And God will take care of you...

I just went to tuck Blake (7) in to bed. He was restless so I knew he wouldn't go down easy. He's been sensing things have been different around here. He knows Grandma Sue is sick, but we've just been waiting for him to bring it up when he's ready to. I've also been fearing his reaction when it really hits him. The worst thing in the world is to see your kids go through pain. It's hard enough to see your parents in pain but your kids? I can't do anything about this though but pray for peace and strength and that I can be the best example to him of what I want my biggest testimony to be; That NO MATTER WHAT, God will take care of us. I can talk about it, I can blog about it, but if my kids don't see it in my life then do I really believe it?
Blake was complaining that it was hot. He couldn't sleep. He said he wanted to pray. When we were done he said, "Mom, I keep praying and praying that I won't be afraid at night and no matter what I do God won't take that away!"
I said, "Well, that's normal. It sometimes doesn't go away right away."
B-"But what do you mean it's normal? I've been praying for a long time and I'm still scared. How long do I have to pray?" This was serious business.
Me- "Well, it takes two to make a prayer happen sometimes. I mean, it's one thing to ask God to make you not scared, but then you also have to trust that no matter what happens, God will take care of you. That's your job. Remembering each night that you have nothing to be afraid of because of God and then praying for Him to help you remember that, maybe that will work better." What did I do? Will he even get this?
B- "Mom, what do you mean?"
Me- "Okay, so like list the things you get scared of at night."
B- "Like a robber breaking into our house and taking our stuff."
Me- "So if that happened, we would get new stuff...and God would take care of you."
B- "But what if it was something really big, like our TV?"
Me- "Still, we would eventually get a new TV...and God would take care of us."
B- "Okay...then...what about if our house caught on fire in the middle of the night?"
Me-"Well you tell me. What would you do?"
B- "I would crawl down the hallway and make sure the smoke doesn't get in my lungs. Then I'd go down the stairs and out the door." (Note to self. We've REALLY got to teach the boys how to use the fire ladder ASAP. Now I'm going to be up all night worried about a fire in the top story. Way to teach Darbi.)
Me-"And where would you go?"
B- "To the front yard."
Me- "No, you would go to Linda's yard so the firefighters have room to work."
B- "No, Daddy told me. The front yard." (Note to self. Go over the whole fire evacuation plan several times! Way to go firefighter family!)
Me- "Okay well, we'll ask him in the morning. But either way, things would be hard for a while, but eventually we would get new stuff, and...God will take care of you."
B- "Hmm. Well what happens if you die and then daddy dies right in the house at the same time. Do we call Grandma and Grandpa or do we call 911 and then where do we live? Will we go live in foster care?" This is when my heart started to break. All of this time I was worrying that Grandmas sickness would be the first major worry of his life, when in reality he is already a human in a world full of sin. Therefore he already has a host of worries all on his own. Ugh.
Me-Gulp, "Well honey, first of all that will never happen. You know that right? And second IF it did..." and we talked it out at great length about who he should call, where he would go and why, etc. "And you know what? God will take care of you." (Note to self: Figure out who will take our kids now that there are four of them and put it in writing in case Mike and I die in our home! I was just fine until I went to tuck Blake in...geez!)
Me- "You know what? I already lost my mommy and it was pretty hard. I was really sad for a while. But now everything is okay. God took care of me. "
B- "And Papa."
Me- "Yep. And Papa too," I love that kid.
B- Starts to cry.
Me- "Are you scared about Grandma Sue?"
B- "Yeah. When we were in Sun River daddy took us for a walk down by the river and he said she's real sick and that she might go to Heaven."
Me- "Yeah. And how do you feel about that?"
B-"I don't know."
Me- "I feel sad."
B- "Me too." We hugged and cried. I think you're supposed to suck it up in moments like that but I don't think even Osama Bin Laden could have.
Me- "But Grandma has been sick for a lot of her life. She has had pills that make her hair fall out, and doctors poking at her and bugging her and people keep telling her she's going to get better and she hasn't yet. But the Bible says that in Heaven she isn't going to feel pain or be sick anymore! She's going to dance with her shoulders like Evie and Gracee and she's going to do crafts and ride bikes and hold Hope and Carter and do all kinds of stuff. And because we have Jesus in our hearts we KNOW we will see her again. And when we do we will never, EVER have to leave each other again."
B- "Okay." (He's sobbing. My heart hurts. Jesus, give me strength.)
Me- "And if she goes we are going to be really, really sad for a while. But eventually we will be okay. Because I will take care of you...And God will take care of you."

