Fingerprints: Check!

Friends, in order for you to know how BIG of a blessing we've just experienced, you need to know a little bit of history first.

When Mike and I decided to adopt it was because we felt like it was what God wanted. We were on a waiting list for the agency we wanted to work with for a year (which was okay because Tyler was still small and we weren't quite ready) before they would even take applications. When we went to their information meeting we were one of two couples (out of 25 or so) who COULD conceive. All of the others had struggled with infertility and had had previous losses and shed tears as they told their story and their hope in adoption. Even though we wanted to adopt, we felt like we would be "taking" a baby from one of these couples who hadn't even been given the chance to parent yet and that just didn't feel right.

Enter the Foster Care Guy. I don't remember his name but he spoke about an alternative to traditional adoption called foster-to-adopt. Sure, it had risks, sure, it was uncertain, and sure, it was not what we had planned, but boy was there ever a need for it. We left the meeting and kind of let that sink in for a while.

As we shared that option with our family and friends we heard the same answer over and over. "You can't do that!", " What if you have to give the baby back!" ,"That would be too hard!", "I could never do that!" After praying about it and weighing our options, foster-to-adopt was right for us. We went through the training and just needed finger prints and would be licensed for placements!!

As you probably know, the fingerprinting process has taken a year and a half. I just don't have good prints and they keep on failing. Not only that, but I found out last month that the FBI is so backed up on reading prints that they are taking 4 months to read each set, so instead of waiting 6-8 weeks in-between failures, I now had to wait 4 months. Even I felt hopeless.

I went to Bible study and didn't feel like sharing, but there's always a time at the end when you get to. I'd keep it short and simple so as to not cry. Same plan as every week. I just shared that I was tired of waiting on this set of prints and that I'm tired of having an empty crib in my house when I know there are babies out there who need me and I just don't understand what's going on!! Immediately my eyes fix on the women on my left. One who could never have children, and another who never had birth children and finally adopted. Both are in their late 40's I'd guess. I looked at them and said, "You know what this is like!" and the tears spilled.

My dear Greta, who did adopt, had tears in her eyes. This is what she said. "You know Darbi, only God knows our future. My husband and I tried for 10 years to have a baby and just couldn't. I too had an empty crib and didn't know why. But finally I realized God knew what He was doing." (People had told me 'God knew what He was doing' all the time but I was beginning to think it was more of a token answer to get me to shut-up than it was their genuine belief.) "I started thinking things like, 'maybe next year I'm going to come down with cancer or my husband will loose his job and we will be unable to care for a baby. These are things He knows that I don't. But then I started a new prayer. Did I want a baby or did I want what God wanted? I prayed, 'God, I want you more than I want a baby. Let your will be done.' (Now the whole room is crying). Three days later, I got a phone call about my daughter."

WOW. That was amazing. As I went home I thought long and hard about that. Of course we want God's plan...we are fostering kid's FOR GOD and for the community. How can it not be God's plan? But have I actually said that to Him? Surrendered it to Him? I kind of assumed He knew I wanted what He wanted because...well He just should. But it's kind of how a wife assumes her husband knows he loves her but never tells him...then it's too late...

Two Wednesdays ago I started praying specifically to God. "I want YOU more than I want this baby. Whatever you have planned for us is going to be great and good and I trust you. But if it is to have this baby, please let these fingerprints go through so I can help her...or him."

Today I got a phone call that my fingerprints went through. They were not scheduled to go through until later in the month and a preliminary report in the computer said they had failed. But friends, they passed, and we're getting a baby for our crib. And now I can say with 100% confidence that is the ministry God wants us to be doing and I am so excited that there isn't an exclamation point big enough to end this sentence with!

God is so mysterious, confusing and sometimes hard to follow, but at the same time He is loving, mighty, wonderful and ever present. I praise Him for all of it.

Dear FBI,

With all due respect, I want to understand just what goes on in your department when it comes to the clearance of ones fingerprints.

I am just a woman waiting for your go-ahead. Once I get your approval I will be able to have children in my home that may not otherwise know love, trust, comfort, warmth, stability, safety and other basic needs that all children deserve to know. Do you know this?

Do you know that there are children hurting all over the world, the country, the state, your city who need people like us to rescue them and it all has to go through you?

Do you know that my home has been ready and willing with a mom and a dad and two big brothers who flip over babies for over a year and a half?

Do you know that a nursery has been all set up complete with over 20 pairs of baby shoes, blankets, bibs and burp rags collecting dust just waiting for your response?

Do you know I have never even had a speeding ticket? I have lied a few times to spare feelings but I've worked all of that out with God and I also stole Megan Lemke's Valentine's necklace in the 3rd grade (also dealt with God on that) but other than that my record is completely clean. Now, I have no documentation to prove this, but the whole idea to get foster children in the first place was Gods, and He certainly knows more than you about my history, again, with all due respect, so perhaps if you could just communicate with Him directly we could get things moving much quicker?

I know what you do is very complicated. I know you have a lot going on in your FBI life. Fingerprint clearance may or may not be on the top of your list. But please just know that it is most important for me and the other families who are waiting for children, but more importantly for the children who are waiting for us. Imagine being a child in a desperate, hopeless situation and then try to tell yourself "one more day won't make much of a difference". I can only imagine that each day must feel like an eternity to them.

Do you hear my heart?

Do you know how bad I want to help?

Do you know you are the only one who is standing in my way?

Please, oh please eat your lunch at your desk until there are no more fingerprints to be approved.

And if the system isn't running right, CHANGE IT. This is not clearance to get a job, this is not clearance to go on vacation, this is clearance to save a life. A life without a voice. Save the life. Be the voice.

I can still wait, and I will wait until my prints are finally good enough for you. But I just wanted to make sure you knew the story behind the tiny black lines pressed on the white paper...to push you a little harder at the clearing of the prints job...to encourage you to use your power wisely and swiftly because with that power comes a responsibility to do the right thing. For the kids.

I'm ready to do my job...to rock, to calm, to cuddle, to sing, to laugh, to hold, to teach, to love. All I ask is that you do yours...

Sincerely, Future Foster Parent Darbi

The Tale of the Chubby Homecoming Queen, Her Strapless Gown, and a Dance with her Very First Prince...

Well, it's been so long since I've blogged, I knew I had to make it good. (No pressure, right Rach?)

It would be an event of the year. My cousin-brother's wedding was coming mid-September and I would be a bridesmaid. One of eleven. The color? Mango-Tango. The dresses? Strapless. Chubby girls don't do strapless. The solution? I had over 6 months to loose weight! Very manageable. When did it become unmanageable? The week before the wedding when I was still the same size as I started. Darn it. Time to buy those fancy underwear and suck it in. I've heard if I constantly place my right foot forward people won't notice my size. I'll try anything.

Wedding week was here before we knew it and I was so excited. I got to get a new sister and Matt's choice was more than perfect for me. If I could just go to the New Sister store at the mall and order one I would pick her out exactly...her humor, her laugh, her listening skills, her sensitivity, her fashion sense, the drink she orders at Starbucks, and especially the way she loves my Matt. In the next few days we would get pedicures, practice our walking and lining up, have toasts, celebrate love, visit family and friends AND (enter scary music: dun-dun-dun!) be re-united with my first loves. (No, that's not a typo. There were two of them.)

