Introducing our newest little one.

So much to write, and so little time and brain power to do it.

I'll muddle through my foggy sleep deprived brain and let you in on the newest little family member we are caring for.

I wrote a while back that we had re-opened our home for foster placements.  It took a little longer than expected to get our first phone call (about 3 weeks) but she was worth the wait.  

I spent those weeks preparing our home and my heart for any possibilitiy.  I prayed for the mystery child who I knew could be entering the world at any time.  We knew we were mostly likely to get an infant since newborns are the hardest to place...and that's what I like.  

I prayed for protection for this next child.  I didn't know who this child would be but a newborn placed into foster care is already a survivor.  A baby who likely already has many odds stacked against her.  I prayed she wouldn't slip through the cracks of the system, that she would be safe through childbirth, and that she would be protected. 

12 days ago we got "the call" asking us if we would take a teeny tiny little girl.  

We asked a lot of questions and answered with an eager "yes!"

She is just as sweet as can be, and we feel so blessed to get to be the ones to care for her. 

She didn't come home right away and we spent some time commuting back and forth to the city to visit her in the hospital.  

After a week of waiting for her she was finally discharged and came home.

The next day the kids had a little soccer camp.  Life doesn't slow down this time of year!  

This is really the first organized activity/ sport that Elijah has been involved with.

It was good to see him participate.  He tuckered out part way through and was more interested in playing with the dog of one of the other parents but he did well trying to keep up.

Elijah is doing great with the new baby.  He has really battled extreme insecurity and jealousy when mommy's affections are focused on one of the other children so I wasn't sure how this would go.  So far he's been very welcoming and has taken on a "big brother" role.  He is very sweet.

The pictures are a bit out of order but these were some we snapped with visiting our tiny girl in the NICU.

Love at first sight.

I am not permitted to share much information about the baby, show her face (trust me she's beautiful), or her actual name but I'll share as much of this new story God is writing in our lives as possible.  He gets the glory.

I've been soaking up the newborn preciousness.  She loves to be held close and I'm happy to oblige.

Not one kiss, or sleepless night is wasted effort.

She's worth every bit of it.

Once again, what her future holds is uncertain but while she is here in my arms I will love her ferociously and hold nothing back.  Simply because that's what she needs, and that's what she deserves. 

I don't know the future but I trust the One who does..  

Knowing what she has endured already I know that God has already answered so many of my prayers.  

Her life was preserved, she has been protected, and she is now in a place of safety and love. 

With each of my foster babies I have given them a social media alias.

This little one has officially remained nameless, but the nickname "Annie" was given to her by a caseworker and was used in the NICU.  The nickname has stuck. although it won't be her official, documented name.  It also works well for an online alias.

The day we brought Annie home was also the day my husband started seeding.  On the grain farm there are two busy seasons...seeding time and harvest.  This little one hasn't had her share of Daddy time, since he's in the field from morning until dark, but she's already got him wrapped around her itty bitty fingers.




I'm feeling very tired, but very very blessed.


Soli Deo Gloria,

You're not Pro-life you're Pro-birth

You got me.
It's true.
I'm one of those wacky pro-birth folks.   I am pro-babies being allowed to be born.
I can't help it.  Somehow it just seems natural to me.

I love it when babies are born.

Regardless of the circumstance of their conception, or even what sort of condition they are born into, I have a strong conviction that they should be welcomed simply because they exist...simply because they are a unique human life.  They are not a "potential life" they are a life with potential.  To be honest even if they didn't have "potential" as judged by the world, they still don't deserve to be sentenced to an unnatural death.

So, I will admit it, and actually wear the label with honour.  Pro-birth.

For some reason that term is used as a sort of weapon.  It tends to give people a good chuckle, as they smugly high five each other for coming up with some worn out, non offensive, rhetoric.   But, I guess if that's all you've got, go ahead and call people nonsensical names like pro-birth, "fetusfetishist"  or "fetuphile".  Because that makes you sound all progressive and clever...really.  *wink'*

"You don't actually care about babies after they're born, you only care about fetus's."  

 It's such a silly stereotype. It just really needs to be put out of it's misery.

It's like saying "you don't actually care about Kindergartners you only care about toddlers!"

 I can't, for the life of me, make that logic work.   If you care about Kindergartners, you will protect the right of the toddlers to live long enough to become one.  If you claim to care about children you will fight to protect the rights of ALL children regardless of age, gender, race, developmental stage, or location.  That's called equality.

 You have to first be a fetus in order to become a baby that is born, just like you have to be a toddler before you can become a Kindergartner.  They are not two different people, or two different entities, they are different stages of development.  I am pro- embryo, pro-fetus, pro- neonate, pro-infant, pro-toddler, pro-preschooler, pro-child, and pro-adolescent.  They are all simply classifications for different ages of a human child.

Call me an extremist but I have a very strong hunch that dismembering a defenseless child is wrong.
 I know it's kind of an "out there" theory, but it's one I'm sticking with.

I would call that position "pro-life" but I'll proudly wear the "pro-birth" label too...if you insist.

By the way, I am also pro-first day of Kindergarten, pro-gotcha day,  pro-losing a first tooth, and pro-wedding day.  I guess I'm just  "pro" any big events that signify the graduating from one stage of life into another.   I'm just sentimental that way I suppose.

I am both pro-birth and pro-life...because it's pretty hard to have one without the other.

Soli Deo Gloria,

Life

Today I was home with just my three littlest.  

It felt like a day to do little kid's stuff, and the weather was perfect.

Who knew an old baby bathtub could be turned into a tiny splash pool, or water gun reloading station?

Elijah LOVES water.  He calls the sprinkler "rain" and it's pure joy.

It's the simple things.

Letting my anemic winter hardened soul soak up the colour and warmth. 

We've had so much rain this summer that our grass is a gorgeous green, it was only mowed a few days ago and it already needs it again!

It really is amazing how much fun little kids can have with a hose and a couple containers to fill.  It's a good thing we don't pay for our water though.

I've been thinking a lot lately about life, and how many lies we, as a society in general believe about it.   

I don't have time or brain function right now to express in detail how callously our world views children, how narcissistic we are, or how tragic I think that is...but here are a few rambling thoughts on the topic.

Just this week I watched America cheer and make a hero out of a woman who is championing barbaric late term abortions.  Justified by the god of "choice" and exploiting stories about children who would have been born disabled, or with with some other imperfection.  We applaud these eugenics killings like they are a courageous, merciful and harrowing decision a mother must make, when in reality it's profound selfishness and discrimination at it's worst.   But that's the thing, the world is blind...and only God can make the blind see.  

