Jacob and Lydia: The Beginnings

There was a certain night that I knew was going to be special. It wasn't really very different than other nights we had gone out for dinner... but this time. Well, the day before had been a hell of an emotional roller coaster and this night was bringing the clearest sense of peace and belongingness that I hadn't felt... ever.

Unfailing Love

The last time I came here to write on my blog I was writing in a state of despair and confusion. I was desperately gripping onto my hope in Yahweh even though I couldn't see an answer to my struggles. I honestly felt at that time that I couldn't go on. I felt as if I was about to fall off the edge, that I wouldn't be able to finish my degree. I was feeling the weight of problems that weren't entirely my own but could find no way to shake them. Little by little I was being crushed and more and more I had been locking myself away from the world. When my friends asked me to hang out I made excuses in order to keep alone. The pressure of being okay and happy around them was often too great. Of course, during this time there were moments when I showed my weakness and each time my friends were there to pick me up. I am eternally grateful to them for standing by me. Despite that, however, I continued to feel alone. It was at this time that God showed his Love in my life and rescued me again. He never fails me.

Learning to Praise

Do you ever feel alone?

I do.

Do you ever feel inadequate?

I do.

Do you ever look around and see a world that seems perfect and wonder how you keep managing to mess yours up? Do you sit surrounded by friends smiling and laughing but feel profoundly sad at the same time? Afraid to go home at the end of the night?

Me. That's me. me. me.

So this is it. I've landed on it. I've found the words to express what has been giving me so much trouble lately. I've been kept awake at night with so many thoughts. I have been worrying about so many things that wisdom tells me is best to leave unnamed. I have developed a defence mechanism to deal with these sorts of things and it is that I pretend that everything is okay, that its not real, or that I can handle it. I am trying to break that habit so I hate that I can't be candid with y'all. Because the reason why I write is because I don't want to be fake. I don't want to be one of those bloggers who has the solution for everything. I struggle too. I struggle so much. And it is so important to me that I share this because the ideal of a perfect image is probably the most damaging influence in my life personally - something I am hoping that my honesty will keep others from experiencing as well. But, there are times for everything and at the moment it is best to leave some things unspoken. Just please understand that my silence in this moment is not the same as me pretending. I am not trying to be perfect.

Mustard Greens

Cheesy bean and rice burrito with sides of collard greens with mixed vegetables and grapes.

One of my favorite kinds of places in the entire world are farmer's markets. A close second are the produce sections in the grocery store. I love to skip through the aisles flitting from one bin to another to admire all of the fresh food. I constantly get distracted and forget what vegetable I had originally intended to buy and, if I'm not careful, I will end up bringing strange fruits and vegetables to the check out counter and then make the check out take twice as long because I am too busy telling the cashier how I am going to cook it when I get home.

SO

If this is the case at the grocery store... imagine me at the farmers market.

Last Saturday I went with my roommate and another co-worker to the local farmer's market here in Pensacola. I had a blast! There is so much to see at this market. People will come all the way from Alabama just to set up here in Pensacola. There are a lot of craft like tables that sell things such as homemade clothes, toiletries, jewelry, games, yard decorations, household items, pottery - just about anything you can think of. The food tables are equally diverse. There are baked goods, fresh produce, refreshing drinks, snacks, jams, jellies, kettle corn, honey, preserved meat, fresh meat, different grains... There is also a lot of music there. A bluegrass band comes every week along with several solo musicians. People will play guitar, piano, banjo, violin, drums, and even foreign instruments that I don't recognize. This market is the place to be.

Joy is Trust

My sister ran across some old writing of mine as she cleaned out her desk tonight. Thought I would share it with y'all.

Joy does not always laugh.

Sometimes Joy cries.
Sometimes you weep, and sometimes you feel insecure.
Unsure of the future; unsure of how your past will effect that future.
But Joy presses on.
Joy has hope.

Sometimes you are so desperate, your life is in ruins
and you look at the fragments of what once was your all
and you mourn.
But Joy remembers.

Joy remembers that God promised never to abandon.
In the midst of anguish you will fall broken into his arms
And He will heal.
It will hurt. You will cry. You will struggle
But in the end, Joy smiles and Joy will laugh.

Just because you didn't always laugh
doesn't mean you didn't have Joy.

Joy is Trust.