Yeah, I was excited to see them, they were Ryan and Streiter. Who wouldn't want to see them? But here's the deal...life has been a little rough on me. Between my 4 babies, three pregnancies, lack of motivation to exercise regularly and love for mochas, I've put on the weight of a good sized 3rd grader since high school. I literally hadn't set eyes on those boys since graduation 14 years ago, when I was the size 3 homecoming queen. Would they even recognize me? Or would they say "That's a nice decorative mango-tango punch table. But where's Darbi?" A very secure 32 year old woman suddenly found herself back at the 7th grade formal, afraid nobody was going to ask her to dance.

It was rehearsal dinner time, which meant I would face Ryan. I made my best fruit salad that said, "you shouldn't have let me go in the 3rd grade, you bastard!". You know, the one with the grapes. Anyway, I saw him out of the corner of my eye. "Breathe Darbi." He got kind of snobby toward the end of high school. Would he even want to talk to me? Do I shake his hand? What do I do? "Darbi Fankhauser?" And his arm touches my shoulder. I grab him and I hug him. He rocks me side to side like when you're hugging your sister who came back from college. I look at him. His eyes are exactly the same. His beard...is longer than a loaf of french bread from Albertsons?! It's okay because I am fat. His girlfriend is wonderful. His life is wonderful. I tell him about mine. Years have gone by but to me he will always be Ryan. The boy I got in trouble for punching in the stomach AND the boy who chased me and kissed me on the playground. It's not a feeling of love or what might have been, but maybe it's just a true blessing that I get the chance to see him again and have our families meet...talk about the old days as adults but still feeling like kids. Not everyone gets to have these moments. I want to put it in a bottle and place it on a shelf...

Wedding day comes and this time it will be Streiter. He's the boy I picked out in Kindergarten. And if there's one thing about me and boys, I usually get what I want. ( I picked Mikey out during the first week of college orientation. He had a girlfriend and I had a boyfriend. Did I let those two tiny details slow us down? No! Now 14 years later he'll always be my favorite boy!) So, the wedding itself was flawless. I got to walk down the aisle with one of my high school best friends, Pat and we had the best time. My Aunt mom sang and everybody cried. It was the most beautiful location for a wedding, very fitting for such a wonderful couple. The kiss...and onto the reception. But no Streiter. I saw who I thought were his wife and daughter but not him. Bummer. Maybe I'll see him when Matt and Tara have a baby...I feel an arm around my shoulder. It's someone I don't know. I look down and see the mans shoes. Converse. On a person I knew that'd be totally rad but on a stranger who's touching me, TOTALLY creepy. I look up again and see the eyes and the freckles and they're EXACTLY the same as they were in Kindergarten when I picked him out to be my birthday buddy...It was Streiter. I freaked out. I couldn't believe I didn't recognize him.

We walked over to his table where I chatted with his family, his beautiful wife and his amazing daughter. I am in love with his wife and since I can't be everywhere at once, I'm glad he found her. She's his perfect match. It was so fun to joke about the pain we'd gone through. "Sharing was hard. If we could have got that down maybe we would have had a chance." "Maybe we should share some pearls of wisdom for Matt and Tara that we learned along the way through our Kindergarten break up. We don't want to see them go through the same mistakes." Funny stuff.

After the cake was cut, the bouquet was tossed, and Mike was long gone with the kids (bed time!), the dance floor was still hopping. Streiter was still out there with me and let's just say look out next years "So You Think You Can Dance". We have a robot number that will not leave a dry eye in the house. Eventually the DJ called "last dance" and since our spouses took our kids and left us it only made sense for us to end the evening together. I don't remember the name of the song and I don't remember what all we talked about but I do remember this, "Are you happy Streiter VanQuaethem?" He said, "Yes, I am. Are you happy Darbi Fankhauser?" I said, "Yes, I am!" And then it ended in some sort of a dip. I told you we have moves. That was a very storybook moment for me. I'm going to hang on to that one too.

Most girls sit around and think, "I wonder what ever happened to old so and so" but me? I got to find out. And there they were; My two first crushes and they are healthy and happy and they got to see that I am healthy and happy and we're all grown up and they didn't care that I had back fat hanging over my strapless gown. To them I was still their Darbi. That's who I am and that's who I'll always be.

The craziest part? I still feel like a kid. But I am not. I am a grown woman. A woman with kids. One of those kids is in the first grade. And when I pick him up from school he says things like, "I told Megan if she runs in the field with me at recess I will still be her boyfriend." I totally relate because that's the logic we had at 6 (and sometimes at 32) when love was conditional and parents were so old! I don't know if I'm ever going to feel old or like a grown up, and I don't want to, but I do know this: When Blake is in his 30's I'm going to ask him "What ever happened to little ol' Megan?"

Family Favorites

We just spent 4 days camping together. There was a lot of fun had, a lot of marshmallows swallowed, a lot of dirt plastered to our bodies and a lot of stories produced.

We were not allowed to swim in the nice, cool lake because of the posted warnings of swimmers itch, but the boys loved throwing rocks and watching the ducks (who somehow produced the swimmers itch).

One evening we took a walk along the lake side and found a quiet little bench to sit on tucked away in the woods. Mike and I sat down and looked out over the lake while the boys threw sticks, pine cones and anything they could find into the water.

ME: What do you like best about our family? Blake, you go first.

BLAKE: When we go camping.

TYLER: Ethan, Connor, Makenna, Casey...

ME: No, I mean....

BLAKE: What's a trait?

MIKE (While laughing): You know, a trait.
TYLER: The beach.

ME: Okay. (Giving up. They're 3 & 5 for Pete's sake.)

BLAKE: Oh, I know. You mean like how I love you and how you love me?
ME: Yep! Perfect Blake. That's the one.

Both boys look up from the lake's edge with their priceless smiles that God helped us create and I hold my husband tight and am amazed at the good things in life.

ME: Ty, do you want to try a different answer?

TYLER: Nope. (He's sticking with 'The beach'.)

Blessed be Your name

"Blessed be Your name when the sun's shining down on me, when the world's all as it should be, blessed be Your name..."


Walking hand in hand down town with a man I am still madly in love with, having a romantic dinner together, laughing until we cry, sharing dessert from the middle of the table like people who are in love do, walking along the lake, being cold and having his arms around me, then going to pick up two boys with sticky faces from being spoiled at Grandma's house. The boys hug me and kiss me. Their grandma hugs me and kisses me. My dad puts his arm around me and I feel safe, secure and loved. Lord, blessed be Your name.





"Blessed be Your name when I'm found in the desert place, though I walk through the wilderness, blessed be your name..."

My friend Wayne just suffered a terrible fall from the roof of a church and is in a coma. He has a 5 year old and 6 year old. He will never walk again. When he wakes up, we do not know who he will be, what he will remember, what is in store for his life. His wife balances a life at his bedside while also driving an hour away to see her children and tell them what she can about their daddy's condition. What will normal be for them...and when? Still Lord, blessed be Your name.



"Blessed be your name in the land that is plentiful, where the streams of abundance flow. Blessed be your name."

I believe I'm doing just as I am supposed to be doing. When my heart hurts, I turn it to praise and serve a God who has never failed me. As I prepare for this garage sale that raises money for the foster care organization we're working with, sure there are tender spots. I want to be a foster parent already. I want to be working with those babies who are hurting. But I must wait on the system. And as I wait, my garage is filling up by the truck load, friends are calling to help, and my heart is swollen with love by people who care about the hiccup in our next adventure. They're there in the ups and downs, willing to join in on what God is doing in my heart. Some people only find 1 or 2 good friends in a lifetime, and I have more than I can count using a calculator!! Lord, blessed be YOUR name.



