our morning around here...

fun with our playmat (thank you, Goodwill, for this find!)

sisters

distracted by doggie

oh, yeah. there's mom too.

don't you hate it when you focus so hard that your eyes cross?
fun!
meanwhile...

big sis set up a royal horse wedding
(the pink one is the bride, brown one the groom, and small yellow one with a tutu is officiating)

the dog chewed on a dragon

and the boy cuddled with his blanket,
undecided about whether or not the day was worth waking up for

why you might want to have tissue in hand if you ask me where Jocelyn is going to school this year

January of this year just wasn't a good month for blog posts.

I started the month with a post about a shirt's logo that I liked and a conversation that Lee and I had about it, and people were confused by the meaning of the shirt. (In case you're still wondering, the designer of it meant the logo to be a display love for people with special needs.)

I ended the month with a post about our adoption and home-selling plans, which was followed by a post in February with completely different plans. (Way, way, way better plans, because they included our news about expecting Zoe).

And in the middle of the month? A post in which I explained that we would be sending Jocelyn to public school. 

And now?

I honestly don't know.

Here's what I do know:

  • None of the current options with our school district would work well for our girl. (We moved after the choice rounds in our district, which means you get offered whatever kindergarten seats are left over. At this point, that's one school that is way far away from our house. Thanks, but no thanks.)
  • We're still unwilling to consider private school, not only because we're still uncomfortable with the exclusion of kids with special needs from the private school we would otherwise consider but also because we'd like to adopt again in the future (and if we do have to fundraise again to do so, we want to be able to clearly say that we've made financial choices to support our adoption before asking others to support it as well).
  • Any of the charter schools we might have considered are currently full. 
  • It looks like homeschooling is the only other option on the table.
We're concurrently making plans for what homeschooling would look like this year, with a planned start date of September 10, and watching the student seat availability reports for our school district in hopes that something will open up or come close enough to opening up for the student assignment folks to offer us a seat. 

I interrupt this post to remind all of you that I LIKE PLANS. God has clearly deemed that 2012 is the year of teaching me to hold plans loosely and be more flexible, but some days I just want to curl up in the fetal position while hugging a planner and pretending that I have some control over my life. I am thankful that God is in control, and I do know that His plans are so much better than mine, but that doesn't mean I'm not struggling with the loss of the plans I expected.

So when you ask where Jocelyn is going to school this year, please forgive me if I force a huge smile, proudly announce that I think we're homeschooling but I'm not really sure because I still kind of hope that Plan A of the public school we really like will work out, and then promptly burst into tears. 

(You think I kid. I assure you that I do not.)

the tale of two MRIs

I have never sobbed over any medical reports for our family.

Before yesterday, that is.

I've gotten news about necessary surgeries and possible cancers (no actual ones, thankfully) and chronic diseases and serious infections, and while I did shed a tear or two over each, it was never much. I'm just not much of a crier.

(If I'm mad or insulted, that's another story. Bring on the waterworks then.)

On Friday, I received an email with the results of Zoe's MRI. A lot of the words are medical gobbledegoo to my brain, but these words from Dr. W required no interpretation:
This is much better than we thought it would be. This matches her clinical presentation much better than the prior MRI.
Oh, geez. I couldn't write this post or even call friends yesterday because of the happy tears, and now they've started up again.

She still has PVL, the type of brain damage shown in her MRI from Taiwan. Her diagnosis is still infantile cerebral palsy. In the past couple of days, Lee and I have finally been able to see the difference between the spasticity in Zoe's legs and the typical jerkiness of other baby's legs. We still don't know what her limitations will be, so we're still taking everything day by day and raising her in the same way that we have parented our other two blessings.

