Handfull of Johnsons

And God will take care of you...

2011-07-15T22:00:00.000-07:00

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

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

His Eye is On The Sparrow...

2011-07-07T13:06:00.000-07:00

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

Darbi the Liar

2011-02-17T10:10:00.001-08:00

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

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

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

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

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

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

Going to a funeral...

2011-01-08T11:50:00.000-08:00

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

I'll Be Right Here...

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

by Darbi Johnson 6/2002

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

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

The good, the bad and the Johnsons

2010-10-18T23:24:00.000-07:00

THE GOOD:

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

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

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

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

THE BAD:

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

THE JOHNSONS:

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

"WHAT?"

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

"WHAT?"

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

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

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

Here's to Sisters....

2010-09-28T21:34:00.000-07:00

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Blog it out...

2010-09-22T15:52:00.000-07:00

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Lord Blessed Be Your Name!!

Here goes somethin'!

2010-09-11T23:57:00.000-07:00

Well it's been quite a while. We've had an eventful summer. We got a new baby sister (don't worry, she's a lot cuter than the picture, but we also love the sock monkey that Grandma Sue made for her)...Blake turned 7 and Tyler turned 5...(I can't believe my eyes!!)
Tyler, Mommy and Blake took swimming lessons... (Daddy filled in when he could!)
And the boys experienced their first Omak rodeo at Aunt Debbie's house!! (and their first of many public appearances in men's sized cowboy hats. Drove mommy wild!) Tried to get Mike to wear one too but all he would wear was a sombrero. Not the same effect...(nothing against sombreros)
A fun filled, but glad it's over summer. And boy was that week of sunshine nice or what? Please. I still have the rainy crankys left over from last fall, and now it's about to start all over...

So we must return to the subject of the new baby because I know people are dying to know: She is wonderful. She is healthy. She is smiling all over the place and even laughed out loud once and we've been trying and trying to get her to do it again and haven't won yet, but it will come...oh yes, it will come. I'm constantly after the boys for being in her "space". They just want to be in her face all the time and it makes her little eyebrows wrinkle. I think it's the same face I give them a good portion of the day. Soon enough she'll have a voice of her own and a little hand push-off to go with it and they'll be in trouble. But I love to see them love on her. That I could sit and watch for days...if only they would be more available for the practical side of things. Diaper changes, 4am feedings, what have you.

I will keep things very simple on the blog about baby girl's situation...please pray for the process. It looks like we might be headed in the way of adoption, but for one, that can be long, frustrating, and probably will include another set of fingerprints for me, but would result in a forever home for what we're praying is a wonderful match for our family. She seems to be the perfect match right now. And at the same time we stand guarded...knowing that at any point any of this can change in an instant. It's just how the system works. So as this sweet one is in our arms and we are loving her more and more each day, just pray that the right thing is done, that the best thing is done for her little life. That she would be safe, healthy and loved and to have a chance to know God. These are the things we want above all else...and we selfishly pray that these things can be done in our home with her last name being Johnson! And then I will finally get to post all of the pictures I want of her on here. Hairbows, nail polish and all!

Another thing that happened this summer is that I took a good, hard look at myself and realized just how out of control I was. I mean seriously out of control. For example, I would start the laundry machine at 1am and make sure it had 3 dish cloths, 2 pairs of boys underwear, an outfit for me, an outfit for the baby AND towels for baths JUST so we'd have clean stuff for the next day. Then around 2am I would go to sleep. It only gets worse from there. But what I started to think was, "What do I get done? I mean really get done? Sure, the kids are healthy, fed, happy, husband's happy, I'm happy, but am I just doing enough to get by or am I doing all that I can?" No, siry-Bob, I'm not talking about some super-amped-up-you-gotta-be-your-greatest-you-and-then-tell-Oprah-all-about-it crap because some of these book writer/ program seller people aim a little too high for the average Joe and then we fail at that high and so then we go back to feeling okay about doing nothing. So here's my plan...A reasonable schedule for my day which allows flexibility (especially on weekends) but still gets my life in order, allows time for exercise, family time, individual kid time, God time and me time, PLUS a "little bit more".