"Blessed be your name on a road marked with suffering, though there's pain in the offering. Blessed be your name."

Lord, I praise you because I am currently not in a position of suffering, yet I am aware that it is all around me. It is only in a relationship with you, in our most desperate of hours, that we both praise you for all you have done for us and will continue to do, and are also humbled at your feet because you are the only one who can save us from our circumstance. It is such a complex dependence I have come to have on you, with the bottom line being: You will never leave me, nor I you. Be with Wayne's wife and family as they are in the desert place. They will praise you for whatever comes of this, but they need you to hold them through it. Give them flowers in the valley that they can hold onto during this long, long walk. Hold them closer than you've ever held them before. And give them the indescribable peace, that can only come from a loving God, that you've extended to me so many times before. I am comforted by knowing they have you now. Lord, blessed be your name.

You give and take away,
You give and take away,
My heart will choose to say,
"Lord blessed be your name!"

My kids are funnier than your kids...

So, while always trying to be the best mom on the planet and making the wisest choices for my nearly 4 and 6 year old, I allowed them to watch part of Michael Jackson's memorial service on TV with me. They had all kinds of questions. I answered them perfectly, of course, because I am a perfect mom with all of the perfect answers. I didn't realize how much I really liked the good parts of Michael until after he passed. Throughout the week I had sat with the boys and we you tubed some of the old Jackson 5 videos. He really was cute before the world got the best of him...
One morning last week this discussion was heard in my home:
Blake: "Mom, I was watching Tom and Jerry at Grandmas" (let me pause here and talk about Tom and Jerry. In this short cartoon upon which I was raised, this cute little mouse and angry cat proceed to kill each other about 30 times per episode and there is no memorial. Not a one. They just get right back up and are ready to kill each other again, always with a smile. Why was this an appropriate thing for us to watch as children? I need to talk to grandma. Now back to the story.) "Jerry put Tom in a box and THEN he put the LID on it! (His eyes are huge. He can't wait to tell me the rest. Tyler is staring at Blake. Silent, puzzled.) And THEN Jerry takes a saw and cuts the box in HALF!"
Oh dear. How am I going to fix this one? This is not okay that he's watching this, and this is especially not okay that he's repeating it in story form to whoever wants to listen. I'm going to be the mom who gets the phone calls from other moms saying, "My son can't play with your son because he talks about such devilish things." But just as I start to come up with a plan, a word from Tyler: (I added his lisp for effect.)
"Blake...wath that bockth the thame bockth that Michael Jackthon wath put in?"
Blake lowers his head and looks up at his brother with one eyebrow raised. "No Ty. Tom was in a birthday box. Michael Jackson's box was a TOTALLY different kind of box."
That was a good enough answer for Ty, as he continued to play with his cars. What did I do? I left the room and laughed my head off because sometimes, that's all you can do. I will face the issue about what kind of "Bokth" Michael Jackson was put in later.

Keep walking...

Today we went on a walk to the "giant park" after dinner. We don't get the chance to go there very often because the sun usually comes out in 15 minute increments around here, so we usually go to the smaller park down the road and try to beat the rain home. But today the sun was out for a whole day. So we headed out.

Tyler, 3, loves the park. He loves to play soccer at the park. He loves being with his brother, mom and dad at the park. What he doesn't love? The longer walk there. His feet hurt, his leg hurts. His legs are itchy so he can't walk any more. Every step is a battle. "Daddy, can you carry me yet?" followed by whining and crying are what we hear until we reach about half-way, when we feel like he's gone a pretty great distance for those cute little legs to go. His reward? Riding on his dad's shoulders the rest of the way...until we reach the giant park.

Roller coaster has really become a theme in my life, the only thing about it is that the roller coasters at Six Flags I CHOOSE to go on time and time again, all day long. This roller coaster called life is not nearly as fun, and could I choose it, it would just be a cliff. More and more fun as I learn and grow and experience things and then POOF! I fall off the cliff and die some time in my 90's at the exact same time as Mike, with no pain, and in our sleep. I don't see why that plan seems so hard. But apparently it is not the road chosen for me. Again this week: A high and a low.

A few days after I wrote my last post about my fingerprints failing and the little hope that went with that, I got a message on my phone from the agency. It was like the whole world stopped but this time in a good way. The woman said, "When we talked to you last time, we hadn't reviewed all of our e-mails and we just wanted to let you know I have an e-mail right here that says Mike and Darbi Johnson are both CLEARED for their fingerprints!" She went on about what the next step would be but I jumped up and down and cried. I always try to quickly diagnose a blessing, so my first thought was that God had rewarded us for not giving up on Him and these miracles I've always heard about had just happened to me!!!

Saturday night I was the speaker at my brother's church. I gave my testimony about the amazing peace God gave us through our loss of baby Hope through now when I didn't think my fingerprints would ever pass, and then through a miracle they did! It was so fun to share what God did for me.

And then came Monday. I checked my e-mail. Erased the adds for the inappropriate creams on sale, erased the weight loss ones (and by the way, how does my e-mail even know that I'm chubby?) got rid of a couple of forwards, and one was left. From the agency. Re: Fingerprints. Oh, dear. It was a rejection letter dated that day. I made a phone call to the agency during which I find out they "made a mistake". They, "misread the e-mail". And once again my hope bubble is popped.

But what about my miracle? This is my God story. I thought he did this for me! He can't take back a miracle once he gives it out. That's the rules!! My stomach and my heart hurt. The man on the phone says, "Don't worry, you are not the only ones in this situation. I just talked to a couple who've been trying for over a year to get their prints done." Yeah, dude. Helpful. Thanks for bringing them up again. My mom died a long time ago. Wanna start talking about that too?

SOOOOOO....Here's how I feel right now...tired. Defeated. Sad. My legs hurt. My feet hurt. Every step is a battle. I want God to come and carry me but it seems like He's far away. Like maybe he got a new Wii and is playing Mario Kart with Noah. But at the same time I feel like He's got an eye on me and is encouraging me to keep going because He knows I can do it. And if I can just make it half way, He'll pick me up and let me rest on His shoulders for the rest of the way. And maybe that rest won't come until Heaven, but I just need to be okay with that.

It's all for the kids who are in way worse situations than I am, who are hurting worse than I even know about, for a chance for them to know about a God who loves them more than I do; A God who will one day carry them to the biggest "park" they could ever dream about.

Operation Choose Hope (again!!!)

So friends, I'm a little down. Okay, a lot down, but hopefully it won't last long. I got some more news about the fingerprints and the adoption...

There was one point where I thought we were about 6 weeks away from getting our baby, but then I got the notice that my finger prints failed. A month later I was able to try again and again they failed. They show up perfectly on the screen, but for whatever reason, the computer makes them not to FBI standards which they need to be in order to even foster a baby.

When I talked to my agency yesterday I was told that going elsewhere for fingerprints might get me okayed in Washington, but if I'm not passing for the FBI, I probably won't no matter where I go, or how many times I go. He DID say the state is THINKING about a program for people who fail their fingerprints 3 times in 90 days, but he said that's just in the thinking stages and you know how slow our state runs. And this is not just a problem with me. There are other families going through the same thing.

Every morning I wake up to an empty bassinet right by my bed. It's all ready to go with a diaper changing station and everything. Monitor is plugged in. If they called us this second, we would be ready today (we had to do this to get ready for the home study 3 weeks ago). But now when I look at it I am sad. Slowly loosing hope. How could I be following God's plan and have such a giant speed bump?

