returned fire with threats of what would happen when we got up there if they didn't knock it off and do what we told them to.
Suddenly we heard the ruckus silence and drawers opening and closing and water running.
N.O.T.
This is why threatening does not work with parenting. We were stuck to the problem television and they knew it. They called our bluff and continued on with the wild rumpus.
We finally man-handled the wires and finished our project. I headed immediately upstairs to man-handle my children, but was met with this:
And the camera.
I don't even know what to say about the snake skin tucked into The Hunter's pajama pants. There are no words, so I will just stop here.
GOD
IS
STILL
IN
THE
BUSINESS
OF
LIFE
CHANGE
Baptism Sunday at Willow Creek Community Church. My sister Amy, my mom, and my niece all chose to be baptized today.
It was a great day.
Only Love can leave such a mark
But only Love can heal such a scar.
Our lives have turned some major corners in the past year. After deciding to discontinue home schooling, we sent our three big boys to the local public elementary school for the first time. What a very big change all around for us, but we all agree that it was a good choice.
Kenyon left the company he had worked for for his entire 15 years of post-college life. He took a chance at a new opportunity with a more local company. Always thinking of his hunting season our family, he had the goal in mind that we wouldn't have to move geographically in order for him to move up in his career.
I couldn't be more proud of him.
As a result, we had say good bye to his company car and purchase a newer family truckster. This is the first time in our marriage that we've owned (and insured, and repaired, and gassed up) two cars.
I know, poor us.
Shortly after his new job started, my Beloved revived a conversation that I had thought was dead some time ago.
You see, from the time we had a few years of parenting under our belts, the subject of orphans had caught our attention and our hearts. Kenyon was the one who pushed me to go to Russia in 2006 to spend a week loving on precious children who are without families of their own.
That trip changed me. I brought home with me faces and names, personalities and memories that defined the word "orphans". There are an estimated 145 million + orphans globally, and I could not run from them or ignore it anymore. I hugged them, sang with them, played with them, and said goodbye to them.
Then I came home to my loving family. When I kissed my kids goodnight, I thought of the rooms with 30 beds filled with kids who don't get stories or snuggles or kisses at bedtime.
When my family was laughing and re-living our day at dinner time, I remembered looking into the rooms where those 30 children ate together - in silence.
My little boys love bubbles and stickers and puppets. But now those things triggered memories of children who had never seen those things and when the Americans left, would likely not see them again until another group returned.
My kids go to the doctor for simple things like ear infections and yearly check ups. I spent time with many children with easily correctable medical conditions that will spend their lives labeled and institutionalized. There is no one advocating for their medical care.
You get the picture now, I'm sure.
For years now, our family has supported orphan care organizations and contributed to adoption funds of several families. We had considered adoption, but various factors always added up to it not being the right time.
Personally, I didn't know if adoption would ever be written into our family's story. And I had come to a point of complete peace with that. If my husband did not want to adopt, then I knew it was not for us. I shut my mouth and prayed that God would show me where I would fit in to this puzzle.
I am sure you can imagine my surprise when exactly one week into his new job, my man came to me and said, " I really think we should move forward with adopting."
Allrightythen.
Have you ever wanted something so badly for so long and when you finally have the opportunity to get it you question if you really want it? Yup, that was me.
After about a week of heavy discussion and constant prayer, we filled out the application to adopt a child from China.
That was March 18th.
Last night was a big milestone in the process. After months of paper chasing background checks, birth certificates, marriage certificates, writing 20 page autobiographies, and visiting doctors to sign off on our health status and our children's as well, our social worker came to do our official home visit.
After two and a half hours of individual and group interviews, she promised us our precious home study report within the next week or so and with that in hand, we will be moving forward toward our ....
daughter.
We are all so very excited to start on this journey. We hope you will join us with your prayers and support. We hope that by this time next year we will be settled home as a family of seven.
I know, the poor girl will never go on a date with four big brothers and a dad - all with weapons.
More to come soon. And, needless to say, I'm taking suggestions for new blog names.
I often think about the fact that my kids have no concept of how exceptional their surroundings are. They climb mountains, ski down them, visit national parks (often), and have been exposed to some of the most unique back country wilderness that I have seen in my life - all before my eldest even finishes elementary school.
Heck, our views on our walk to the bus stop would stop any flat-landers in their tracks.
Our visit to southern Utah this spring was no exception. Amidst all the hiking memories we have created as a family, Little Wild Horse Canyon stands out easily as my favorite.
As much as I really enjoy writing stories, this time the pictures are really worth a thousand words.
My men are already talking about hiking this one again.
For my sophomore year of college, I transferred from a smaller satellite campus of my university to the main campus. I was assigned to an all girls dorm that was set up in suites, having four bedrooms attached to a living area.
Julie lived in the bedroom next door to me and was a junior that year. Her kind heart and loads of sarcastic humor made us fast friends. She probably doesn't know it, but she was one of the major reasons that I enjoyed living there. Okay, maybe she does.
The following year, Jules and I started working on the school newspaper together. That required lots of procrastinating and pulling our stories out of thin air at the eleventh hour all nighters to get that very serious piece of journalism published each week.
We laughed a lot. We ate a lot of pizza. We cranked the music and danced in the newspaper office a lot. Did I mention that we laughed?