This little bit more portion of my week is going to be my legacy, in case there isn't much of a forever because we just can't control that, but it also could be the start of something bigger, or not. At the very least it will be good for my mind, my soul, my heart, my family, my kids, my future generations, my friends and whoever should choose to read it.....have you caught on??? I am finally going to write. I live and breath and eat it. My mind blogs while I'm driving in the car without me even knowing it. It's my passion, my calling, and I just don't want any more time to go by without me doing it. So here's where you come in: What should I do? What would you want to read first? What would you buy? Do you have connections? Tell me everything and anything you want because I want to hear it. I have children's books written in my closet that I haven't done anything with...I could do something with those first, or I could write my story but where do I start? Where do I end? It seems like every time I want to end the book God writes another really good chapter. You're the ones I trust because you're the ones who keep telling me to write so now tell me what to do and I'll do it...(maybe, but you're not the boss.)

A little order to your life, a little TLC to your body, and some meaning in your day can do a lot for your heart! Instead of dropping my priorities to work on a project like writing and letting everything else pile and pile up, now I can breathe slowly, get the toilets scrubbed and the baby changed and then have time for the things I love, guilt free! And I can't wait to see what this girl comes up with! My mom would be freaking out!

Almost Mine

2010-06-09T18:42:00.000-07:00

Today the waves of emotion were extreme. One minute I'm out to lunch, laughing it up with my girlfriends and before I know it I'm back home...pink blankets and laundry all around and before long I'm curled up in bed, hanging on to her picture, crying myself to sleep. In the mail came a package...three beautiful outfits for baby Evie from my aunt and uncle. They came one day too late. I get in the car to take Blake to school and her car seat is in the back, empty. I'm doing life just fine, but little things, big things, I never know when, can turn my mood quickly to the pain of loosing the baby girl who was almost mine.

I wanted to record a few things about Evie so I will never forget them....starting with day one.

- When we picked you up from the hospital it was very bitter sweet. For us to get you meant someone else was loosing you. In the car on the way home I told Mike I felt guilty for not having that instant magical mommy feeling when I saw you, the way I did with my other children. He said, "You had those babies for 9 months before you saw them. You just met this baby today. Give it time." And he was right. By that night you were mine.

- Immediately you started to nurse on my chin. I loved that not only because it was a thing that just you and me had, but also because I used to do that to my mom when I was little. You and me were meant to be. Two months later you still did this and I could feel your sweet baby breath on my jaw as you pacified yourself there. It left your hair to tickle my nose. Precious. No other way to say it really.

- Ah, the hair bows!!! I was so excited to dress you every day and of course to give you the perfect hair accessory to go with each outfit. The bigger, the better. I wonder how long you would have put up with that?

- I remember once when Blake was about 18 months and I was home with him and I painted my toenails red. He asked if I'd do his to. Of COURSE I said yes!! So I did it, and boy did Mike ever freak out when he got home and saw his little boy with a pedicure! He took that polish off immediately and told me to never do that again. Well with you, Evie, I had permission to do everything girly and not get into trouble. I believe you were 5 weeks when I finally painted your toes bright pink. I can't believe it took me that long! Nothing sweeter than a baby in a diaper and toenail polish.

- At about the 5 week mark of getting nearly no sleep because of your presence with us, and feeling like I was at the end of my rope, I was holding you in the kitchen and we locked eyes and you gave me a huge grin! I felt like I could go another year with no sleep as long as it meant I'd get to see you smile. It filled my heart with so much love and joy that I just couldn't wait for you to do it again. Right before you left us, you were grinning much more often. It was the highlight of each day. I pray that joy never leaves you and that your Aunt will work her head off, sometimes throwing her neck out, just to get you to laugh/smile like I did.

- You hated the car so we would often hear your screams from one errand to the next. But there was nothing like taking you out, lifting you up, having you cuddle into my neck and sigh. Instant relief. You knew you were safe there.

- Having you sleep on my chest for hours on end.

- Seeing you sleep on your daddy's chest.

- Blake was madly in love with you, always checking on you and being the helper, but Tyler was SO constantly into his baby "thister". He couldn't walk past you even once without giving you a big kiss on the head that often would wake you up or at least shift your head about your little body. Your eyebrows said, "Yep, that's my brother. He does that."

I think I could go on forever with all of the little things that I loved about you but in general I loved you without limits, I loved you unconditionally, I love you still and always will...my precious girl who was almost mine.