True Will by Liturgy - Review

As many of you know, I love classical music. When I was five years old I had already decided that I was going to be a concert pianist and tour the world playing my favorite song, Beethoven's Fur Elise. Well It's been fifteen years now and although I am no where near touring the world as a concert pianist, I have long been able to play Fur Elise. I am going to college now as a major in piano performance. I am surrounded by classical music every day and I love it. Almost every CD I own is classical music and my first purchases on iTunes were of the same ilk. When I was fourteen my ring tone was the opening lines of Beethoven's 5th. As you can see, classical music is a defining factor in my life. However, there are many other kinds of music I enjoy listening to, such as jazz, Gregorian chants, pop, indie, hymns, bluegrass, 20's and 30's music, classic rock, country, and rap.

This photo is not mine, here is where I got it from.

One of the things I am really enjoying since starting college is the music club that a friend of mine started. Every week we pick out songs and send it to my friend and he puts it on CDs and passes them out to everyone in the club. On Friday we meet at ten o'clock with snacks, tea, and coffee to talk about the music. We love exploring new artists and styles of music and try to pick out the most obscure ones we know of. Consequently almost every song is one that I have never heard of before and I love it! This weeks CD had a lot of good songs on it but one in particular I found especially intriguing.

Dancing at Lughnasa

Two weeks ago Friday I went to a play. The last time I remember going to a play was with my third grade class in South Carolina. We saw a silly version of Cinderella that I absolutely despised. This play however, was much different than the one from so many years ago. It was called Dancing at Lugnsasa and was being put on by theatre department of the university I'm attending so consequently it was free to all college students. (Say whaa??) I didn't go alone of course and went with my boyfriend and two others.

Somehow muscadines have become synonymous with an idealized past and despite their disappointing taste brings with them a comforting sense of belonging. 

Tonight I Sit

Insomnia. I'm not sure if I have it or not but sometimes, like tonight, even though I am sleepy, I can't seem to fall asleep.

I tossed and turned in my bed. I curled up into a tiny ball. I hugged my pillow so tight that the feathers were about to burst. I talked to my sister. (One of the perks of sharing a room. Also one of the drawbacks if you are the one sleeping and your sister is the one who can't.) I got down from my bed and did some sit-ups in the middle of the floor. Finally I announced to my sleepy roommate that I was going outside to listen to some music.

Conveniently, I took a picture of this honeysuckle blossom a few nights ago. I can say that it is supposed to represent the sweet thoughts that came to me out of the dark night. ;)

As quietly as possible I opened the cantankerous piece of wood that we call a door and slipped out into the muggy Florida night. The air was heavy and the bugs were thick. I picked my way across the driveway to the sidewalk, being careful not to step on any toads, and sat myself down in the broken beach chair that was abandoned there after our last trip to the lake. Of course, because my hair is so thick and long and crazy, in the short amount of time it took me to get out there my earphones got all tangled up in my unruly locks. After extracting the wires from my hairy mess I was finally able to turn my music on.

What Have You Been Doing this Summer?

 "So what have you been doing all summer?"

That is the question I was asked yesterday at lunch that I never really answered. I started to answer by leaning back in my chair (or forward, I don't remember, I just know I moved around in my seat) and saying something like "Oh man, a lot has happened this summer. My life is so different now than what is used to be." I paused awkwardly for a second trying to figure out how to proceed but then my phone rang and I was saved from answering immediately. After the phone call I kind of avoided going back to the question and our conversation continued on swimmingly thanks to the "amiableness" of my companion.

Still I kind of feel bad for never answering. It's not that I didn't want to, I was just unprepared to answer such a simple question because I feel like I have a complicated answer. It's not that a lot has happened this summer, but a lot has come into fruition this summer. I mention often, in somewhat veiled language, the difficult life I had before and to be sitting here now in my current situation is something that is nothing short of miraculous to me.

Orientation at University of West Florida 2015

I must warn y'all before you start reading this post that it is going to be pretty long. I just couldn't help myself this time!

 Okay.... what the heck Jamie!? Why are you turned backwards! Anyways, this was my group for orientation. 

These last five days have been super busy for me. It started out as a normal weekend on Friday. I drove myself to piano lessons, then went to teach a piano lesson. I filled up my gas tank, went to the bank and ran a few errands... I don't remember what they were but almost every Friday without fail I have something I have to go do. Saturday came and I woke up at 5 am to get ready to volunteer at a run that was going on in Pensacola called the Run 4 Hope. All proceeds from the run go to Christian charity organizations. My younger brother Levi decided to participate in the 5K run so he slapped on his boots and blue jeans and came along with us. My mom and I were working at a water booth at the one mile mark with other folks from our church. I've never volunteered at a run before so this was a fun new experience for me.

After the run there were food and drinks available for everyone and booths with information about the ministries the run was supporting. There was also a chin up bar where a competition got started to see who could do the most. I had fun cheering and watching everyone's neck muscles bulge and their faces turning red. The highest count was twenty two! Levi did eleven.