I helped him pick out a buddy and I tucked him in. I left him crying. I didn't tell him not to cry or to not be sad. I wanted to because I didn't want to see him that way. But the truth is it is okay for him to cry and be sad. It's okay for us to all grieve in the way that we are going to grieve. And even though it hurts like crazy to watch, I know he's going to be just fine. I trust and I know that God will take care of him.

His Eye is On The Sparrow...

A long time ago the movie Sister Act 2 came out and the music was fantastic! My dear friend Briana Phillips and I at the age of about 13, were bound and determined to have the same gospel sound down of those amazing black teens who performed "His Eye is On the Sparrow" for our church during the special music. For weeks we BELTED it in her bedroom. She had her parts, I had mine, and perfect harmony was intertwined. If only we had known the dates for the casting call for Sister Act 2, we'd have surely been chosen.
The morning came for our performance and we met with the piano player. She already was familiar with the tune and didn't think a prior rehearsal was necessary. Well folks, it was. Turns out there is a MAJOR difference between the 1920's hymnal piano version of the song, and what we had been singing to on our CD. We did our best with what happened, but I'm just glad nobody got it on video. At least I pray they didn't. For whatever reason it still made our mom's tear up and I guess that's what was important, but for us I think we were just glad it was over.
Back then I didn't pay any attention to what the song meant. I wanted to sound good to the other youth group kids so they would think I was pretty much a rock star with some sweet skills. Maybe that's why God knocked me down a notch with that piano player gig, maybe not. It wasn't until a few years later that the song came back into my life.
My dad came home from work about the same time I came home from school and said to my mom, "You paid HOW MUCH???" in his angry tone. Mom always got him to calm down somehow. We all walked into the kitchen to see what was once an ugly wall paper border, ripped down and replaced with an artists painting of some sparrows in between the words, "I sing because I'm happy, I sing because I'm free. His eye is on the sparrow and I know He watches me." For years I stared at those words in my home as I ate my cereal, talked for hours on the phone with friends, and even stared out the window and chatted with mom about anything and everything in life. Not once though, did I ask her why she chose to have those words painted on her wall. I mean a common printing found in kitchens are ingredient lists, "FLOUR, SUGAR, COFFEE" and what have you. She could have stenciled those words there. And even if she just wanted a daily spiritual reminder, that's great, but why that? I mean, have you SEEN the bible? It's got a LOT of words in it. Why did she choose the reference to the sparrow?
I didn't hear the song again until her funeral. She died quickly. We didn't get to say goodbye. We didn't get to ask questions. DIdn't get to tell her all of the things we would have if we'd only known. For her service we had to guess what she would have liked. That's always awkward, but part of the process. A wonderful man, Herb Jones, stood up on the stage and sang the song with all of his might. "I sing because I'm HAP-PY!! I sing because I'm free!! His eye is on the sparrow and I know he watches me!" I honestly didn't get it. Why are we happy? I didn't plan this service, but I could have chosen a few other songs at that moment. Probably ones with swear words. That's probably why I didn't get to plan the service.
Fast forward to today. I was alone in the house. That's when grief hits hardest. It's good for me though. I don't have to be strong for anyone, I don't have to hide my feelings from the kids, I can just be. I decided to take a bath. While I was taking that bath that song came into my mind. And I cried. A lot.
My other mom, Mike's mom, is going to die. Soon. We know this. And it is so hard and weird and overwhelming AND a blessing. We get to go spend a week with her in Sun River before her body starts to feel too sick. This is a time I never got to spend with my mom before she died so I'm very grateful, but how do you possibly fit in everything you want to do with her before she goes? I mean, Blake can't get married. He's 7, It would be illegal. But to imagine the rest of my kids' lives without her is....there isn't a word for it. But instead of focusing on what we are going to miss out on, once again in life I must focus on what we do get to do. I get to write her a letter and make sure I've said all I want to say about how much I love her. I get to take a walk with her and squeeze her arm. I get to take a million pictures of her with me and of her with my babies. I get to ask her all of the questions I have about her childhood, hopes and dreams. I get to say goodbye in a totally different way, which is unknown territory and scary, but God's timing is perfect and His eye is on that sparrow, so I know He is watching over me. And even though I'm freaked out about watching my kids go through this loss, I also must trust that He is watching over them too.
Sue has been through so much. Breast cancer multiple times, lung cancer, brain cancer and now bone and liver cancer. She lost her only sibling to cancer and was with her when she died. She faced her moms death, her step son's near death and has burried two grand babies. She is ready to go to a place where there is no more tears, pain, suffering. She will be reunited with her loved ones and there will be great joy and dancing. And to hear her Heavenly Father say, "Welcome home my good and faithful one"...I just can't imagine! It's where she belongs. And she'll save a place for us all I know it.
So while I was in the bath tub I sang His Eye is On the Sparrow to Jesus and it was the prettiest I've ever sang it. Not because of my voice, not because the words were just right, but because I finally got it. And I sang it to Him with all my heart. "She'll sing because she's happy. She'll sing because she's free! His eye is on that sparrow, and I know He'll be watching over me!!"

