You are currently browsing the monthly archive for October 2007.
She was so young when her life fell from desperation to complete desolation and in a survivalist culture, one hardly takes the time to explain such things to a child. So, at the tender age of three she was ripped from home and everyone she had ever known and loved and dropped down into a new world to find her way. The orphanage was hardly anything like home. Her bed was strange and the noises in the night terrified her.
There was no time for grief as she got about the business of just trying to survive in this new, crowded but lonely place.
Where oh, where had her parents gone?
Then one day after she had been there for six months, one of the nannies called to her. She showed her pictures of strange, pale people and told her they were her family but then, she put the photos away and the child saw them no more. She could hardly process such information and so she discarded it and went on her way.
Far away a family began to love her and pray for her but she soon forgot their faces and she did not understand.
Day followed day and then flowed into weeks, months and then years as all of the people in power who mattered seemed to move slower and slower in the process to allow the child to be grafted into her adoptive family. The wait was excruciating for her parents and future siblings but for her, each day was the same. She almost never even went outside the orphanage walls except to go to the doctor. It was too dangerous. Within those walls was her whole world.
Then, one day when she when was five, a driver came for her. No one told her where she was going or why but soon he handed her over to a strange woman. So tall. So pale. The woman, who had been told the child had been prepared, smiled and cried, held her close and told her she was beautiful. The little girl smiled at that but was baffled and afraid when the woman said, “I am your mother. You are my little girl.”
For a few days she stayed with the woman and sometimes she cried. Other times she was angry and afraid, but the woman was kind and an old, buried longing stirred in the little girl’s heart. Before she knew what was happening though, the driver came and tears were flowing down the woman’s face again, but this time there was no smile. They were sad, sad tears. Then she knelt before her, kissed her good-bye and promised to return.
For a few days the child thought of her but then no more. She had learned to hold love loosely. Read the rest of this entry »
Milley is in my fourth grade Sunday School class. She has Spina Bifida and makes her way through the world in a wheelchair but she does not let it hinder her view. When Milley looks at her world, she sees blessings.
She was relinquished at birth for adoption and God carefully placed her in a family who he knew would love extravagantly. Still, you would think she might feel just the tinniest bit depressed about the lot she has been given, or complain about never being able to walk. On the contrary, she wheels through life unhampered by the notion of her limitations and instead celebrates her abilities. She loves without reservation and spreads joy everywhere she rolls.
Last Sunday as I was walking the kids to class, Milley’s best buddy Lola was pushing her along. Lola was born with dwarfisim and the two are kindred spirits. (You should see Lola dance!) Half way to class, Lola popped Milley’s wheelchair into a wheelie. The overprotective mother in me cringed but they were both having so much fun I restrained myself from correcting them and instead just walked along beside them.
I know I should not have favorites in my class and honestly, I love them every one, but Milley has a special place in my heart because she is the kind of person I want to be and lives her life the way I want to live mine. The bottom line is although she is bound to a wheelchair, Milley is freer than most who can run.
The kids had worship before the lesson. The woman who led them is young, energetic, beautiful and dark. Her ebony hair is short, spiky and highlighted blue. She played her guitar and began to sing praises. The kids joined in, clapping their hands. I closed my eyes and sang too. It was a song about Heaven. Suddenly, as if God tapped my spirit on the shoulder, my eyes flew open and I looked down at Milley. There she was, a smile on her face with both arms lifted as high as she could in praise to God.
And in that moment, I saw her as she will be on the day God calls all his children home and makes everything new. I closed my eyes and imagined her standing straight and strong, leading the rest of us as she danced before the Lord, whole at last.
So, what does Milley have to teach me today? Will I hold so tightly to the pain of those who have rejected, abandoned or injured me in the past that I find it impossible to love freely in the present? Will I become so focused on my weaknesses and limitations that I fail to use my strengths? Will I worry so much about how others perceive me that I become bound by insecurity?