So here is my little blog, my little family, and my little story to stand as witness.

No doctor, no parent, no politician, and no media personality can predict the quality of another persons life, or arrogantly assume that they know what that even means.  

Here we are as a living, breathing counter cultural testimony that "quality of life" has nothing to do with wealth.   It has nothing to do with being able to give our children every material advantage.  It has nothing to do with family size.   It has nothing to do with savings accounts, retirement plans, and golf club memberships.  It has nothing to do with being born into a picture perfect family lineage. It has nothing to do with positive or negative blood tests.  It has nothing to do with years spent in school, or letters behind our names, or qualifications hung on a wall.....but it has everything to do with love, with sacrifice, with surrender, and with living the messy life God gave us for his glory. 

 Our "quality of life" has everything to do with seeing God's good design and sovereignty even in our weakness, disability, chronic illness and heartache.  We fix our eyes on beauty, but we refuse to close our eyes to the pain.  We embrace both, trusting the One who sees what we cannot see. 

Our society has an illusion of control, and when something happens that it cannot control it rallies, and rages, and rails against it.  It exterminates the "problem".

So often the children are seen as the problem...rather than our own quest for perfection and comfort.

I stand here not only as a testament to God's daily grace and His ability to multiply our little loaves and fishes, but to the reality that every life has purpose and value.  I use the word "potential" sparingly because it implies that our children's worth is yet to be seen or will come with future accomplishments. 

It doesn't matter if a baby is conceived under the worst possible circumstances, or born into a horrible situation, or diagnosed with a disability, or is unplanned for and  "unwanted", or is the offspring of a tragic lineage....NO child is a lost cause,

and no child is inherently disposable. 

I think my children would agree.

Whether a life lasts for only a few minutes, or for 100 years...there is purpose in that life.  Whether a child becomes a neurosurgeon, or is the child that the neurosurgeon cannot fix...

neither are born outside of Imago Dei.  None are conceived without the Creators touch, or outside of his Sovereign will. 

"Church, please, do not let the language of law or property guide how we think of the children God gives us. Children — all children in every circumstance from every part of the world of every color and ethnicity and physical or cognitive ability — are not chattel. Children are not chattel. They are rewards and blessings from our gracious heavenly Father, for his glory and for our eternal good."  John Kinght

I get to witness the beautiful reality of that every single day, 

because of that, the enemy's lie, and destructive purpose is so clear.  

My heart is torn open by it. 

The lie is so pervasive even many who consider  themselves part of the "Church" are deceived by the smooth words, and subtle poison.  Whole denominations have abandoned the cause of the weak, the voiceless, and the "least of these" among us and traded it for a politicly correct cause that seeks power, control, and sets "self" up as a god as it shouts "It's MY body!"

 Blind guides.

  

Wide is the road that leads to destruction, and that is certainly true when it comes to accepting the destruction of our worlds most vulnerable children. 

My body is not my own, it is laid down, used up, and poured out.  

"Though a poison should threaten to kill, I know my Savoir reigns

 when the breezes of death leave a chill, I've got Jesus' blood in my veins. 

So I feel like alive with a life that's not mine and I believe that's your intended design"

13

I just realized that 13 years ago today I gave birth to my first child.
That sounds so very odd to say because celebrating your first born entering their teenage years is typically a pretty big deal.

I guess it's just not when that 13 year old has been missing for 13 of those years.

He's not here to remind us with his adolescent boy presence.  I'm not reminding him to go shower and to hang up his towel when he's finished.  I'm not wondering how on earth I'm going to keep him fed during his growth spurts. I'm not wondering how my little boy got taller than me so quickly, or assuring him no one notices when his voice cracks, or begin to see glimpses of the man he would become.

I don't do those things.   So when this day roles around, it doesn't come with a birthday morning hug, it doesn't come with cake and candles, it doesn't come with me tucking him in the night before thinking "this will be the last time I see him as a 12 year old".

Rather, it generally sneaks up on me.  There is an awareness every Spring that this is indeed his month, that Memorial Day long weekend was memorialised for me 13 years ago....but then life goes on.  The days clip by, life is lived, five children are tucked into beds every night, and fed breakfast each morning.   His birthday came as a quick check on the date on my watch after everyone had gone to bed... and a sudden realization that this is his birthday.  The. Day.  The day he was born.  The day he died.  The day I held him.  The day I said my final goodbye.  One day.  It's been 13 years since that day.

I've been a Mother for 13 years...but I'm pretty sure I was a Mommy before he was actually born, and continued to be a Mommy even when I ceased to have a child.  I first felt that fierce mother's heart when I realized that I would die to save the baby kicking inside me.  But I couldn't.  I lived and he died.

I carried in my body a child who I knew would not be mine for long.  His life was short, but I have no doubts that the ripples of that in tiny life continue far beyond my view.   His feet may have been small, but they left a print on this world.

The One who knit him together in my womb was not asleep the day he was born, He wasn't powerless while half my sons heart wasn't forming, and He didn't make a mistake when his chromosomes included one extra.   There is not a rogue atom in this universe that escapes the view of God.  I am confident of this, and rest completely in that assurance.

At the same time the sting of death, the complete and utter sorrow that is a mother burying her child reminds us that this is not what was once declared "good".  There's no way to escape the wrongness of it. There is no "silver lining" when one of my children is missing from the dinner table for 13 years.   When you hold your own dead child there is no pretending that death is just a "natural" part of life.  There is no white washing the sorrows that this sin corrupted, fallen world brings ...but there is hope beyond it...and our Hope came down into it.  "He has borne our griefs and carried our sorrows; (Isaiah 53:4) ", and he has victory over it (Isaiah 25:8).  Death does not have the final word.  The sorrows of this world may not be good, but He is.

"Therefore we do not lost heart.  Though our outer self is wasting away, our inner self is being renewed day by day.  For this light and momentary affliction is preparing for us an eternal weight of glory beyond all comparison, as we look not to the things seen but to the things that are unseen.  For the things that are seen are transient, but the things that are unseen are eternal." 2 Cor. 4:16-18


In the weight of all eternity.... affliction now will seem so light and momentary.
In his faithfulness, 13 years ago, He afflicted me with a grief I thought I couldn't bear...and I discovered I didn't have to.

