Family - It's a Vivas Thing!

Sep 02 2009

Living

This morning I woke up. I think it was more than just waking up in the physical sense, but the spiritual sense as well. God had placed it on my heart to pray and then pray some more. So I did. Then He reminded me that He was still in control; I wasn't. I'm not. And then He threw a test at me…first thing this morning! And I started to blow it, but then remembered to stop, drop, and roll, pray and give it back to Him.

So this morning, instead of attending meetings that were beyond anything I could do, I prayed while others met. Then I took my kids to school. And then, well, Isa and I went shopping for those art supplies I'd been promising her for the past two weeks. I was reminded that as much as I am trying to help another little girl who's had so many promises to her broken, I was starting to do a bit of the same thing to my own daughter. And so, we printed off those coupons and away we went!

We picked out paints and figurines and talked about the Christmas village we'll paint. We talked about how my oldest son and I painted those first pieces and how some have been broken over the years. We shared memories of the past and planned to make memories in the future.

Not long after we got home, I recieved some great advice. I was reminded to be grateful and live. And so we did. We painted. Then we went and visited my niece together and came home and sat down to paint some more. Before we knew it, B-Boo had decided to join in. Then, the Talented One came over. Ok, not to paint, but to join in the fun of sitting around the table and being together. Laughing. Loving. Living. And so we did. And it was a great day. A peaceful day. A day well lived.

Some of our Masterpieces

Aug 31 2009

Storms

I love a good storm. I love it when the sky is dark and the heavens pour out. I love the thunder and lightening that comes with it! I love the SMELL of the rain; the anticipation of a good storm, and the dew that's left after wards. To me, there is nothing better than a good rain storm in the fall. That's the best.

In the midst of a storm, I love to cuddle up with a good book and hot coco and sit by an open window, listening to the downpour. Or, cuddle up with a child and read a book, and talk about the rain.

Today, we've started another type of storm. As I sat with my niece in a waiting room, coloring, she explained her page to me. It was of a mermaid. Simple. But this mermaid was sitting under a dark sky of dark clouds. I asked her why the dark clouds, and she said it was because Jesus was crying. I told her that I loved a good storm, it made me feel good.

As the day wore on, we cuddled, we talked, we shared. She asked me at one point why did I have tears. I explained to her that it makes me sad when she is sad. She hugged me and we went on.

She's going to be gone for a while, and I will miss her. She's allowed one phone call each night. She mentioned to someone earlier that she'd like to call her momma. I'll admit I struggle with that, but at the same time, I'm ok with it. A bit ago the phone rang; it was her. She needed me. She missed me. She wants to know when can she come home. To me. And the storm started.

And then the phone rang again. Only this time, it was her momma, asking if I had received the call…because she hadn't. And her storm started. It's not about me, is it?

Earlier today, I was so angry, I wanted to scream. It's not fair, I wanted to cry out. Why? I asked. Why?

"For I know the plans I have for you," declares the Lord.

And He knows the plans He has for the rest of them. And if it takes a storm, then it takes a storm.

So, Bring the Rain, Lord, Bring the Rain.

"Bring me joy, bring me peace

Bring the chance to be free

Bring me anything that brings

You glory

And I know there'll be days

When this life brings me pain

But if that's what it takes to praise You

Jesus, bring the rain"

Aug 29 2009

The Princess

That would be my niece, the princess. The first time she came to live with us, she was 14 months old. I'm sure we looked quite the family, all of us dark haired wonders…and in the middle, there was this blond-haired green-eyed beauty. She lived with us for over a year while her momma tried to pull her life back together, and after 14 months, she went home to live with her momma and three month old baby brother. And our lives felt as if they'd been ripped apart. And we mourned the loss of our little blond baby.

We'd see her on holidays and birthdays and watch her grow older. We knew she had issues, but we also knew that there was nothing we could do about it.

Six months ago, the princess came back to live with us, this time, bringing along her now five year old brother. And so it is.

I won't lie and say that life hasn't dealt her some pretty hard blows. I also won't lie and say it is easy; it's even harder this time around. There are many days when I just want to give up because frankly, it's just too hard. But I remind myself (or others remind me) that our God is a big God and He knows what He is doing. And so we try harder.

The Princess has ADHD, Reactive Attachment Disorder (RAD), and much more. She's not able to trust; not able to let it go and let herself love. She struggles in school, at home, everywhere. She has a strong need to be in control and has a hard time making friends. She has an even stronger need to be accepted, to be wanted, to be loved. And it's hard.

I imagine that as hard as it is for the rest of us, it's even harder for her. In a world that has completely let her down, she has to survive.

Sometimes, my selfishness, my humanness, gets in the way of me. I wonder if I'm really making a difference in her life. It *seems* that she pushes me away more than she asks me to never leave her. And I beg Him to just give me a little sign that I"m doing the right thing; that perhaps she is healing.