Will I wait for perfection or will I dance through the life I have been given?
I know Milley isn’t waiting and I don’t want to either. Today, I’m going to dance.
(The names of the children in this post have been changed to protect their privacy.)
A few years ago, I had this big idea that we should buy a telescope. It would be a wonderful family Christmas present, I reasoned. I imagined the children “ooohing and aahhing” as they peered through the lens at the wonders of the universe.
Unfortunately, I forgot to take into consideration just how difficult it is to spot a star here. The first night we braved the cold to set up our new telescope and gaze into “infinity and beyond!” only a few dim specks of light floated in the winter sky. We found the moon pretty easily, and it was gorgeous, but one can only stare at the moon through a telescope lens for so long.
We decided to take the telescope and kids on a field trip. (My poor sister, bless her heart, was along) We loaded everyone into the van and drove out the Natchez Trace into the middle of what to us felt like nowhere, parked on the side of the road and attempted to capture a bit of the wonder of the universe for our crew. We stood out there in the freezing cold for an hour or more while creepy things crawled through the underbrush and the thing we discovered is that it does not take young children long to become bored on the side of a road in the dark of night.
With very little magic of the night sky discovered, we threw in the towel and drug our muddy children and (in our eyes a complete waste of money) telescope home. We cleaned up the kids and put them in bed and then we shoved the telescope back under my husband’s clothes in our closet and there it has remained until this day. I have rarely even thought about it until recently. As we began the process of moving, we decided that perhaps we could sell it to someone who lived where there were more stars, or someone who had more skill, or someone who was as gullible as we were….
I thought about that telescope again several times over the last couple of nights because for some reason the stars have been glorious here. This morning when I took the dog out, it was still dark and the sky was strewn with them. I looked up and easily found the Big Dipper, Little Dipper, Milky Way and North star. I stood there shivering in the first cool weather of the season, waiting for Puzzle the Puppy and just basking in the peace of the blanket of eternity spread over head.
Beautiful.
Finally, Puzzle was ready to go inside but I cast one last glance at the Morning Star (Venus) and remembered that in Revelation 22:16 Jesus calls himself the “bright Morning Star”. The most glorious, brightest spot in the celestial sky. Light for our path. The hope that the night is soon over….
I needed to be reminded of that this morning. I needed to remember that God is not only eternal but eternally faithful, that he cares to light my way. I needed to set my heart at peace in his infinite presence.
God is speaking today. Are you listening?
“The heavens declare the glory of God;
the skies proclaim the work of his hands.”
Psalm 19:1
Well, well, well….Here we are and it is Monday. We are scheduled to close on the new house next Tuesday, the last day before the kids go back to school after Fall break. We still have not received the punch list from our buyer after the inspection of this house, and the owners of the home we are purchasing do not seem eager to give us an actual move in date. Everyone, on all sides of the equation are certain about one thing…they want to close on the 16th and want us to be out of this house with the carpets clean by noon the next day.
I keep telling them all I have five kids but no one is listening….
On other subjects…
You know what is weird to me? Whenever I tell someone I have five kids they always ask the same thing. “Do you homeschool?” I don’t understand why those two things go together. Unfortunately, I am a strange mix of motherhood. I love my kids, love parenting, but can’t do it 24/7 non-stop. I used to feel guilty about this when I looked around me at all of these amazing homeschool moms but then, one day God informed me he did not design me that way and it was ridiculous to feel guilty about the way I was formed.
So, I’m over that now.
What is rough for me is about 1 1/2 weeks into my kids’ three week break, my productivity lessens considerably. I begin to feel like I am wading in mud. My brain just can’t function with no break from all the activity in my house. One thing I absolutely need every single day is to beat them all out of bed for some solitude. This morning, when I came out of the downstairs bath I was assaulted by the overhead light blaring and my oldest son parked in my “reading spot”.
“Uh, uh” I grunted cave man style, “Too much light. Get out of my spot.”