Thirteen years later, I thank God for it, and for bringing so much beauty from ashes.

So today, there may not have been a brand new teenager blowing out his candles...but there was celebration of life.

There was sunshine, laughter, and playing.
We ate our lunch next to dear friends out on fresh new green grass.
There was a clown and balloons and a big walking sun.
We even ate cake, and ice cream.

(and ribbons won for potato sack races)

We may not have taken the time to specifically celebrate or solemnly remember Samuel...or ended up anywhere near a cemetery....
but maybe a day spent enjoying life, soaking up the sweetest things, worshipping together with friends, and loving deeply is the best way to remember my first born.

Happy 13th Birthday precious one.   Right now, as I remember the weight of you in my arms and looking into your eyes,  I wish could give you a big hug around your neck and tell you that in person.

"Therefore, since we have been justified by faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ.  Through him we have also obtained access by faith into this grace in which we stand and we rejoice in hope of the glory of God.  More than that we rejoice in our sufferings, knowing that suffering produces endurance, and endurance produces character, and character produces hope, and hope does not pus to shame, because God's love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit who has been give to us." Romans 5:1-5

Sli Deo Gloria,

Imago Dei

Imago Dei.   A fancy Latin way of saying
Image of God.
It's kind of fun to say, and may even make you sound smart which is important if you're blonde.

Imago Dei is a foundational belief in Christianity.  When it is understood and applied it effects how we  live and reflect God's image.


Life.
Why do I value it?

As a human race we are creative because God is creative.
We love beauty because God loves beauty.
We have a sense of order and justice because God does.
We love to laugh because God is fun.
We strive to do good, because God is good.
We seek meaningful relationships because God is in perfect complete relationship within the trinity.
We crave communication because God communicates and revealed himself to us.

We ALL mirror his image, although we have become shattered mirrors distorting what was.

We are made in his image but we are not, and never will be, gods ourselves.
There are  many attributes of God that are unique and belong only to Him.

If we genuinely believe that humans are made in the image of God, that we mirror his attributes, that we are created intentionally, with eternal significance, than it will change how we treat each other.
How would my life look different?

If we truly believe the doctrine of Imago Dei then there is no room for racism or bigotry.   There is no room for "I am better than you", "don't waste your money"  or "They aren't worth my time" because Jesus died for all people, each shattered reflection, so that we could once again mirror his glory and receive a  reconciled relationship with him.

If we could  look at the weak, poor, young, old, black, white, unborn, sick, and disabled in light of the very basic doctrine Imago Dei how different would our lives and priorities be?

It would mean that we  honor and give dignity to all human life.  The homeless guy on the corner.  The drug addicted baby abandoned in a hospital.  The emaciated child dying alone in a foreign country.  The person living with a debilitating disability.  The infant waiting to be born.  Why?
Why are they worth my time,
energy,
money,
tears,
mercy,
grace,
compassion,
love?
In the worlds eyes, in terms of evolutionary progress, we should leave them behind.
Let nature take it's course.
Eliminate those that are not planned, perfect, and productive.
Sacrifice some for whatever we see as the "greater good" of human progression.

Even the baby boy who will never utter a word , or stand on his feet, reflects something of God to this Earth, something that we will miss if we cast him aside, or have him exterminated.

 We are also commanded to reflect God to him with mercy, empathy, compassion and love.
In doing so we are not only honoring that life but we are honoring the one who created it.

 In order for this doctrine to become more than just cold  knowledge,  in order to have more than just good intentions,  I need to have God's authentic love breathing through me.
Loving the unlovely takes more than mere human effort.
Even then, I am only a vague reflection.
I so  often overlook  opportunities to reflect Him, because I'm so focused on my own reflection.

Unwanted

I came across a blog "ticker" recently counting the women and babies victimized by abortions.  As much as I don't really care for cliche bumper sticker type advertisements for causes  this one caused me to stop and think for a minute.
So often we become so immune to reality.  We pick our "causes", what we stand for and what we don't, and we close our eyes to everything else.  Sometimes we wear those like a badge, and identify ourselves by them.
We are "pro", or  "anti" we are advocates for one thing or another.  We consider ourselves activists if we put a cheesy bumper sticker on our cars or copy and paste a button or ticker onto our website.

Numbers mean very little to us.   Big deal. Tens of thousands of children will die of starvation and preventable disease today.  So what?  My kids have plenty to eat.    Abortion kills more than 46,000,000 children each year.  Oh well.  They weren't wanted anyway. They weren't really human.  They would have just been a burden to society.

It's easy to appease our consciences with rationalization.

It's easy to have no conscience at all.

Right now I'm glancing over at my little girl sitting in her highchair gobbling up pieces of zuchinni bread.   Her hair is a mess of wild unruly curls.  Her dark brown eyes captivate me.   Her flirting joyful smile puts a smile on my own face.   My heart is so filled with love for this girl that sometimes I think it might burst.  She explores, smooches, plays and giggles her way through each day.

Just one glance at this girl and all our justifications are exposed for the lies that they are.

The reality is,
not too long ago she was an unwanted, unplanned for "fetus".
She is a statistic.   A result of a broken society and a hurting people.   She is the "burden on society" we desire to extinguish.  She was the inconvenience to someones lifestyle.  She was the human "weed" that the founder of Planned Parenthood, and her eugenics ideology sought to extinguish.  Born poor, diseased, a racial minority, and budding out of a family tree riddled with pain and crime.  She was what justifies the abortion industry in the eyes of our society.

I look at my beautiful daughter...
and suddenly those numbers on the ticker have a face.

By all  secular reason, logic, and rationalization she never should have been born.

Sadly, I have never met her birth mother.  I pray that someday I will.   I want to thank her.  I want to love her as the woman who gave life to my child...the one who gave her gorgeous eyes.

I don't know if this pregnancy was continued  intentionally or if our girl was born by default, but I know there are a lot of people in the world who would insist that it should have been ended.  One more child murdered by choice.  One more problem solved.

I understand that this world is complicated.  So many issues.  So many root causes.  Generations of brokenness, addictions, and hurt.
A culture that values selfishness and convenience over life.
There are no easy solutions.  So many babies abandoned, neglected or destroyed by the addictions of their mother before they are ever born.   It is a problem.
I don't pretend to have all the answers...

but I know the One who does.
His purposes cannot be silenced.


I grieve for what my daughter was exposed to before she ever took her first breath.
I don't hate her biological mother for it.

