our first "family of five" Christmas in pictures

Josiah and Bereket cheering for free range of the appetizer spread on Christmas Eve. 

My trash pile buffet, remade into our toy box, got to function as a real buffet for the occasion.

Christmas carols and cookies at the Witmer's home the night before Christmas. 

Anyone remember Gomer Pyle?!?

Wishing you and yours a peace-filled Christmas!

Bereket giving his nana a run-down of the events of the morning. 

Teach them young to drink coffee. 

We sat down to dinner and Bereket, taking it all in, looked me full in the eyes and said, "Mmm. Yummy. Thank you, mom!" He then proceeded to have four servings of salad. 

Finishing our Jesse Tree Advent reading. The Promised One has come! 

After dinner rumbles in the basement. 

Got himself stuck this time.

When Bereket whacked me with his sword, Josiah defended him: "He doesn't know yet that you don't hit girls. Especially not your cook!"

december 21st

There are six drafts in my blogger post listing that I started, never got back to and thus never published. There are countless ideas in my head that I've formulated but never to completion. I am determined to make this post happen, even though I don't have the time to make it what I want. sigh!

December 21st, the shortest day of the year. My baby is 18 months today. Last year on this day, a very brave young widow made a very brave, completely unselfish decision. The ultimate sacrifice. Lacking a husband and the money to raise her young son, she opted to put him up for adoption. She said she hoped he'd have the opportunity to be educated, to be successful, to have a good life. 

These are the sweet little feet of that baby. That baby of hers that I get to kiss and snuggle and bathe and put to bed each night. That I get to call mine.  I wish I could tell her thank you. 

I wish I could send her pictures of her Tamagn with his two brothers. Tell her here he is at a Christmas concert where he got to hear violins and cellos and french horns. Show her how he still sucks that right thumb of his. I'd tell her how well he is walking, running, climbing up and standing like a little daredevil on anything he can.

Do you know that he loves stuffed animals? And real animals. And babies. And that now he can sing "hallelujah" and he sings it all. the. time. And he knows how to pray and those little paws of his clasped together at dinner melt me.

I'd tell her that is he learning so well to mind his mama and be kind to his brothers and is absolutely adorable when he nods his head a definitive yes and says, "ma'am! ma'am!" And he has learned to sit and read baby books and he loves Where's Spot? and Curious George and Dr. Seuss too.

And I'd tell her how much I've anticipated this first Christmas at home with our boys. How I've dreamed about it for two years. How thankful I am that we got to tote two little Ethiopian boys on our backs when we hunted for our Christmas tree, decked it out with lights, celebrated with friends this joyous event, the birthday of our Savior.

And I'd probably feel down-right embarrassed at how much I have. How rich and full and good our lives are. How much beauty surrounds me everywhere.

I don't know if she knows Jesus. I pray she does. I pray one day she will. I dream of meeting her this side of heaven. Of presenting Tamagn to her,  all grown into a fine young man. Knowing I don't need her approval but hoping she would approve of how I've raised her son. Hoping I'd fulfilled her last wish for him.

Rambling thoughts. Incomplete. All I have time for, for now.

on tears and prayer

They found me in the powder room, in another I've-hit-bottom moment, crying. In the three months now that we've been a multiracial family of five I've learned again that tears are really good. 


Four years of failure at conceiving a child in my womb taught me to be thankful for the ability to cry. Healing balm, those salty things are. When words just can't express the depths of pain, dead hopes and sorrow, tears step in and speak for the heart, flow freely, give relief.

They came for different reasons today. But I am so glad, so grateful they came.

I've walked through the painful process of embracing infertility. Came to the point where I could actually be thankful for it, not just in spite of it. And now I find myself in a new season, learning to embrace a new face of death. And the hardest part is learning how to receive grace in this new place. How to really embrace where I am and not just beat myself up over how terribly I fail every stinkin' day.

So today when their demands just seemed like too much and wasn't it enough, God, to just have Casey be gone for a week? Did ya have to go and make my back crooked on top of it? And I was flailing and He graciously took me and opened the floodgates, sat me down in that little bathroom and let me cry it out. And then the words came and I prayed from the bottom of my crooked heart, six little ears taking in the broken prayer of their mama.

And what do little ones do but imitate what they see?

And my love for these little boys God has entrusted to me grew today. As my sin forces me to humble myself before them, as God gently invites me to embrace my shortcomings, as I stop pressuring myself to love them better, love them more, and now!, darn it!, I feel hope. Joy. I have love to offer.

Sitting on the floor in the basement, stomping rockets across the room, Bereket came to me and, with Josiah's help, we eventually realized he wanted to pray. So, right there, standing before me, he clasps his little hands and raises them to his forehead and pours out a prayer I can't understand. It was precious. Josiah followed his lead and prayed a prayer I could understand, one I immediately ran upstairs to write down:

"Dear Jesus... I pray that as long as she (that would be me) lives, we would be good to her. And that she would have good times, throughout all of her days. Amen."


Amen! 

dinner last night

I don't really know what this blog is now or where it is going and we are daily moving farther away from the accuracy of its name, but every time I think I'm done, don't have time for this and no one really cares anyways (other than the nanas of these little boys, of course), one of you kind souls emails or calls to tell me you enjoy this glimpse into our lives and would I please not stop.

Thank you.

I do enjoy sharing a bit of us with friends and family far flung as this is all they'll know of our boys until they make it up here to meet them. Open invitation. We love visitors.

That was my disclaimer for the following. I am going to share a recipe. Nothing Ethiopian or gourmet, just what we had for dinner last night. But the reason I am going to share it is this.

It came from our garden! Yep, it was December 5th and I needed lettuce for my salad and cilantro for a garnish so I donned my galoshes and marched out back to harvest a bunch of butter crunch lettuce and cilantro that has re-seeded itself twice now and continues to grow through this warm autumn we are loving.

Why is it so satisfying to eat something you've grown yourself?

Especially in December in Western PA. Made my day.

This is a simple recipe. From Allison Pinholster's Southern Living magazine that I was thumbing through more than a decade ago after I'd put their kids to bed and was waiting for them to return from their night out. It's good with a simple green salad and homemade vinaigrette.

Picante Black Bean Sauce & Pasta
I double this for our family

I medium onion, chopped
2 garlic cloves, minced
1 T. olive oil
15 oz. can black beans, rinsed and drained
16 oz. can stewed tomatoes
8 oz. can stewed tomatoes
1/2 c. picante sauce, or salsa
1 t. chili powder
1 t. cumin
1/4 tsp. oregano

4 c. cooked pasta

Top with: 1/3 c. monterrey jack, cheddar or pepper jack cheese
1/3 c. fresh cilantro, finely chopped 


Saute onion and garlic in oil till onion is tender. Stir in black beans, undrained tomatoes, picante sauce, and spices. Bring to boil, reduce heat. Simmer covered for 15 minutes, stirring occasionally. Remove cover and cook over high heat until desired consistency, stirring frequently. Spoon over hot pasta. Sprinkle with cheese and cilantro. 


Makes 4 servings, 419 calories.

Vinaigrette

if you need a good one

1 tsp. finely minced garlic

1/2 tsp. Dijon mustard

3 T. champagne vinegar

1/2 c. good EVOO

1/2 tsp. kosher salt

1/4 tsp. freshly ground black pepper