Don't Drive Tired

I was in a terrible car accident yesterday. Okay, it was a minor fender-bender. We can hardly see the damage on our already dinged-up car. The woman whom I hit, on the other hand, can most definitely see the damage on her much more expensive, much fancier, much whiter SUV.

I was trying to escape for a few minutes. We had camp last week, and Edwin and I are extremely tired. While the foster kids had visitation yesterday, I was given the choice between a nap and some time to wander around a few stores.

I chose poorly.

I was pulling up to a STOP sign, and the car in front of me started to go. It's a really busy intersection, so I started looking for the next window to pull out. I wasn't very thoroughly awake at the time, so it took me far longer than it should have to realize that the car in front of me decided to not go. I was in Edwin's car, and the brakes are much looser than my own. There was no time to stop it, but I managed to make a small dent instead of a large one.

The driver was not happy at all. Unfortunately, we live in a small town, and she's a local, so several people stopped to ask her about the horrible atrocity that had just taken place. I watched her tell the story of the accident with far greater enthusiasm and plenty of gestures. I think it's easier to be stoic when you have absolutely no sentimental attachment to the car.

I must confess that I didn't even apologize. I only spoke to her for the quickest moment to let her know that I was pulling out of the way of traffic. From that point on, we remained in our corners. It had nothing to do with a lack of sorrow on my part. I was really quite thoroughly mortified, but I thought it would be best to stay out of her way.

I probably should have implemented such a strategy before I hit her car.

The Reunion

DeLaynie has been asking me about a friend from school ever since summer began. She wanted to send her letters almost constantly. Anytime she made something she was especially proud of, she would sigh to herself, "I wish she could see this..."

Obviously, friendships are a normal part of a little girl's life, but DeLaynie isn't normal. She's socially stunted due to her delays, and she has never really seemed to care about friends when they're not around. I was desperate, of course, to make DeLaynie's dreams of seeing her friend become a reality. There was just one problem: I didn't know her name!

DeLaynie kept telling us about her friend, and she used her name very specifically. DeLaynie has a wild imagination and she tends to get things from television mixed up with things from real life. I made her point her friend out when we looked at her class pictures. She was consistent. Edwin and I decided that The Friend may actually exist. But we still only knew her first name.

I asked a school teacher at church if she knew her. She wracked her brain, and sure enough, she made the connection. She is good friends with DeLaynie's teacher from preschool, so she tracked down the phone number for us. I made the phone call to The Friend's mom, and The Friend missed DeLaynie too! We set up a playdate for today.

I was terrified that it wasn't going to be the right friend. What if DeLaynie mixed up the name, and the little girl who got out of the car was someone else? What if DeLaynie said, "That's not The Friend!"? The anticipation mounted all week. DeLaynie kept reminding me that The Friend was coming, and I kept hoping that we found the right girl.

Then her mom pulled into the driveway. DeLaynie, Ella (who had gotten caught up in all of the excitement), and I went out on the porch to welcome who we hoped to be The Friend. Their eyes met, and they ran to each other! It was The Friend! DeLaynie was right! There's a real person that DeLaynie really likes! They hugged, and DeLaynie exclaimed, "You're here. You're really here. We're finally together again!"

A Pleasant Change

This week is youth camp for our Baptist Association. Because the churches here are few, far-between, and tiny (compared to the South), the associations sponsor or organize many of the activities that are typically the responsibility of individual churches in the South. Edwin and I again have the privilege of leading the small group Bible studies. We have organized childcare for our foster kids, and take our girls with us to the camp, where they get some intimate time with Mommy or Daddy while the inverse teaches their small groups.

I am deeply enjoying the time I get to spend teaching, the time I get to spend with the girls without fighting off two toddlers, and the time that we get as a family on the drives to and from camp. The foster kids seem to be enjoying their time at home with the sitter. It's pleasant to have a week with less pressure and a little breathing room.

We also have the joy of spending a little time with some friends that we pulled up here to lead worship and pastor the camp. It's a fun and bizarre thing to see friends from the past in our new surroundings, around our new friends.  I like being around grown-up friends. It makes me feel like a person. I find it odd that I have to go to youth camp to be around adults, but that seems to be how it is.

The fosters' mom is looking into getting a home, which will allow her to have overnight visits, eventually leading to a temporary discharge. We're praying for our guest children and their mom. We love them, and want what's best for them, and we really believe that their mom wants the same thing. It is such a strange state-of-being to live with children when you know that they are temporarily in your home. How do I teach them to trust when I know that it is my job to leave their lives? Well, that's the only deep question that I am presenting today. I'll let you stew on it for a while.

Plague #2

The Virus has subsided, it seems. I'm not casting any bets, but it appears that we are now free from The Virus.

But now, Plague #2 has begun, and it's a dandy. We have a bat problem. Okay, I'm not sure how big of a problem it is, but we have had three visitors in the last week. Ella is absolutely loving it. She seems to want to keep one as a pet. We tried to explain that some bats can make you sick, but she thinks that all of our new friends are healthy, nice bats.

So there you go.

