i want him to be both.

/
Thanks to Zulily, I have a new favorite boys' clothing company.


Nope, this isn't a sponsored post, and I purchased the shirt Robbie is sporting. (Though if you sign up for Zuliliy using the links in this post, I'll get a referral credit... but be forewarned that it's an addictive place for kids', home, and women's items.)


The brand is Warrior Poets, but at $32 a shirt, I wouldn't buy it at full price. When Zulily had a sale a week or two ago, though, I couldn't help myself. (Plus Robbie is growing at record pace right now, so his closet is slim pickings. Anyone have hand-me-downs in boys' size 5 or 6?)


What's with the "be both" on the shirt and in the title of this post? It's the company's philosophy, from their website:
History shows us many examples of The Warrior Poet. From the chivalrous knight, to the intrigue of the samurai, we are drawn to this gifted individual. The Warrior Poet is balanced, stronger than most, more thoughtful than most – part of the leadership class who guides with wisdom and courage. The Warrior Poet is a spiritual warrior who understands that he embodies the heavenly representation to the earth and the earthly representation to the heavens.

Like The Warrior Poet, at the core of every young man is the desire to save the day and love to the fullest. Pop culture says, “You’re either a lover or a fighter.” The Warrior Poet says, “BE BOTH!” At Warrior Poet Clothier, our crusade is, “Building Armor with a Flare for the Next Generation of Men.” Telling them to go farther, dream bigger, and look good doing it.

I know it's marketing which is clearly working on this mama, but still.


That's what I want for our Little Man.


I love his sensitivity.


I love his spirit.


I don't want the world  - or a skewed version of Christianity on either extreme, sissification or hyper-masculination - to tell him he can't be both sensitive and spirited.


Both warrior and poet.


Willing to hold his mama's hand, with dirt and clay under his nails. 

I don't fear the tears.

/

This morning found me cradling a cold cup of coffee {maybe I'll get to drink it warm once the kids are in college?} while warm tears traversed my cheeks.

Don't worry; all is well here. Zoe is doing amazing new things, like independently drinking from a sippy cup and strutting down the hall with help from a push-behind toy and ankle braces and a rockstar physical therapist.


Jocelyn is wrapping up her kindergarten year. Robbie is learning more facts about reptiles, as if he doesn't know enough yet. Lee's work is good. Adoption fundraising is coming slowly but surely. My coffee was cold, but it was good.

So why the tears?

Because I read a passage in a book in which the author talked about pastoral visits during those unexpected late-night rushes to the ER, and my mind immediately went back to Thanksgiving. I'm pretty sure I have a touch of PTSD from that night I try not to think about, lest the tears flow anew.

I can never put words to just how thoroughly Robbie's seizure shook me to my core. He hasn't had another. We're not on any seizure meds right now, and his brain seems to have recovered from the trauma of that terrible 15 minutes in November. 

But still, I'm shaken just thinking about it.

And? I'm thankful. 

I love serving families affected by disability because they live in brokenness and, unlike many other folks I see on Sunday mornings, they daily acknowledge those broken places, often in public ways. Being shaken by Robbie's seizure brought us face to face with our broken places. 

The only response to that is the same response my kids demonstrate when something of theirs is broken: bring it to Daddy for fixing.

2012 was the hardest year of my life so far, but it was the best too, as God drew us into sweet communion with Him in the midst of brokenness, showing us the beauty that could be found there. I don't doubt that 2013 will enter the record books as well, as we travel to Africa to double our number of children. 

I am thankful to consider the pain in our past over coffee and tears, and I am encouraged knowing the God who brought us through those hurts will be faithful to bring us through whatever He ordains for us in 2013 and beyond. I don't fear the future, because He is with us and leading us. 

I don't fear the tears, either. 

Sometimes it's best to let them spill out of the broken places.

our silent auction is LIVE! {plus how to see a picture of our Ugandan three!}

/
The auction is live... with the first two items, that is.

The auction itself will run online between two in-person events in June. To read more about that, go here.

To get a glimpse at the items, check out our auction/fundraising blog: because He first loved them {and us}

I'm adding more items all day today and tomorrow, and I expect to add more as we get more donations in the coming weeks.

 (On that note, do you have a vacation rental/home - possibly in the mountains or at the beach or on a lake - that you'd be willing to offer for a week to our auction? Or do you know someone who would? You can specify one week, offer a list of weeks to choose from, or work with the winner to find a mutually convenient time. If so, please email me at shannon@dinglefest.com. If it's the rental/home of someone you know or someone you've rented from, I can provide you with a donation request letter you can pass along.)

 For now, though, we have TWO items that can't wait until June. Why? Well, the first is a voucher for four tickets to the NC Symphony's Summerfest series of concerts which run through June and into the beginning of July (valued at $86, but the starting bid is only $20).

The tickets will be no good to a winner after most of the concerts have already happened! Go here for more information or to bid on the tickets.

The second item? A week of Princess Summer Camp at CC & Co Dance Complex here in Raleigh. 





We want you to have every week available to choose from for your princess (or prince!) between the ages of 2.5 and 4, so we're auctioning it off now. The value is $240, but the starting bid is only $50, so go take a look or bid now!

Please, please, please share this information with anyone who might be interested. Once I list all the auction items on the site, you'll see that we have a diverse assortment of arts, sports, gift card, and kid-friendly options (with a market value total of $5,500 in all!), but the rest won't be live until June 22.

All money earned in this auction will go directly to our adoption. Every item was donated, and a generous friend has offered to cover the expense of shipping any items to non-local winners. 

 In other words, every penny goes to bringing us together with Patience, Philip, and Patricia as a family.

 One more incentive to checking out the auction site? You'll find a picture of our Ugandan three there. Granted, their faces are covered because they aren't legally ours yet... but it's the best picture we can share until they are home!

Need an incentive to bid? Every bidder will receive a confirmation email from me, which will include the unobstructed picture of our Ugandan siblings, with a watermark reminding you that it cannot be posted online.

Please spread the news about this. Please.

Thanks!

I'm humbled by her wisdom.

/
They've had a mutual crush going on all year, flirting through Sunday school.



My six-year-old daughter and my friend's seven-year-old son, that is.

 While I'm not ready for this sort of thing, the kids and I went to his baseball game on Saturday. As we pulled into the lot, we scanned the crowd for neon orange shirts, knowing his team's color. Jocelyn spotted a little boy in yellow, wearing leg braces and moving with the help of a walker.

"Why's he wearing yellow, Mama?"

"That's his team's color, Joss. I bet the yellow team is playing Josiah's orange team."

"Oh," she said, satisfied with my answer.

"Zoe might play here one day," I added.

"Zoe might? Why not me or Robbie or Patience or Philip or Patricia?"

"These baseball teams are for kids with special needs, Jocelyn. That's why Zoe could play here."

Jocelyn's brow fell over her eyes, showing her confusion. I waited, expecting the question to come as soon as she processed her thoughts.

"But, Mom..." She paused.

 "Josiah doesn't have special needs. He just has an extra chromosome."


She gets it.


...For the Lord sees not as man sees: man looks on the outward appearance, but the Lord looks on the heart.
{1 Samuel 16:7}