Darbi the Liar

I don't like things that are hard. Never have. I think it's the way I was raised. When I knew it was the day I was "required to clean my room and do nothing else" I would sit on the floor and play with my toys for a while until my mom finally gave up and came in. I would continue to play with my toys while she cleaned the entire room for me. That's just how life was for me. I wasn't required to do anything that was hard so I didn't learn that I could actually do it, and thus resulted in a girl who just didn't want to try much of anything outside of her comfort zone.

In about the 7th grade my dad paid for my brother and me to go to ski school. I don't really remember wanting to go that bad, but I'm sure Ryan Oar was probably up on that mountain somewhere, so I probably begged my dad to take me and somehow won. For 7 weeks I learned to master that bunny hill like nobody else. Even how to stop without knocking very many of my fellow Japanese classmates over. But then the teacher said it..."Today we will be going to a Diamond 2 hill" or whatever it was. Translation: hard. Another translation: nope. I did NOT want to go on that hill. It was steep. There were those bumpy things. There were trees all over. There were people besides the Japanese kids. And I'm pretty sure there was Ryan Oar who would see me in my not so confident ways of taking the slopes. Crap. So there we went.

Within minutes I had fallen three times. The instructor was trying to "teach me how to fall" so that it wouldn't hurt. Well it did hurt. Bad. Each time. And I was supposed to just get up and keep going? The whole way? Well, I might have grabbed my knee and told a little fib. "Ouch!" I said. And here's where things got a little out of control. I mean, I don't really know what I THOUGHT was going to happen. Maybe that they'd go get my mom and she would walk me down or something. But before I knew it, there were 4 men loading me up in this red toboggan and they're rushing me down the hill to the tiny hospital to triage my fake injury. Mom and dad show up in no time and moms eyes are puffy from the panic. She's just glad to know I'm okay. I'm glad I am too. Oops.

