photojournal: Holy Week, day 1

It's the Most Wonderful Time of the Year (Holy Week!)

Holy week is here!

My favorite week of the entire year.

From 2009 till today, starting with just our 2, expanding to 42 while in Haiti, I thought a walk down memory lane was in order...

2009 New life seeds

Special family readings and devotions 2012

Footwashing 2010

Dyeing eggs with Baboo 2014

2013

Djulene's first easter egg hunt 2014

The foot washing took a bit longer in 2014

Making the tomb, 2010

New life seeds 2014

 2011

I've written gobs and gobs about our activities and traditions and past years celebrations (just put in "Holy Week" in the search tab if you want ideas), and this year is planned with simple and fun things to do together to make the significance of this week come alive to all of us! 

Stay tuned for pictures of this year's Holy Week...

tuesday thoughts (warning: contains explicit three year old language)

Spring is busting out all over! (Cue Oklahoma music starting in my head...)

I love it, though. I love Spring. My favorite season of all. Minus the allergies, which I haven't had to suffer with for a few years...but I'll deal.

We started a brand new chapter in our lives this week. Two words: Organized sports.

We've been so transient over the past few years and I am not a believer in getting them started in sports as soon as they can walk...so we've waited for their interest to peak and our stability to, well..stabilize. All three big ones started soccer and goodness, are they ever cute out there! It'll be fun to see how it goes and how each of them do.

Zoe has some fun toddler speech typo's going on right now. I just don't have the heart to correct her...

Beavers are "fevers"
Panda bears are "Fonda bears"
and space ships are "space shits"

I know, I know...that last one.

It reminds me of when Ella used to "f%ck her fumb" instead of suck her thumb.

I know, I know...we are very mature parents.

Speaking of parents, my mom was able to come down over the last weekend along with 3 of my siblings and 2 of my nieces. It was a very last minute decision to come and we had already arranged for some mulch to be delivered and so, of course, we put them to work spreading it. Like any good hosts would!

Jeremiah's parents come in tomorrow for the next week and we are super excited! It'll be busy with meetings and ministry stuff...but I'm sure we will manage to eek out some fun family time as well.

Happy Tuesday everyone! 

Eli's referral story, part three (and final)

**Make sure to read parts one and two first.**

_____________________________________________________________

Ezra said "brudder" and Ella was just quiet. I don't think they quite grasped the gravity of the moment.

We left for Virginia shortly after. We spent most of the weekend praying and searching the Word and talking with family. And maybe I spent just a teensy weensy little bit of time searching our agency photo files and finding more pictures of him.

Finally, late on Saturday night Jeremiah and I had been talking (and talking and talking...) and looking at Chala's photo's when he turned to me and said with utmost determination, "lets go get our son." I think that was the moment that things changed for me and I felt a peace. The moment I first felt a true bond towards him.

Fast forward a week to the present: We have his photo up on the fridge. I keep one in my wallet to whip out and show everyone. Ella sleeps with two photos by her bed. We pray for him by name every night. His face has become dear to me. My heart softens towards him more with each day. I feel protective towards him. There is a sense of someone missing as I go throughout my day.

Do I love him yet?

I don't know. I love the idea of him. I love his eyes. His pouty lips. His curly wispy hair. I love the anticipation of getting to know him. Of getting to fall in love with him. Of getting the privilege to be his Mama.

I know that I will love him. I don't have to force it or pretend it. I will love him through the good and the bad the pretty and the ugly the ups and the downs. I have been loved like this by my heavenly Father and am equipped with an abundance of His love to share with this little boy.

Before the referral the whole adoption journey was one of paperwork and ambiguity and following a calling.

Seeing his face made it all suddenly and blissfully real.

Welcome to the family, little boy of mine.

Be ready to be loved.

Eli's referral story, part two

**This post is part of a throw back Thursday, as I am feeling rather sentimental about my little guy turning 8 this week. Swiftly fly the years.**

Click here to read part one.