Unfortunately this is not the first time I've felt this way either. After Mike and I lost baby Hope we had to wait at least 6 months to get pregnant. I had her bassinet set up in our bedroom too. But I didn't want to take it down either. I kept it up to remind myself that one day it would be filled with Hope's brother or sister and that day we put our new baby in that crib would be AMAZING. Well, it worked some days. Most days it was just a reminder that it was empty and that somebody was supposed to be in there and she wasn't.

I had some time between the day baby Hope was born and the date she was due to be born (about 8 weeks) and God gave me an idea to start a fundraiser for a local charity and for gift bags for the babies and parents of the first 10 babies born on the day Hope was due. Instead of sitting at home staring at an empty cradle I was out shopping for the best baby bargains I could find, getting packages from people I had never met, and turning my mourning into dancing. I felt I was doing just what God would have wanted me to do. And Operation Choose Hope continued for 6 years. Each year getting bigger, and each year FULL of blessings and hope.

So yesterday was a dumpy day. I wanted to crawl into a hole and cry all day, or even try getting pregnant. That might be faster at this point. But does that take care of any of the 800 kids in Pierce county alone that need homes? No. That would be giving up on God. So what then do I do? As one of my new favorite songs says, "I will serve You while I'm waiting". I will not waste this time by fussing and tantruming (very much at least). I will not let the world win and throw up my hands and say, "At least I gave it a go! This was just too hard. Oh, well." and give up. I will serve God while I'm waiting. It can't be NEARLY as hard as it is for my little girl to be waiting for me.

Operation Choose Hope is BACK IN ACTION!!!

Please clean out your house, closet, toy box, anything you have to donate.

There will be a garage sale in July raising money for foster care/ adoption.

If you don't have things, checks are welcome too~

e-mail me and I'll give you my address.

The ups and downs of Mothers Day

Mothers Day will always be bittersweet for me. But as each year passes I pray the sweet will outgrow the bitter, as my heart continues to remember my children and my mother who are no longer with me, and as my heart is continually filled by the blessings of my children who are with me and their sweet gestures of love.

Here are some of the bitters and the sweets of this year:



Sweet- Blake came out of his classroom at school with a giant grin. "Mom, I MADE you a surprise! You can't open it until mothers day! Or you can open it in the car!" He gets that from me. I can't ever wait to give someone a surprise. Inside his backpack: a hand made card that read, "Mom, I love you because:____________" and he wrote on the blank, "you love me for evr"(phonetically). He drew me and him jumping on a trampoline, and I was wearing a pearl necklace. It's a keeper for sure. And just so you know I don't wear pearls and we've never jumped on a trampoline together. Even sweeter.



Bitter- It was mothers day right before my mom died. She had a blood disease and couldn't catch a single germ or it could be really bad. For mothers day she couldn't be around people. I lived in Portland and dad said it was best to stay there since she couldn't have visitors anyway. My bro and sis in law lived in Seattle so they drove to the house but visited through the sliding glass window. We had all bought her a bird feeder. They put it in her yard and then called me on the phone so I could talk to her while they opened the window and let her see it. She cried her head off and loved it so much. I would have driven 300,000 miles to stand outside her sliding glass window...if I had only known.



Sweet- Mike took me to Target to pick out any gift I wanted. He took the boys so I could slowly shop down every aisle and take my time, in peace and quiet. Little did I know the boys were shopping for me as well. After I bought what I wanted (a giant, rain-fall shower head) I saw the boys ringing up a surprise. When we all got in the van I opened my gift from Tyler. It was Hanna Montana bubble gum! I said, "Thank you Tyler!!" He looked at it and said, "Can I hold it?" He was holding true to his three year old model that it is truly better to receive than to give. =-)

Bitter- After my dad made my family mother's day tacos, my aunts wanted to take flowers over to the cemetery to mom and grandma's graves. And my babies are buried with my mom. The whole day I was already walking around like an emotional ticking time bomb...going to the cemetery was not going to help this. So instead I stayed home and watched a cable show about families in other countries that get to watch multiple children die due to having no running water available to them. And this is every day life to them. What are we going to do about this? I tabled the question for a day that was not mothers day. Again...did not help with the time bomb thing.

Sweet- After church I had to stay late and clean up the espresso bar I help run. Blake came running up to me with a wooden butterfly he had painted for me in class. He said again, "Happy mothers day mom! I made you this! Oh, and this!" He reached in his bag and gave me a half a bag of crumpled up goldfish crackers. He said, "I saved you half of my snack for when you're done doing coffee because I know that makes you awfully tired." Then he puckered his lips for a kiss. Yeah. For real.

Bitter- My heart is ready for my next baby but my stinking fingerprints won't pass and this is something I cannot control. I trust God's plan in all of this, but it doesn't mean I have to like it. I need patience. I need peace. I need to enjoy this time as a family of four while life isn't very crazy because it will only get more out of hand with the foster care system entering it.

Thank you God for the bitter and the sweet, each adding it's own flavor to my very complete life. I learn from each side. I am struggling right now as to what I am to do as I wait on you, but I trust you know just what you are doing and I am thankful, SOOOO thankful, for the mommy you created me to be. The mommy of Hope Michael and her dark, curly hair and unforgettable, perfect, Mary Kay lips. The mommy of Carter Lewis who brought me SO much joy of shopping for twins and who kicked me for the first time, right under my heart the night before his surgery, letting me know everything would be okay. The mommy to Blake Richard whose face alone brightens up a room and who makes me laugh so hard with his sense of humor and whose tender heart makes him the best big brother. The mommy to Tyler Carter who is quiet like daddy but when he talks he means what he says and is so fun to be with. His kisses make me feel like a million bucks. And finally the daughter to Dianne Yvonne Fankhauser, the greatest mother ever made, who taught me that people were more important than things, listening was more important than dishes, and giving was more important than getting. I am BLESSED BEYOND MEASURE for all of these gifts you have given to me...really makes my shower head look stupid. (sorry honey!)

He gets it...

Today I'm writing my story for my friend who is going to school to become a Doula. I told her I would possibly like to do the same some day, mainly to be there for mothers who have still-born babies. There is just so much I want to make sure these mothers know about this experience and almost nobody gets to plan for it. Since I can't be there for everyone I want to make sure people who are there know what I want them to know, in hopes that it can help make someones journey a little easier. For example, everything Hope ever touched, her blanket, her outfit, was buried with her. If I had thought that through I really would have liked to have held on to one of those items. But it was so chaotic and over so fast... an outsider who is thinking of details would really be helpful.
So, anyway, I'm sitting on the couch with my laptop writing section two of the story. Blake comes up to the computer and starts hitting buttons, thinking it's funny, while mentally I was writing about calling my best friend and telling her Hope had died (Not a good time to joke with mommy). I took his hand off the computer and said, "Honey, can you do me a favor? Can you go upstairs and watch a show while mommy writes for a bit and then I'll come up and play with you?"
He said, "But I want to write with you."
"Well, I'm writing about something that is sad and I kind of need to be alone for a little bit. Just take Ty upstairs for one show and I'll be up."
"What are you writing about?" he asks.
"I'm writing to my friend who wants to know about baby Hope."
He sat quiet for a bit. "Why did she die if she's just a baby?"
"Do you mean because usually it's old people who die?"
"Yeah." He and Tyler were both just staring at me.
"Well, we may never know. You know when we go to the doctor and they check you with the stethoscope and poke your belly and your back and your ears and your toes to make sure your whole body is okay?" They both nodded yes. "Well, after your sister was born they did that same thing and they did not find ONE thing wrong with her! She was a perfect little baby. But you know what?"
"What?" they both said.
"When things that are sad or scary happen to us and Jesus helps us get through them, if we tell our friends that Jesus helped us and that we're okay now, it can sometimes help other people."
I thought, surely I'd lost them. Why was I trying to explain something so complicated to a 5 year old and a 3 year old? Because I'm a stay-at-home mom and this is probably the closest thing I'll get to adult conversation today. That's why. Then I saw a little light-bulb go off. It was Blake.
"You mean like how I used to be really scared to go through the car wash? And now I'm not anymore? So I tell Tyler he'll be okay and if he sits on Daddy's lap he does okay?"
"Just like that."
They got off the couch. Blake went up stairs and Ty followed him with his airplane arms sticking out. They watched their show and let me write.
And he gets it. In his own precious five year old way, he gets it.

