Coming Out of the Pit

My first husband was abusive.

After we split, life became very difficult. He stalked me. He would somehow get into my house when I was gone and steal pictures of our son off of my walls. Sometimes, I would be sitting at the dinner table with my son, and he would call and say, "How is that spaghetti you're eating?" It was really scary....especially since my blinds were CLOSED. He would say, "That's a nice pink shirt you have on....is that new?"

It was horrible. And so very frightening. I also worried about my son, and I feared that somehow he would take him from me.

For years, when he would call on the phone, I would hear his voice and my hands would turn ice cold. I would shake all over. Sometimes, I would curl up into a fetal position and just sob.

But God is good.

One day when he called me, I started falling into the same pattern of fear and oppression. Then, it was like God just gave me a boldness that was truly from Him. I spoke with power and conviction....no fear....and said, "I am no longer under bondage to you. God has set me free from that prison, and I come against you in the name of Jesus."

For the first time since I'd known him, he was speechless. God took the wind right out of his sails.

It took me FIVE YEARS to climb out of the pit enough to be able to be that bold....that SURE of the grace of God....to say those things to him.

There were times that he tried to intimidate me after that, but MY reactions were never what they had been before. God had set me free from that overwhelming sense of fear and oppression.

Today, I am married to a wonderful man. I have six more children (adopted) and although life is hard sometimes, I am so utterly blessed.

That doesn't mean I never feel fear.

That doesn't mean I don't ever get stressed or depressed.

It DOES mean that I have come out of THAT pit I once was in. I sometimes start to slide into another pit, but God has been faithful to send people my way when I need a helping hand to climb out.

The ironic thing is that quite often, we are the ones who are digging these pits.

We MUST stop digging these pits for ourselves. It only adds insult to injury to realize that WE are the ones responsible for digging these terrible dank, dark pits that we find ourselves in. Our decisions--our choices--are ultimately what bring us to the brink of the pit.

After all, the view is amazing from the edge, isn't it? Who can resist peering into the depths below? However, just like curiosity killed that unfortunate cat, all it takes is one slip--one misstep--and over the edge we go. As we are sliding down the slope, we realize too late that we got too close to the edge.

Stuck in the mire and muck, with the top so far away, we ask ourselves, "Why did I get so close? Why did I tempt fate? Why did I stray from the path that I knew was safe?"

It's simple. We did it because we are human.

We are fallible. We make mistakes. Big ones. Sometimes, the mistakes seem so HUGE that we can't see a possible way out. However, as I heard so many times growing up, God can make a way out of no way.

And you know what? He created us, so He knows how screwed up we are! It's a good thing He loves us enough to stand at the edge of that pit and reach down for us.

That's one of the wonderful things about God: We can't slip so far into that pit that He can't reach us anymore. We might not be able to see the top. We might not be able to climb that slippery slope. But God...our All-Knowing, All-Powerful Father...the King of Kings...the I Am...the Light in the darkness...His reach is infinite. He knows no bounds.

When we can't reach the top, He CAN reach the bottom. I believe that one day YOU will be able to look back at this time in your life and declare that you have climbed--or been lifted--out of this pit.

You will be able to testify to someone else to give them encouragement.

You will be able to boost them during their climb.

Hang in there. Trust in God. He is there....even when you doubt it. His presence will become evident with time. Not our time, but His.

More than once, I thought about suicide because I thought it was the only way to be free from the the pit I was in. However, I couldn't leave my son with my ex-husband as his only parent. I am so thankful that I didn't give up.

To come from that dark, forboding place to where I am now.... Well, it's like going from the longest, darkest, and coldest winter night to a beautiful, sunshine-filled warm spring day with blooming flowers and singing birds.

Remember that sorrow may endure for the night, but joy comes in the morning. You may be in the middle of your night right now....but morning will come. The sun will shine.

And along with that sun, joy will arrive also.

As odd as it sounds, I think I am writing this to myself as much as I am writing it to you. I have been feeling down lately....and a bit sorry for myself. I needed a reminder of where I came from so that I can open my eyes to see the blessings around me.