_____________________________________________________

As soon as I opened the email his picture popped up.



Ooops. I'm not supposed to look yet but I can't help it now that I've seen it.

(insert how am I ever going to explain this to Jeremiah moment)

Here's where I get honest. My initial emotion when looking at his face was not instant love. There was no instant attachment. There was compassion. And curiosity. And oh my, those eyes. Those lips. He looks so tiny. How can he be three? Compassion again. More curiosity. Is this my son?

I call Jeremiah again. He knows (without my telling him) that I looked at his picture. He is not too mad at me. Shew. He is on campus at Duke and without access to his computer so I try to explain to him what he looks like. I try to explain the details of his medical details and family history.

Try is the key word. I am just so befuddled. I can't think straight. Is this what shock feels like?

Jeremiah has to go. I urge him to hurry home as soon as he can.

Somehow I manage to tear myself away from his picture and file and do some necessary things. Like pack all four of us for our trip to VA that we are supposed to be leaving for in just 2 hours.

When Jeremiah gets home he goes to the computer and we round up the kids for them to see his face all at the same time.

They all look.

I wish I could say there was that instant connection and attachment and feelings of love. But I could read Jeremiah's face and could tell he felt the same emotions I did. Compassion. Curiosity. A sense of surrealism. Is this really happening? Is this really our son?

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Stay tuned for part three...

tbt: Eli's referral story, part one

**Eli has a birthday coming up this weekend and I think it is making me uber sentimental. I am remembering the process of him joining our family...all  the ups and downs and forwards and backwards. I am re-posting a three part series I wrote about getting "the call." Man, it seems like a lifetime ago. Man, I can't imagine my life without him in it.**

This time last Thursday we got our referral call. Things have kind of seemed in a blur ever since. For me time will forever be split between life before knowing about Chala and life after knowing about Chala.

While in the wait, part one, I loved to read other adoptive families stories of their referral calls. Some even made videos. I admit to tearing up a bit at those. There was always such excitement, such anticipation leading up to the call, and oh my...such emotion. I read of moments of instant love for couples seeing their child for the first time. Instant connection.

I promised several months ago to always share my honest feelings as we go throughout our adoption journey.

So...

Here is my honest account of our referral day:

The day started as a normal Thursday. I cleaned the house and did a few loads of laundry then headed out to the library with the kids. After returning home I started fixing lunch for the kids and thought to check my messages.

Hmm? Don't recognize that number?

"Hello Jeremiah and Jennifer this is ___________ with Adoption Advocates and I am calling to talk with you about a little boy......"

(insert FREAK OUT moment here)

I put the phone down and let out a very loud OH MY GOODNESS! Ella came running to me asking me why I was yelling. My answer (no lie) was that Mommy was freaking out. She gave me a very concerned look. I knew I should explain further but my thoughts were not coherent at that moment.

Please remember that this came out of the blue. I was supposed to be geared up for this. I was supposed to be prepared. In control.

I immediately try to call Jeremiah. No answer. No answer. Aughh...no anwer.

Finally! He answered. I think I gushed out the message. We agreed that I should call back and get more information. (Duh.) Being the patient sort of person that I am in those situations I of course waited until the kids went down for nap and rest time.

Or maybe I turned on Veggie Tales and gave them an open package of Oreos and told the kids that Mommy had to make a very important phone call and I was not to be interrupted for any reason other than the loss of a limb. And it had better be an important limb.

I'm pretty sure I called my mom at some point in this too. You know, what all big girls do. Call their Mom.

I talked with our agency director and got more information about Chala and she said she would send us his picture and file by email and to look over it and call her back with any questions.

(insert check email every 30 sec. moment)

I talked with Jeremiah and we agreed that I will look over the info and call him back to talk with him but wait to look at the picture until he gets home.

Finally (ok, it was only 10 minutes later) get the email...

becoming a student of your daughter

My oldest isn't getting any younger.

Funny how that works.