Fast forward a few years to my freshman year in college. Mike and I decide to get a summer job that includes traveling through the country working at various summer camps, recruiting kids for our college. But first we must bond with our fellow counselors by going on a backpacking trip in the Sierra Nevada mountains. Okay. You need to know that before this my only camping experience was with my family where you drive into a Thousand Trails resort and walk into your fully furnished camper that is already parked and ready to go, is feet from the clubhouse with video games and a pool, and even though everything is only feet from your camper you drive there just because that's how your family does things. So here we go on our backpacking trip. Translation: hard. Translation: already hated it. Well three days in after one too many trust games and "how did that make you feel" questions, we find out that we are going to spend 24 hours ALONE with the Lord. ALONE. IN THE WOODS. Where there are SNAKES and MOUNTAIN LIONS and tons of other animals that would love me for a mid summer night's snack. I am all about 24 hrs. alone. I am all about time with God. But if you want me to be alone in the Mountains of California in the summer time without a man and a gun, you've gotta' be out of your mind. So, I MAY have stretched the truth a little and said I had diarrhea. I mean, I did poop that day (don't even get me started on pooping on a backpacking trip! Eeew!) so it wasn't a comPLETE lie. Okay. It was. 100%. So the leader thought it would be best if I stayed with another female leader. My friends all went and stuck it out on their own. I lied. Oops.

Fast forward several years and I'm a grown woman. God looks at me in all of my failures. All of my uniqueness. All of the things I've done right too. And He says, "Darbi I'm going to use you. Not this other person down the hall, but you. I'm going to make you go through some things that are hard. Some things you would never think you could go through. You are going to loose your mom and your babies and it is going to rip your heart out. But I have faith in you, Darbi the Liar. And I'm going to give you a new name. You are going to come out stronger on the other side of all of this and you are going to tell people how good I was too you. And maybe, just maybe, you are going to start to do things that are hard because you know I am with you, I will never leave you, and you are made to do the hard stuff for Me."

So now would I want to go skiing down a hard hill? Hell no. =-) Would I want to go backpacking for 24 hours alone? Not on your life. Because what is the reward? Not much. But when it comes to doing things for God I get a little more gutsy. Speaking to people in a prison in Poland? Check. How about the adoption process for these sweet little babies at the top of the post? Every day there seems to be a new challenge or a new fear. But you know what? I'm no longer Darbi the Liar. I am Darbi the Girl Who Does Things That Are Hard. Because I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me.

Going to a funeral...

I'm going to a funeral today. It's a "celebration of life" for a baby who lived for 45 minutes. I'm glad my friends have such a good attitude of the life of their little one but let's face it...that's not much to celebrate. I mean, don't get me wrong. Moriah is a LOT to celebrate. She's beautiful, perfect and whole and deserved to get to know all of the people here waiting for her. Waiting to love her for a long, long time. It sucks.
As I've been talking to Moriah's mom I've been naturally going down memory lane, and while I was at it I decided to pull out my box of cards people sent us when baby Hope died. I found a pretty amazing little gem. A poem I don't even remember writing. It was with a bunch of her pictures and a list of people I was going to send them to and never did. So, in honor of Moriah and my sweet Hope Michael, here's the poem.

I'll Be Right Here...

I thought life would be different, I'd grow up right there with you.
In pink dresses and pigtails doing all the things kids do.

While you're sad and missing me please know I'm missing you,
For while you dreamed of time together, I too dreamed of you.

But God knows what He's doing, that is clear for me to see.
When I think of all the earthly things He graciously kept from me.

I'll never have a broken leg, nor have a broken heart.
I'll never know what war is and will never take a part.

The best part here where I am which I think is pretty clever,
Once you're here you'll never leave! You'll stay with me forever!

And just as you prepared your lives to include little me,
By buying toys and books and clothes and my nursery,

I'm walking around with Jesus and our friends and family too,
And you can't even IMAGINE the place we've prepared for you!

But as you wait to get here there's a lot that you can do,
To make sure people know Our Lord and get to come here too.

It's hard to be apart...You are my family, my friends.
But I'll be right here waiting, AND WE'LL NEVER PART AGAIN!

by Darbi Johnson 6/2002


It'll always be a scar. Almost every day is a good day, but then when friends go through it I kind of relapse and wish it didn't happen all over again. But I have to remind myself that my babies never had to suffer, they will never know the pains of this earth, I will see them again, and they are with the only better Father than Mike and my dad that they could be with...until we meet again!