Wishing you all comforting peace.

You are not alone.

I'm Here Because She Got Drunk

As I have mentioned previously, dinner conversation at our house is interesting, to say the least. Tonight's conversation was no exception.

Kim: A mom had octuplets today.

CJ: What's that?

Kim: Eight babies.

Zach: All at once?!

Gabby: Wow! They must've done it a long time! Like eight hours!

At this point, I heard a little alarm going off in my head telling me to take control of the conversation. Unfortunately, my mouth was full of food, and before I could swallow.....

Ben: Did what for eight hours?

CJ: Sex.

Gabby: Yuck!

Zach: Well, that is where babies come from.

CJ: Not me.

By this time, I had swallowed my food, so I tried to step in. Mike's alarm system was apparently not functioning at all.

Me: Well, yes, CJ....even you. All of you are here because your birth parents had sex.

CJ: Nope, not me. I'm here because she got drunk!

It's a Colorful Life

As a white woman who is a mother of one bio white kid and six adopted black kids, the topic of skin color is no stranger to me. My hubby and I learned several years ago that tip-toeing through these discussions wasn't going to cut it.

It hit home for me when Kim (then 4, now almost 10) was shopping with me one day. We were walking through the toy aisle looking at dolls. She looked at two dolls and commented that "this doll matches me, but that doll matches you." Then, in her very honest 4 year old way, she said, "Mommy, we don't match."

What could I say?

"No, honey....we don't."

She said, "Well, we should match. Maybe we can buy something that will make us match."

Intriqued by her thought process, I asked, "Like what?"

She responded, "Brown paint. We can paint you."

I said, "Hmm.....that's an idea."

Kim, who was a very bright 4 year old, said, "Of course, the paint might crack, and then it would look ugly."

I said, "Yeah, that wouldn't be very good."

"Then what are we gonna do?" asked Kim. "We don't match!"

I gave it a moment of thought, then I said, "Well, honey....why do we have to match? Why can't I be the color God made me, and you be the color God made you?"

Kim took all of this in and then sighed very loudly and said, "Okay....but we're never going to match this way."

The following year, we were doll-shopping yet again. She wanted a water baby....one of those dolls that you fill up with water so they jiggle. Everywhere we went, we found WHITE water babies. I felt very strongly that she should have a BLACK water baby. Because, after all, her baby doll should match her. Right?

After the fourth store we went to, I was ready to give up. I looked at her and said, "I'm sorry, Sweetie. I'll look online and see if we can find you one that way."

She picked up a white, blonde haired, blue-eyed doll and said, "Why can't I just get this one?"

Honestly, I was taken aback. I thought, What kind of mother would I be? What would other people think if I buy her a white baby doll?

I said, "Kimi....honey.....don't you want to wait and get a black baby?"

In her matter-of-fact way that always brings things very clearly into perspective for me, Kimi said, "Why can't I have the little white baby? I have a white Mommy. You're white, and you have me. I'm black. I thought it's okay if we don't match?"

Point taken. I bought her the white baby doll.

When our first sibling group of three kids came to live with us in 2003, I knew NOTHING about African American hair care. However, I knew that I didn't want people to look at my kids and KNOW that they had a white Mom.

So I began to educate myself.

I found a book on Amazon called "It's All Good Hair" that was a life saver for me! I am very proud to say that now I know how to braid, do twists, put in extensions, and even how to perm (straighten) hair.

However, when our other three kids (sibling group #2) moved in very unexpectedly with only about 5 hours notice, I started to really struggle with the time factor. Kim, forever my fashion forward child, decided she wanted to lock her hair.....so I researched it, and we did it. It took a year for her hair to lock, but it is beautiful and healthy....and now my other two girls and one of my sons have decided they want their hair locked, as well.

I must admit, I take a lot of pride when someone comes up to me and asks me who does my girls' hair.... I love saying, "I do their hair."