Dancing with Hope

Sundays are one of my favorite days. One of the reasons is because at church I get to see all of my friends babies, kiss them, cuddle them, see the many new tricks they've learned to do, and then when they start to get crabby or are poopie, I get to give them back to their mommy. It's like practicing being a grandparent once a week. It's great.
Don't get me wrong, I love my own boys to death, but I also am madly in love with my friends kids too. Especially the girls in their little tights and dresses, ponytails and baby dolls. It's just a world I haven't been able to live in since my own childhood and I can't get enough of it. It's a little bit of an obsession, one might say. Okay a LOT of an obsession. But I just can't help myself.
Today Mike was working so I entered the sanctuary alone. I could choose anywhere to sit, so naturally I wanted to sit by a baby in case the mom needed "help". I saw my favorite one up front but church had already started and I didn't want to cause a scene. I saw another in the front, same problem. Then I saw the baby I haven't yet met and my tummy turned upside down. I knew I couldn't sit with her yet. It just wasn't time. So I bypassed her and sat with my parents. She was sitting right behind me. She's almost 7 weeks. Beautiful. Perfect. Her name? Hope.
During the service I kept thinking about this baby. Am I mad that the parents chose the same name for their baby as I had for mine? Of course not! It's a beautiful name! Am I going to continue to avoid baby Hope and pretend she doesn't exist as she grows up at my church and plays with my kids? Not an option either. I knew what needed to be done, but I knew it would be hard, and who wants to do what's hard?
After the final song I turned to Hope's parents and said, "Can I hold her?" They said, "Of course!" Then I said, "And can I walk with her and cry a little bit?" and they said, "Sure!"
Her mommy placed her in my arms. She stared right at me as I cried and danced with her in the sanctuary. I said, "Hi Hopey. I love you and I'm sorry for ignoring you. I'm going to be your crazy Aunt Darbi who wants kisses and cuddles all the time while you grow up. You will always be my special girl okay? And I'll always watch out for you okay? And you have a special buddy in Heaven with your same name who's looking out for you too." She grinned and we talked and snuggled and it was just awesome.
It hurts to face things that are hard. But I had to do it in order to be at my church and feel at peace. I feel so much better and now my heart is able to fully love another baby who just happened to be the first baby I've met with my daughter's name since she died. And now that I've faced that, the next baby Hope I meet won't be so bad.
In fact it made me a little more excited for the day I get to dance with my Hope...

A slow pace to end the race...

The paperwork is so slow. They submitted it in February and still haven't cleared us for our background checks. The reason? My fingerprints FAILED. Didn't think it was possible, but yes, turns out it is. In fact the sweet man who came to do our home visit said he has clients who have been working for over a year to have their fingerprints pass through the FBI. PRAY we do not become one of those clients. This would fall into the category of "fun" along with getting all of my toenails pulled out without any drugs. No, I haven't had that done, it's just where my mind went right then. Yes, I'm going a little bit crazy. May 7th is the day I get the prints re-done.
The home visit was good. The man who came was gentle and sweet. I expected hard-nosed and anal. The kind of rule enforcer who loves to enforce...just because. All of us know a "that guy". But he wasn't. He wants us to succeed in this ministry and we could tell. The list of things to get done was far more intimidating than he was. This is the difference between working with our private agency and working with the state. We're not just case #435.6, we're the Johnson family. After he went over the few things we need to change, he kindly said, "Can I pray with you?" and he did. On our couch. And it was wonderful. The guy who tests our water temperature cares about our future family member and our well being and our boys' well being and I felt God's peace.
He said, "Now we do have a lot of waiting to do on the state and that is not in our control, but just remember it is in God's timing...and you'll have a baby this summer." (giggle, giggle)
As I wait out these next couple of months, I will feel at times they are going so slow. But I think of my Autumn who waited so long and finally has her miracle baby and know I can do it. I think of my Hutchisons and how long they tried and tried to make a family and couldn't. Now they have three toddlers and don't even have time to sit down. I can do it. Until my baby is with me, I'll keep carrying my cat around in my moby wrap so I can get those knots down. Better I drop her, as she can land on her feet right? (Don't judge me.) Thanks, as always for your support!

Oh, to be a cat.

After a 10 day trip in our new, used van down to Souther California and back, we rush home to prepare for the home visit in two days. Here is my to do list:

1. Cover all outlets.

2. Secure fire screen.

3. Create diaper changing station in baby's room.

4. Put baby's clothes away.

5. Put current family's mountain of clothes away.

6. Have Mike do fire safety check.

7. Do a fire drill with the boys and have them pretend we do it often.

8. Tackle boys' bedroom.

9. Clean my closet.

10. Exercise or owe Aunt Carolyn $5.

11. Find a home for the frog.

12. Get fitted for bridesmaid dress.

13. Get boys' proof of vaccination.

14. Get cat's proof of vaccination.

15. Make fingerprint appointment, as I received notice of FAILURE.

16. Clean my craft area (impossible).
17. Clean Blake's craft area (impossible-er).

18. Baby locks on cupboards.

19. Look for waterproof crib sheet.

20. Volunteer in Blakes' class.

21. Test the monitor bought on e-bay.

22. DEEP CLEAN EVERY SQUARE INCH OF EVERYTHING.

Here, now is a to-do list for Gus, my cat, who also is a member of this family and also has a home visit in two days:

1. Eat.

2. Nap.

3. Poop.

4. Stretch.

5. Repeat.

Oh, to be a cat.