After the run I went to the farmers market and bought zucchini, cucumber, a cantaloupe, corn, and a spaghetti squash. After the market I stopped at Reynold's Music House in downtown Pensacola, did a little shopping at Target and TJ Max, then met up with Mom, Dad, and two of my younger brothers to go to the same adoption picnic we attended a year ago before we had met my four foster brothers. (I mention it briefly in this post here.) This time it was at the beach so we had a lot of fun.

After the picnic I was dropped back off to my car because I had to pick up some contact solution which I had forgotten to get earlier in the day. When I finally got home the day was almost over but I spent about an hour going through the music for church the next day.

Sunday morning came and I accidentally got up a half hour earlier than I needed to. *sad face*. Sunday's are normally pretty tiring for me but this Sunday was especially exhausting. After church everyone rushed out of the building as quickly as possible because everyone was going to head over to the Smith's house for a big summer fish fry/going away party for the Anderson family. The food and drinks were delicious, and we had all sorts of fun playing in the water. I went kayaking, swimming, paddle boarding and jet skiing. There were other things to do like playing ring toss, giant hula hoops, knee boarding, and getting pulled behind the boat on the biscuit and trying not to get knocked off. I pushed little kids on the swings and showed them interesting creatures you could find in the rocks and sand/muck of the bay.

This is downstairs at the Smith's house. Their home is raised up on stilts so there is plenty of space below for ping-pong, foosball, pool, a mini basketball hoop, Mr. Ron's shop, and plenty of storage for water toys and floats and what not.

When the party was over we didn't leave... my parents kept on talking. The sun had long since went to bed and I desperately wanted to follow. Alas, I was stuck there with no bed in sight. I mean, I like a good party, but you can't stay forever! When we finally got in the van to head home I said in a pitiful voice "I sure hope I don't have orientation tomorrow!"

Breaking the Silence

Sometimes the silence is unbearable. Don't be afraid to make some noise.

This is the thought that slipped into my head a few weeks ago and it still hasn't come out. There is a book coming out called Tear Down this Wall of Silence by Dale Ingraham and Rebecca Davis. It's about sexual abuse in the church and how we should handle it. I haven't read it, but I believe my mom has and if you're friends with her on Facebook; then I am sure you have seen her post about it a few times. Even though I've never been sexually abused, this title still resonates deeply with me.

When I was young Mom gave me a small paperback book called Dorie: The Girl Nobody Loved. It was dark blue and had a simple line drawing of a little girl looking up at a particular constellation in the sky. I remember laying in the bed of our small pickup truck at my brother's football practice. It was night and the lights were so bright on the field, that it was almost day. The story was about this little girl and how she grew up being sexually abused and how she dealt with it becoming an adult. Gazing up at the ink black sky, searching for that constellation, I learned compassion. I am thankful that Mom gave me that book to read. It is one of the key points that God used to open my eyes to see others suffering.

All Sorts of Waters - Wild Beach Pictures

We went to the beach yesterday and that is what inspired me to write about all the different kinds of waters I've been to. I took pictures too so I'll be working them in throughout the text even though its not directly related.

I've had a pretty eclectic experience when it comes to growing up with different kinds of waters. Our family has always been active and my parents made a point to take us as many places as they could.

One of those places was the mountains. Mom and Dad would take the four of us kids (this was long before Jubal was born) on weekend camping trips so often that we practically didn't have time to put our sleeping bags away. We lived in South Carolina at the time so went to the Smokey Mountains, which is at the tail end of the Blue Ridge Mountain range. The drive was part of the adventure and I remember being able to recognize the roads because we went that way so often. Up there in the clouds we would go on hiking trips or playing in the freezing cold mountain streams, sliding down slippery rocks or standing underneath pounding waterfalls and swimming in the pools formed below them.

When we weren't in the mountains we would go to the lake. There was a lake called Lake Hartwell (we called it Lake Cartwheel) that we frequented. Once we had a bonfire there with some friends and Uncle Mike melted the souls of his shoes and my friend Emily swallowed a fish and got sick. Someone else got their fishing line stuck in a tree. Once time I went walking along the red clay shore a long ways from the group an found an old log and some dog poop. Other lakes we visited were Lake Jocassee and Lake Keowee which were much bigger and colder. I remember some kind of party at one of these big lakes. We went boating and water skiing and I almost lost my goggles. Another time I went with my friend for her birthday to Lake Keowee. There was a low rock cliff face, probably about thirty feet, and at the foot of the cliff a shallow shelf of rock just beneath the water . At the top of the cliff blue lines were painted on the rock and if you ran and jumped far enough out you would miss the rocks below and land safely in the icy cold water. I was there with my friend and her brother and their dad said he would give us a dollar if we would jumped off. Of course a dollar was a substantial sum of money in my mind back then so quick as a wink I ran through the blue lines and launched myself into the air. The fall was thrilling and folks cheered me when they saw my head bob up from the lake below. My friend and her brother were too scared and eventually their Dad said he would give them five dollars so they jumped too. I was mad at my friends because they got more money than me.