Right now it would be hilarious to go in my basement and dig up some embarrassing photos of our college years - like the time Julie put on a paper pleated Christmas tree skirt as a real skirt - complete with black high heels.
But it's late and I'm too tired. If I can muster the mojo chunk of time tomorrow to dive down that rabbit hole, I will.
Jules and I have always had a bond and after I got married we lost touch for a bit (definitely my fault). After catching up at a friends wedding several years ago in Denver (where I got to meet her delightful, hilarious, and perfectly matched husband Jeff), we started sending Christmas cards and occasional emails.
They have completed all of their paperwork and are in "queue" for a referral to their son. They have been chosen for a fundraiser this month by "Go. Seek. Love."
Visit Julie's blog or go straight to the Go. Seek. Love. website. For each purchase, or simply spreading the word via any social media, you will be entered to win a $20 Amazon gift card.
Did you hear that? NO PURCHASE NECESSARY!!! But once you look at the cute t-shirts, you'll want one.
Let's bring this boy home to his amazing forever family.
Dear 22 year-old Self,
guy man will be your husband soon.
After knowing him for 15 years and being married to him for 14 of those years, I'd like to give you some advice and wisdom I've gathered.
First of all, NERDY IS GOOD!!! Remember the "cool" guys that flattered you with a glance or a short conversation during your high school and college years? Yeah, those guys, you know which ones. They flattered you because clearly they thought more of themselves than of others - namely you.
Those guys are not the ones who will ask permission for a first kiss or bring you a rose as a public declaration of his pursuit of you.
It is also the most rewarding and fulfilling relationship you'll have with another human being.
First of all, when he proposes, just say YES! Don't stumble over your words and tell him to shut up. Sure, it makes a good story later, but give the guy a break.
Yup, there will be children. I'll get to that part, be patient.
Read this and this before the wedding. Then read the first one again because it is just that important.
The first couple of years of marriage are going to be a roller coaster. The poor guy did not have any sisters and thank God he never lived with any women but his mother. (No, falling asleep on your couch in college does not count. Even if he did wake up the next day.)
Take all the ups and downs less personally. Don't get upset during the first year when he wants his own space in your bed so that he can actually sleep. He was used to sleeping by himself, it's not personal.
Define some limits about what neither of you will ever say during arguments or within your marriage at all. It will cause less pain to decide that at the front end of the relationship rather than learning it the hard way. Learning the hard way sucked.
Those qualities make him a wonderful provider though and when it is your time to quit your paying job and raise those little ones, you can trust that he will take care of you all financially.
Never lose sight of taking care of him first and foremost.
I will let you in on a little secret. Your husband's love languages are "quality time" and "words of affirmation." Prioritize those and love him well.
You are NOT his Holy Spirit. Talk less. Pray more. Seek God. Wait on God. God will work on your husband.
Yup, boys. All of them. When you least expect it, there might be a little estrogen in the mix. Just wait.
Regardless of the curve balls parenting will throw at you, you must keep your marriage as the top priority. When other women stand in disbelief at the number of days he spends hunting, you just kiss him good bye, tell him to bring home a lot of meat for the freezer, and remind him that there will be good reasons to come home. 
Speaking of staying home, SERVE. Serve your family with a thankful heart. I'm sure I will be writing a letter to the 36 year-old Self in another 14 years that talks about cherishing the time you have before they all grow up and move out. So when you're 29 and in the thick of little ones needing you all.the.time. and a husband who (thank God) wants quality time with you, die to that selfish desire to get in your car and drive to TJMaxx away for that coveted "me time."
During particularly stressful times, your man will convert his stress to conflict. Again, this isn't anything personal. He carries the weight of a large family and drive for success on his shoulders. Job change or financial stress can cause him to act like a jerk. I am writing to remind you that you are no gem when you're PMS-ing, sleep deprived, or in labor (to mention just a few of many examples), so give grace as you would like to receive grace.
When he acts like a jerk, don't EVER complain to or confide in anyone who doesn't already love him and think the best of him. It will be so important to have women in your life who will tell you that, "Yes, he is acting like a jerk. He is a wonderful man (and here is why), now go home and treat him well."
And after 14 years of marriage, he will still:
Because 14 years goes quickly. Your parents are right on that one and so am I.
Love, Your 36 year-old Self
A decade of Mother's Days? Really?
My man has come a long way. Ten years ago on my very first Mother's Day as a mom, I held my sweet little six week old baby in my arms, all bleary eyed and lacking sleep. I was excited to receive whatever sentimental treasure my Beloved had carefully chosen for me out of immeasurable gratitude for birthing, nourishing, and caring for his son.
The blank stare accompanied by a, "What? You're not MY mother!" was not quite what I had in mind.
If anything, he is a quick study, because that was the one and only time that has happened in a decade. I'm sure my hormonal tears told him all he needed to know.
He's going to love me for telling that story. Anyhoo.
This year, we escaped the land of eternal winter to soak up some heat in Moab (again).
We enjoyed an adventurous weekend of camping and hiking and eating and getting red sand in every possible crack and crevice.
Did I mention that it was 90 degrees? I loved it - even when my deoderant stopped working. Heck, I even loved it when Kenyon's deoderant stopped working.
The best Mother's Day card came from my sweet eight year-old Sauce. At the risk of giving him a good reason to put me in a crappy nursing home someday, I am going to share his card here.
The front:
The inside: 