Several weeks ago, I gave her a princess bracelet. She loves princesses and wants to be one. What little girl wouldn't? Especially one who has never felt like a princess before. So when I saw the bracelet, I thought of her and how much she'd like it. I presented it to her and told her all about how she was my princess and that pretty heart charm was to show her how much I love her. She accepted the gift. It quickly broke and was forgotten. On our way home, my mom handed it to me. It didn't seem like much, but to me, it signified how easily the Princess will move on, not really attaching to anything. I understand it's part of the RAD, but when I'm worn down, it still hurts. Selfish, I know. I brought the bracelet home and put the heart charm into my jewelry box.

Sunday, her momma gave her a pretty pink bracelet with a pretty pink heart charm. She wore it home and treasures it. She is thrilled to finally have her momma make her feel like a princess. I get that. I am happy for her. On Wednesday, we got to school and she realized she'd forgotten to put her bracelet on. She lost it. I felt like the meanest mom/aunt that morning because as much as I told her I understood, I have no idea what it is like to go through what she has. And I felt even worse, because that afternoon, when she got home and asked me to help her put the bracelet on, my heart hurt…because she was so excited for this gift from the one who has so often rejected her and yet, she rejected me. And try as I might to tell myself to grow up, I wondered if I was really helping her at all.

Until last night. Because last night, she came downstairs with something in her hand. It was a little silver heart with a pink stone in it. She said she was carrying it around, because it was from her other momma; me. And she didn't have anything to put the heart on…and could I please put it on her bracelet with the heart from her other momma. And so we did. And she was so happy, because now she had both of her momma's hearts to wear all the time.

And I learned something from my princess, the little girl who has such a hard time showing, and receiving, love. I learned that a little girl who so easily tosses things aside, kept that special heart, and held on to it, and never said a word about it. I learned that our God cares enough about the both of us; enough to let her know how much she is loved and enough to show me that He is at work, even when I can't see it.

Aug 27 2009

The Drama Queen

Or, as we like to say, "And then there was…"

Yup, that's her. Our very on Drama Queen. A brilliant ray of light, full of energy that refuses to be told she can't do anything. Her name, roughly translated, means,

"A beautiful rainbow we don't deserve."

Yes, that about sums her up!

After a complicated pregnancy, the Drama Queen arrived two weeks early, on the only day that week that was not someone else's birthday. Within a couple of weeks, we knew something was wrong with her. For the next five months, we'd travel back and forth to the doctor over and over, trying to get them to figure out what was it was that was making her so sick. Finally, a diagnosis. She was suffering from severe food allergies. Severe enough to land her in the hospital on more than one occasion…and for me to get over my fear of needles since I was the one that was her main care giver.

As we began a whole new lifestyle of eating, I worked hard to educate myself on the in's and out's of food allergies and to try out new recipes. Not easy when you can only cook with a handful of ingredients: chicken, turkey, rice, potatoes, carrots, broccoli, apples, tapioca, salt and pepper. Yes, I'm serious.

When she was finally able to have soy, I was ecstatic! Adding in beef and beans later was awesome. And then, we could finally have melons…oh, how happy we were! Yes, we. Because of the severity of her food allergies, she could not have formula. This meant that I had to follow a strict diet, too. And so it went.

These days, she's allergic to peanuts, tree nuts, eggs, apples and dairy. Her brother, the Smart One, is on a gluten free, nut free diet, so sometimes cooking for the two of them together is hard; but we manage to have some pretty decent meals anyway!

So what is it about the Drama Queen anyway? Well, she has a pretty high tolerance for pain, kind of like her momma. Translated into English, this means that:

When she says a penny is stuck in her throat, yet doesn't act like it, you take her to the hospital anyway. And they don't believe you until an x-ray proves it and then they do surgery.

When a VCR lands on her feet and nearly slices off two of her toes, and she has to have them stitched back together, she can still go right outside and run around instead of sitting for the next week.

When she goes into anaphylaxis she will try and go about her play in spite of the swelling and hives.

When 300 pounds of plexi-glass land on her foot and she can walk anyway, you take her to the ER. Odds are, it's broke. And when they send you away anyway and tell you it can't possibly be broke because she's fine, you nod your head and drive away…and then come back again when they call you to tell you that the x-ray showed it was indeed broke, after all. It also means that she'll go through a boot thing once a week for three weeks, destroying them, until you finally give up and tell her to just wear her sneakers and try not to make it worse. Oh, and you beg her not to show people where it's broke by moving it around. That's just gross.