When I got that package in the mail it stung a little bit. This isn't how things are "supposed" to happen. The baby comes, you get lots of presents and then the baby stays. Simple as that. But if we wanted a plan that predictable and easy, we would have gone a different route. Having a baby of our own, adopting privately, etc. But we were called to the foster care ministry because these kids need us. They need to have love, joy and peace while their world around them is in complete chaos. We know we may loose 20 more before we get a "keeper", or our next placement may be the one. That does make me nervous...I don't want to grieve by choice. Who does? But I know that whatever comes our way we will stand firm in our faith in God, we will cling to each other, our friends and our family and we will be strong enough to face the next situation with hope. My hope comes from picturing my God walking along side of me as I heal, holding me close and saying, "Be strong. You can do this. Cast all of your cares upon me, and don't worry...I already know the child who is going to remain in your family...and she's almost yours."

"Adoption is not for the weak..."

2010-06-04T15:30:00.000-07:00

I want to puke. It can't be real. The familiar pains in every part of my body. Screaming won't help. Tried chocolate...didn't help. The only thing that gets you through grief is going straight through it. Nothing else. But I hate it. I'm sick of it. I don't want to do it. But I asked for it.

Yesterday started as an ordinary day. No sleep as the baby kept me up for going on the 8th week in a row. Mike came home from work, did the dishes quietly as we slept on the couch. I sleep on my back with her laying on my chest. Her fresh, soft baby hair, tickles the underside of my nose. There's no better feeling. "MOM!! I don't have any underwear!!" Tyler interrupts. Yeah, so laundry has taken a back seat, along with most of the household chores since little Evie has entered our world. I find myself most weekdays doing one load with exactly one outfit for everyone JUST so that we have enough to make it. I get off the couch to look for Ty's underwear with Evie in my left hand, still sound asleep. I've re-learned the skill of doing everything one handed. Laundry, bottle washing, lunch packing, typing, all kinds of stuff. It takes twelve times as long, but as long as I can hold the baby and get something done...I just don't want to put her down. She doesn't want to be put down either. It's this deal we both have. We kinda' like each other.

Eventually we head for Tacoma so Evie can visit her birth parents. We've done this twice a week for the 8 weeks she's been with us. We take her into the Youth for Christ office where her parents come, we talk for a brief minute, they take her into a supervised visitation room, and then we go shopping, to the beach, Costco, whatever for 2 hrs. and then come and pick her up. Our Social Worker from the agency works in that building. She's a great gal, that Ciara. She answers any question we might have instantly by text, she's got great style and she loves the Sounders.

We knew going up to the office this time that Ciara wanted to talk to both of us. This could be good or bad. In not typical Mike and Darbi fashion, Mike thought good, I thought bad. As we reached the exit, I was in tears. Mike reached his hand over to me and grabbed mine.

"What's wrong?"

"I just don't know what she could want to talk about besides bad news and I just don't want any."

"Do you want to pray about it?"

"You pray. I can't."

"But I'm driving, so I can't. You have to."

Silence...

"(through tears, in my ugly voice,) God, be with us, whatever it is. Continue to be our strength."

And then it happened. We walked into the office, were seated on a couch and told the news. That Evie would be moved to her Aunts house, and that it would't be in a couple of months like we thought could happen, it would be in a couple of days. And the grief begins...

This is not supposed to be a sad story. Evie is going to a great home. She will be raised with her cousins and her Aunt will adopt her if her parents can't pull it together. Her Aunt is experienced with her own family and has already set very clear boundaries with the birth parents as to visits and what-not. She is going to be just fine. She's just not going to be ours.

Another part to this story is that before we left the building, tears still in my eyes and Evie in my arms, they had us talk to the placement coordinator about what kind of baby we would like next and how soon we would be ready. We said SOON. We could have a new one before you all realize she's gone. But it still won't be her and it won't make it easier to have such an abrupt loss that we had so much hope in.

But what I do want to respond to is the statement I hear all the time..."Adoption is not for the week". That is a bunch of bull. I am weak. One of the weakest there is. I have been known to cry at the result of a game show people!! This is how emotionally vulnerable I am. And even though I am canceling yet another baby shower in my life, packing up my Evie's clothes and facing the risk of never seeing the girl who was mine for 8 weeks ever again, it was all worth it FOR HER. Where else would she have gone? Who else would have held her? Who else would have played Jack Johnson in the car when they thought she was scared and there was nothing else they could do because they were on the road? Who else would have picked out the godiest pieces of headwear and showed her off to the crowds like a princess? Who else would have asked God for the strength to let their guard down and allow them to love this little girl like she was her mommy, even if it meant just for a little while? Who else?