But Dr. W has reviewed both MRIs - the actual images, not just the reports - and what was severe PVL in Taiwan is now mild-moderate PVL. I don't expect that to make much sense to anyone who hasn't spent the last six months reading medical journal about PVL (yes, I am a nerd), but let me tell you why this is a very, very, very, very big deal:
  • First, a confession: I haven't admitted here about the bad news from our neurology appointment last week. While Dr. W said Zoe was exceeding all his expectations, which I told you, he also talked to me a little more about the degree of PVL in her MRI from Taiwan. Before that, I thought she just had small areas of PVL that were spread out, and I was wrong. The MRI from Taiwan showed a lot of damage all over. A lot. All over. The images of a patient's brain don't show her potential, but it was still bittersweet to find out that her brain was in worse shape than I had previously thought, even while we were finding out that she was doing better than the doctor had hoped for from the images he had seen.
  • But... wait for it... the miracle. PVL is a static kind of brain damage. In other words, PVL - by definition - doesn't change over time. It is a type of constant, non-progressive brain damage, meaning it stays the same without getting smaller, going away, or getting bigger. Having one MRI in Taiwan show severe PVL and another MRI here show mild/moderate PVL (both classifications given by the same doctor reviewing the records here, so it's not a difference in interpretation by two different people)? That, my friends, is a miracle. By all medical criteria, the news in my inbox on Friday should not have been true.
I need to bust out a thesaurus, because my usual go-to words - excited and thankful - just doesn't cut it. Elated. Blissful. Overjoyed. Full of praise. Those don't even quite hit the mark. 

These do, though:

Now to him who is able to do far more abundantly than all that we ask or think, 
according to the power at work within us, to him be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus 
throughout all generations, forever and ever.
{Ephesians 3:20-21}

our sweet girl in my lap as we checked in to the hospital for her MRI

~+~
P.S. As you praise God for this news, would you pray with me for another little one from our church, who was also adopted and who also has unique medical needs? Some of his condition involves a lot of unknowns, and lately the questions (and the hospital stays) have piled up with very few answers. Join me in praying for conclusive medical findings for him, leading to a definite treatment and therapy plan.

I don't know why God would provide such amazing and clear news for Zoe while He hasn't done that yet for our friends. We do know, though, (as do they) that God is good, and we trust Him, as we look forward to all He has in store for both of our precious babies. 

in need of a little Compassion...

Nope, not me. I'm doing just fine. (Ish.)

But there are kids all over the world who could use a little Compassion. Y'all know that I'm passionate about adoption, but even more than that, I'm passionate about keeping would-be orphans with their families whenever possible.

Because the truth is, many orphans have at least one living parent, but a mess of reasons - largely stemming from poverty - render some of those parents unable to care for their children. Sometimes if those barriers can be removed, families can stay together.

That's why we give to Morning Light Ministries in Taiwan (see the end of this post for more on that), because they don't just facilitate adoptions but they also work to remove barriers so that single mothers can have the option to keep their children. And that's why we give to Compassion, because we love a fourth child like our own.

This Joselin (note the different spelling) isn't ours, though, and she won't ever be. She has a family, and she writes about them in her letters to us. We prayed for mother's health when she was fighting malaria, and we've prayed for other family members when Joselin has mentioned them in her letters to us. We thank God for her family. (What's even sweeter is that she writes in her letters that she's praying for us, too.)

Our support each month goes toward practical needs, like food and education and medical care, and for many Compassion families, this support makes the difference between a family staying together and a family having to fracture to survive. That's part of why I encourage friends to consider Compassion if they're interested in sponsoring a child in need.

But it's more than that. We're comfortable supporting Joselin through Compassion because we know that our $38 each month goes toward more than just her physical and educational needs. Compassion is unashamed about presenting the gospel. Some other programs that allow the sort of financial "adoption," if you'll permit that word here, refuse to emphasize the gospel. Compassion works exclusively through the local church in the countries they operate, and they share Christ in their words and actions.