I am sad for her mother, for all that she has lost.
My heart breaks for her as another human being, as a mother who has lost a child.
What road has she travelled to take her to that place?

Orphans are easier to ignore before you look into their eyes and know their names.   Unwanted, abused, and abandoned children are easier to cast aside to be dealt with by government programs before they turn your world upside down.  "Unwanted" babies are easier to silence  before they take their first breath and look you in the eyes.

Holding a sign or a flaunting a bumper sticker is all fine and good but....
where are the homes and the hearts waiting to embrace the unprepared frightened mother and the "unwanted" baby?

It's easier to condemn, justify  and overlook.

Although no one in this world was fighting for our precious Miss Cece while she was in her mothers womb. God was knitting her together for a purpose.
He was protecting her little body and mind.
He was drawing her out of the wreckage for his glory.
If only to give us a glimpse of his heart.


The truth is she was never unwanted.  There wasn't a moment of her existence that she was unloved or unknown by the one who gave her life.

"A nation that kills it's own children is a Nation without hope"  Pope John Paul II

Gods heart for Orphans

"Defend the cause of the weak and the fatherless;
maintain the rights of the poor and oppressed.
Rescue the weak and the needy;
deliver them from the hand of the wicked."
Psalms 82:3

43.3 million orphans live in Sub-Saharan Africa.

87.6 million orphans live in Asia.

12.4 million orphans live in Latin America & Caribbean.

At any given point 500,000 children are in the U.S. foster system.

In 2010 the # of children orphaned by AIDS is expected to be 25 million.


These are real statistics. They are shocking but easy to forget.
They are just numbers so they are easy to put out of our minds.

What we need to remember is that each one of those numbers is a forgotten child, a neglected resource, and a priceless treasure.
They have the same needs any of our children and have the same value.

They need the freedom to be children and to act silly.





They need a mommy to love them and make them feel safe.

They need a swing to go high as the trees.

They need to taste of the sweet side of life.

They need security, love, affection, a sense of purpose, hope, nutritious food, education, discipline and guidance.

They need a Mommy and Daddy to tuck them in at night and kiss their little forehead.

The sad fact is that millions of children in the world have no Daddies to chase away the scary monsters. No mommies to kiss their boo-boos'. No safe secure loving place to call home.

The statistics for "Orphans" are staggering but this doesn't even include the millions and millions of children that are neglected, abused and abandoned. Technically not "orphans" but emotionally they are orphaned.

These are our children. They are the future generation who will shape our world.
Ignoring these children now will have dire consequences later.

The children that these statistics represent are most likely to be exploited, abused, uneducated and desperate. Little boys without the guidance of a mother or father are likely to run in packs and join gangs in order to survive. They are more likely to commit crimes and fall into addictions. They are more likely become little "soldiers". Without healthy attachments and love they are likely to grow up with-out compassion and sometimes even a conscience. These are the future men of our world.

Little girls left to raise themselves are exploited, abused and too often enter the sex trade at a young age. They are uneducated and are likely to continue the cycle of AIDS and poverty. These are the future women of our world.

These children have experienced grief, loss and other horrific things in their short lives. Will they be able to overcome the statistics and their pasts and become the people God created them to be? Not without help.


Who will love these children? Who will rise up and train these impressionable little boys to be men of true strength and integrity? Who will show these precious little girls how much they are valued by the God who created them?

Who will defend the cause of the fatherless, the orphaned and the weak?

My desire is for the Church as a whole, the global Body of Christ to rise up and reach out.

If only 7% of the 2 billion "Christians" in the world would give hope to an orphan their would essentially be no more orphans.

We look at the disturbing and overwhelming statistics and it seems too big. We ask why God allows these children suffer.
I ask where are His people?

I have a feeling that for each specific need in the world God equips someone to fill that need.

Each need is different just as God gives each of us different talents and resources.
The problem is we forget why He gave them to us and in the rush of life we fail to see the need in front of us and fail to reach Gods purpose for our lives.

Sometimes that need is a woman who has lost hope next door to us and sometimes its a lonely child on the other side of the world. It might be extending a much needed friendship or it might be opening up your home to a child. It could be using your financial blessings to help bring together an orphaned child and his forever family.

Give me your eyes Lord. Break my heart with the things that break your heart. Use my hands to reach those that need your touch.

For more information and ways to help children visit:

www.showhope.org

www.ffhm.org

New Cub in the den

Yesterday I spent the morning outside with my boys enjoying the sunshine (before the heat got any more intense). That's right, we went from wearing our winter coats last week to sweltering hot this week. Something in between would be nice...but I'm not complaining. :)



We came in from our bike ride and play time at around 11 to get cleaned up, cooled off and lunch started. I had a feeling that placement might call so I went to check my answering machine and sure enough they had called with two more little boys that needed to leave the hospital. So within an hour I was showered, had a diaper bag packed, my boys dropped off with Grandma (Thanks mom!) and was on the road to the city (a 2 hour drive).



When I told Silas that I was going to get a new baby he was over the top excited. I soon realized he thought I was going to get Peanut (our last foster baby). I explained that this would be a different baby.

He crossed his arms , stuck out his lips and in his best grumpy voice shouted

"I want baby ---------" (Peanut). No want another one baby...want baby ---------".

I have to admit I had the same toddler voice inside me shouting the same thing.

I want the baby that I already fell in love with, I don't know if I have it in me to love another one. How about you take the baby I feel nothing for and give me back the one that feels like my own?

I know in my head I will probably feel the same way about this new little guy in a couple weeks.

Now that the new baby is in our home Silas is all over him and anxious to love him up too. He's even started calling him by his proper name...which is better than I can manage so far. I think every mom calls her kids by the wrong names once in a while....try foster parenting. As soon as I get used to a new name....it changes.


Each child is so unique, each child's situation is different and I'm realizing that even each picking up process is different. I went to the NICU assuming that the new baby was at the same place that the last one was but the head nurse pointed me to the maternity nursery. He's not experiencing withdrawal symptoms and is not on medication like I had originally thought. He was 6 lb 11 oz at birth and he was 4 days old (bigger than Peanut was at 3 weeks old). He's already quite a bit more alert and healthier looking.