If you're asking yourself if you could ever do something like this...you can. It hurts like hell, but you can for these kids. My life is not about me. It is about listening to a God whose heart hurts for broken families, and doing my part to help restore these families or to take a child away from a situation that cannot be resolved. I will do this at the cost of allowing pain into my heart but in return, oh what love....Oh what love.

When will I learn?

2010-05-04T23:41:00.000-07:00

There are lessons in life I cannot seem to get through my head, though time and time I realize that they are true. Sugar is bad for me. My son, although only in the first grade, really does need to do his daily homework. Being uncomfortable is good...not only in the gym, but also in the heart.

I have to back up. There have been two times in my life when I have felt like I was directly in the palm of God's hand. May sound hoakey I know, but let me explain. When Blake was about 18 months old I got the news that my former college room mate Darcy had just found out her full-term baby girl's heart had stopped beating. She was in Pennsylvania and I was in Olympia and because I had experienced what she would go through in the next few days it killed me to think of her going through that without me. I felt that way because my biggest help in my time of need, other than strength drawn from God, was the strength from people who had gone through that themselves and came out okay on the other side. My church gave me money and within a few hours I was on a plane. I got there just hours after baby Keira was born. I got to love on my friend, pray for her, talk with her family, friends and church family and offer the hope and peace that was given to me when I lost my babies. I had never felt so close to God, like I was doing EXACTLY what he wanted me to be doing. I wanted to do that forever. Fortunately, I don't get the chance to minister that way very often. We are blessed with healthy babies all around us.

The next time I felt that way was 4 weeks ago in Poland. As we prepared for our trip little things would pop up along the way that would make me even more uncomfortable about going. "We'll be staying in people's homes instead of a hotel". What now? "There will be no coffee." Ummm, excuse me? "Oh, and the pastor said we might be going to a prison." HA!! NOT ME!! That is where I draw the line!! Like, seriously. I am already freaking out about this trip, no phone, no coffee, no Mikey. And have I told you that my mom and her sisters have a long history of wetting their pants in uncomfortable situations? I am NOT about to test whether this is a hereditary trait in the middle of a prison in Poland...GOT IT?!?

So there we were. 15 of us, in the middle of a prison in Poland. Just like in a movie. We couldn't bring a thing except our clothes on our backs and our passports. It had already been a long trip, physically, emotionally and everything-else-ically. We didn't know what to expect except that about 15 prisoners would show up for a church-type service and we would do some dramas and share some testimonies. Well, more like 60 men came. And we had one guard...who was watching us through a window. He was through a locked door, up a flight of stairs, and watching through a window. And there were 60 against 15. No handcuffs, no nothing. If I had thought about those odds BEFORE we left, I probably would have wet my pants. Thankfully no riots broke out.

The men all sat amongst us. They spoke briefly through our interpreter as to why they came. Some came weekly to the church meetings because they were Christians and it meant a lot to them. Some came for the free cake. For some, it was their very first time. We sang songs. We performed our dramas. I was able to share my story of loosing my babies and how God was able to lift me up even when it seemed like I had nothing to get up for. My dear friend Matt, our youth pastor, closed with a perfect message and it was time to mingle.

Immediately a prisoner comes straight toward me with the interpreter. He has tears streaming down his face. He thanks me for sharing.

"When I committed my crime I lost everything. My job, my house, my family, my children...When I came here I did not want to live. I will be here for 25 years. But then I came to these meetings and I met Jesus Christ. He helped me realize that it is not what I have done that I live for, but what I can do now. So I can still have a purpose in this prison. I can invite my friends to this meeting. I can pray for people. I can read the Bible, and I can learn about God. I can do a lot for God even while I am here doing the time for my crime. I will not waste my time. God gave me hope when I thought I had none." Isn't that amazing?

Another man, about my dad's age, came up and in very broken English said, "I will pray for you."

"You will pray for me?" I was VERY humbled by that. He would obviously have so many prayers of his own to pray, I assumed.

He said, "You believe in God. I believe in God. Now you are my sister." Amazing.

Every man I met was amazing. Their words surprised me. As a group, prisoners are overwhelming, intimidating. Individually, just a guy who sins like you and me.

Between talking to some of the men, I was crying, and now even more exhausted than before. I turned to Matt and said, "Is this real life?" He looked at me and said, "This is real life when you're working for God."

I did a lot of growing up in that prison. God gave me a taste of what we can do when we let him get us a little uncomfortable. And just what we could be missing out on when we tell him "no".