Forecast for Today

Yesterday I went to pick up my brother when he was released from jail. Just me and my 3 year old, a cup of coffee and my truck. The sun was shining and I wore a t-shirt but within seconds it began to pour. "Fitting." I thought. The sun never lasts forever. As I drove I became anxious. I don't like being faced with situations in which I have no idea of what to expect. Uncomfortable things. Things that aren't fun. At least we could talk about the weather. And before I knew it the sun was out again. Rain, sun, rain, sun. About every 5 miles.
It reminded me of a time I was pregnant with my twins. One was thriving and healthy as can be while one had passed away after a 22 week battle and I had no choice but to carry him with me until the delivery date. In the same pregnancy I would prepare a funeral for my sweet baby Carter and the birthday of my healthy, miracle son who wasn't supposed to live. How in the world is one supposed to handle such conflicting emotions simultaneously? I could not think of another time in my life that would come close to the grief and the joy of this time. Again, it was new, uncomfortable, but it was my life and I had no choice but to move forward. I had to take the feelings one at a time. The grief, and then the joy. Just like the Bible says, there is a time to mourn and a time to dance. I could not do both.
So, yesterday is done. My brother is safe and okay for now.
" He loves me so much."
" He's sorry. "
" He will never do that again. "
My head is filled with words that all sound good, and time will tell if he delivers. He is in the middle of a battle for his life and God needs to win, but He can't do it without my brother's help. I will not dwell on this because his situation will not steal my joy and will not keep me from missing the times when the sun comes out.
Today as I was stressfully gathering the boys to get Blake to school the phone rang. IT WAS OUR AGENCY AND WE HAVE A HOME VISIT ON THE 30th!!! These moments come out of nowhere too. And they are unknown, a little bit scary, but very welcome into our lives. After a long wait of not hearing anything, it sounds like we could have a baby in a couple of months! I am dancing and spinning at the thought of this addition to our family. Even though this chapter will in itself be a series of rain and sun, I have been more than ready for it. I just believe that every time I've been through a little bit of rain, it's helped me feel the sun a little bit brighter.
Rain, sun, rain, sun, rain. Well, it's sunny and 80 in my heart today, and nobody can take that away!
Now I gotta go to Harry's Pit Stop and meet a lady from Craigslist to buy a bunch of baby girl clothes. =-)

I totally get it...

I judged you today sir, and I'm sorry. I don't know you. Not your name, age, background info, nothing about you. But the sight of you angered me instantly. I mean, really angered me. It wasn't you exactly, it was what you were pushing. A stroller. And it wasn't just a stroller, for I am in the market for baby strollers right now and am making my list to evaluate and find on craigslist later. But this won't ever make it on my list. Because it was not a stroller for babies. It was a stroller for dogs. (Friends are you sitting down?) A double dog stroller. In it were two very ugly dogs whose tummy hairs touch the ground. They were just being pushed down the street. By you. You and your dogs. With all the tummy hair.
Now don't get me wrong, I am a dog person. Love them, pet them, snuggle them, kiss them, even have a whole other voice on reserve just for them and my cat Gus. Yup, I am a dog person. What gets me going are when people prioritize them over other people, and that's the category I had you in in an instant. "A guy who doesn't care about anything in this world but his dogs" guy. And those people bug me.

But then I got a phone call from my brother. He's in jail for the first and hopefully last time. He wants to know if I still love him...if I will want to see him when he gets out...and he's crying like a baby which is something I'm not used to hearing from an older sibling, being the baby of the crew. This is a new bottom for him and all I can do is pray that he will choose the right path for his life. That's it. There's nothing left for me to do. But this experience does not come without great mixed emotions. Emotions that are hard, deep, real, frightening. And this is not the first time I've experienced these emotions for this individual, and this is one person in my whole sphere of influence....suddenly stroller dog guy, I totally understand you.

I consider my life "easy". I consider my suffering "of later onset". Great childhood, great support system, awesome husband, yadda, yadda, yadda. And some days I want to hide in a closet, throw away phones and computers and any other access to the outside world. If people never talk to me, how then can they hurt me? Right?

This is where the dog thing makes sense...Does a dog forget to call on your birthday? Does a dog show up drunk to your basketball game? Does a dog take your money and spend all you have on his internet gambling problem? Does a dog call you names? Does a dog ignore you? (I'm not talking about cats, I said dog.) Does a dog tell you he doesn't love you anymore? Does a dog hit you and abuse you? Does a dog make you feel insecure or talk about you behind your back? Does a dog call you from jail and ask you if you ever want to see him again...while you're trying to hold it together and be strong to go dye Easter eggs with your kids? No. A dog wouldn't do that. So do you know what I'd do to thank him? Buy him a stroller. And if he had a best friend, I'd buy them a double one. And they'd be the coolest dogs in Washington and I'd take them wherever 22nd Ct. would go. Because they'd be my dogs and they, unlike people, would never hurt me.

So sir, stroll on. You deserve a break from the drama. Whatever may or may not have hurt you in the past cannot hurt you when you are out not-walking your dogs. So as you glide, clear your mind and gather strength to face the future challenges ahead, (one of them being exercising your dogs because you've just pushed them for 10 blocks and they just sat there) because they will come.

As for me, until Mike gets me a dog, I'll be turning to Costco pizza. Also helpful.

Holding on to Hope

Hello friends! This is an Easter skit I wrote two years ago for church. Yup, hard to do but worth it. This year I will do it again for both services, but I think it will be even harder. For this year I find myself in a familiar scenario; with an empty room, waiting for a baby girl. There is a crib on one side and ironically on the other side is a desk. I'm waiting on a system full of needy children while my file sits on a desk somewhere, and my e-mails are unanswered, my crib and my arms sit empty. As time goes by it is harder and harder to trust that my plan will work out, but nothing slaps me in the face harder than my own words written two years ago. I hope you enjoy Easter with your loved ones, those of you with new babies will squeeze them tighter, those of you on couches will find peace and health, and those of you waiting on God or having a hard time believing will just give it their all. He did.

The Empty Room
(Chair in center, box marked “baby’s room”, pink things laying about. Darbi folds baby items and places them in box as she talks to God.)
This isn’t supposed to be my life. It’s not supposed to be anyone’s. After you go through a pregnancy and experience all of the excitement and the miracle of it all you’re supposed to spend a few days in the hospital and come home with a baby.
Why this God? Why me? Why did our little girl have to die? And without a reason? I just don’t understand! I’ve waited my whole life to become a mom and now just weeks away from taking her home with me, she dies. I’ve followed you forever. I’ve read my Bible, I’ve gone to church, I’ve even helped old ladies find what they’re looking for in the grocery store when other people don’t have time to help. You’d think I’d get some kind of extra credit for that or something. And then this happens. I just don’t know where you are. (Sit down)
I mean, I know you’re with me, I know I wouldn’t be able to be standing here if you weren’t. But since you have the power to perform miracles, why couldn’t you save baby Hope? Maybe you’re just too busy. Maybe you’re too far away. Maybe you just don’t understand. (Pause)
You have a Son. What if He…well he also died. A terrible, brutal, pre-planned death that you could have stopped. (Pause) But you didn’t. And you allowed your son to die so that I could live. I guess when I think about it that way it’s hard to expect you to have done something for me that you didn’t even do for yourself. You went through the worst of the worst…watching your son suffer and die WITH THE POWER TO STOP IT…for…me.
Until now I thought becoming a Christian meant signing up for the easy life, but clearly it’s not. I just have so many questions and wish so badly I could get you a cel phone that nobody else could use (and of course it would be Verizon so we’d have unlimited minutes and free texting). But after making it through these last few weeks holding our daughter, saying goodbye, having her funeral, and now packing up her nursery, through the pain I also feel a sense of strength. If you helped me get through this, you can help me get through anything, and I never want to know what life without you is like.
God, I’m sitting in this empty room that was so full of expectation for the life of baby Hope. The sleepless nights, the diaper changes, the lullabies, the books we’d read in this very chair, and for now it’s all on hold. What I want you to know is I’m not giving up on you. If this room is filled with 10 babies some day or a desk with a whole different plan all together down the road, I trust you- but you know I’ll throw another tantrum if you go with the desk option, right? We can do this. I mean, I planned for the room to be filled with baby Hope, but now it’s just full of another kind of hope. And for today, that’s okay. (Sing “It is well with my soul” & put animals & toys in box). AND SCENE =-)

Would you like fries with that?

