It began with careless words tossed from my daughter's mouth. She had no idea the effect they would have on me. I need to believe that.

"I want Auntie Crys to be my mommy. I don't want you to be my mommy. I want you to sell me to another family."

She bounces on the knees of my younger sister. Giggling in the uncomfortable silence. I think she sees I'm hurt, but she's five. The rest of the evening passes in a blur of sadness.

The attachment monster rears it's ugly head. It isn't a stranger in our home. We brought it home with us each time we adopted.

I wonder if I will ever be secure in our relationship. When hurting words are exchanged will I forever wonder if it is because I'm not the mother I should be to my injured daughter. With motherhood comes insecurity.

Remorse.

Guilt.

That night I lost sight of the lovely moments. I lost sight of the times she runs to me for comfort. Cuddling on her bed reading. Hugs in the morning. Sitting by her hospital bed, aching with love for my new daughter.

Her words open the door to the enemy. He creeps in and brings heartache. Instead of looking to my Father, who ordained each soul into our family, I dwell on the grief and pain that has been in our little girl's life. I dwell on the brokenness and sin that put her in our family. I should be praising God for entrusting us with these wonderful little people.

I cannot change what brought my children into our family. I cannot fix the years of hurt. I cannot slip into apathy. Daily, with a thankful heart, I must choose to be a vigilant parent. Keeping my eyes on the One who choose us as their parents. Ever trusting Him to provide us with the wisdom needed.

"God setteth the solitary in families: he bringeth out those which are bound with chains..."
Ps 68:6

It's early in the morning and Eli is awake. This is nothing new. He's been waking up early since birth. It's a sweet time for the two of us. He babbles and chatters while I get ready for the day. He needs this time just as much as I need the hour before he wakes up.

It's in the early hours that he gets my attention without interruption. I have time to look him in the face and talk. But he asks intelligent questions that I am incapable of answering. Usually, I say, "We will have to look that one up."

He sat chewing a hulking piece of bubble gum two days ago (proudly purchased with his allowance) and innocently asked me if we could make our own gum. We googled "How to make gum". Then we watched a wonderful video about making gum. Quickly realizing that we wouldn't be making our own gum, the video was still cool.

This morning, he was coloring and asked me how crayons are made. So we watched this. And then followed with how balloons are made.

Using the computer to learn something, as Ms. Stewart would say, "It's a good thing."

Josiah's Birthday

Josiah's age has finally caught up with his attitude. We have long known that he is a brilliant child, reaching milestones far before his peers. That would mean he hit the terrible twos way back...when he turned one. We had all been hoping that he would quickly become a terrific three-year-old (or whatever that saying is)...but the terribles continue. He came to us adorable and well behaved. We quickly ruined him. Obsessed with cars and trucks, lulled to sleep by the 'Bob the Builder' theme song (he usually sings along), if you dare cross him he'll let you know it by flinging a truck at your head. He's got good aim. Truly a talented little boy. We adore him which is probably why he's so rotten.

Today, he sang "Happy Birthday" to himself throughout the day. He was thrilled with the cupcake cones we made and ecstatic when my parents called during the celebration to sing to him.

Happy 2nd Birthday, Josiah!

October 2

This day will forever be burned in my heart. The day we could have lost our daughter.

It seems like a dream.

Sally doesn't realize that she's a walking miracle. On hectic days, I forget, too, that God saved her that day and brought her out even stronger than before. I forget to thank him for placing her in our family. I get overwhelmed and want everyone to please. Just. Calm. Down.

But it's wonderful, in the early morning, as I read my Bible to stumble upon verses that I've underlined and written "Salomae 10/08" beside. Today, I saw one and it warmed my heart.

The Lord is my strength and shield; my heart trusted in him, and I am helped: therefore my heart greatly rejoiceth; and with my song will I praise him. Psalm 28:7

I will try to cherish our children and praise God for them. Their loud, silly chattering. Their toys scattered all over the floor. The books on sofas, rugs, and tables. Their incessant questions.

All of the things that seem like a nuisance are reminders that we have five miracles growing up in this house. I should enjoy the madness and mess, because it easily could have been one less child asking questions and scattering toys.

Oh, but it's so difficult to remember the big picture.