And a really sweet story is about Blake. When I was going through the Hope shoe box I asked Blake, "Have you ever seen Hope? He said, "No." I said, "Do you want to see her picture?" He said, "Yes!" And started jumping up and down. "I get to see my sister! I get to see my sister!" I showed him the picture. He just STARED. "Awwwww! She's so cute!!!! Mom....Can I have her picture in my room?" Oh my gosh. My heart melted. Now I have to find the perfect frame.

The good, the bad and the Johnsons

THE GOOD:

So far baby R has moved in and will officially be our foster daughter as soon as court is over (next Wednesday?). We have the birth family's blessing (sort of, more or less) and for now there is minimal drama in that department. Visitations will start with her birth parents possibly next week...let the drama begin.

Throughout this process I just find myself tearing up at different points in the day...you know, when I REALLY think about all that has taken place in my life. I really wanted baby R back. REALLY wanted twins. But I wasn't asking God for those things because what were the chances? He knew the deep down desires of my heart and sometimes, in some situations, He is able to work out the perfect circumstances for it all to come together like a Heavenly dream. I mean, that's the only way I can describe it. Like I just want to call somebody and say, "You've GOT to make a movie about my LIFE somebody!!"...At LEAST a Lifetime channel one!!...or at least a really long commercial! Seriously...The girl who looses a girl, then gets twins, then looses a twin, then gets two miracle boys, then gets another girl, then looses another girl, then gets another girl, then gets the girl back and ENDS UP WITH TWINS...I mean, I would fold laundry watching that movie FO' SHO'!

But this wonderful place we find ourselves in has not come without having to go through a lot of pain (that hurt a lot), a lot of waiting (when we didn't want to wait), a lot of trusting (when we didn't want to trust) and a lot of hope for what was yet to come (and still is). And we don't know what's around the corner either...These babies are still not ours. They can be taken in an instant just as R was taken last time. But when I feel anxious, I just take my babies to the Lord, just as I do when my sons have health scares, and I put them in God's hands and remind myself that they are all His children first and if he wants them to be in my care that is what I desire more than anything else, but if He has another plan for them I will trust Him with it.

I am also very mindful of the painful place that R's family is in as Mike and I are rejoicing to have her back in our lives. They are having to give her up, and are going through medical trials and business decisions as well. I had a talk with R's aunt, who was going to adopt her, and I told her that I didn't understand why she was going through one of the worst times in her life while I was going through one of my best, but I had been in a similar spot as her and that I knew that her mountain top would come and that I would be praying. It's hard to rejoice when someone you know hurts, but it's also nice to be able to be extra sensitive where you might not have been before. Please pray for them in their transition.

THE BAD:

We are all adjusting. It is harder than I thought. I mean some parts. I knew it would be a lot of work and that is no surprise, but my husband is a rockstar with high amounts of help and low expectations and a huge supply of encouragement. He's amazing. So we're getting through that part. But I'm having failure feelings. I have NO TIME for the boys and I fear they will hate me, or forget my name. I also had this dream that I would see baby R and she would run into my arms and grab me and remember me and our mother-daughter bond would just pick up where it ended three months ago. That's not so. She doesn't remember me and she is having some difficulty adjusting, as would any baby going through everything she has gone through in her little life, but that's causing me to feel like I'm doing something wrong and I've failed her. And then I'm not dividing my time between her and G properly, so G just sits quietly in her swing wondering who in "h" is hogging her mommy up. (SIGH) It will all work out, but this is the immediate struggle. Please pray. And come over and take my boys to the park. That would help too. =-)

THE JOHNSONS:

Here's a good idea of what life is like with us now: Coming home from church the other night, we packed the kids in the car. IMMEDIATELY, R starts screaming. She's been fed, she's been changed, but she likes to scream. And let me tell you, her volume is unlike anything I have ever heard. It makes Mike's music sounds practically on mute. Then, to couple that, Tyler starts screaming from the back row. His lips hurt. Naturally. But we don't usually pay much attention to that. Well, since R is so loud, he must trump her. "HUSBAND, DID YOU SEE THAT GIRL JESSICA TONIGHT?"