When I arrived at the nursery I was rushed off to a waiting lounge because once again the bio- mom showed up. Unlike my peaceful and sentimental exchange with Peanuts mom. This mama wasn't leaving without a fight. Long story short...I hid....she was "escorted" out by 3 security guards...and then I was escorted to my car carrying the precious cargo. I felt like a baby snatcher. I feel bad for the mother who was forced to leave without her baby. It would have taken a few security guards to convince me to leave one of my babies at a hospital and let them go home with someone else. ....There is so much to the story that I can't share and that I don't even know. What this little guys future holds...God only knows.

I didn't make it home from the city until well past the kids bedtime. Unfortunately it was also the same evening as a board meeting at the church (which Nathanael is an elder). So I was going solo.

Pick up the three kids.
Unload a SUV full of groceries.
put the groceries away.
pass the baby to big sister to feed (one benefit of this new experience of bottle babies)
get the boys in bed. (way too late)
clean up, change baby, boil bottles, pack school lunch....

It was a late bedtime but I did it. Everyone tucked into bed and the house somewhat tidy.

"Cub" (for lack of a better alias) slept great, went down for the night great and only woke up once to feed at 2.30. (Unfortunately Silas woke up at 1.30...and I had trouble falling asleep until 3.30...I hate that!). I'm hoping for an earlier bedtime tonight and hopefully his good sleep pattern will keep up. At least for a little while.
I'm babysitting for a friend today (one of the down sides of emergency fostering never having time to actually clear a schedule and prepare for a baby). Its a bit of a crazy day with a total of 8 kids. My house looks like a hurricane hit it...but they'll all help tidy up by the end of the day. I think the five baskets of laundry that need to be folded will be hanging around for another day. At least its clean. Right now the new baby, Silas and the other two year old I'm babysitting are all sleeping and the older ones are watching a movie. SANITY BREAK!! Put on the coffee and turn on the computer!

Cub is a sweet little guy. Big jowly cheeks, rosy complexion, and a thick mop of jet black hair (that stands straight up...reminds me of Kade's hair).

I am still getting used to him, establishing a bond. Sometimes even with our own babies we look at their funny little newborn faces and wonder who this stranger is. Its even more likely with a baby that is in fact a stranger I suppose. I've learned that with my foster children the actions come first (cuddling, feeding, interacting with)....the feelings develop gradually.
As the feelings come I am constantly amazed by them. A child or a baby that initially felt like a complete stranger , I will suddenly notice I feel completely protective of. A little face that "only a mother could love" becomes a beautiful face that I can't get enough of. It always surprises me when the natural feelings I have toward my own kids start to show up with a new one.

Give me a day or two and I'll be falling hard for this little guy too. I am still trying to figure out the balance of loving with out limits...while remembering that they are not mine. Its a tough one. I may never figure that one out.

"There is no fear in love, but perfect love drives out fear..." 1 John 4:18

God is perfect love.

I can't fear what lies ahead for Cub or me.

In Him I can love Cub the way he needs to be loved even though my heart still feels bruised and tired. I will leave the ramifications of such recklessness to the one who commands me to love in the first place. Not only commands but shows us perfect sacrificial love. By receiving and basking in that love I am able to overflow that same love to others.

" This is how God showed his love among us: He sent his one and only Son into the world that we might live through him. This is love: not that we loved God, but that He loved us and sent his Son as an atoning sacrifice for our sins." 1 John 4:9-10

God doesn't love us in a theoretical , out of touch ,unreachable sort of way. God the son , God in flesh and blood, set aside his glory to love us down in the dirty, dusty , messy world we live in. He loves without limits. He loved us without reservations or an escape clause. He allowed not only his heart to be bruised and broken but his flesh as well.

" We love because he first loved us. If anyone says "I love God" , yet hates his brother, he is a liar. For anyone who does not love his brother, whom he has seen cannot love God, whom he has not seen. And he has given us this command: Whoever loves God must also love his brother." 1 John 4: 19-21

Kade, Peanut and Cub are not only "my" children but my brothers, my neighbors, my fellow human beings. They come from different ethnic backgrounds than I do, they come from troubled families....but they are my brothers. How can I not love them?

Something that has surprised me lately is how my interest and love toward the various ethnic groups in my province has been expanded. I have loved a Cree baby, a Dene (pronounced Denay) baby, and a Metis (pronounced MaitEE)baby. Its hard not to also love the moms, the dads, the grandmas and grandpas in those people groups too. Its hard not to be challenged to see them the way God sees them. He looks past the hurt, the sin ,the dysfunction of an individual person. He sees the way they were created to be...what they can be restored to through Christ. The rest is just the chains , something foreign and unnatural to that person. Something that they can be free of. Can we see people through those eyes too? Can we see the beauty of diversity?

Well my sanity break is over....the little ones are getting restless. Congratulations on making it to the end of a very long and scattered post.

Here I am back on the horse....getting back on this roller coaster. Ready or not.

Crying for a woman I've never met.

Little Max passed away peacefully in his mothers arms this morning only hours after being born. They were praying and hoping he would be born alive and that they would have some time with him...the were blessed with a couple precious hours.
Babies with Trisomy 18 don't live long....90% die before their first birthday. Some die before birth, some die minutes or hours after. Some little miracle babies live and bring joy to their families for months and years. Their lives are short. But a life that is short is still a life...an eternal soul that now exists. A bundle of personality, character, love, purpose and sense of humor that will always be unique to them...even if those traits weren't realized or discovered here. Max is now in his heavenly fathers arms, he is free of the body that was deemed "incompatible with life" and is living life more fully and perfectly than we can imagine. His parents though broken and grieving the loss of their son believe that someday this tragic loss, this broken body and this mothering process cut short will be restored. They will once again hold little Max in their arms and every tear will be dried.
Until then his mother will bear the physical scars of bringing her baby into the world and the scars that will forever be on her heart by being separated from that baby. His father will be forced to accept that even as the provider and protector of his family he was helpless to do either. That is why I cry for them.

Christmas is the season that we celebrate Gods redemption of mankind. The almighty God, all powerful, present in all time and space, all knowing.....humbled himself to become a human embryo...to grow in a womb...to be born by a peasant woman in a stable. Strong became weak, all powerful became totally dependant. The King of Kings who commands the legions of angels entered the world surounded by farm animals and shepherds. Fully God and fully man....Emmanual "God with us".
He came with a purpose, he came to die....for me. He came to redeem what was taken. He came to romance a lost world back to Himself. He came to pay the price for each of us who would remove Him from the throne and sit ourselves there instead...for that is at its core what sin trully is...treason. What is the price for high treaon against the king of all kings, creator of heaven and earth? Exactly what it should be. BUT, we have a Creator King who , not willing that any should be lost, loved us so much that he came.. willingly into a world of pain, sorrow, hunger , cold and violence. A world we destroyed by sin. A world that welcomed him with "no room in the inn" , a world that wanted to kill him before his first birthday, a world that would rather hide behind "white washed walls" than surrender the corpse hidden within , a world that would despise him, spit on him and nail his hands and feet to a cross. He freely gives grace to those who would kill Him.