Being an Older Adoptive Sibling

Hello friends, it has been a while since I've posted on here.

Today I have something important to talk about. Although I can't share everything here online I must make you aware of the fact that we are no longer adopting the boys. Many things have contributed to this decision on my parents part and it is not my place to explain everything. Even so, everything I said before about loving being a big sister, about how I could see God leading us to these boys, all of that still applies. The time we had with them was hard but still a blessing. Maybe more for them than us, but I don't regret that time at all.

Having read different blogs and forums, I've noticed that people are always saying that nobody really talks about adoption that much. I wouldn't have known since all of these places were talking about it, but maybe I just stumbled upon the few rare gems. Since there is a need for more discussion on the subject I would like to share with y'all my story as an older sister in a local American adoption. I hope some of you other adoptive older siblings will find this story and get some encouragement out of it.

Easter 2015
We're just missing our older brother Zachary!

Floral Shorts and Muscadines Remind Me of His Mercy

A while back my mom took my sister and I shopping at a Spring sale Old Navy was having. Styles are cycling back around and what was once popular when my Mom was a girl is once again becoming the latest trend. Many of the prints and colors were familiar to me. Mostly I remember the shoes from Mom's closet but I guess when we were younger we also had some old hand me downs, mostly dresses. I got a pair of navy blue shorts with pink and blue flowers plastered onto it. I like them a lot but whenever I look at them I cant help but remember the hideous dresses Mom used to make me wear when I was little. They had flower print just like my shorts and one had big puffed sleeves and soft gathers at the hem so my dress looked like that one sleepy cartoon dog - Droopy is it? - Anyways, I don't know why but I had so many floral print dresses and I hated them all. I swore I would never ever wear dark colored with medium sized contrasting flowers on top clothes... especially dresses. Now here I am wearing a pair of shorts that if they were a dress I would immediately throw into the donate pile. Go figure.

The other day my brother was listening to country music and one of the lines in the song is "sweeter than muscadine wine" How many of y'all know what a muscadine is? Well you won't have to wonder long because I'll tell you. They're summer. They are komorebi (the soft light that turns leaves into glowing fireflies). They're the gentle breeze that sneaks under the thick vines and cools a little girls legs but not her sweaty brow. She is almost completely out of sight under the thick growth, her waist and legs rest in the moist dirt as the rest of her strains reaching up and up, to the very center of the friendly vines where she plucks the very last fruit. She collapses and rests on her elbows that are digging into the soft earth and plops the muscadine into her mouth. She sucks on it and then pulls it out and carefully begins peeling off the skin to reveal the green inside. It matches the glowing leaves. Finally she eats it. Muscadines are the perfect day.

The Wizard of Oz

NOTE: This was written several months ago. I think even before we met the boys.

When I was very young we were at some friend’s house. A movie about the Wizard of Oz was put in and we youngsters did not sit still and watch it. Everyone was very wiggly including me. I was at the most four years old. I was annoyed with the other children because I couldn’t hear what Dorothy was saying or the Lion or the Tin Man. I sat close to the television and pressed my ear against the speaker. I couldn’t see but at least I could hear. Eventually the travelers made it to the Emerald City. There were scary adventures and some happy times too, I don’t remember much about it. I do know though, that was the day I fell in love with the Land of Oz.
                Some years later a remake of the Wizard of Oz movie came out and it was very popular. McDonald's began including dolls of the characters in the happy meals. Every Wednesday on the way to piano lessons we would stop at a McDonald's that was right next to a green BP gas station. We didn’t normally buy happy meals but since Mom knew I liked the Wizard of Oz so much she bought me the happy meals and I collected the dolls. I got the Tin Man, Dorothy, a flying monkey, and Glinda the Good. I was disappointed that they stopped giving out the dolls before I could collect them all.

Late Nights

Sometimes the words just won't come. Sometimes thoughts don't either. I lay in my bed and nothing makes sense. I lay there and so many ideas flit by. Like a butterfly, beautiful unique, so delicate; it alights upon a flower for just a moment and then moves. Sometimes it stays though, but you are so concerned with how long it will stay that you don't even take time to trurly appreciate it. My thoughts are butterflys and all I can do is watch them fly by, they are not my own and I just observe.