"WHAT?"

"THAT NEW GIRL, JESSICA. SHE HAS BOYS IN THE YOUTH GROUP AND A REALLY COOL TATTOO."

"WHAT?"

"HONEY, THIS IS JUST HOW LOUD IT'S GOING TO BE FROM NOW ON. YOU JUST HAVE TO BLOCK IT OUT AND LISTEN TO MY STORY ABOUT JESSICA'S TATTOO!"

"WELL THEN YOU ARE GOING TO HAVE TO YELL LOUDER BECAUSE I CANNOT HEAR YOU!!"

"OKAY!~" And the whole way home, we YELLED, and laughed, as our kids screamed their hearts out. And sometimes, that's just the way it goes. That's our life, and that's how it's going to be. Sometimes it's overwhelming, sometimes I cry (in the bad way) and want to pull my hair out, but you know what? I'd rather be frustrated and overwhelmed for a season, knowing I'm doing something good for God and for these kids rather than sitting around bored and comfortable wondering what I should do with my life. So that's the good, the bad and the Johnsons...for now.

Here's to Sisters....

Have I told you I hate change? Some change is good. Like the new sweatshirt I'm wearing. That's good change. Especially when my husband says, "I like the hemp like coloring of the drawstrings," and I say, "Thanks Napoleon Dynamite," and then we both have to wipe tears from our eyes from laughing so hard. But also there is change that is hard. One hard change I made myself come to grips with tonight.

My mom was an entrepreneur. Always a new idea and always a business of some sort going somewhere. Her ideas cost my dad a lot of money. But he always had her back and let her try. And she kept on trying. They were a great team that way. One of her worst/best ideas was the Shag Scarf that she made on a knitting machine from home. Those kitting machines were about a yard and a half long, had all kinds of metal hooks going every which way and some sort of a flat-iron looking contraption that you slid back and forth along the thing until "wha-lah"! It made a Shag Scarf. Now the scarf itself was...hideous (sorry if any of you readers still wear yours. But it's true.) It was made out of the yarn that has the pokeys coming out of it? You know what I'm talking about right? All of the pokeys everywhere? And then every inch or so more pokeys down the line, throughout the scarf, so once a whole scarf was knitted together it was a whole triangle tied to your neck of pokeys. It looked like your throat got in an accident with a bad Madonna hairdo. But bless her heart...she sold a ton, at least to every lady in our church because that became known as Shag Scarf city. My mom knew how to get people to help her too. I'd come home from school and there'd be some stranger on the couch, with the Madonna throat problem, with the knitting machine on her lap and mom would be on the chair with another one. They'd both be watching Oprah and mom would just turn around and say, "Darbi, you remember Karen..... from Costco?" Of course! I'd grab a quick snack and head directly to my knitting machine. She made everything fun too. Even child labor law abuse. She had so many gifts.

I don't remember what year it was, but mom was finally able to open a store outside of her home. Her and her sisters bought a beautiful house in a great location and opened it as an antiques and home accessories shop. It was called Sisters. There was a garden room where we had sandwiches and espresso and a floral shop and everything. It was WONDERFUL. I had a hot dog cart out front one summer called Darbi's Dawgs (and I have the sign in my garage to prove it!). I ate there with dates before high school dances, I talked to my sister-in-law after her first date with my brother, I had my high school graduation party there, I learned about inventory and how dad gets mad when mom and I buy too much, I learned all about espresso and how to never call it eXpresso, but what I learned the most from my mom was how to love people no matter what you are doing.

People came in there to buy a greeting card and before you knew it, they were telling her their life story and she was crying with them, laughing with them and loving on them with every ounce of her being. When you opened the door to Sisters, you opened the door to love. Everyone was welcome. Everyone was treated with respect. You were a friend, you were her sister. Unfortunately though, business is business and the sales on the antiques side of things weren't as hopping as on the restaurant side of things, so Sisters was sold to new owners before mom passed away about 9 years ago. But the Sisters years were some of the best years..,.