He wasn't a martyr, he wasn't merely a prophet, he wasn't just a good teacher....he is God. He could have called down thousands of angels or struck dead the soldiers....but chose the nails instead.

He came to conquer the grave, to defeat death. He did it so that we who place place our trust in Him, instead of ourselves ,will no longer need to fear death. We look forward to the day when we will see the completion of the events set in motion before the earth was formed. Max's parents will one day see their son again. Someday I will know the two children that I didnt have a chance to trully know here on earth. I will see the person Samuel was created to be and I will know my mystery baby as well. The one who I still wonder is a boy or a girl.

"God doesn't give us more than we can handle" that is a cliche that is spouted by well intentioned people every where. I think that any one who has suffered loss in any form knows that this is a lie. We come to the end of ourselves. But at the end of ourselves is where we see him face to face. It is at the end of our selves that we realize we can't fix this thing, we require God size deliverance. When we are trapped between the red sea and an advancing Epyptian army, and dispair threatens to overtake us....we must look to God to make a way through the waves. At the end of ourselves we learn that the castles we have made of sand aren't all that strong after all....but there is a foundation that will not be moved. That is where we learn to lean on Him and allow Him to carry us through the mess.

I am once again praying and crying for a woman I have never met....but we know the same God. A God who is mighty to save, a God who will redeem what was lost, a God who holds our tears in His hands.

In memory of my first born

As I sit down to write I don't know what words will come or even if I should try to put into words a story that has been kept only in my heart for so long.


May 26th of this year marked the birthday and passing of my first born, Samuel. He would have been 8 years old this year which in itself seems almost unbelievable. In some ways my life has come so far and changed so much since then that it seems like a lifetime away but on the other hand I can't believe it has been so long since I held him last.

On his birthday this year I got out the memory box I had neatly hid away for several years. I opened it, held the blankets that held him, looked through photographs, and read through my old journal. (I also read through each card I received and am amazed again at the outpouring of love from family, friends and two church families...thank you) We also have a home video of him being born and us meeting and holding our son. I had never watched it...in fact I had forgotten that I had it. I guess it took me 8 years to be able to 'go there'. It was amazing to once again see him, hear him and watch those tender first moments. Needless to say I bawled like a baby the whole time . It wasn't a bitter knawing sadness like it would have been years ago , it was a beautiful soft sadness of remembering a precious life. So after 8 years I revisited that time and I feel so blessed not only to have come through that and to have 3 beautiful children who call me mommy now...but to have been blessed with that special little boy too. I can honestly say now that I am thankful for that experience and wouldn't erase it from my life. With time comes a broader perspective and an appreciation for the things in life that have taken me out of the shallows and into something deeper.



I was one of those kids who dreamed of being a mommy, I mothered anything that would stay around long enough for me to mother. I waited my whole life until it would be my turn to have my own baby. I didn't wait long either. Nathanael and I were married very young , I was barely 19...I gasp now at the thought. Because we were so young and uneducated and broke we waited for over 3 years to start trying to have a baby. We got pregnant right away and were thrilled, it was the fall of '99.


Then Y2K happened. Actually Y2K turned out to be nothing as far as world wide catastrophe goes but the year 2000 meltdown seemed to happen only to us. In January, unexpectedly I lost my job..which was devastating to my pride and our pre-baby financial plan. Then, one thing after another seemed to pile up on top of the burden....engine done, transmission toast, medical bills, unexpected back taxes owed. I was so discouraged that I was afraid to start the car or open the mail. The financial rug was pulled out from under us leaving us struggling for the basics , but we still had what was important. We had each other and a baby growing inside of me. Then the other rug was pulled.


The next month I had an appointment with my midwife. I was just under 20 weeks when she discovered an irregular heartbeat, up until then it had sounded fine. We were reassured that it could be nothing but we were scheduled for a high resolution ultrasound just to make sure. I was nervous that day but naive enough to think that nothing could be wrong ,after all I was 22 yrs old and a picture of health. We looked forward to having an ultrasound and getting to see our baby again.


It wasn't very long into the ultrasound before the mood changed , the talking was hushed and more people were called in to view the screen. We learned that our baby had a severe heart defect and some possible other signs that could suggest a chromosomal abnormality. He explained that our baby "was not compatible with life" and that we could have an amnio if we wanted and that an abortion would be our best option. The next day we went for the amnio (a long needle stuck in my belly to extract amniotic fluid..not fun). The dr. we saw that day was much more hopeful and treated us like parents of a real baby with a really tough situation on our hands. He went over all the possibilities and the best and worse case scenarios with us...all of the scenarios sounded worst to me. We went home terrified but hoping that it would only be a heart defect or even Downs Syndrome with a heart defect ....something we could at least attempt to fix. We didn't care if our baby was "perfect" or faced surgery we just wanted him to have a chance to live. It was weird to be praying for something that most parents dread...and Iwould have dreaded too before my perspective was turned upsidedown.


After an eternity of waiting I got the phone call that made the room spin and shattered what was left of my dreams. She informed us that it was Trisomy 18 also known as Edwards syndrome. It is one extra 18th chromosome. Essentially the blueprints of DNA had an error that duplicated itself throughout his tiny forming body. The most obvious problem being the heart defect. The screaming going on in my head started to drown out the information she was giving me but I did hear the words 'a boy' and the words 'always fatal'. 90% of babies die before their first birthday. What was left of my world came crashing down in an instant. How could this be happening, what was I supposed to do now? It was suggested by our midwife, who knew better than to suggest a "dilation and extraction" (rip and kill procedure) that we "induce labor early" at 20 weeks gestation and just get the inevitable over with. If faced with the option of aborting a baby with a disability I would have turned it down flat but the idea of inducing early was such a grey area to me. The outcome would be the same either way. I was and am undeniably pro-life ...but for me there was no option of life . I had to choose between the horrible and the terrible....death now or death later. We took a couple weeks to think about our options and really just come to terms with the diagnosis. We decided that, even though we accepted that our sons life would be short , I would carry him and allow him to live as long as possible. We felt that it wasn't our call to make. I didn't create his life and I didn't want to decide when it would end. My husband was so supportive of me continuing the pregnancy and was totally in love with his son. We chose his name and started calling him by it. Since this was his life there would be no waiting to name him or find out his gender. He became Samuel to us instead of just a pregnancy gone horribly wrong.