At that point I was SOOOO drained, I turned off my brain and started to get silly. Also a family trait. In Poland it's not nearly as common for people to have tattoos, especially girls, so I decided to seize the day. Nothing inappropriate, I have one on my forearm. But there was a guy there who would TOTALLY be the killer in a movie (and probably was) (a killer) (not in a movie). He was running the show. Bald, tall, skinny, THICK glasses that make his eyes look the size of pancakes. When he told the guys to be quiet, they did in a jiffy. He had tattoos on all showing parts. I went straight for him (don't worry Aunt Kathy...we had that guard there, remember?). I tapped him on the shoulder. He looked at me through the top of his glasses. Face as straight as the jacket he probably wore in the daytime. I rolled up my sleeve, knowing it was too late to run now, and pointed to the flower on my arm. He looked at it. He looked at me. He smiled a grin that showed all three of his teeth. He hit another guy on the arm and waved him over. Then another. Soon, it was an appropriate version of "I'll show you mine if you show me yours."

Again, Matt zooms by. "Darbi...you are NOT showing off your tattoos..." I say, "WHEN am I EVER going to get a chance to do THIS???"

So, this is my life. One minute I'm learning something life-changing and growing up, and the next minute I'm showing off my tattoos to prisoners in Poland. But it's a beautiful life...it's my life. I'm doing my best for God, and I wouldn't want it any other way.

There's somebody in our car seat!

2010-04-21T14:42:00.000-07:00

So, (I know I should probably not start a sentence with the word "so" but it's the best way to start a really good story that I'm telling to my really good friends. So that's how this story shall begin...) I walk in the door from running some errands and my mind is spinning, still trying to process all that was Poland. I'm telling you, it was an amazing trip, and someday I'm going to tell you all about it. But just as I enter the house I see Mike. He's sitting on the couch. He has the phone. He says, "Want to go out tonight?"

I say, "Sure." We are very spoiled by our parents living close to us, so we get to go on dates and have free babysitting on a regular basis.

"Wanna go to (name of hospital)?" Oh dear. He left his sunglasses there during work and now he wants to go pick them up and call it a "date". How romantic. I smile and roll my eyes. Maybe we'll get some free plastic gloves and I can try out my ballooning skills. Even better.

He stands up and looks at me in the eyes. "Wife...Do you want to go to the hospital to get our baby?"

I couldn't believe his words were true. It was like we had waited for this moment for nearly 2 years and yet hadn't had "any time" to prepare. It was exciting and frightening, happy and sad, the easiest and one of the hardest births we've ever been a part of...and it's only the beginning.

There is a lot about our daughter that I want to share and that I know you want to know but I cannot because it is a foster to adopt situation. I can't post pictures of her sweet face or tell you her name. I cannot tell you the story of why her mother is not able to take care of her right now. I can't tell you the details of the visits she'll have with her birth parents starting this Friday and the court dates that will fill in the time between now and her possible adoption day. But I can tell you this; We are in love. Dangerously in love with the little girl who is living in our house. And that just makes things difficult.

When I tucked Blake and Ty into bed the other night Ty said, "Is thith the thisthter we get to keep?"

"Yeah mom, I want to keep her!" Blake chimed in. Realizing the reality of how her presence affects the boys already was heart-wrenching.

I sat by their bed, with their sister in my arms and said, "We just don't know how long baby sister is going to be here. She is living with us because her mommy and daddy are making bad choices right now. We need to pray that they will make good choices so she can be with her family. But if they don't make good choices, she will stay with us."

"But we want her to stay!" Blake says. So do I. I'm teaching my children the agreement that is on paper. Reunification with the family is object #1. Adoption is second. But is that what I want? And if I'm doing this as a ministry am I supposed to be doing what I want, or what God wants?

I am fighting with myself on the subject. Part of me (the selfish, ugly part) wants to grow a beard, change my name to "Ace" and move my family to Montana where they'll never find us. No courts, no visits, no taking away of the people you love. Kind of like heaven only illegal and we'd have to pay taxes. This is also the part of me that wants to see the birth family fail miserably...all for my selfish gain. But who actually wishes that on somebody? I don't want that to be me.

So then I start thinking about this baby girl in my arms and how she was born into a broken world, into a very broken family. She didn't choose it. It wasn't her fault. I don't even think God's to blame on this one. He set us up with some pretty sweet digs when this place was starting out...just open your Bible to Genesis! It was man that started screwing everything up. And the world gets uglier and uglier as we make poor choice after poor choice.....and bazillions of children are caught with the consequences. It's another part of life that isn't fair.