Fast forward to tonight. Mike and I were able to go on a date. We decided to try the restaurant that now fills the shoes of my mom's store. It's called Ballyhoo's, an Irish pub. I've driven by the store for years, always staring and trying to see in the windows as best as I can, but never having the nerve to go in, always knowing it would tear my heart out. I kept waiting for someone just as good as mom to go in and really spruce the place up but it hasn't happened yet. Maybe it will be a pub forever. And that's okay. But I think it's time to go in.

When we're at the front door I'm already emotional. I remember taking pictures of mom, Aunt Nancy, Aunt Janet, Aunt Kathy and Aunt Carolyn when we first opened on these very steps. And I think we need a plaque out here that says "This is where the Darbi Johnson had her first iced Mocha" because I know I've sunk at LEAST a couple grand into those since having my first one here. But when I opened the front door instead of hearing soft piano music, smelling a vanilla candle and seeing my mom's smiling face, I smelled must, saw re-painted walls, re-done everything and couldn't find her anywhere. Anywhere. I looked. As I walked into every area, slowly and tried my best to remember where everything was, exactly as she had it, and couldn't really, tears filled up in my eyes. Don't get me wrong. It was a great pub. But Dianne was gone. Still gone. And I wanted her to be there, to ask me how my day was at school, to tell me to go ahead and make myself an iced mocha and then to listen to all of my pitiful girl drama like only she could, to tear up when I teared up, to laugh at everything I thought was funny and then to just randomly walk over and kiss me on the head because that's what moms do and I miss her and that's her store and I'm still her kid.

Well, Mike and I found a table and we ordered and started talking and I didn't want to talk about the store or I would loose it so I asked him, "Do you want to play MASH?" and he said, "Yeah," so we got out some paper and we played a children's game in which you pretend to predict the future about where you're going to live, how many kids you'll have, what kind of car you'll drive and we laughed with each other and talked just the two of us and had a totally awesome date. I looked at him and I thought, "Do all people who have been married 11 1/2 years get to have this much fun? Are they this in love? I am sure a lucky girl because I am so in love with this guy. " After we ate we took a brief walk in a park. That's where a few tears came out. I told Mike, "I miss my mom." He said, "I know." I said, "I think she would have liked us." He looked at me awkwardly, "You mean still liked us?" What I meant is that I just think she would like the adults we are. We seemed to be kids when she died. She just loved to see Mike laugh. She'd just say, "Look it!" and we'd just watch him...and he still does that...wouldn't she still want to see that? And I think she'd want to see that I'm a lot like her. I mean, they can take my mom and all of her stuff out of a really important building, but they can never take Dianne out of me. So I guess tonight Dianne was at Sisters. =-) I really miss you mom.

Blog it out...

I don't know what to do or who to call first. I have a bazillion what if's, why's and how's running through my brain. There is no chocolate in the house, I've searched. Well, there is a bit of leftover easter bunny that is so stale it is not worth the calories. Mike's not answering his phone. I'm stressed. Is it the good kind of stress or the bad kind? Not in a category. It's the life altering kind. The uncomfortable kind. The kind nobody really wants to be in, yet we somehow find ourselves in often. We have to make a choice. A very hard choice, and just as we've learned before, God will not give us a black and white answer. That is one of the qualities we wish we could change about God. Free will is a nice thing most of the time when we're running about doing our daily lives...but when it comes to things that are hard...things that border on life or death, or the destiny of the life of a child...these are the things in which we should certainly get direct texting capabilities with our Heavenly Father.

Perhaps I've told you this before. If I have, sit tight and read it again, for it applies here as well. There was a day about 7 years ago that I was pregnant with twins whose lives were in great danger. Mike and I had decided that I would undergo a surgery that was to save both babies lives in-utero. It would separate their blood and nutrition systems from each other so that they could survive on their own. They would be doing this through a small incision in my stomach and into my womb, using a laser and a scope that were the size of the inside of a ball-point pen. Incredible.

