“Jesus said, “Shall I come and heal him?” Matthew 8:7

Lately our eldest has been looking at me with a yucky look in his eye.  He’s angry at me; untrusting.  He doesn’t believe what I say to be true and he finds a way to put down or argue with everything I say.  While some of this is the product of being five and knowing better than your mother, Grant has also recognized the mean-spirit fueling this.  He gently reminds me that I have a job as “Mom” which he doesn’t as “Dad.”  Our sons have never had a man in their lives- so the role of “Daddy” was a new one to fill- a clean slate.   The role of “Mommy”, however has been marred.  It isn’t easy for our little one to believe my words or to accept the love I give.  It is far from easy. 

We’ve discussed it repeatedly now- that Mommy is to be respected and not spoken to unkindly.  It isn’t nice to tell Mommy that she is wrong- about EVERYTHING.  Mommy wants to love you and to hold you- it makes her feel sad when you push her away…. But we’d not discussed the root of this. 

Oh Father, my son is angry.

Last night, we did.  My son sat on my lap facing me, bracing himself for what I might say to him- looking at me fearfully.  I begged the Spirit to give me words which gushed with nothing but God’s purest love. Then I told him I was sorry that other people had hurt him before.  I told him I knew it wasn’t easy for him to believe me when I said that I wasn’t going anywhere-that I would never leave him.  I told him that sometimes I will mess up, but I am going to work hard to be a good mommy for him and his brother.  I told him that I am more so, so proud to be his mom and I want to be his friend too- for us to love each other and for that love to grow bigger and bigger.  I told him that he can trust me and love me back, even if it is hard

And through tears he nodded and struggled to push out the words, “It is hard.”

His eyes registered the things I said to him and even revealed surprise that I knew those secrets about him- that he found it so difficult to accept my love or believe my words.  He hugged me securely when our talk was finished.  

Oh Lord, my son has been hurt so deeply.  

We’ll need to have more of these talks, I know.  I feel a little bit stronger and braver today about those talks.  I completed one.  Not with my words- but those inspired by Him.  I see Him healing my son more and more every day.  And I don’t even have to request healing- I just tell him of my boy’s woes and He responds tenderly, “Shall I come and heal him?” 

He willingly offers and I gratefully accept it. 

Lord, just say the word and my son will be healed.  

For My Birthday Boy, With a Heart of Gold

Dear Son,

You are my eldest.  My first born.  My five year old with a heart of gold.  You are stronger and braver then you’ll probably ever know.  I’ve known you for less than one calendar year, but from the moment I saw you, I knew you.  It was like our Father in heaven had cut out a shape in my heart when I was asleep- one who’s void only YOU could fill.  Oh and how good it feels to hold you close and get to be your mommy.  I tell you as often as I can how happy it makes me that I get to be your mommy and you smile quietly back at me, basking in my adoring gaze! 

Gigi was looking at a picture of you recently and she nailed it when she said that you have “such a quiet beauty” about you.  You aren’t quiet- but your beauty kind of radiates from the inside out- so discretely, but so strikingly. 

But no, you aren’t a quiet child.  No, no.  You love to growl and roar and sing and yell!  You love to pretend- and when you aren’t pretending to be a fierce beast who roars loudly, you’re pretending that you’re a super hero.  You’ll stand up valiantly, put one finger to the sky, look off into the distance and say, “Wait!...I think there’s trouble!” and then you’ll dash off to take care of whoever or whatever.  Your play mirrors how you are in real life.  You care deeply about those around you and what they’re feeling.  You notice babies and dogs and cats and you’ll tell us if they feel happy or sad or scared.  You got a pet fish for your 5^th birthday, who you named Tiny Tim, and you’ll tell us how he’s feeling when you wake up in the mornings.  On the days that he is sad you’ll sing him songs.  You do this for your little brother too.  When he is crying or sad you care for him, usually by singing (and the singing!  You learn songs after ONE listen!  Ver batim!  You're so impressive!).  Every morning, before we leave for school, while I put on my jewelry, grab my stuff and prep to leave to take you to school, you put on your jacket and zip it up, and then do the same for Bug.  Zipping it up to his chin, just like he likes it. 

