Oh, give me the beat boys, and free my soul, I want to get lost in your rock and roll and drift away..came on the radio this morning as I was driving the girls to school. I turned it up and sang along with my "son's" voice singing with me in my mind.
Tears came to my eyes and I said a prayer for four children whom I no longer have, but hold forever in my heart.
After being blessed with three wonderful daughters, the time came when it felt right to pursue my dream of having a large family through adoption.
Ever since I was little I wanted to adopt. I am not sure where this came from, but as a pastor's kid I saw firsthand countless couples make the decision to adopt, struggle through getting all the paperwork done, raise money, and wait and wait and wait...to bring their child(ren) home. As I got older I watched my friends go through this same process and shared their sorrows and joys.
Finally, I felt ready to do this personally. I went through foster care training in the hope of adopting a sibling group already waiting for their forever family in the United States. Once I received certification I began the process of getting my name on waiting lists. My whole adoption journey is another story for a different time, but lets just say the red tape involved, even in the US, was quite disappointing.
The girls were away visiting my parents in NYC and I was very discouraged. I was lamenting how unfair the process was as I had just lost the opportunity to meet a sibling group of four girls, after being chosen as one of three possibilities for them. "I just wish the phone would ring and someone would said hey we have kids for you...." I said.
Within five seconds of uttering these words, the phone rang.
It was our caseworker saying she had a sibling group of four who needed a place to stay immediately. They were not adoptable at this time, and older, but could I house them for just the week. Within 30 minutes I was at the police station to bring these kids home and I became a "mom" to seven kids.
What was suppose to be just the week turned into four months.
There is a lot of things I will share eventually about being a foster mom and my adoption process. And yet, there is still a lot that my heart holds, but cannot find the words to express.
Today, I continually celebrate my three blessings and share the joys with Mike and his three wonderful kids. There are four other souls that I think of every day. Their picture hangs on our fridge. I remember their birthdays, although they would never know.
So this morning when a song played and I heard my "son" singing I need to share. Because somewhere there are four kids who will forever be a part of me. And every day I wonder and I pray and I hope. For I will never believe that what I gave to them in those four months was enough, yet I am still discovering all that they gave to me.
February 6, 2013
January 30, 2013
Do You Believe in Fairytales?
I have friends that could tell countless tales about their family history. I marvel at the stories and it is a treasure to see the photographs that often depict their tales. I however, have heard bits and pieces growing up of my own family history, but often would scratch my head and wonder.
Last May 10, on my 35th birthday, I attended my grandfather's funeral. He was the last grandparent I had alive. At his funeral my cousins shared Poppop's background that I was aware of, but never knew all of. Recently I received a copy of this and photos that I treasure.
Because his father wanted him to pursue a different major than he wanted, he didn't go to college. Even when he took his friend to fill out college paperwork and ended up in a pick-up basketball game where the coach, on the spot, offered him a scholarship, he still said no.
When my grandfather died I wrote about how I believe Emma, my grandmother, was waiting for him calling him home- http://www.sarahelink.blogspot.com/2012_05_01_archive.html.
A gypsy blooded girl with one illegal immigrant great-grandfather from Saudi Arabia, who after being denied access into the US at Ellis Island decided to jump ship and swim ashore, and a grandmother arrested for selling antiques that were not hers, and several shiny suited mafia looking "great uncles"... make my tales a little less normal than others.
Last May 10, on my 35th birthday, I attended my grandfather's funeral. He was the last grandparent I had alive. At his funeral my cousins shared Poppop's background that I was aware of, but never knew all of. Recently I received a copy of this and photos that I treasure.
Poppop was the son of said illegal immigrant great-grandfather from Saudi Arabia and grew up athletic and adventurous. His senior yearbook said of him, "His nickname may well be called Flash. He is our basketball and baseball player. Fred is our tall, dark and handsome Romeo." The yearbook went on to predict my Poppop as becoming a professional athlete probably playing football.
Because his father wanted him to pursue a different major than he wanted, he didn't go to college. Even when he took his friend to fill out college paperwork and ended up in a pick-up basketball game where the coach, on the spot, offered him a scholarship, he still said no.