The day before the surgery I asked them if I could please be put to sleep for the surgery, as it would be lengthy, there could be several complications and I was just plain anxious, as you could imagine. Here's what they told me: "You need to be awake because if we get in there and there is a complication, we will ask you if you want us to tie off Carter's chord (so that he can no longer live) so that Blake will have a chance to live, or if you will want us to leave the boys as they are and they will both most likely die." That's the choice that Mike and I had to make. Tie off one son's life line to save the other, or leave him alone and give them both a slim to none chance to make it. Us. Human us. Sure, we have God, and pray our buns off, we did, but once again, that texting thing sure would have been nice. THANK GOD our surgeon did the procedure just as it was to be done and we did not have to choose either way. Baby Carter held on for another 5 weeks post surgery but then he passed away, and his brother Blake just turned a healthy, happy 7! But my point is there are SO MANY CHOICES out there that we humans should not have to make!!! And it seems as though we find ourselves in another difficult one...

Our first foster daughter was in our home for 2 months. We were madly in love with that baby girl and wanted her to know Jesus above all else. She was moved from our home quite rapidly into a biological aunts home who was going to adopt her. About a month or so later we got our next placement and we are crazy mad in love with her! We've had her for a little over 2 months and she has us around her finger!! Life couldn't be better here at the Johnson home. And it looks like our baby girl's case is going to move toward adoption at a record pace...low drama.

Last Sunday when I was holding her in church and singing, I had our first baby girl heavy on my heart. I know we poured love into her for two months, but where is her future going to go? I know nothing about her new family. Will she ever finally get adopted? Who is going to teach her about Jesus? And the tears began.

Fast forward to today. It's a text from my social worker. She asks if she can drive down to visit. Last time she wanted to visit in person it was to tell me that our first baby would be leaving our home. She remembers to write, "don't freak out...it's a good visit." She knows me too well. I tell her to get her buns over here! Tyler lays on the floor with his Star Wars guys and I play with the baby. 40 minutes seem like 4 days. What could it be? Things are already good with our baby girl...How could they possibly get "good-er"? Did they forego the adoption policies all together and now we just get to have her? That would be good-er. Here she is. Do I say hi first or just make her give it to me?

She looks at my stroller. Points to it. "How'd you like to get a double stroller?" Wha? "What are you talking about?" The first thing I actually pictured was my baby and her birth mom....in the double stroller. That was a ministry I was not going to get into. "Baby _____ is available and everyone wants you to have her back." I threw my head back in disbelief. This was so not what I expected! "What? How did this happen?" Well, I don't know if I can put it on here, but the short of it is, she is available, and the birth family wants her to go back to us. Also, if we don't take her, the next family in line is...to put it nicely, not favorable. But no pressure.

The first question on everyone's mind is "What about your current baby (man, I can't wait until I can just say their names! And post pictures! And videos!) ?" We will be keeping her for sure! So in the event that we would take the first baby back, these babies would be 2 months apart. Now, the emotions of us say YESSSSS!!!! Give her back!!!!! But the other side is this: We would be welcoming back the drama of weekly visits with drug addicted, mentally ill parents, wishy-washy adoption plans for probably years to come, we would have twin babies, twin toddlers, twin teenagers, twin wedding gowns, everything! We would have the chance to change two lives instead of one. We would get to rescue two innocent orphans out of the pits of addiction instead of one. We would get to introduce two little girls to Jesus instead of one. We would get to watch two big brothers fall in love with two little sisters instead of one. We will have to pay for diapers for two babies instead of one, but if there's a couple strong enough to do it, I think we just might be able to. And if there's a God who can help give us the strength to do it, we've learned over and over and OVER again that He can.

For a God who has given my Michael and me so, so, so much in return for us giving Him so very little, what better way can we pay Him back but by taking care of those who are so heavy on His heart? It's just that first I have to ask Mike...

You give and take away, you give and take away, my heart will choose to say,

Lord Blessed Be Your Name!!