We are close to double digits (how in the world can I have an almost 10 year old?!) and already, at times, I find myself at a loss with her...

Is she feeling goofy? Sad? Up for a joke? Dance party or don't bother me? The emotions at this age pass with lightning speed and I'm super talented at getting it wrong. (Or maybe that's her dad?)



I'm realizing that in order for us to maintain a closeness through these upcoming years that the responsibility falls to me.

It's my job, not hers.

The years of my influencing her interests are dimming. She is developing her own passions, her own pursuits and...gasp...sometimes those interests don't interest me. Sometimes those pursuits make me twitchy. (Like the whole baking thing...the mess, the mess, oh, the freakin' mess.)

The fact that I don't like it or care about it isn't her problem. It's mine. And I need to get over it and get with it if there is ever going to be the hope of remaining on her team in these coming years.

It doesn't matter that I don't like fantasy books. She does. Therefore, I will read some fantasy books so we have stuff to talk about that interest her.

It doesn't matter that I could care less about ________________. She cares about it. Therefore, I will care about it.

I will study her.
I will pay attention.
I will tune in.

Sometimes I will fake it.
Praying that I will make it.

Because it's my job.
Because it's my joy.
Because she is worth it.
Because we are worth it.

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With all that said, I am completely out of my element and comfort zone (if there even is such a thing in the world of parenting?!) when it comes to the subject of parenting a tween. Feel free to pass along any advice or book suggestions or resources that have helped you through this stage!

the (sister) spot

Years may separate,

one is light,
the other dark,

one is dramatic,
the other pragmatic,

yet,

on their favorite reading spot,
their hearts unite.

tbt - the parenting files: The Privilege of Choice(s)

**This is one of my personal favorite posts, written back in 2011. Here's the crazy thing...it's just as applicable today. Nothing has changed in the great mommy wars over the last 4 years, except maybe to have heated up even more. I know my heart remains the same and openly admit that I am not "mom enough" and never will be, but the Lord is enough, and I pray everyday that my focus is on pleasing him.**


Geesh, parenting these days is a complicated matter.

To vaccinate on schedule, to delay vaccinations, to selectively vaccinate, or not to vaccinate at all?
To breast feed or formula feed? (and if you choose the bottle route...BPA free or glass or regular bottles?)
To cloth diaper, use disposable diapers, or practice elimination communication.
Co sleep or crib?
Stay at home or work at home or work outside of the home?
To schedule or go with the flow?
and my personal favorite (because it gets everyone's panties in a wad)...to let your child cry it out or not?

Of course then there are all the side issues once you get out of the baby stage:

Twinkies or dried camp berries?
PBS or Pixar or nothin' ?
Extracurricular activities?
Public school or private school or homeschool or unschool or .... ?

And so on and so forth. A blessed myriad of choices.

Obviously, since I am the mom of three (soon to be four) kids, I have been faced with a lot of the above mentioned choices. And while I do feel pretty passionately about some of the choices we have made, the goal of this post isn't to expound on why I feel my choices are the best. 

The goal of this post is to recognize the fact that I get to parent the way I do because I am privileged.

In fact, just about every parent in America and the rest of the modernized world is extremely privileged. We not only have choices, we have the legitimate means for researching our choices. We have pediatricians. We have on call nurses available 24/7. We have books. We have support groups. We have support groups for our support groups. And of course, we have the inestimable power of google and Gramma.

Moms in Haiti aren't choosing not to feed their kids organically, or choosing not to let them watch television, or losing sleep worrying about the fact that their children might get autism from a mmr vaccination. They are too busy surviving. Food. Clean water. And glory be, a roof over their heads. Those are the things that consume a moms mind in Haiti. Choices aren't even on their radar. They are too busy surviving.

Our good friend Sherrie Faussey, missionary in Haiti, just wrote of a mumps outbreak among their orphanage.

Mumps.

Yes, I had to go google what mumps are. Mumps aren't even on my radar. Or my kids.