 

 

You have a kind heart and I pray that the Lord will only grow that in you.  I marvel at the way He’s preserved that sweetness in you- but your goodness is just so woven into the fibers of who you are, you almost have no choice but to be good and kind. 

You love to kiss and hug and snuggle.  And oh, your eyes!  Buddy, your eyes melt me every time.  I long for the day when your heart is even more open and even less scared to share what you remember and what you’re thinking.  There are so many stories in your pretty blue eyes and I can’t wait to hear them all.  Even though some of them will be painful to share, I’ll listen and cry with you, okay?  And the dreams you have to share?  Sweetie, I want to hear every one and pray with you for the Lord to see those through in the work of your life. 

You make us so proud. 

You challenge us to stretch and to feel things as deeply and as intensely as you do.  You pray with real sincerity and you speak about Jesus like the real being He is- not the character in a book some of us adults tend to make him out to be.  You get it- Jesus and being chosen and loved by him.  You don’t doubt or question it and you get it in the deepest, best possible way.

I will never, ever, ever forget the day I went to pick you up from school and you ran to me and called me “Mommy” for the first time.  You calling me that is maybe my proudest moment.  Such a crown of honor to get to be YOUR mom. 
 

I love you, Buddy.  Your dad and I have celebrated you beyond streamers and cakes and candles.  We celebrate you every single day, Buddy.  You make us so very proud.  Happy fifth birthday- the first time we got to see you turn a year older won’t be the best- I promise.  We’re going to do this again and again for years to come- and your years are just going to get better and better.

 

With So Much Love,

 

Mommy

Bunkmates

Last week we made and executed a big decision.  Okay, maybe not that big.  But it felt big to me.  Our "baby" moved from his crib into his big boy bed.  And he moved into the room next door with his brother.

The transition out of the crib was nothing for him.  He didn't really seem to care- other than the handful of times he came into the room when his dad and I were assembling the bed and making it and he remarked, "Makin' bed." and then went about his way playing.  But the night before the jump, I cried.  A lot.  I may or may not have ranted a bit about how the State of Kansas was forcing him to grow up too quickly (Because even though he is in fact two and a half, he didn't care that he was in a crib and I would have kept him there as long as possible- to give him (but if I'm being honest, to give ME) longer to be a baby, since he didn't have that chance so much in his baby months) and robbing him of precious developmental months by requiring that he be in an actual bed.  I may have tucked him in and stood outside of his door allowing my sweet husband to console me as I cried and cried.  And cried. 

As the week has gone on and the boys have adjusted to (and LOVED) sharing a room, I've had chance to recall the precious years I shared with my different bunkmates.  The boys have done a fantastic job and have only needed to be asked gently a handful of times to stay quiet and to quit being silly- but I've loved standing outside of their door in the hallway listening to their giggles, their growls as they communicate through their stuffed animals,  their conversations- which I don't understand- but they completely understand.  It's clear that this transition is only hard on me at this point, but the Lord has used their joy and my memories to comfort me.

I remember being summoned into my sisters' full-sized bed and cozying down between them, whispering, giggling, scratching backs-feeling like their most-admired pet and revelling in it.  I remember staring up at the underside of the bottom bunk, singing- harmonizing with my sister as she taught me new songs she's learned in youth group.  I remember passing notes on the far side of bunk bed- up and down, up and down.  I remember talking about baptism and angels and eternity.  I remember praying together aloud before sleeping and desiring the sincerity and confidence my sisters had as they spoke to our God.  I remember the night after the tragedy at Columbine- my brother and I flocked into my sister's room and shared the sad night together after we'd prayed and pondered the terrible events.  Years after we'd been bunkmates, we returned to that comforting place of togetherness to sleep. 

That first night Bug slept in his new bed- the one with the tears I cried for their years of neglect- Grant held me and reminded me that we get to create new memories and celebrate all of the milestones to come.  We will celebrate milestones and work to make memories for them, but I can't help but think they are already off to a great start of doing this on their own.  I dream and encircle their new relationship as bunkmates with the romantic notion that they'll make memories like the ones I share with my siblings. 