That matters a whole lot to me. In fact, when Lee and I consider ministries to support financially, we look for how they partner with the local church and how they share the gospel in word and deed. It's a deal-breaker for us if a ministry refuses to partner with churches or share Christ with those they serve. Yes, meeting earthly needs is important, but it's futile if we neglect the eternal need of each person to know Jesus. (On the other hand, we have never supported a church or ministry that isn't concerned about the earthly needs of those they serve, because it's disingenuous to say we care about your soul but not your body.)

So we support Compassion. And occasionally, I blog about it, because anything that's worth supporting with my money is worth supporting with my words as well.

If you'd like to know more about child sponsorship through Compassion, here's the link where you can see children in need of support. And if you already love Compassion and want to contact to their blogger network, here's the place to do it.

As for my kids, we pray for each of them - Jocelyn, Robbie, Zoe, and Joselin - each night. Because all four of them are worthy of - you guessed it - compassion (and love. and a family).

As is the child you see below.


Sponsor a Child

the great laundry game

I'm a task-oriented person.

So much so that I have seemed rude at times when I've walked away from a conversation before it's over, not realizing until later that I walked away before engaging in the relational stuff that customarily wraps up a chat - you know, the pleasantries of the "nice to see you, must be going now, have a great day, goodbye now." I really don't mean to be abrupt, but I know I do this often at church, especially when I'm torn between chatting with friends on the way to the children's building where I have the task I love of making sure kids with special needs are supported well each week.

If you know me in real life, I'm guessing I've probably walked away without saying goodbye at least once. I'm sorry!

Anywho, this can cause problems in teaching our own children to be part of keeping our home in order. I'm focused on getting the chores done, not on teaching my kids through the process. Recently, my friend Shelly asked on Facebook for ideas for chores for her three-year-old son, and our friend Karen said:
A three yr old can make their bed, not well, but it is all about training! Dusting, straightening pillows on the couch, windex low windows, match socks, put away folded laundry in low drawers, feed the dog, water the flowers/plants. Just keep in mind that the goal is to teach family participation and responsibility and its not really about accomplishing the actual chores. Wow... I sure do miss having a three year old!
Jocelyn and Robbie are both big enough to accomplish actual chores without my help, but I needed Karen's words to remind me that I want us to function as a family and not just task-oriented individuals.

Thus the great laundry game was born.

He's wearing one Spider-Man shirt while holding up another. Anyone wanna guess what his latest obsession is?

The basics:

  • One laundry basket in each corner of the room.
  • All the clean laundry dumped on the couch.
  • Silliness encouraged.
Why, yes, it had been a while since I had put laundry away... and, yes, Jocelyn is wearing a nightgown.

The process: I show the kids which basket belongs to which child, and then we run around the room sorting the laundry. (If you have fewer family members and/or more baskets - or, in our case, baskets and boxes, since Zoe's "basket" was actually a file box - then you could put underwear and socks in one, tops in one, and bottoms in another. Whatever categories work best for you!)

So far, I've only done this with kids' clothes, because (a) adult clothes wrinkle more easily, so I try to hang those up and put them away more quickly and (b) it's more effort than it's worth to pre-sort underwear out and I'm not okay with Jocelyn and Robbie sorting those for me. When I get laundry out of the dryer, I throw the kids' stuff into a basket until the next great laundry game, and I put away the stuff that belongs to me and Lee.

Does it get the kids' laundry folded or hung up and put away? Nope. After the game, we go to each of their rooms to do that. (In Jocelyn's and Zoe's rooms, Jocelyn helps with hanging and folding and putting away while Robbie plays. In Robbie's room, they clean up his toys and books while I put clothes away. And Zoe either hangs out in my sling or on a blanket on the floor or in some sort of seat.)

See the baskets in the top corners and the box in the bottom left. And, please, ignore the mess. We were focusing on laundry, not other clutter...

Works for us. And the kids love it! (Though I don't think they know it's a chore. Sneaky, I know.)

And, of course, every great game needs spectators. You saw the black furry one above, and here's the one who didn't make it into that shot.