And these issues aren't contained to Haiti but repeated and repeated (and repeated) all over the world.






















It's not that I care what choices you makes as a parent.
You may do things one way.
I may do things another.
Chances are you have your reasons.
So do I.

Tomatoe.
Tomato.

Its that I have been plagued with this overwhelming sense that maybe our privileged first world way of over complicated parenting choices is creating a generation of parents that are:

1) parenting with an impaired sense of perspective 
2) too adamant about the particulars of their parenting choices
3) are too sure every decision will set their kids on an unalterable trajectory.

There are a lot of ways to legitimately screw up your kids...and I don't really think it has anything to do with the above written choices.

Feeling guilty because we live in a privileged world isn't the answer either. A lotta good that does. Instead of feeling guilty...pray about what God would have you do to make a difference in the lives of others. And then act on it.

So lets take the opportunity to stop judging other moms for the choices they make, garner some perspective, be thankful that we even have these choices, and remember that ultimately your kids will remember your character and what you did to alleviate the suffering of others WAY MORE than your rules regarding television and high fructose corn syrup.

life and death in a Haiti update

Jeremiah is back!! 

(happy dance going on here!)

He left behind a finished playset for the kiddo's at Christian Light to enjoy...

He also was able to bring the supplies to our kiddo's at Have Faith Haiti Mission and timed it perfectly to celebrate with Louvenson on his 10th birthday! I cannot even tell you how much it means to us to be able to stay in close contact with these children and remain a part of their lives.

And then, on Saturday, as I was writing this paragraph to update you about about our friend, Moise, that we had mentioned in our newsletter back in January...to update you with a praise report that she had been released from the TB clinic with a clean bill of health...Jeremiah called me and told me that she had passed away, suddenly.

I was in the middle of the paragraph telling you of her good news. I even had a picture of her coming over with her husband to rejoice with Jim and Debbie...

Can't you just see the excitement exuding from them!

I was literally writing this praise update. 

I was rejoicing with them. 

I was thinking about how believers had pulled together to get her help and in the TB clinic. I know so many people who are cynical about the church, but I am over and over blown away by the beauty of the body of Christ.

I was thinking about how Jim was able to lead Moise and her husband to the Lord and how they are now living entirely new lives and was writing to ask you to keep them in your prayers as they grow and mature in their faith.

And then I got that call. 

That changed everything about this update.

Now, I am asking you to pray for her husband who mourns.

But, also, I am asking you to rejoice with me...

Rejoice that Moise came to know Jesus and she is now experiencing the ultimate healing!

Rejoice that Moise's husband will mourn...but not as one without hope! And not as one without the support of the body of Christ!

A playground,

some orphanage supplies, 

being a part of a 10 year olds birthday party,

hosting a medical clinic that brought in a struggling couple that led to their divine healing...

Thank you for being a part of what we are doing,

Thank you for praying. 

Thank you to those who partner with us and support us,

and Thank you for rejoicing with us.

_______________________________________________________________________________

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tbt - Birds of a Feather

**This TBT hails from March 2011. This is one of those completely self-indulgent posts as I just love remembering our beloved farm and those three tiny chubby toddlers that once upon a time lived with me. My apologies =) **

Every spring we have a pair of geese return to our pond. They make a nest along the bank of the pond and feast on the abundance of the spring onions and weeds around our yard.










































One year we were even lucky enough to have a gaggle of the cutest little goslings you ever did see. And by cute goslings, I'm not talking about these goslings.

The kids desperately want to make friends with them. Desperately.

We have tried to tell our crew that running after the geese scares the bejeezes out of our feathery friends and doesn't bode well for their future relationships. Even if they just want to "pet" them. Even if they bring stale bread and rolls from the pantry.

Only Ella ever actually makes it close enough. You can see how the geese just love the attention.






















Nevertheless, the kids continue to make their attempts at friendship. Every single day.

At least they have each other (and the stale rolls that the geese rejected) for consolation.
