And then I hear a giggle and a growl and I know that they already are.


 

"Carceration"

A few years ago I would have rolled my eyes at this kind of effort made by a kids' show- not because I was unaware that there are really kids who hurt and deal with the effects of having an incarcerated parent, but because I would have just preferred that Sesame Street not stray from it's neutral, teaching numbers and letters focus.  Now that I am a parent of children who have a birth-parent who is incarcerated, I feel SO differently.  My boys love Sesame Street already- and the idea of them hearing from and being able to relate to a scraggly muppet in a way that I cannot brings me to tears! 

 

On the drive to school, Buddy and I were talking about his dream the night before.  He tells us every morning that he dreamed about Jesus.  Sometimes it's Baby Jesus, sometimes it's growed-up Jesus and Spiderman- most nights just Jesus.  We aren't sure if he really does dream about Jesus every night or if he just enjoys how happy it makes us to hear that- but it's fun to talk about anyway.  So the other morning when he told me about his dream, this conversation followed.

Me: Do you know where Jesus lives?
Buddy: Yeah!  In heaven!
Me: Yeah, he does- but do you know where else he lives?
Buddy: (shakes his head no)
Me: He lives in your heart!
Buddy: (pointing at his chest and making a confused face) In MY heart? In Bug's heart too?
Me: Yeah!  He does- and in Mommy and Daddy's hearts too.  He chooses to live in all of us who love him!
Buddy: Ohhhhh! (thinks for a few minutes quietly, then-)  I glad I go to your house now.
Me: Me too.  But what do you mean?
Buddy: I glad I go to your home for Jesus.
Me: Yeah?  Can you tell me more?  I don't know what you mean. (I thought I did, but wanted to hear more)
Buddy: I not at Aunt Sharon's house now.  I at your house.
Me: Did you know Jesus when you were at Aunt Sharon's house?
Buddy: No- I glad I go to your house so I know Jesus now. He live in my heart now.
Me: Me too, Buddy.  And it's your house too!  You live there and we're a family so it's your house now too.
Buddy: Oh!!  Okay!

He thought quietly for a while.  He hadn't mentioned his aunt or anything from life pre-Mankin for MONTHS and I thought it was the right time since he wanted to talk about it to ask.

Me: Buddy, do you ever miss Aunt Sharon?
Buddy: Uhh- no I just want her to not be sick anymore.
Me: Yeah me too.  We need to remember to pray for her like we used to do, huh?
Buddy: Yeah.
Me: Do you ever wish you still lived there with Aunt Sharon?
Buddy: No, but now I live with you and Daddy so I have Jesus in my heart now.
Me: Yeah, that's good.  I'm happy you're my family now.  Do you remember your Mom and Dad from before?
Buddy: Ummm...I don't member cause I just a little kid.
Me: Yeah, that's okay.  That's alright.
Buddy: Do you know them?
Me: No, I have never met them.
Buddy: Oh.  (thinks for a while, looks out the window and then very seriously) Mommy.  I just don't know who my family is!
Me: I bet you do.  Who do you think your family is, Bud?
Buddy: Ohhhh!  You and Daddy and Bug and Gigi and Poppa and Baba and Poppi and...
Me: That's right!  And no matter what we will always, always be your family!

He went on to talk about turning five and who he wanted to invite to his birthday party and the Flash toy he wants to get for his birthday.  I went on to spend the day thinking about just how much really goes inside of my little man's head and heart.  He just recently (last week) made the connection that even when he makes a sad choice, we still love him.  He'd been telling us he loves us and becoming extra affectionate anytime we'd correct his brother and we'd been dismissing it as him being a four-year-old who was capitalizing on an opportunity to be "the good kid" in our eyes.  But recently it clicked and we had a very telling conversation with him.  Now if Bug goes to timeout or is told "no," Buddy lets us know that, "Mommy and Daddy still love us even if we make a sad choice.  It just make Mommy and Daddy sad.  But they still love us."