That left me wondering how do I go on being pregnant when I am already grieving for this child?
Am I supposed to take my vitamins, go to prenatal appointments, and do all the things mommies do to have healthy babies? Am I supposed to take pride in my growing belly, take joy in the baby moving and growing inside me? One day when I was feeling particularly sorry for myself Samuel kicked me really hard as if to say "Hey , I'm still alive , I'm growing , this is my life...enjoy me". From that moment on I treasured every night I lay awake with him banging around inside me and took joy in watching him grow. His life would be inside me and I was going to celebrate and treasure that life.


I was carrying a baby I knew I could not keep even though I couldn't even dream of ever being separated from him. I didn't know what it was like to wait in giddy anticipation, to decorate a nursery , to shop for baby clothes. My body was preparing for a baby and I had all the desires to nest and prepare but instead I was making arrangements with a funeral home and and having burial clothes made for him. My husband put the cradle he was building on hold and started building a beautiful little urn. The best I could do for him was mother him in the only way I could by honoring his short life and honoring him in his death.


As my belly became enormous I was faced with all the attention , questions and advice a pregnant woman typically receives from strangers...that was really hard. I usually just gave them the answer they wanted to hear ( yes its my first, yes I'm excited and I'm expecting a boy)..unless I was feeling particularly cruel in which I would just tell them "actually my baby is going to die" and watch them squirm and run away. Some of the worst ones where the usual ...and most innocent.


"Labor is hard but once you hold that perfect baby in your arms its all worth it"...oh really,I guess I'll never know. I wonder what labor will be like for me?


or " It doesn't matter if its a boy or a girl as long as its healthy"....but what about the babies who aren't healthy? are they somehow of less value ..would you love him any less? How about "it doesn't matter if its a boy or a girl , or has ten fingers and toes, this baby is a gift from God ". Sometimes children who are considered less than perfect are the biggest blessings and teach us the most in life.


I wouldn't have cared if my baby was "normal and perfect" by the worlds standards I would have taken him home and loved him like the gift he was. But I didn't have that option. All we could hope and pray for was that he would be born alive and we would have a chance to love him a little before he left us.

One night I was laying awake with major anxiety and panic over the thought of my baby, who was nestled snuggly in my womb, being taken from me. In that strange place between sleeping and waking I dreamt I was holding my baby wrapped in a blanket. Then someone came for him. This person was magnificent, beautiful,and exuded such love as he stretched out his arms to receive my baby. I choose the word "receive" because it was voluntary on my part , there was no taking or snatching away from me...and I felt an overwhelming sense of peace. Such an obvious contrast to the anxiety attack I had been previously having. I handed over my baby as a mommy would hand her baby to loving doting grandparents or to his daddy. Perfect confidence and pride, no doubt that he was in good hands. I knew he was loved perfectly and completely by the one who now held him. Then as they turned and disappeared that feeling of peace remained instead of the panic expected. I held onto that peace throughout the night as I slept better than I had in weeks. It struck me the next day that this was not an ordinary dream. The feelings that came with it were too real and unusual. It was a gift. It was going to be OK , Samuel was going to be OK. Every other dream I had had up until that point involved terror , losing and searching....anything but confidence and peace.

The pregnancy was difficult physically as well as emotionally. I was carrying a lot of extra amniotic fluid due to the baby not swallowing properly. This translated into a lot of discomfort, constant contractions and a very big heavy belly. My body had had enough at 33 wks and I went into labor, by then I looked every bit of 40 wks pregnant. The labor was very long and very hard. Because the baby was surrounded by so much fluid, it wasn't forced down with each contraction like it typically would have been , also it was a first time labor for me which is often longer. I remember so vividly the sudden panic and terror that I felt when they said it was finally time to push. I knew that with each push I was bringing my baby closer to his death. I knew he could not survive without me oxygenating his blood for him. I knew that ,instead of it meaning the worst part was almost over ,that the pain was only just beginning. I wanted the labor to be over but my mind screamed NO, I need more time. I wanted to stop the train and go home. After 48 hours of labor , on May 26th 2000, we welcomed our first son into the world.


Samuel was born at 33wks weighing 2 lbs 10 ounces. He was born alive which was an answer to many prayers. I had never seen such a tiny baby. He had a cleft lip which can be common with trisomy 18. That really threw me off and my own lack of instant acceptance ended up being a major regret and source of guilt in the coming months. Of course internally was where the real problems were. We held him, kissed him , talked to him and looked in awe at every part of his body. His long legs, his light brown hair, his perfect little toes. We invited members of our family to come in and have a chance to hold him and be a part of his life. I felt very protective of him but I wanted him to be a part of the family that also loved him and I think in a way I thought it legitimized him to have witnesses to his short life. We had decided against anything but comfort measures before hand...not that we had a choice in the matter. Putting him on life support or something would have just been prolonging the inevitable and the hospital wouldn't likely have complied. I have reviewed those initial decisions so many times over the years...would something have made a difference? Could we have done something more for him to give him and us more time? Maybe, but if there was anything that we could have done at the time to save him we would have. The feeling of absolute helplessness as a parent was horrible. As our time with our son grew short we asked to be alone with him. The nurse kept checking his heart beat until she gave us the sad head shake and we knew it was over. I had previously worried what the end might be like for him ,and us, but he passed away very peacefully in our arms. We had prayed for him to be born alive and we were blessed with over an hour with him. It will never be enough time, but is was more than we had hoped for. I have never, even for a moment, regretted our decision to carry him and support his life until it was his ordained time to go. I can't help but think if I had chosen to end the pregnancy the "what ifs" and regret would still be nagging me and causing me pain. I'm so thankful that I am spared that. I am so thankful that I know without a doubt I did everything I could for my son. In his 8 months of life nestled under my heart and in the 1 hour of life in my arms of, he experienced his mothers love.


