first snow

Woke up Saturday morning to wet snowflakes softly falling to earth. Wish I could bottle the silence, the stillness, that comes with falling snow.

Josiah has been impatiently anticipating this first snow. Sporting his camo jammy pants and fireman rain boots, he danced like a crazy man around the soggy backyard, chasing those first flakes, catching them on his hand, his head, his tongue.

Bereket stood at the back door, face pressed against the cold glass, looking longingly at his big brother frolicking. He ran and brought back his three-sizes-too-big orange Beaver slippers and put them on over his footed jammies. I couldn't say no. What's a little mud? It's his first snow!

I opened the door and set the little fellow free. With that brightest smile, he moved cautiously to the edge of the deck and held out his little hands in wonder.

I ran for my camera. He must have really been awe-struck because he was still standing there, arms out, the whole time it took me to get my camera, realize the battery was absent, retrieve the battery from the charger in the other room and start clicking.

Those little hands of his made an impression on me the first time I ever held them, five months ago, on a breezy sunny day in Africa, standing on a tile patio at  the back of a children's home.

They continue to impress me. Challenge me. Arms outstretched, open to receive whatever might come down to them. A new family. New home. New country with lots of really white people who talk funny. New standards and routines. New bed and clothes and cups and forks and food. One week in Africa with a lot less "newness" and I was ready for my familiar, dependable, comforts and faces. Take me back to the USA.

How do I learn to reach out my hands, extend my arms, for whatever my Father in heaven might send?

After a night of poor sleep, with a full day of little people and their not-so-little needs before me, how do I extend my arms and thank God for today?

I want to press my palms toward heaven and receive, with thanksgiving, rain or snow or sunshiny days, sweet sleep or restless nights, happy babies or snotty noses. I do believe its all a gift. Don't deserve one of these beautiful days that add up to a really good life. I want my eyes to be open all day long so that I'm able to live in this present moment. This so, so quickly fleeting moment. This only moment that I have.

Update on Josiah (for the grandparents): Josiah and I had a sneak-away date on Sunday and I enjoyed our one-on-one. I think I miss our time together more than he does. Haven't quite gotten Bereket and Tamagn to sit down and watch Anne of Green Gables with me like my biggest boy would. Anyhow,  I asked him if he was still glad that we brought the boys home. "Oh, yeah, mom!" I asked him what he liked most about it. "I just love having them here. I just love having my brothers here!"

I couldn't ask for more. 

grace and grandaddy, unrelated

Just wanted to share a few pictures. We are all still alive-- all of us-- and have enjoyed visits from my parents in this last month. The good news of being adopted, grafted into a family, is that you get the whole family. I guess some might call this the bad news... but in our case it is good! Our boys are pretty lucky to have four grandparents who love and adore them and know how to enjoy them.

And I think that both of our boys must have known in the past what it is to be enjoyed. It isn't foreign to them. They don't seem toughened or untrusting or resistant to being loved. We were told prior to making them ours that the Ethiopian culture as a whole values children. That most adopted kids do really well when brought into a family. We've found that to be true. For which I am so thankful.

Now I just get to deal with my own shortcomings in loving. For some reason it is much easier for me to accept grace when I am frustrated or impatient or angry with Josiah. Our relationship has the benefit of time. He knows I love him more than life itself and he  knows his mom falls short often and he understands grace and forgiveness and is always willing to extend them to me.

But I have struggled with really feeling guilty when I sin against the little one whose eyes are so deep and dark. I can't read him. I don't know that he understands when mommy says she's sorry for being frustrated... again. He takes what you give him rather passively and it scares me to death.

God has given us, me, remarkable grace this first month and a half, but I've felt these past few days that that grace is waning and I'm tired and losing it more often and I've been thankful, so thankful, that the transition has been good, and I've wondered can I give thanks even when it feels like I am completely devoid of grace to offer? What does it look like for me to draw upon the grace of God today? And haven't I been doing that all along?

My time is up. I start my day with much more grace when I am dressed and ready to go before little feet start padding across the floor upstairs.

Here are a few of the pictures that have been sitting on my desktop for the last 3 weeks, waiting to be uploaded. Grandaddy meeting his two new favorite grandsons. {smile}