I thought I could...

My grandmother is an amazing seamstress and my mom is a fabulous seamstress and ever since I was little, I wanted to sew, just like them. But alas, I did not inherit the crafty gene...it skipped a generation and went straight on down to Evalin. However, the dream has never left...not even after I received a C- in Home Economics because I sewed my polka-dot project to the front of my shirt (that I was wearing) and had to miss the entire next period because I was seam-ripping my project off my shirt (ah...that seam-ripper and became such great friends that semester of school).

That dream to sew and create didn't even die after I decided to make all the baby blankets for Lukas' nursery and ended up ruining 5 yards of fleece because I could not get the seam straight (and to add insult to injury, Lukas' all-time favorite "blanket" is the remnant of fabric that survived - all misshapen and ugly)

The dream didn't die even after I purchased the exact same fabric that the Clinton's used in the White House, for only $8 a yard (instead of $100 a yard like they paid). Yet here the fabric sits eight years later! 

Earlier this week, my boss asked me what I do to relax and have fun. I said "Sleep" which apparently was not an acceptable answer as I was given an assignment to discover what I like to do besides sleep (which I really do love to do...) and to discover what "fills me up" as opposed to "drains me" And seeing that my boss is also my pastor, I decided I better actually do what he said.

So after thinking about this for many days, I decided that I do like to be creative and crafty (not crafty in the sneaky way, but the Martha Stewart way) and so I left the house this morning saying "I think I can, I think I can, I think I can" all the way to JoAnn Fabrics (gasp!)

And once there, I purchased....wait for it....fabric...to sew with. 

And I did! I sewed!

And I made all that you see in these pictures! The darling pillows and the apron. And I did not sew anything onto the clothes that I was wearing (a win) and only saw my friend, seam-ripper, once!

And I promised my sister/apron-model that I wouldn't put this picture on my blog, but she is so ridiculous and this picture makes me laugh so much that... I lied.

My trip to Holland

This weekend Phil and I dedicated our kids (finally!) We decided that it was about time; especially when the four found out that Lukas had been dedicated when he was a baby and they had not...oh the injustice of it all!

And then what followed our family dedication was Kate's baptism, which was powerful and emotional for me, as in that moment, I saw WHY we were called to adopt. God was so crazy about Kate, that He rescued her twice...wow, sometimes  there are no words.

Adoption is hard work. It is painful. It is exhasting. It is challenging to say the least. But I have come to learn that if I focus on that which is negative, I miss the entire point.

I recently read this account, by a mom who had always dreamed about being a mom, and then she gave birth to a  child who had a disability, which was definitely not what she had dreamed about. And as I read it, I could not stop crying (okay, I will be honest...sobbing - the couch actually moved across the floor a few inches due to my hysterical sobbing escapade). I was convicted. I was heartbroken. And I was more determined than ever to embrace what I have been given.

I am often asked to describe the experience of raising a child with a disability - to try to help people who have not shared that unique experience to understand it, to imagine how it would feel. It's like this......

It's like planning a fabulous vacation trip - to Italy. You buy a bunch of guide books and make your wonderful plans. The Coliseum. The Michelangelo David. The gondolas in Venice. You may learn some handy phrases in Italian. It's all very exciting.
After months of eager anticipation, the day finally arrives. You pack your bags and off you go. Several hours later, the plane lands. The stewardess comes in and says, "Welcome to Holland."
"Holland?!?" you say. "What do you mean Holland?? I signed up for Italy! I'm supposed to be in Italy. All my life I've dreamed of going to Italy."
But there's been a change in the flight plan. They've landed in Holland and there you must stay.
The important thing is that they haven't taken you to a horrible, disgusting, filthy place, full of pestilence, famine and disease. It's just a different place.
So you must go out and buy new guide books. And you must learn a whole new language. And you will meet a whole new group of people you would never have met.
It's just a different place. It's slower-paced than Italy, less flashy than Italy. But after you've been there for a while and you catch your breath, you look around.... and you begin to notice that Holland has windmills....and Holland has tulips. Holland even has Rembrandts.
But everyone you know is busy coming and going from Italy... and they're all bragging about what a wonderful time they had there. And for the rest of your life, you will say "Yes, that's where I was supposed to go. That's what I had planned."
And the pain of that will never, ever, ever, ever go away... because the loss of that dream is a very very significant loss.
But... if you spend your life mourning the fact that you didn't get to Italy, you may never be free to enjoy the very special, the very lovely things ... about Holland.