We dressed his body in a tiny gown and homemade sweater then wrapped him in the quilt his Grandma had made for him. The quilt had the words "Samuel is loved" sewn into it. We wanted the hospital and funeral home people to know this was our precious child, he had value, he was loved and would be missed. I think the hardest thing about that evening was changing rooms. We had to leave him laying quietly in the hospital bassinet and walk away. My arms ached to be holding him still, my heart broke and every instinct in my body screamed against what I had to do. We said our goodbyes and went to our room for the night, the room we should have been sharing with a new baby. The next morning I walked out of the hospital with empty arms and an empty womb. The world went on as if nothing had just happened and by all appearances the baby I had carried inside me for 8 months had never existed. I was a mother with no baby. There is no name for that.


In the days following, my body prepared to nourish a baby that was no longer there. I wasn't prepared for all the physical longing I would have for a baby. My arms literally ached to hold him...it was like a yawn that couldn't be satisfied or an itch I couldn't scratch. I knew my baby was gone but my body hadn't got the memo. As tears ran down my face, milk ran down my stomach, it was like my whole body was crying. The physical pain of engorgement was unbearable and the emotional reminder of what I was missing was constant. On top of the intense sadness I had a constant feeling of anxiety and panic...a feeling like I had misplaced something or that something very valuable was lost. I felt like I was going crazy. I remember at one point wandering from room to room in my house with panic rising, feeling like I was forgetting something....only to figure out the thing I was 'forgetting' was my baby and he wasn't coming back. Once again my mind had to remind the rest of me that there was no baby. The mothering instinct inside me just couldn't accept what my brain already knew. That feeling of unexplained anxiety followed me for several months.



We were assured, despite our fears otherwise, that Samuels problems were not genetic and that our chances of having another baby with Trisomy weren't higher than anyone else's. I then became obsessed with replacing that which had been taken from me and resuming the process that had been so unaturally cut short. If I could have popped down to the local store and bought myself a baby I would have. Month after month I hoped and obsessed that I would again be pregnant. I felt it was the only way to lessen the pain ..to fill the aching void. With each passing month I drifted deeper and deeper into depression and had I not been trying to get pregnant I would have done anything to numb the pain. I forced myself to eat only because if I didn't it I might not get pregnant. I was stuck in a dark hole and had no way out. I needed the pain to end, one way or another.


I was so sure that because I had remained faithful and had gone through loosing my baby that God would have rewarded me with another pregnancy right away..and probably even twins just to make up for it. How little I knew about how God works.


Throughout the year I could see God at work, the little miracles, the little blessings and the outpouring of his people. I had lost my job but God had replaced it with my dream job working at the World Vision US office , I was surrounded by people who loved the Lord and served him everyday. I had a couple close friends ,who had experienced their own losses ,come along side me in my grief. My son , according to the Drs. would not be born alive but he lived for over an hour. The Dr. who examined him after his death said that he had already gone into congestive heart failure in the womb and that he was amazed that he had lived at all. If I had not gone into labor when I did he would have died inside me instead of in my arms. A small mercy but a blessing just the same.


Over the next several months God took me on a journey of healing that included a lot of rage, questions and grief on my part, but He never turned away from me as I poured out my heart to Him....and I can't remember a time when I turned away from Him. After many months of wrestling, I discovered something completely unexpected...contentment. I can't explain the change other than it was from God. I came to the place where I could truly say that He was enough...and not in a begrudging way. I became so truly humbled and grateful for what He had already done for me, his gift of grace and salvation, that I could honestly say I was content. It was well with my soul. I allowed Him to fill that gaping hole in my heart. Yes, I longed for a child but His sovereignty gave me a confidence that whatever happened ,or didn't happen, I was in His loving arms. He had a plan for my life, even if I couldn't see it, and Samuel was part of that plan.



I felt a sustained peace and joy that I hadn't felt in almost a year. In contrast to the pain it was that much sweeter. What a welcome relief! There were still sad days or moments of anxiety when I would be reminded of what I was missing but with it also came comfort. My circumstances hadn't changed but my heart had. I felt in a way like Jacob who wrestled with God and when it was over he called the place Peniel, meaning I have seen God face to face.

In the process of my pride, my security, my purpose, and my plans being stripped away I found myself face to face with God - not in defiance but in brokeness. No distractions, nothing to hide behind, no delusion of self sufficiency, no illusions of control, no desire for stubborn independance...just my God and me.


I wrestled with everything I had in me and then when it was over I laid it down at his feet.

Then with my arms empty and my hands open, he picked me up and stood me back on my feet. Since I had opened my hands and released control of all I had been fiercly clinging to, my hands were open to receive the blessings he desired to give me.



He had allowed these things to come into my life for a purpose. I don't believe he causes disease and suffering but he can use them for His glory ....and bring beauty out of the ashes. I know that nothing comes to me but that which has already been through the filter of His love. God is more concerned with my growth and maturity than he is my immediate comfort. I realize now the difference between clinging and cherishing. I will cherish the blessings that come into my life but I will never cling to them and wrap my little fists around them and shout "Mine!". I will praise my God when he gives, and I will praise the same God when he takes away.


I allowed the Lord to truly heal my heart that Dec. 2000. That was my year 2000 from start to finish crammed into a blog post. What a year and what a way to start out the new millennium! Had I known what lay ahead that historic new years eve, I would have spent less time stockpiling food and I would have spent more time preparing myself spiritually for the road ahead. Unfortunately, the storms in life come without warning and often when we least expect them. That midnight phone call, that moment a lump is discovered, that bone-chilling diagnosis, an unfaithful spouse discovered....the world you've constructed comes crashing down around you leaving you rocked to your core. The storms will come at some point. How we withstand the gale has a large part to do with WHO are anchored to and how sturdy that anchor is before the waves start to pound.


God had a little surprise for me though as we entered a new year. ... my daughter was born nine months later on August 31st! 2001 was off to a much better start.


Samuel will always be my first born...my first son. There is a quiet natural awareness that our family is not quite complete and won't be until eternity. Although his brothers and sister have never met him they know who he is and where he is and I pray they will meet him someday. I know I will hold Samuel again. Sometimes my heart gets a little homesick for my eternal home when I think about it. I look forward to the day that my sweet Jesus will take me in His arms and say "well done, good and faithful servant...you have finished the race!" Then, I will see my first born. There will be no more missed birthdays , tender moments and milestones...only perfect fulfillment. I will see the eternal person he was created to be , without the intrapment of an imperfect body, just him flawless and whole. If he's anything like his little brothers ,he's probably climbing the highest tree and and calling to the angels to watch him as he shows off his new tricks. That makes me smile.