But this is the thing about God...I know He has the power to speak the words and this baby's family would turn completely around, I'd feel great about where she was headed and we'd all be friends so that I could still go to her birthday parties. It'd be great. BUT He doesn't always work that way. He gave us a brain and he gives us choices. Choices that are huge. Choices that sometimes seem impossible. But as I've experienced time and time again, he never leaves us to make these choices alone.

So, as my daughter's birth family makes the choice to cling to or flee from addictions, to possibly break past behaviors and weather or not to fight for the little girl in my arms;

I CHOOSE to hold her every minute I have because time is so precious.

I CHOOSE to take more pictures of her than of any other living thing because I just can't help it.

I CHOOSE to walk around Fred Meyer with great pride and joy while others peek and giggle at her because this might be her only chance to be a rockstar.

I CHOOSE to let her brothers kiss her as much as they want even though they have germs because they are in love too and I need to let them show it.

I CHOOSE to pray for her life, that she will always feel loved, safe and know Jesus because as her mom I might be the only one who remembers to pray.

I CHOOSE to love this little girl like nobody else can because she deserves nothing less and because it's what God calls us to do.

Poland Part 1: The News

2010-04-13T20:18:00.000-07:00

This trip was amazing. Incredible. I found new fears and broke down ones I didn't think were possible to overcome. (Besides the fear of going 10 days without coffee...only to find there was an espresso machine right there in our living quarters!) Physically I was pushed and hurt in little tiny corners of my shoulders and toes that usually don't demand much attention. Friendships were deepened through both the toughest of times and the true release of late-night belly laughs. Tears were shed by seeing repeatedly how good my God is, and just how majestically he works through the big things and in the little things, specifically in me.
I suppose it will take several posts to talk about the easier things (the traveling, the beauty of the city itself, the food, etc.) and the harder things that I'm still processing. But it will all be on here and hopefully worth the read. So now we begin with Poland Part 1:

The News

So, remember the last post? I was a bit whiny and preachy. The way I usually get when I'm insecure with the way things are going. But if I do recall, the main reason I was going on this trip in the first place was not because I wanted to, but rather out of obedience to God. I was no longer going to sit around and waste my time waiting for this foster baby process. I was going to get out there and work for God, wether that meant doing something I considered fun or not. Poland with a bunch of teenagers doing street ministry? Not.

On the trip we are told to not have any contact with home. Mostly for the sake of the kids with the overbearing moms. Give them an inch and they'll expect a mile. Well, the ministry just doesn't have time to stop every half hour so that Jimmy can get ahold of his mom to tell her he took his vitamins on time and ate the crust on his PB and J. To make the rule easiest, they've just said everyone going on the trip has to follow the same no-contact rule.

Well, you see, we had the head guy Mark, at our hostel. He had a computer and he was kind enough to let us leaders have a couple of minutes in the evening to post a note to our spouses on facebook. It was wonderful. Almost made the trip harder because it made us miss them more, but it was wonderful. One night I knew Mark was leaving the next day, so as I was chatting live with my Mikey, I said, "I won't be able to talk anymore as Mark's taking the computer but I love you to bits and bits and pray for us!!!" That would be all for 6 more days. I wrote in my journal and went to sleep. Very early in the morning Sherry woke me up. She said, "Darbi, Mike's on the computer and needs to talk to you right away." My first thought, honestly? Who's dead? I barely had my balance and walked into the men's dorm room and got on. Mike was on-line. I said, "Hello?"

"Hi. Did you see it?"

"See what? What's going on?" All possible tragedies are going through my mind.

"Your pictures. Go to your page and look at your pictures."

And here is the picture I saw:

I couldn't believe my eyes. I knew this day would come but not so soon. I mean, I know that sounds funny when we've been waiting almost 2 years on a 6 month process, but let me explain. There are times when I pray and pray about something and it seems God doesn't answer the way I want, or he doesn't answer in a black and white way, so it leaves me "guessing" as to what I am supposed to be doing...the "best answer", or how I could best be doing what he would want me to do. But then there are times like these (and they don't happen very often) when I say to God, "I want to have a foster baby, but I want to follow you more so I'm going on this trip. If YOU WANT me to have a foster baby, then let your will be done in your time. It's hard to wait, but it's in your time." And on that very trip, it happens.