When she flies off of a swing that she wasn't supposed to be on anyway and lands on a two-by-four in an anthill, you take her to the ER. And even though the nurse says it can't possibly be that bad, you scream for a doctor anyway, because you've seen it, and you know. And then you take her home with 17, yes SEVENTEEN staples in the back of her head, and you're told to keep her down for the next 48 hours. Sure, OK.

And all she wants to know is when can she please go outside and play…and climb her favorite tree, the big Mulberry tree that she's been climbing since she was about a year old. The same one that her older brother had to climb up into and get her out over and over….until we finally got smart and taught her how to get down, too.

The Drama Queen is just that. She wants to try everything. She is all about living life to the fullest. The righter of wrongs. The sheriff of the house. The let's just have some fun child.

She loves to sing…and sing….and sing, especially if it's about her Lord.

She loves music…all of it. Celtic Women, Bocelli, Selah, Barlow Girl, Newsboys, Celine Dion, and Journey (cause Mom really likes Journey.)

She loves to dance. She started a new dance class this week, so I've had the pleasure of listening to her tap away on the kitchen floor…over and over and over again. Because it annoys her siblings, so she waits until it's just the two of us. Yup.

She's all about fashion. It has to be shiny, or glittery, and of course, noticeable…because she's also all about that. And honest. Sometimes too much. She's had to learn a thing or two about humbleness and just because it's true does not mean you should say it.

She loves babies and can't wait until she can babysit all by herself.

She can make friends with just about anyone…and usually does.

She loves to talk on the phone and can't possibly understand why we won't let her have a cell phone…because, well, she needs it.

She wants to live life!

This is our Drama Queen. The wannabe pop star, actress, and doctor. Because, yes, she can do it all!

If you'd like to listen to some of her singing, click here.

Aug 26 2009

We can laugh…or we can cry!

Yeah, I seem to have a lot of those days! I've been trying to find time to write about my youngest, the Drama Queen, but that will have to wait for another blog. Cause today was one of those days! You know, the kind where you have to take a child to school in tears and try and make it better while you rush off because you're late for an appointment because you haven't been able to walk for a week…or two….or, well, anyway.

And then, on the way to the appointment, you get a phone call. It's another child's dentist calling, saying that the insurance will not pay for the anesthesia or facility for dental surgery because it isn't a covered benefit. And so you call, while still rushing to your appointment, only to be told that it is a covered benefit, but only if your child is five, not eight. And of course, the Drama Queen hears the conversation, so as you walk into your appointment, late, she breaks into tears and tells the receptionist that she is going to have to have dental surgery while she is awake. And they feel sorry for her and give her candy and Kleenexes and nod at you in understanding without questioning why you're late.

And you take a seat…and you wait. And you can't complain, because, well, you were also late. So you wait.

And you finally make it back to the room and explain to the nurse what is going on. And then this young med student walks in, and asks you to describe the pain in your foot. And you ask him if he is training…and you find out he's the doctor. Really. Even though he looks like he's only 21, he's actually 39…and well, it's not fair. Cause you don't look that young and your body is falling apart.

And so, you describe the pain, and he informs you that is consistent with the x-rays that he's looked at. And that you have fractured your foot, "a good inch and a half" a while ago.

"Oh?" you say, "Like possibly in July when you took those teens to camp and had to run and run and run?"

"No," he says, "As in you had to have whacked it really hard around a year ago."

"What?"

And he continues to ask you in disbelief that you couldn't possibly have known that you fractured your foot? He repeats that it's a big fracture and it would have hurt and taken a "good whack!" And you repeat that you honestly don't remember whacking it. Really. It just started hurting and sometimes worse than others, and now it's so bad that it's hard to walk. He just nods his young head at you.

He goes on to say that the rest of your foot is now trying to compensate and so that's why you hurt so bad. And then he tells you that you have to come back next week so they can cast your foot. And you proceed to freak out and inform him, rather forcibly, that you cannot possibly have a cast on your foot because you have no life other than taking children to and from school and to and from appointments…and you have to walk your niece and nephew to and from school everyday and crutches just won't work.

And when you take a breath, he informs you that the cast is for a mold of your foot for inserts. And that you'll have to wear closed toed shoes. You ask if it will work on flip flops and try to explain to him that,

"Doc, I have to be honest with you. I don't like to wear shoes. At all."

And he informs you that you'll have to change that if you want your foot to stop hurting. You're thrilled that you won't have to wear a cast after all and that these magical inserts will heal the fracture!

"You're wrong," he says. "Those expensive thingies won't heal the fracture, they'll just fix the rest of the foot."

"The fracture," he says, "can only be fixed through surgery at this point. But we already know you don't have time in your life for surgery."

Great. Fine. Ok.

He then goes on to tell you that you'll have to have surgery within five years if you want to save your foot from ulcers and such.

"I'll get on that doc, just as soon as I can get the insurance to pay for my daughter's surgery first!"

Yeah, it was one of those days!