The silver lining is listening to three squeeling girls talk about bats and how to rid our home of them.
Ella: "When bats come in, people go, 'AHHHHHHHHHH!' They fly around like this (hand movements of flying) and people run away!"

DeLaynie: "I know! We should put on bat costumes! Bat costumes will get rid of the bats!"

Foster daughter: "No. That won't work. That will make the bats want to come in. Unless we go outside in the costumes and then run back inside when they go out! Your house is spooky. No, not spooky. Your house is evil."

With these great words of wisdom, I think that our future is looking bright. The leaders of tomorrow are living in the Attaway abode today, I tell you.

The Virus

It began with the baby. He was whiny and cranky, but babies are supposed to be whiny and cranky sometimes. Then came the bodily expulsions. Seemingly unending bodily expulsions. Before he could conquer The Virus, the next oldest child was whiny and cranky, a sure sign of The Virus. As it progressed through his system, the three year-old began to be cranky... another victim. It seemed unending, unrelenting, devoid of mercy, completely unstoppable through modern medicine.

The adults seemed okay from the outside, but lack of sleep was eating away at their minds, even as the incessant whining tore away at their souls. Zombies! Will it ever end? Will this plague ever be defeated? Will The Virus bring life as we know it to an end? Stay tuned for more from...

The Virus

How Things are Going

We are about to head into Sunday, the most challenging day of the week, now made more challenging by the five little ones we have in tow. I'm thinking through the Sunday School lesson for tomorrow while I type this blog (subconscious writing is my thing). I have the kids' clothes picked out.

The little ones are in bed after a torturous experience trying to get DeLaynie and Ella bathed before the boys' bedtime. Ella fell asleep on the couch right before, so I had to wake her up to wash her hair. I'm pretty sure that I have solidified my future in a cheap nursing home. While I was trying to get the girls settled into the tub as quickly as possible, our foster daughter alerted me to the fact that the boys had pulled up a chair to the kitchen sink and were playing in the dirty dishes, which included knives. I decided that their bedtime could overlap with the girls' bath time.

I washed Ella's hair at a disturbingly rapid pace and took her downstairs so that I could get the boys to bed. After getting them settled, I came downstairs to the wet, naked Ella I had left behind, crying in the dining room. I brushed her hair (that nursing home will probably have a policy against pain medication, if Ella has her way), and threw on some pajamas. I took her upstairs and went to the baby's room to plug in the iPod that I left downstairs. He went to sleep almost immediately after I pressed, "play". She was crying in her bed when I arrived because she thought that I had forgotten her story. I excused myself to make sure that DeLaynie was good to go. She was in fish-heaven. I read Ella's story, which was only interrupted once for an excursion downstairs to let the dog inside so that her barking wouldn't wake the boys. Meanwhile, our foster daughter decided that she should watch "Jersey Shore," which I am pretty sure isn't intended for six year-olds. I changed the channel to Nick Jr. Once Ella was settled and her teeth were brushed, I washed DeLaynie's hair and got her out of the tub.

These were the busiest moments of what has been the most relaxing day we've had with five children. Everything's more work. Everything's more chaotic. Everything's more exhausting. There's more laundry, more cooking, and immeasurably more cleaning. But we're alive. The kids (all five) are happy and clean for the most part. Things get better day-by-day, with only a few exceptions. None of this is to our credit, of course. We're receiving, not giving.

Things are going well. We're grateful for our time with these precious ones, made in the image of the Majestic Glory. We hope that these months will have eternal impact, something that we are incapable of generating, but ready and willing to accept. Such a gift can only come from the hands of the One who made them and made us, who longs to see His people transformed into the image of His Son, usually by way of fire. So we'll let the fire to its task and won't run from its heat. When things are harder than we imagined (usually around five o'clock), we'll strive to remain in the Vine and receive our power from the Living Source. We'll fail. We 'll get emotional bumps and bruises whose only rivals will be the physical ones that the boys can't seem to go a day without acquiring. It's what we're made for, and it's the only possible way to be who we're meant to be and do what we're meant to do.

Here We Go!

We welcomed our first foster children into our home on Tuesday. We got a shipment of two toddler boys and a 6 (almost 7) year-old girl. We will not be taking any further deliveries for a while. We weren't planning on accepting any children older than Ella, but because of a glorious miscommunication between my sweet husband and myself, here we are!

I would like to say that the transition has been completely smooth, but it seems that instantly increasing your family's size by 75% is a wee-bit challenging. Of course, I knew that it would be, but knowing and experiencing are two different things.

It hasn't been bad, but it has been a whole new kind of difficult. Here are a few things that I have learned in the last 2 days:

• Boys are different. I don't care how progressive you are, gender matters! Climbing, bumping, running, colliding, pulling, and breaking are just a few of the special gifts that these little fellas have in abundance.
• Parenting a child who has been in a different home for the first year, two years, or 6 years is a whole different ball game from starting from the beginning.
• Sorry to be so shallow, but cute really helps.
• This is going to take more ability than I have, more patience than I can muster, and more love than I have to offer, so it's a really good thing that it isn't about me. My God has all that Edwin and I need, all that the foster kids need, and all that the girls need. And He's really good at sharing, which is good because no one else seems to be.