On Oct 6, 1945 he married my grandmother. She was diagnosed in 1981 with colon cancer and was not expected to live long. He decided to take early retirement from his management position so he could spend their last few years together caring for her.
Twenty-seven years later in 2008, on my mother's 55th birthday, my grandmother passed away.
Of all that he could have done during those years, I never heard him once lament what he had given up. What I did see was he repeated love and care for the woman he loved.
When my grandfather died I wrote about how I believe Emma, my grandmother, was waiting for him calling him home- http://www.sarahelink.blogspot.com/2012_05_01_archive.html.
History is filled with tales of love, honor and sacrifice. With battles exaggerated to make the hero's victory just a little bit sweeter.
While I don't believe in the damsel in distress come show me your undying love by rescuing me stuff, I do believe that there are some beautiful tales of love. Poppop's adoration for his bride is one that makes me believe that "happily ever afters" do exist.
January 23, 2013
Contrary Answer to my Prayer
Javan wrote, "I often wondered and racked my brain, but I guess I'll never know, why one person looks and sees the rain, while another is seeing a rainbow."
No matter how optimistic I approach life, the truth is that sometimes parts of it are scary and hard.
Last week I burnt my grievances (http://www.sarahelink.blogspot.com/2013/01/your-glimpse-into-burning-of-my.html), but they still creep into my head. I make a daily choice to remember I let things go. I literally stop my thought train and reroute it to the now. I am learning to work my own thoughts into the joy of now.
I have been gifted with the ability to break challenges down into smaller steps and accomplish them successfully. This has also sometimes cursed me when a long time ago, on multiple occasions, I failed to show grace to others because this was not easy for them.
There are three particular things on my heart right now that I wish I could just fix for others. Last night I laid awake thinking about a lot of things, ending up conversing with God about one in particular.
"Please God, make it easy for him," I prayed over and over again. "Keep him safe, please."
A watchful heart and mind would not let me drift into deep slumber, but I rested.
This morning I woke up and during my newly established quiet time I read a daily devotional of Dietrich Bonhoeffer. After reading James 1:2-4, I read the following for today: Nothing can fill the gap when we are away from those we love....It is nonsense to say that God fills the gap: he does not fill it, but keeps it empty so that our communion with another may be kept alive, even at the cost of pain.
The reading goes on to say..."The unresolved issues in our lives become the opportunity for us to pray, persevere, adjust, and grow to become more open, caring, patient, and giving. And when there is no resolution, the delicate plant of hope can grow."
Not exactly what I wanted to hear this morning. And it got worse...the prayer I read at the conclusion...Lord, in the times of loneliness and difficulty, help me NOT to press you for easy solutions which provide relief but no growth and no long-term resolution. Amen.
I shut the book in frustration. "How could you show me something so contrary to what my heart was asking?" I thought.
Immediately another quote came to mind, "Peace. It does not mean to be in a place where there is no noise, trouble, or hard work. It means to be in the midst of those things and still be calm in your heart."
I watched the darkness of the morning starting to turn as the sun rose welcoming a new day.
Peace.
I opened the book again and read the prayer slowly committing each word as a honest expression of where I need to be...."help me not to press you for easy solutions which provide relief but no growth and no long-term resolutions. Amen."
No matter how optimistic I approach life, the truth is that sometimes parts of it are scary and hard.
Last week I burnt my grievances (http://www.sarahelink.blogspot.com/2013/01/your-glimpse-into-burning-of-my.html), but they still creep into my head. I make a daily choice to remember I let things go. I literally stop my thought train and reroute it to the now. I am learning to work my own thoughts into the joy of now.
I have been gifted with the ability to break challenges down into smaller steps and accomplish them successfully. This has also sometimes cursed me when a long time ago, on multiple occasions, I failed to show grace to others because this was not easy for them.
There are three particular things on my heart right now that I wish I could just fix for others. Last night I laid awake thinking about a lot of things, ending up conversing with God about one in particular.
