deck the halls

fa, la la la la, la la la la

Thanksgiving

 
Oh how you have grown since last Thanksgiving…
This year you ate monkey bread for breakfast with us, and loved the Macy’s parade. I think I shed a tear or two watching you “kick kick” as you watched the Rockettes perform, and skipped around the living room when the bands played. Okay, I didn’t really cry but it was one of the prouder moments in my life. {You know I look forward to the parade all year!} We found out you love pumpkin pie, and could care less about turkey.    

We are so thankful you are in our lives Larkin LeNeta!

black friday humor

I thought that while we were all trying to hold our eye balls open (from a turkey hangover, and shopping all night ) I would share something that is bound to give you a good laugh. {at the expense of my sister, which is my favorite kind of joke}

Yesterday I was attempting to clear off a memory card when I found these photos from this summer.
Larkin and her aunt Kelsi are two of a kind apparently… Although their physical appearances would say otherwise, judging by this photo-shoot, you would guess they could be biologically related.  

God has truly blessed our family with a bunch of weirdoes.
{these happen to be two of my favorite ones}

You’re welcome.

thanks.giving

{our Christmas card pictures, turned Thanksgiving card}

front:

back:

even 2 years later

{for his second birthday:cling to joy}

Life happens fast around here.
I am impatient, and I am busy.
I do not sit and dwell. I do not do well with mundane. and I certainly over commit to things. If I am not busy with my own life, I will become busy doing something for someone else. I usually manage to (stupidly) keep myself just busy enough to keep the hard stuff, away. I cope, with busyness.  
 
If I stop long enough to really sift through the wreckage that the last few years of my life have left me with, I sometimes am still surprised at what I find.
disappointment. loss. frustration. death. grief. panic. anxiety.
Did all of this really happen? to me?

this wasn’t my plan.

I’m still reading books on grieving. I still feel the urge to stop at the cemetery, a lot. I still stop myself doing ordinary things around the house, or driving somewhere, because I feel like something (someone) is missing. Sometimes my arms still physically hurt. (I’ve read almost every mother whose baby has died will explain a physical aching, but no doctor can explain it) When I look back at pictures, or read my old journals, the suffocating, tight feeling in my chest comes right back.

I still can’t make sense of it. How did our baby die?

I held him for the first, and the last time on a Friday afternoon, 2 years ago today. We came home from the hospital on Saturday morning, and I practically dropped the vase of flowers I was carrying onto the kitchen counter on the way to my bedroom.

I locked the door behind me.

Nothing in this world could have pulled me from the horror of that moment. There was an empty car seat, a stroller, and an unassembled crib in the room next to mine. I had flowers from the hospital, I had a hole in my hand from an IV, I had a hospital bracelet on my wrist. The blankie with his name on it was stuffed into my bag with my maternity clothes I had worn to the hospital, because he was not there to be wrapped in it.
It was then the true grief came.
I wanted to punch something, anything. I wanted to pull my hair out. I wanted to scream at the top of my lungs.
My body ached with frustration, and my mind spun in confusion.
I paced, until I collapsed onto the floor.
I sobbed. I sobbed. and I sobbed some more.
all while I locked out the world so I could just finally, be alone.

the phrase “this place is not my home” had a very, very real meaning to me after that day.  I physically longed, and begged for Jesus to come back, or to at least take me too. My world had gone dark. 

this world is broken, and suffering is eminent; for everyone at some point.

but the thing I really want you to know is that there is hope.

Every time I go through that wreckage that I’ve been left with, guess what else is there.
Joy. 
{Not to be confused with temporary happiness, or a warm fuzzy feeling.}
I want you to understand how painful of a season of life that was for me, because I want you to fully understand that God can take the darkest of nights, and in the midst of them, give us joy. I’m not saying now that 2 years have passed, I have found joy. I am saying, He was there all along. Even when I locked the rest of the world out of my bedroom when I came home from the hospital. He was there, offering me the things I most DESPERATELY needed.  Peace. Hope. Joy.  Things only He could offer through his redemptive grace. Jesus died so I (and my baby) could live eternally with him, and no amount of earthy pain would take that away. That is the joy.
Joy in the unseen, and at times, even the unfelt.   

In the bible, Job suffered. Tremendously. He lost pretty much everything, and everyone he loved. And still (I imagine through clenched teeth) he says, “The Lord gave, and the Lord has taken away; blessed be the name of the Lord.”
I fail at it everyday, but still I hope for a faith like Job.

God can, and does allow things to be “taken away”. But when he does, you can be sure (very, very sure) that He is there; offering everything you will ever need. He NEEDS us to need him, more than he wants us to be happy for now. And when we truly need God (because everything else is lost), he longs to take the ashes in our lives, and turn them into beauty. 

She is a very visible sign of beauty in our lives now, but that is not what I mean. She is not a consolation prize. We did not “earn” her by losing other babies.

The beauty that came from the ashes is the unexplainable peace. 
constant joy {in the midst of heartache}.
eternal hope.
Larkin makes all of those things come alive in our lives, but regardless they were there all along. because He was offering them to us in spite of the pain. the grief. the anxiety. the panic. the death.
…even when those are the things we deserve. 

In 2 years, this hasn’t gotten any “prettier”.  Truth is, it’s still painful, and it’s still ugly, and it’s still broken. It’s real. And real life isn’t always pretty.   

Jude, You never took a breath on this earth, and you taught me more than any living person I know.  We understand now more than ever how much your life mattered.

Happy 2nd Birthday baby boy.

weapon of mass destruction

her new favorite toy.

as she is running around the house yelling “Daisseeee meeee’rr” {come here}

“Moooommmmy where Daisee?”

Smart Dog.
{keep hiding Daisee}

Here we go again.

About two months ago we decided we would email the adoption agency we used when we adopted Larkin, and request paperwork to apply. We knew Larkin was still little(and so busy!), but we thought we would take our time, and turn it in “when we were ready”. {ha!}

That packet of papers came in the mail on a Wednesday in September, and the next day we got an email from our social worker. The agency was low on adoptive families, and she wanted to know if we were ready to adopt again. They were specifically looking for families who would adopt African American children.

Well yes. We just happen to have gotten that paperwork….yesterday.

application mailed!

Fast forward to today.
We are waiting on a few things, but basically we could get a call anytime that we have been chosen by a birth mom.

This adoption has already had its ups and downs. The “waiting” part of adoption could be summed up into one word… “unexpected”. It will not be what you expect. And this adoption already has not. We have been surprised, and left wondering what God would have in store for us. We have been trying to seek God’s will for our family in the choices we have had to make already. We have been fighting the fear of the unknown, and clinging to the promise that God puts the lonely in families {Psalm 68:6}, and he will bring our child home. 

  You haven't received the spirit of slaves that leads you into fear again. Instead, you have received the spirit of God's adopted children by which we call out, "Abba! Father!"  -Romans 8:15

one less

Have you heard? November is National Adoption Month.
Larkin has been begging me the last couple of days to spread awareness about this very cause. She’s kind of smart like that…

Did you know there are estimated to be 147,000,000 orphans world wide who desperately need a home? a bed to sleep in. food to eat. a family to love.

That number is staggering. heartbreaking. impossible to get your mind around even.

But there is a number we can do something about. 

 

 

 

as in, one less.

Baby Kroeze… coming soon