It hurts my heart deeply that truths of family and unconditional love are concepts his little self is required to sort out right now.  The above, super-poignant discussion is rare.  His sorting out is primarily done through testing and mean faces and shaking his head no when we say we love him.  Every ounce of me wants to disprove every misguided impression that's been made on him-and we're both determined to do just that.

...and He will give you the desires of your heart.

 

I had heard this scripture for years and years- I’m a super-churched person.  But it wasn’t until just a few weeks ago that the verse was explained to me in a different way (because as I’d understood it, if I delighted in God, He’d deliver to me what my little heart desired) which also happens to be the way that it is intended to be interpreted.  The way I correctly understand it now is, “Delight your ways in the Lord, and He will plant in you desires that are of him- he’ll give you the desires that will make your heart feel best and fullest instead of the silly desires your flesh and humanness create.” 

Say whaaaa?  Mind blown.

Over the last few weeks, the Lord has been changing my heart in some big ways. You know how He promises to give us a new heart and a renewed mind?  I’ve felt that happening- like, almost physically.  It’s weird- but not weird at all because God is always faithful and He always does what He says he will.

So this past Saturday I was at a women’s retreat with a group of women from our church as well as some other churches.  It was a powerful, powerful weekend, but it wasn’t during a time of worship or teaching that the Lord chose to show me something beautiful (Well, He did show me beautiful things then too- but this other one stands out.).  In between sessions, I was visiting with a woman I only know vaguely.  I know that she is a single mamma, has some pretty fantastic boys, has a very peaceful, submissive spirit and because of Facebook I know that her oldest son lives out of state and she misses him greatly.  So I asked about him.  What I came to learn was that she is very recently in contact with her son; he was raised by his adoptive parents.  She and her son, now nineteen years old, have been building a relationship and genuinely love one another. 

As she was answering my questions I felt my eyes filling with tears.  Not because she was sad or anything- but because as I was listening to her speak, I realized that she was the embodiment of the prayers I’ve been praying for my boys’ mother.  She was confident and beautiful and fulfilled- and all and only because of the joy she’s found in Jesus.  She spoke of her relationship with her son whom she’d thought she’d lost years before- and the expectations she had of him as an adult (which also align with what she’s sure the Lord would will for his life) and my heart leapt!  It was like I’d been given a shot of hope- a powerful drug that absolutely lit me up.  All of this time, these last five months, I’ve been praying for a heart for the boys’ mom and asking for compassion for her and asking for her to KNOW her Creator, and for God to help me with my unbelief- but I’d never really believed He’d answer!  Because I’m that faithless and silly.

But He did!  He DID answer and He showed me a living, breathing version of a restored birth mother.  He showed me just how badly I DO long for her recovery and that He had helped my unbelief, and then He went a step further: He showed me that I long for one day, the boys to know their birth mom and to see her as a healthy, repaired individual.  I didn’t  know my heart desired that!  But that’s because it didn’t before!  It does now because God has given me new desires!  He’s taken away selfish ones and replaced them with HIS plan and His perfect will- here on Earth just as it is in Heaven!  My mind is totally blown. 

I hugged the beautiful woman who told me about her oldest son and cried and apologized for my tears- but told her I was just so happy to see that God had restored this relationship in her life and I was so proud of her.  She wasn’t really sure what to do with my emotion or affection.  Sometime soon I’ll share with her how God has used her story to shape mine and that of the boys.

Gracious, though.  Isn’t He just so, so good? 

Where did March go?

A few weeks ago Grant and I got a rare opportunity to spend the night alone.  In a hotel.  Sans kids.  Whaaa???  Grant’s folks went to Tulsa to spend time with their best friends (who are more like family than they are just friends) and we were invited to join them for some time to visit, and then shooed off to enjoy time just to ourselves.  It was so nice!  We spent Friday night being fed and hugged and watching the kids light up bit by bit as they were doted on by four uber loving adults, and then spent the day Saturday shopping, eating, drinking coffee, watching TV…it was so weird.  But so, so awesome!  Thank you Steve and Barbara for blessing us as you did!  I know they think they got the better end of the deal getting to snuggle the babes, but I dunno…getting to smooch my man without feeling the need to hurry because the pot might boil over and someone needs their tush wiped and…you get the picture.  It was a GREAT twenty-four hours!