"Please God, make it easy for him," I prayed over and over again. "Keep him safe, please."
A watchful heart and mind would not let me drift into deep slumber, but I rested.
This morning I woke up and during my newly established quiet time I read a daily devotional of Dietrich Bonhoeffer. After reading James 1:2-4, I read the following for today: Nothing can fill the gap when we are away from those we love....It is nonsense to say that God fills the gap: he does not fill it, but keeps it empty so that our communion with another may be kept alive, even at the cost of pain.
The reading goes on to say..."The unresolved issues in our lives become the opportunity for us to pray, persevere, adjust, and grow to become more open, caring, patient, and giving. And when there is no resolution, the delicate plant of hope can grow."
Not exactly what I wanted to hear this morning. And it got worse...the prayer I read at the conclusion...Lord, in the times of loneliness and difficulty, help me NOT to press you for easy solutions which provide relief but no growth and no long-term resolution. Amen.
I shut the book in frustration. "How could you show me something so contrary to what my heart was asking?" I thought.
Immediately another quote came to mind, "Peace. It does not mean to be in a place where there is no noise, trouble, or hard work. It means to be in the midst of those things and still be calm in your heart."
I watched the darkness of the morning starting to turn as the sun rose welcoming a new day.
Peace.
I opened the book again and read the prayer slowly committing each word as a honest expression of where I need to be...."help me not to press you for easy solutions which provide relief but no growth and no long-term resolutions. Amen."
January 16, 2013
Your glimpse into the burning of my grievances
A quietness hangs in the house that usually I enjoy. I find myself restless in the air of nothingness as I write out my grievances onto torn pieces of paper.
The words I write are few but the emotions behind them are so deep; some still too raw. It takes a long time to purge my heart.
Each slip of paper contains a negative that I have harbored too long. Some I inflicted upon myself, some others gave to me. And instead of letting them go, I carried them with me far too long.
I light a single candle and place it above the torn paper.
One-by-one I pick up each piece of paper and read it out loud. Almost each time after I have verbally spoken the words, I find myself closing my eyes and breathing deep.
I hold the piece of paper in the flame and watch the words burn to ashes. Physically trying to release each one as the flames consume the paper and smoke fills the air. I repeat this process until a pile of ashes sit where the torn pieces of paper once were.
Smoke dances off the pile of ashes in a whimsical way reminding me that through the dark, dirty, broken, pieces of life, joy can come back.
I have not started a new book in my journey. I have only closed a chapter that makes me part of who I am, but no longer holds me back to what I once was.
Each day I am gifted the opportunity to write another page in the now chapter. I choose to be the greatest character in my own tale. Not a cookie cutter of what others want, or a victim, or a damsel in distress, or a forgiveless vengeful person.
Long after the ashes have been discarded the smell of smoke still lingers on my hands. I wash it away, dry them off and begin a new now.
The words I write are few but the emotions behind them are so deep; some still too raw. It takes a long time to purge my heart.
Each slip of paper contains a negative that I have harbored too long. Some I inflicted upon myself, some others gave to me. And instead of letting them go, I carried them with me far too long.
I light a single candle and place it above the torn paper.
One-by-one I pick up each piece of paper and read it out loud. Almost each time after I have verbally spoken the words, I find myself closing my eyes and breathing deep.
I hold the piece of paper in the flame and watch the words burn to ashes. Physically trying to release each one as the flames consume the paper and smoke fills the air. I repeat this process until a pile of ashes sit where the torn pieces of paper once were.
Smoke dances off the pile of ashes in a whimsical way reminding me that through the dark, dirty, broken, pieces of life, joy can come back.
I have not started a new book in my journey. I have only closed a chapter that makes me part of who I am, but no longer holds me back to what I once was.
Each day I am gifted the opportunity to write another page in the now chapter. I choose to be the greatest character in my own tale. Not a cookie cutter of what others want, or a victim, or a damsel in distress, or a forgiveless vengeful person.
Long after the ashes have been discarded the smell of smoke still lingers on my hands. I wash it away, dry them off and begin a new now.
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