I'm a southern girl with a DEEP twang in my voice.....a combination of growing up in West Virginia and living for many years as an adult in South Carolina. That twang will never go away. It's part of me. I grew up in a predominately white area....there was only one African American student in my entire graduating class. Although I did not realize it at the time, there was a lot of racism all around me. My parents sheltered me and my brothers and sisters from that.

However, racism does exist. And just as my parents couldn't shelter us forever, neither can I shelter my children forever. I know that. Which is why we do have a LOT of discussions about race in our house. I have learned, however, that refusing to admit that there are differences is just as bad as refusing to admit that there are many similarities.

I can't care for my girls' hair the same way I care for mine. It would damage their beautiful hair. My adopted children need more lotion for their skin than my biological son needed. To ignore these differences in hair and skin care would be neglectful. I must acknowledge the differences in order to be a good mom.

But I'm okay with that.

I have seven children, and they are ALL unique. I never fully appreciated the subtle variations of skin color and tone until I became aware of how beautiful Kim looks in bright turquoise and how beautiful Rhiana looks in moss green. It sounds a little ridiculous and cliche....but really....the differences create the beauty.

The world would be very boring if we were all the same.

The quilt on my bed would be very plain if it were all one color.

I am thankful for the beautiful colors that surround me.

Kim is our gifted child

The other night, while we were having dinner, Kim told us that she had gotten stung by a bee earlier at school. This started a big discussion on who had been stung where by what.

Of course, MY terrible bee sting story involved a wasp (I know...that's not a bee) that flew up my shirt and stung me 5 or 6 times before I got it out of my shirt.

As I told the kids this story, they all sat with alternating looks of fascination and horror. Except Kim...she just stuck with horror. Finally, when she was able to speak, she asked the question that was weighing heavily on her mind.....

"Mommy...you got stung 5 or 6 times?"

"Yes," I replied.

With a very serious expression on her face, she said, "That's awful! Did you die?"

Hmmmm...........

When I Grow Up, I'm Gonna Have a Uterus!

As some of you know, the NBC Nightly News crew came to our house yesterday. They were doing a story on Generations of Hope that focused on the relationship between our family and one of the "grandparents" in the neighborhood.

They decided that they wanted to get a "Norman Rockwell" shot of our huge family sitting around the dinner table. After the prayer and our "Best Part of the Day" routine, they decided they had enough film, so they turned off the cameras and left.

Finally.

Good thing.

Right afterwards, the conversation took an...ummmm.....interesting turn....

I'm not sure how the conversation started. Maybe we were discussing the birth of my new niece, Abigail. Whatever started it, the conversation ended up being about babies.

I believe that if kids are old enough to ask questions, they are old enough to get honest answers. We always try to answer their questions honestly, without embarrassment, and using proper terms.

I'm glad the cameras were no longer rolling to hear me discussing sperm, eggs, fallopian tubes and the uterus over our meatball stroganoff. I don't think that is what they had in mind when they said they needed a "Norman Rockwell" moment.

However, I must admit that I *almost* wish the cameras were still rolling to get Gabby's next statement on film for posterity....

With a determined look full of wonder and excitement, she exclaimed, "When I grow up, I'm gonna have a uterus!"

Things I Learned Today

Taking "stay awake" meds too late in the day makes it very hard to fall asleep at night. (Don't worry...they're MINE...prescribed by a doc for the Chronic Human Parvovirus B19.)

Lying awake until 4:00 am makes it VERY hard to drag yourself out of bed the next morning at 7:00.

Completely forgetting to take "stay awake" meds after being awake until 4:00 am enables you to fall asleep just about anywhere and anytime.

Sleeping on newly pierced ears is a bit uncomfortable.

If you wait until you are 38 years old to get your ears pierced, you wonder why you wanted so long.

Conquering your fear of getting your ears pierced at the age of 38 makes you feel brave.

It might be better to feel cautious instead of brave when you decide to go for a new haircut.

Showing the hair stylist a picture of the cut AND color you want does not necessarily make it fool-proof.

When you show the hair stylist a picture of the cut and color you want, you should make sure that she is looking at the CORRECT picture on the page.

When your vision is as bad as mine, you don't notice that you're getting the wrong color and cut until you put your glasses back .. the color and cut are finished.