 

 

 

 

 This last weekend we were spoiled again with a visit from our besties.  Nathan and Marianne drove up from Texas to spend Easter weekend with us.  It was the first time they’d met the boys in person, but they weren’t unfamiliar with their faces.  Buddy frequently asks to look at my phone so he can see, “Uncle Hammer and Aunt Mern” (because we try to Facetime regularly).  I love that the boys will grow up thinking that those two really are their aunt and uncle.  They are more family to us than they aren’t.  I had several moments over the weekend during which photos of my parents at campsites and theme parks with their best friends flashed through my head- and I realized that I’m there- I am almost thirty with small children and I’m doing just what they did for fun when they were my age.  Such a strange realization- I’m getting so old!  Ha!  We spent our time cooking and eating and walking and taking pictures and playing and giggling and worshiping and dying eggs…it was so perfect.  The time spent with them always fills me up so fully. 

 

Getting dressed and ready for church on Easter

Oh- and Aunt Mern didn’t come empty handed, of course.  She brought handmade gifts for the boys, of course- including two capes for Buddy and blocks for Bug.  How awesome is she?!

 

One of my favorite activities we did this past weekend was the making of “Resurrection Rolls” – which is an idea I got from my sister who did this with her kids a few Easters ago.  We took marshmallows (which represented our sin-free Savior) and dipped them in butter (which represented burial oils) and then in cinnamon-sugar (burial spices) and then wrapped them in crescent rolls (burial cloths).  We put them into the oven (the tomb) and when they finished and we removed the burial cloths, Jesus wasn’t there!  The marshmallows had melted, but to my sweet four year old the explanation was simple:

 “Jesus not there because the angel say, He risen!”

 

We’ve recently become “Mommy” and “Daddy” at all times now.  We didn’t prompt this- it just happened naturally.  It began with Buddy slipping up and accidentally saying "Momma" instead of “Momma V” or "Daddy: instead of “Daddy Grant”- but one weekend it was as if he decided he was ready.  And now we are Mommy and Daddy-fulltime.  I get butterflies when he hollers at me and I hear his four year old voice say my new name.  What an honor I have- to be “Mommy” to two little men!  I’m so humbled by this- I can’t believe the Lord sees me fit to aid in raising two young men for His service.  What a flattering, humbling, ridiculous compliment from the Creator of the cosmos!!!

 

 

May 21^st is a bit of a big day for our household.  For our family.  It is the scheduled date for the termination hearing of the rights of the boys’ parents.  When well-meaning friends ask about how things are progressing and hear that there is a termination hearing, I usually get asked if I’m, “SOOO excited?” – but that isn’t really the most accurate word.  As the day nears, it becomes more and more real to me that a woman will be losing her sons legally and permanently.  Regardless of what she has done to arrive at such a place, I’m certain there are few appointments for a woman that would be more humiliating or devastating.  So no, I’m not excited for this event because of what it will likely mean for my sons’ mother.  I am grateful that the system is moving the boys’ case in a direction towards a home where they can have stability and permanency.  And I would be lying if I were to say that I didn’t dream about seeing their names in print with the same last name as mine would be a lie- and it would also be false to say that I long to post a photo of them on social media, just because once they are legally Mankins we’ll be allowed to.  But I’m not at all excited about the termination hearing.  No siree.

 

 

Oh, and if it seems like there are no pictures of Bug in this entry, that's because there aren't.  He's busy.  He's tied up right now either being uncomfortable because his two year molars are coming in, or he is being super rational about the fact that I won't let him put his goldfish into his water cup and  is no doubt throwing himself onto the floor, lying out flat and wailing like a banchee.  He's two now, so he's officially earned his Masters in refusing to act civilized.  It's adorable.