Guess what? The cat got vaccinated, I passed my CPR test, now we wait for the phone call, we have our home study and we are foster parents!!! Crazy huh?

I am opening my heart yet again to one of lifes biggest blessings and greatest heartaches with the end result of adopting a baby. I've learned that when you're ready to expand your family there really is no option that is the "easy way". There is love involved, therefore the potential to be hurt is also there. Whether it's a pregnancy, a long wait for an international adoption with all of the unknowns, or the route we're going. But this one just feels right to us. In fact the more we learn about foster care, the more we feel ourselves being involved in it long term. The part that makes me nervous is that I am a girl who rarely gets what I've ordered, but I've learned to love onions. Let me explain.

The boys and me...yes I'm a horrible mom for not serving them whole grain organic meals three times a day with all food groups of the pyramid represented. Usually I do. But also we go to McDonalds. Especially when Mike is at work. He's much more health consious than I am...I mean than the boys are. Every time we get the same thing. Three cheeseburgers with NO ONIONS, a small fry to share and water to drink. We use the drive through because while I will let my children digest the chemicals compacted into the cheeseburgers, those playlands gross me out like nothing else. Go figure.

Now, McDonalds seems to really have their heads in the game. Having two lanes that empty into one in the magic drive through, a computerized screen that shows you your order so that they don't mess it up, a robot that does the drinks automatically, even an automatic machine for what they like to call "coffee". What they aren't quite ahead on however is getting my "double checked for accuracy" order right. Onions, almost every time. Yep, it's on the screen NO ONIONS. It's on my recipt NO ONIONS. It's on the order sheet taped to the burgers NO ONIONS. I take a bite...ONIONS. But by this time I'm almost home and they know that since I spent $4 TOTAL on the bill, I am not going to put the effort into driving back to their establishment and requesting a new one or causing a scene. That's why I was in their drive through in the first place...I HAVE NO EFFORT TO GIVE!!

Another Guy I place my order with a lot is God. "Please keep my husband safe," "Please keep my kids healthy," "Please heal Audrey," "Please be with our baby wherever she is," the list goes on and on. Sometimes He gets it right and sometimes He doesn't give me what I ordered. He took my mom away at an early age. He took my first born before she took her first breath. These were both things I certainly did not order. And with each new life change I could kick and scream and demand a new option, getting me nowhere, or I could chill out and learn to like onions. I am a different person because of my suffering. I have a bleeding heart that can reach out to people that I didn't have before I faced what God had on my menu. I have an aunt who is my mom now and that has brought such joy and fun and laughter to my life. How many other people get to be their own cousin? Not many. You're jealous a little bit, aren't you? And I love my kids so, so much BECAUSE their journey here was not easy. A huge reminder not to take such things for granted.

So as we wait for this next baby I look at the pink and brown pack and play I have set up in my room. I pray at night for the baby/ies that will sleep there for however long they will be with us and for the situation they are in right now. The paperwork had me fill in a space for me to place my order and I wrote down "girl under 18 months" knowing full well that almost guarantees me a little black boy over 18 months. That's just how God works. And that's who I see sleeping in my pink pack and play. But you know what? I'm going to teach him to like pink...and I'm going to teach him to like onions.

Please join me on this journey. I can't do it without you!

Get off your buns!

So here's the deal. I was at church Sunday and while listening to the sermon (in between getting gum, making sure my phone was off, asking Mike what we were having for lunch, going to the bathroom, drawing daisies around the border of my program and wondering, "Was I with Lora when she bought Pastor Matthew that shirt? I think I was. Looks new. Looks nice. Was on the rack outside of the nail place. Mike can never fit into a shirt from the big and tall man's store.") I was struck, right between the eyes. Yep, the sermon applied. I HATE IT WHEN IT APPLIES! And I was probably going to cry. I HATE IT WHEN I CRY!!
You see, there has been this huge part of me, or part of us I should say, that we have been handling "the Johnson way". AKA not handling. Mike and I have felt so called to foster parenting and were so gung ho to bring that ministry into our lives, into our home, into our church, and were so on fire for it, and just like many things in life we've let the paperwork give us an excuse to let days, weeks, months go by without making progress in the direction we feel we need to be going in.
All I've had to do for a month now is schedule a first-aid / CPR class and get my cat vaccinated and we'll be pretty much ready to go. But when I get up in the morning and there's laundry to do and dishes to clean and girlfriends to play with...day by day it doesn't get done making me farther and farther away from finishing my goal.
Meanwhile our state (every state) is bursting at the seams for places to put children whose families are not safe for them to be with. These are the children my heart aches for. Bad. And I am not going to let paperwork stand in the way of God using our family to reach out to these children in whatever capacity He wants us to.
So folks, on Sunday I took a stand. No more popcorn and WifeSwap until my paperwork gets done. Friday Gus will get her shots and February 25th I'll become CPR/First Aid/ HIV certified. Nothing else is going to come between what my awesome God has planned for the next chapter of the Johnson household. Hang on tight...it's going to be quite a ride.

Tonight my child sleeps, in a womb or a home.

Are they scared, are they healthy? Sad or alone?

Please Jesus, hold them until my arms can,

and remind me that they too are safe in your plan.

I just wrote this little prayer thinking also of my precious friend Autumn and her Ethiopian baby coming SOON. I love you guys!

Mothers of children beware! Our words can come out anywhere!

I have enjoyed volunteering in Blake's classroom so much. Kindergartners are so fun. Every Wednesday I come home with at least one good story from the day. Blake's teacher is so used to them that she doesn't even laugh anymore. Here are my favorites, and of course the best is saved for last.

Me: "Tanner, what's your middle name?"

Tanner: "Tanner Jones."

Me: "No, that's your last name. Your middle name is between that. Tanner something Jones."

Tanner: "No, I don't have one. "

Me: "Oh, okay."

2 minutes of silence pass. Then he looks at me and says, "Oh I know what it is. When my mom gets mad at me she calls me Tanner Ashton Jones. Is that it?"

Me: "Yep."

Another day Blake's teacher was reading a story to the class about different ways people travel around the world. She was talking about Egypt and how people use Camels there. One little boy raised his hand and with confidence said, "Camels are what they use to make cigarettes." Not quite.

Then there's Blake's buddy Andy (pictured above with Blake). He is a riot. He's the kid who is always saying stories with such excitement, but at the time when he's not supposed to be telling stories, so he's often told to be quiet. Last week after the Inauguration, Blake's teacher asked the class if any of the students had seen any of it on TV. Most of the kids raised their hands. She asked, "Raise your hand if you saw how happy people were to get a new president." The kids could hardly sit in their chairs, they were raising their hands so high.
"Now raise your hand if you saw some people crying tears of joy because they were extra glad that they had a new president. Did anyone see that?" Well, Andy was practically doing back flips because he wanted to talk so badly.
"Ms. Harley," he said as he got out of his chair and stood at attention, "The people who were the happiest were the black people because they never thought they'd see the day that our country would finally be led by a black president! That's what my mom said!" He was so proud.
"That's mostly true Andy," She said. Another girl McKenna was raising her hand very high as well.
"McKenna," Ms. Harley called.

She too stood at attention. "My mom told ME that Mrs. Obama looked pregnant in her dress!"

Ms. Harley didn't even crack a smile. She just patiently explained that was the design of the gown and that she didn't think the Obamas planned to have more children. I, on the other hand, had both hands over my mouth to keep from spitting out the big drink of coffee I had just taken.