I flipped off the light and turned on the lamp before stumbling into the kitchen to make my tea. Before the water had a chance to boil, my offspring called to me full volume from the other room.
“Mommy?”
I walked into the living room and staged whispered, “Yes, son?”
“Mommy, did you know that parrots sometimes outlive their masters?”
I thought perhaps I had died and gone to “the bad place”.
So….here we are. As I type this, I have three of the five kids in the room and I have shooed them out of here at least three times in the last five minutes. I have already repaired a doll’s head that was coming loose. One child is singing “Mannahmahna”. Another is calling the dog. They are alternately laughing and arguing. They are very, very loud.
Very loud.
And in less than a week, I am supposed to move.
Time left before my breakdown….unknown.
My baby girl Ro, loves her doll. It is perpetually naked, and the fabric that joins the body to both legs is ripped and frayed but just like the Velveteen Rabbit, love has made her real and she is precious. The doll goes everywhere with us and over and over people ask Roseline the same question, “What is your doll’s name?”
“Baby,” Ro responds.
“Baby? She does not have a name?” They ask.
“Her name is BABY!” comes the reply.
And Ro loves her Baby.
One night last week as I was taking the braids out of Roseline’s hair, I looked down to find Baby sitting in front of Roseline, just as she was sitting in front of me. Roseline was happily working on Baby’s hair too. Never mind the fact that Baby is utterly and completely bald! It didn’t bother Ro a bit. She would simply pretend to rub hair lotion on the doll’s head and then lay beads and elastics on top.
“I think that Baby needs some hair,” I said.
“I just p-tending Mommy. I just p-tending,” she replied.
A few days later, Baby was along for our trip to the grocery. Little Mama strapped Baby into an extra booster seat beside her and when we arrived at the market she took her out, wrapped her in a blanket and cradled her carefully in her arms. As we walked across the parking lot, I looked down and smiled at the sight.
“You are a good Mommy, you know that?” I said. Then, I thought for a moment and asked, “Roseline, do you remember who gave Baby to you?”
She looked startled as if it had never occured to her that Baby was not always there. “No,” she said.
I picked her up and said, “Daddy and I gave Baby to you for your first Christmas home with us. I wanted you to come home for Christmas so much, but that Fall things were going badly with the adoption and it did not look like it was going to happen. Then, one day I decided I was going to believe that you were coming home for Christmas no matter what. So, I went to the computer and looked for a present for you. When I found that doll, I knew it was the one and I ordered it. By the time it came in the mail, things were going even worse but I said again, ‘I believe she will be home for Christmas!’ so, I went upstairs, wrapped the doll in Christmas wrapping paper and put it under the tree.”
“Then, guess what? You came home for Christmas and Baby was waiting for you on Christmas morning! That is why 
Baby is so, so special. She was an act of faith.”
Roseline grinned and hugged Baby tighter asI swallowed down the tears and hugged her tighter too.
I’m not sure how much longer Baby is going to make it. The fabric attached to her legs is tearing more each day but if the day comes when I find it neccesary to slip an identical replacement in Roseline’s bed while she sleeps, I know where the origninal will go. I will tuck her away in the bottom of the hope chest at the end of my bed, because somewhere along the way she became real to me too.
My new black hair care article for kids is up at Rainbow Kids. This month we are learning about simple parts and two strand twists! Check it out!
I am so busy with the move that I took the girls to their hairstylist for cornrows. Claudine’s were put in right before we went to the beach. Unfortunately, it was so crazy around here that I did not get pictures of them before they were trashed by the sand, water and sun. They are a little frizzy now but these photos still show the general style.
View from the top:
The back was styled so that a series of parts ran to the center to form a pony tail.
Roseline’s hair is still a bit fine so it does not stay put easily in braids but becomes horribly tangled if left free. I decided to run her into the beauty shop yesterday when the hairstylist had an opening to get her first set of professional cornrows. Even if they are frizzy, I will leave them up until after the move.