Please note the following points in the above picture:

1) Ella is holding Eli's hand. Be still my beating heart.
2) Ella is wearing one of her newest spring outfit, um...creations.
3) They are all munching on the stale rolls that were designated for the geese.
4) They were rejected...but obviously not defeated. Go team Hambrick!

island of misfit pictures

Jeremiah had been gone for 10 days and the kiddo's and I are still going strong. My plan of attack has been to stay busy, really busy, and have all of us fall into bed at night exhausted. I normally don't like being too busy...but this has been perfect for making the time go by fast. Although, I think if Zoe doesn't get a nap today she might self-combust so we will make that a priority for the afternoon. 

The playground in Haiti is on schedule to be finished up this afternoon! It is nothing short of a miracle for me to write the word Haiti and on schedule in one sentence. He tells me the kiddo's at the orphanage there are SO excited!! They have plans to sleep out on the top level of it tonight. How fun is that?! Kids are kids are kids, no matter the country. 

It was time to clean out the ol' memory card again...

I love how she is leaning into her brother. So sweet.

Ice is a pain, but so incredibly beautiful.

We hated to miss our church for bad weather  (yes, we have found a church we love!) but home church is always a hit.
Despite Zoe's body language, ha!

The kids and I had a great time at my moms last week. Play-doh is always a hit for this group!

Have books, will travel. One of the best parts of homeschooling.

I have a strong Hungarian heritage on my moms side of the family and cabbage rolls are a family recipe we always enjoyed on special occasions growing up with my grandparents. It was more than a meal, it was a family celebration with Uncles and Aunts and cousins all coming over, and all of us working together on the meal. While up at my moms I got to make them with my mom and sisters, and again, it was a family celebration.

Getting a games of Kings Corner in while the rolls were cooking.

Learning from my mom. And apparently I have good hair in this picture.

Happy Wednesday!

you, in the mirror (on the correct Christian response to the call to die)

I've been through a few deep weeks of funk earlier in this year.

I felt this heaviness, this weight, that was pushing me to look inward...way inward.

With each look I didn't like what I saw.
I could feel an inward struggle raging.

I knew the Lord was working in me, refining yet again. But "haven't I been refined enough Lord over the last year?!" "I just want to be normal for a little bit."

Prior to all of this I had asked the Lord to impress a verse to me that was to be "my" verse for the year. I kept coming back to Colossians 3:2-3 "Set your mind on things above, not on earthly things; For you have died and your life is now hidden with Christ."

It didn't hit me all at once, but slowly, gradually, and with the greatest tenderness, I have been shown that my funk, my inward seeking and probing, they were revealing my resistance to this death, to this hiding my life with Christ.

I was fighting for control.
I was fighting for my life.

In Haiti I knew I was being poured out, but as we'd returned "home" I had quietly almost imperceptibly acclimated to the American culture ideal that I was the master and commander of my life. Our culture is afraid of death. Laying down your own life, in any way, is terrifying.

But I am called to live a different paradigm. I should run to the cross. To death.

Lay down my ideas for my future.
Lay down my control.
Lay down my desire for a stable paycheck and health insurance and a nice 401k plan.
Lay down my perfectly clean house.
Lay down my "me" time.
Lay down my desire for a play room, an office, a guest room.
Lay them all down.

Because, for me, or anyone who calls themselves a Christian, death to yourself is not the end of the story. We, of all people, should know what follows death. The Christian life is a resurrected life, a life that cannot be contained by death.

Death is only the beginning of the greatest story of all. 

And I get to be a part of it.

A realization that wipes away my funk and is replaced with a deep joy, an even deeper excitement, and the deepest rooted contentment that will not be shaken.

For me to live is Christ, and to die is gain. Philippians 1:21

I tell you, unless a kernel of wheat falls to the ground and dies it remains only a single seed. 
But if it dies, it produces many seeds. John 12:24

Now if we died with Christ, we believe that we will also live with him. Romans 6:8