It is VERY hard to NOT show surprise when you are expecting a brown bob with blonde highlights and instead you get a dark auburn shag with dark brown AND blonde highlights.

I am far too polite in circumstances like above.

When the manager is your hair stylist, there isn't really anyone left to listen to your complaint.

Tomorrow is another day...and hopefully another hair stylist will be on duty when I return to the salon to have my hair color corrected.

When you spent three hours in the chair at the salon, forget to take your stay awake meds, forget to eat, AND get the wrong color and cut, the bed looks very inviting when you see it.

Lying down for "just a few minutes" tends to stretch into several hours.

Sleeping while Mike is at work and six kids are at home is NOT a particularly smart thing to do.

Ben thinks maxipads are big band-aids.

When Ben is sent to his room for stealing his sister's pads, he pees in his old Easter bucket. (To be fair, I DID tell him not to come out of his room. It's just my luck that THAT is the direction he chose to obey.)

Pee in an Easter bucket doesn't really affect me that much anymore.

The fact that pee in an Easter bucket doesn't really affect me anymore is a bit scary.

Even THAT is not as scary as my current shade of hair color!

Good night everybody......

RAD Parenting Gone to the Dogs

We recently got a new dog. Bailey is a six month old Labrador Retriever/Rhodesian Ridgeback mix that we were fortunate enough to find at the Champaign County Humane Society. One look at those amber eyes and we were hooked.

Bailey has been a wonderful source of uninhibited energy and joy. She's a great dog. She's not Sophie....but she's not supposed to be. As a matter of fact, I think I would be hard pressed to find two dogs that were more different.

When we took her to the vet for a check up, the vet told us that although she already weighs 38 pounds, she probably has another 40 or 50 to go before she reaches her full size. That's quite a bit larger than Sophie. She was ten pounds soaking wet.

I decided that some really good training was in order. I borrowed a copy of Be the Pack Leader by Cesar Millan and started reading up on how to get control of your dog. Here are some of the very important lessons I have learned so far:

You have to be in charge. The dog can't be the pack leader. YOU have to be the Alpha.
If the dog senses weakness, it may try to take over. It's not good to be sick or tired when your dog wants to be the pack leader.

You need to maintain YOUR personal territory. If the dog is having an attitude problem, you should not let the dog sleep in your bedroom. (I made this mistake once a long time ago. I woke up with that dog standing over me growling....)

It isn't good to play tug-of-war with a dog who wants to be the Alpha. If the dog wins, you are in trouble! The dog will see you as the weaker animal and will start to fight harder for control. Once the dog knows it is stronger than you, it probably won't back down easily.

Always walk in front of your dog. It's YOUR job to lead the way. The dog is supposed to be subordinate and follow your lead. The dog can walk beside you as long as you are still deciding which direction you are heading. If you slip up and let the dog lead the way, you'll have a hard time getting the dog to follow you again.

Rewarding positive behavior is more important than punishing negative behavior. Dogs are strange creatures. Negative attention is a reward to them. The best thing to do is to ignore the behavior as long as there is no safety risk. (Easier said than done....)

When a dog wants to claim personal territory, it usually pees all over the place. For some reason, even really smart dogs can have problems in this area. Peeing on things is their way of saying, "This is MINE." You basically just have to hope that if you have TWO dogs, they don't get into a peeing competition to see who can spread their scent the farthest.

If you don't supervise your dog at all times, it may destroy lots of stuff. Shoes, remote controls, couch cushions....pretty much anything within reach. You really have to work hard to keep the dog from destroying things that are important to you.

A dog needs to have respect for you. If the dog doesn't respect you, it will NOT obey you. And no one wants a disobedient, wild, uncontrollable dog around for very long. They might look cute, but cuteness wears off after a while.

Now, if you want to know how to parent a RAD kid, simply go back and read these directions again, replacing the word "dog" with "child."

For years, I searched for a good parenting manual for kids with Reactive Attachment Disorder. Little did I know it was available at Petsmart the entire time.....