View from the top:
I washed and combed Ro’s hair before we left so the stylist only needed to braid it. She got started around 12:45pm and we were back in the van around 3:00pm. Roseline was very patient and good, much better than when she is with me 
Here is a view from the side:
The girls’ hairstylist is Vicky Seapker at In Vu Hair Studio in Franklin, TN. She is terrific and cuts not only black women and girls’ hair but a lot of white guys hair, and little boys of every color. She is very unusual in this and I love the fact that she is steam rolling over the racial line! If you are in the middle TN area, you should give her a try.
Here is the shot from the back:
Good Morning, and welcome to today’s addition of “Will This Woman Crack?” with Sherri Gragg. So sorry for the lack of consistent programming lately, but here is an overview to bring you up to speed.
1. September 11th – Our friend/Realtor sends us an e-mail with several houses. We are not looking for a home but I open it and scroll through it out of respect for him. The house at the bottom catches my eye. I am not excited about it but send it to my husband. I have 20 minutes that afternoon and the house is vacant so we go look at it. We like it and decide to go back the next day.
2. September 12th- We go back and decide to make an offer.
3. September 13th- We make and offer
4. September 15th- We have C & R’s Princess Birthday Party at home. Soon afterward, our Realtor brings the seller’s counter offer by. We come to an agreement and settle the contract. Our Realtor says he wants to list our home the next Friday before we head to FL Saturday morning.
5. The following week is the last week before break and I work like crazy day and night every single day. I am still alive at week’s end and we are able to get on the road to FL late Saturday morning. The hardwood floors in our home are scheduled to be refinished while we are gone, beginning Tuesday. There is a problem with the painter and it looks like the home will be un-showable until we come home. The open house for Sunday is canceled. We are sick about it but there is nothing we can do.
6. September 25th, Tuesday- Hanging out in the sand and life is good. Weather is gorgeous. I am still tired and write in my journal that I may be so for a long time. We receive an e-mail from the Realtor. The floor guys are delayed so he is scheduling our house to be shown twice before they arrive. Later that day, we receive word that one of those first two couples wants to make a written offer. We have it by Tuesday night and negotiate the contract the remainder of the week by e-mail and phone.
7. September 28th- We receive a copy of the final contract by e-mail. The house is sold, pending inspection. Closing date is set for October 16th and we are to move that same day. We have 2 1/2 weeks to pack and be ready to bolt after we close.
8. September 29th- We travel all day and everyone is exhausted when we arrive at home. The hardwood floors look great but the house smells awful from the fumes. The fridge is in the living room. We keep looking for things that seem to have disappeared in our absence, some of which we find over the course of the next 24 hours, and some we do not.
9. September 30th- We spend the day trying to unpack, get our bearings, etc…. I am very tired by day’s end and eat dinner sitting in the kitchen floor because we still do not have a table in the house. The kids eat every meal that day on the back patio. There are only four chairs at the table and Ro has to sit in a kid sized chair with her own table. She is angry and cries because “I’m not a baby, Mommy!” Some of the other four children have already begun sulking because even though they just returned from a fantastic week long vacation, it is their three week break and the next two weeks “aren’t going to be any fun.” I look at them as if they have grown two heads while I was not paying attention and return to the packing box in front of me.
10. October 1st- I awaken at 5:20am and by 5:30am I am already overwhelmed. I check e-mail and my new article at Rainbow Kids. It looks great but I have a panic attack as I wonder how on earth I will get the one done for next month. I also have a small new writing assignment for a magazine which I am very excited about but must also be nervous because I worked on it in my head all night long.
Will our heroine get it all done? Will she have the stamina to pack up one home and move to another, rear the children, train the puppy, and hold her fledgling writing career together all at the same time? Will all the children make it back to school in one piece the very morning after the move? Stay tuned next time for our exciting continuation of ……WILL THIS WOMAN CRACK?