I am overwhelmed with confusion.

But I'm not lost.

It's a comfort to know where I stand - to know that these questions (Whatever they are) won't seperate me from God - to know that He welcomes questions; because He longs to answer them.

Still these faceless thoughts will torment me. If only I could get a hold of them, then maybe I could sort them out. The butterflies flutter away from me leaving me stuck in this tossing abiss of raw ideas and emotions. Formless, shapeless, endless....

Sometimes I really don't think me being an insomniac is that far fetched of an idea.

Times like this is when I turn to music and fill my head with someone elses words. Is this a good thing? I don't know. Maybe I should turn to my Bible and fill my head with God's words.

The Devil Cannot Steal you From God; Go Help Those Over Whom the Devil Actually has a Grip.

It has been a while since I have posted anything with me just talking and sharing my heart with y'all. A lot has been going on lately and I feel like there are some things I need to say.

First of all I must confess that my prayer life is anything but stellar and I feel distant from God at the moment. Formerly I would have interpreted this lost kind of feeling as me being altogether separated from God; Apart from His Grace and unworthy of His Forgiveness. It is a blessing for me to KNOW without a doubt that will never happen. When God brings you into His family there is no way you can ever fall away. There may be times when I feel alone or sometimes when I actually put up a barrier between myself and my Father but just because I have thrown up a short little wall doesn't mean that God can’t see down in and isn't watching over me and protecting me. I need His love more than anything.

Despite my weariness there has been some things my Father has been teaching me lately and I'd like to share that with you. Actually I think it is because of my weariness that I have been able to hear what He has to say. It's about forgiveness and grace.

We need a whole lot of it.

We need to give others even more of it.

First Day of School

I am standing out by the mail box about five feet from the road. My bare feet in the cool wet grass are antithetical to the sweat that I can feel beading up on the back of my neck. The sun shines down and I am glad I am wearing my hat on this warm August morning. My eleven year old brother and I are waiting for the bus. This is his first day in middle school. I watch him wandering about the grass, stooping down and watching little creatures in the dirt. His backpack looks like a turtle shell; he is entirely too close to the road. "Come here, don't be so close to the road." I tell him. I put my arm on his back.

Waiting for the bus!

Mom has already left to take the twins to their Headstart school. When I woke up this morning it was because Mom came in calling for reinforcements. There was a missing shoe crisis. The two year old has this thing about shoes. He takes any shoes and all shoes and puts them on his feet, "Dese mine." He will say. And they get lost. So we three, Mom, Savannah and I, looked frantically all through the house for the missing shoe. One boy kept saying his tummy hurt and he was hungry, "You're going to eat at school" we told him, then the moanings increased when he saw his older brother eating a bowl of cerial. (He doesn't eat breakfast at his middle school) The two youngest kept declaring that they wanted to go to school, or asked for food, or asked to be held. We never found the shoe but got a new pair instead. "I want socks!" whined the shoeless boy when he saw his sandals. Finally though they were ready to leave. A hug and kiss for each and they were headed out the door.

Conversations With Jubal

I am laying in bed, fast asleep, dreaming about waking up when through the soft billowy layers of my dream, and yes thinking back on it, it does seem to be a white mist, I hear coming towards me steps. The steps seem to stretch on for an eternity, the soft padding forever echoing, forever boding the ill that was to come. Pfff, pfff, pfff... In the endless space somewhere the door creaked. A pitiful voice weaseled it's way through the calm silence. "Eat, eat..." In a moment I am wrenched from my sleep when the voice persists. It is much more like a tornado siren now. "Eat, eat, eat!"

It is eight AM, and I know right there I have lost all pity. No it is not early, but when the whole household is sick, and all semblance of a routine has gone by the wayside, nine o'clock has been the norm for waking hours. (*hands on sides of face, gasp*)

I roll over and there is my three year old brother clutching his blue snot covered pillow to his face. I think to myself, "Man that thing needs to be washed." I shove the covers down away from my face and look around the darkened room. The house is silent except for the pitiful cries of my little brother. "Eat, eat!"

Carpenter's Park

This afternoon was lovely! The weather was gorgeous! Zachary and Levi took Jubal outside and showed him how their traps work. Savannah put the sides up on the tepee for Jubal. I sat on the flower bed wall an read my Bible. The birds sang, the breeze blew gently and Spring seemed to say she was on her way. I walked around the yard and took a few pictures.  

                                              

The yard proved too small for such a wonderful day so it wasn't long before I proposed a trip to the park.