It was then I learned that no longer are my words at home safe at home. Anything I say can and will be used against me in the classroom without warning. And I think, no, I KNOW I have already blown it, so the best I can do is pray for Blake to have short term memory problems. Aye, yie, yie!

A house full of guys...I'm the only one who can find the Ketchup.

It all started in the beginning of our marriage. I tried to ignore it, but it's too ugly to hide. I didn't tell our counselor, in fear of digging up an issue we'd never be able to solve. And now the worst has happened. He's passed this horrible trait on to our children. Ladies, I need your help, your strength, your support. Or am I alone? Is it only my husband and sons who have "I-can't-see-what's-right-in-front-of-my-face" disease?

Here was the first sign: "Wife, we are out of ketchup." I hear him say from the kitchen. We were having hot dogs that night and the thought of having hot dogs without ketchup...that'd be like me paying full price for cereal...NOT GONNA HAPPEN.

I replied lovingly, "Husband, I KNOW we have ketchup. Last week we had like 5 bottles that were 1/3 full." He opened the fridge to look again.

"Nope!"

I came over to the fridge and knew what I would find. Not one, but two bottles of ketchup in less than .5 seconds.

And it only gets worse, thus the reason for the post:

The boys' bedroom is upstairs. They go through clothes like crazy and I hate doing laundry which is a very dangerous combination. I get their laundry washed, and folded, but then usually it sits in laundry baskets in their room. Since we use our downstairs for life and company and very rarely use the upstairs, I very rarely make it a priority to get their laundry put away.

Last week Blake was getting his outfits from the laundry baskets. There were three of them. He came downstairs and said, "MOM! I don't have any underwear! And I have to wear Tyler's pants again!" He's short, so it works. The underwear thing I didn't buy however, so I went upstairs and got him a pair in the allotted .5 seconds I had bet myself in my head.

The next day when Mike was getting them dressed, he said, "Wife, Blake has no pants, and he still has no underwear."

I asked, "Did you look in all of the laundry baskets?"

"Yes," he said, "there's none in there."

You might want to sit down for this because this is the point at which our family "hit the bottom" and it may be inappropriate for some viewers. When Mike took Blake to school and Tyler took his nap, I headed up the stairs to finally face the 3 baskets of laundry I had ignored for some time. While I sat and sorted and refolded, do you know what I found? THIRTY TWO pairs of underwear friends. Thirty two. And, sure, they are tiny and I can see how some of them can get hidden in-between the pants and shirts and all, but SERIOUSLY.

Please tell me there is hope for my husband. Please tell me that in his future he will be able to find stuff. And my boys...I want them to have ALL of his traits except this one but it appears that it is too late. I'm afraid.
Thirty two.

This message was paid for by the Campaign to raise money for the Darbi Johnson School for Husbands and Children Who Can't Find Stuff.

Who will?

I think life is always going to be this way. Tougher than I thought. It's as if the first 25 years or so were seemingly carefree, but as soon as I was introduced to suffering, my heart is drawn to it, and I refuse to let anyone else feel pain. Friends, family, strangers, it doesn't matter. If I sense suffering, most common sense leaves the building and a combination of drama and heart take over. This, while being called a "good quality" by some, has driven others (coughMIKEcough) crazy.

Example: While enjoying a vacation in Hawaii last month, it was hard to not notice the YOUNG prostitutes hitting on my husband right in front of my eyes. Upon research in my hotel we found that often these girls, marked by their clear high-heeled shoes, are young students trying to make ends meet. The vulturous pimps will watch for them in front of designer stores in malls and look for pretty girls who look like they wish they could afford said items. They will hit on these girls and become their "boyfriends", getting them used to a high-dollar lifestyle. Later, the girl is raped by said boyfriend. The pimp throws a wad of cash at the abused and says, "You just did your first trick. Welcome to your new job." And just like that, they're trapped. And the cops let it happen as long as they stay in their part of town and don't cause major trouble. So, welcome to Hawaii! Have a nice time!

These girls looked the age of the youth group girls I work with. And they picked up their man (usually 3 times their age, 3 times their weight) in the front of our hotel and walked him down the side, then reappeared 20 minutes later to gather seconds, then thirds, all while reporting for duty to some scuz bucket on a cel-phone past 3am (that's when I stopped watching).

Most people would say, "Gosh that's sad, but there's nothing we can really do about it in 7 days, so let's enjoy our romantic, once in a lifetime vacation."

Not me. I was on the balcony at 3am, figuring out an escape plan. I figured with our savings I could get a cheap charter bus, or at least an Airporter and that could hold at least 20. I'd just pull up right there in front of the Denny's with my megaphone and say, "Lot's of hot guys in here girls! You'll DEFINITELY want to come with me!" (wink, wink) They'd pour in, I'd slam the doors shut and yell, "Drive, Miguel, DRIVE!" I would call Mike, Miguel if we were ever on a get-away mission, to protect his identity. Then while Mike drove, I would give the girls sweatshirts, jeans and Crocs (ugly as sin, but SO much more comfortable than those high heels they're forced to wear all night on pavement). I would start to tell them that there is a much better plan for there life and that I can help them get out of the life they are in if they choose it.

Twenty years later I would get letters from them... with pictures of their children... and the veterinarian practice they just opened up... called Darbaria. (This is the part where my brother said to me "You're in a bus, on an island...the furthest you could take them was 20 miles away. Did you think about that?") And instantly, my Oprah moment is over.

But I truly did feel like I COULD CHANGE THE HOOKERS in Waikiki. And I feel like I WILL HAVE THE PERFECT THING TO SAY to take my brother's addiction away. And I feel like I NEED TO KEEP ADOPTING until all of the babies are saved. And I feel like I NEED TO MAKE MY FRIENDS FEEL BETTER while their baby has cancer. And I feel like I NEED TO HELP MY OTHER FRIEND take charge of her brain cancer. And I feel like I NEED TO BE THE PERFECT MOM. And I feel like I...I....I....because if I don't, who will?

If you could see what I see...

I'm at the end of my rope.
I don't have any more to give to him.
I'm angry and don't care one minute, and then crying my eyes out the next.
I'm going to the doctor tomorrow to find out if the pain in my chest is an ulcer. I need to send him the bill.
It's a journey unlike the ones we've been through before. Death...we're pros. We know all the stages, which order, who to call when, etc.
But an addiction that won't go away is seemingly worse. And with each step, different feelings that hurt, different emotions that I don't know where to place.
My brother is older than me. He's supposed to have his life together and be telling ME what to do, how to live, how to deal with the pressures of life that he's already experienced. Instead I am the "big sister" and not in any of the fun ways.
In this role, I've seen the monseter his addiction has made him become, his choices he continues to make, and the fall out from it all.
But as his little sister, I see the hero, the comedian, the best friend, the musician, the role model...all of the things that I thought he was and can still become if only he would grasp the hand of God and choose the plan He has for his life.
Once again I am faced with the realization that I am SO glad I am not God. How many times has He seen a life that would be better for us...if only we would reach out for His hand? And knowing how many He is in charge of, I can't imagine how many ulcers He has...and then simultaneously heals.
I can't be angry with a God who is also watching my brother and waiting...patiently...for him to give up on a life of misery and surrender, but I just can't bear the roller coaster anymore.
So God, I pray once again, for your peace, which passes all understanding, and that you would please let my brother see....what I see.....what YOU see.....the beauty deep within himself that is waiting to come out. Help him to want Your plan for his life.
His plan is too much for any of us to bear.