I learned so much about myself on the trip, more confidence on who I am in God, what kind of a mom I can be because of the things I can do on his strength, that I just feel even more equipped to fight for these babies that so desperately need homes and need Jesus even more. I am ready now and he knew that. And I just can't wait. As soon as a baby is ready for us THEY WILL CALL!!!! Isn't that exciting?!?!?

Goodnight for now.

While I'm Waiting...

2010-02-05T17:29:00.000-08:00

If life were going my way, I would be sending out baby announcements right now, not writing this letter. The joy of the pink and the sweet little baby face with the details about just what this little being we're waiting for will look like would be sweetly scrap-booked for all the world to see. But in case you didn't know before I am still not God, so therefore we will wait...and wait...and maybe even wait some more...until the perfect child is ready for our home.

Of course the wait is hard. Of course I'm consuming increased levels of chocolate on an almost daily basis to try to handle the stress, and of course I shed a few tears now and again and that's okay. But the most important thing I need to do during this time is learn and listen. I believe it is when we are uncomfortable that if we reach out to God, He can do His best work in us and through us.

It's always uncomfortable for me when life isn't going my way. Our foster license was supposed to take about 6 months to get and we're coming up on almost 2 years, still without a license. There has been a hiccup at ever turn. Last summer our church gave an opportunity to go to Louisiana and help build houses. I let that chance slip by because according to my plan we would for SURE have our baby by then. That summer came and went and the group had an awesome time on that trip while I sat at home.

Well, this year our church offered a different kind of trip. One that makes me uncomfortable in many ways. I will be leaving the continent for the first time and traveling to Poland. I will be leading a group of youth. I will not be going to an orphanage and caring for children as I've done in the past. That would be comfortable. I will be doing street ministry. Yep, just walking on up to people and telling them what God has done in my life. And also giving them balloon animals. You pretty much can't get any weirder than that. =-) I will be away from Mike and my kids and unable to use a cel phone or computer for 13 days. And the worst part....THERE WILL BE NO COFFEE. Folks, I AM GOING TO BE UNCOMFORTABLE!!!! Can you feel it???

(Side note - Our group of teens and adults will be part of a group of about 200 who will all hit Poland in the beginning of April. We will put on concerts, dramas, movies in the parks and so-on. It won't be ALL weird. And by weird I mean uncomfortable. =-))

Anywho...here's the short version of how I'll be winding up on the plane to Poland: To be completely honest (and to PLEASE not hurt any one's feelings!) when I first heard that was where the church decided to go I thought, "Why in the world would we go there for a missions trip? The people there have plenty of food! No natural disasters and not an exceeding amount of poverty. It's silly! Why can't we go feed people in Africa or build houses in Mexico? You know, meet a tangible need?" Then it was, "Oh, STREET ministry, yeah, I don't really DO that. Those people are kind of mean and obnoxious (at least the ones on Jerry Springer and in downtown Portland.)" Then here's what I heard..."Oh Darbi... (He didn't call me a swear word. That's how I knew it was Jesus) Let's just take a tiny little walk down memory lane..." (Also I embellish His vocabulary for the sake of the story. I don't really hear an audible voice, He just gently rubs stuff in my face. Now back to the story.)

"Do you remember the very first time you had to place your whole trust in me? All of your hope in me?"

"I sure do. It was in the hospital. When I had to say good-bye to my mom. I had her hand in mine and I couldn't let go because I knew it would be the very last time I held it. I said to you, 'I can't, but You can. ' And you gave me the strength to sing her the same lullaby she sang to me when I was a baby, and then to say good-bye and to let go. It was awesome. It wasn't me. It was you."

"And then the next year, do you remember what we went through together?"

"Yes. The same kind of thing only with my baby girl. I didn't think I could handle seeing her without completely loosing it, knowing she never even got to take a breath. I looked up at the ceiling and said, 'I can't but You can.' Mike walked into my hospital room with our little girl in his arms and she was the most beautiful thing we had ever seen. Because of Your strength and peace, we were able to feel the joy that first time parents get to feel. It was more than awesome. That was all you, too."

"Do you think a God who got you through all that and more might be worth telling people about? Maybe even the people in Poland?"

"Especially the people in Poland."

Who in the heck do I think I am telling anyone what types of mission trips do or don't work? Where or where they should not take place? Which country needs one over the next? A person who doesn't know about God is a person who doesn't know about God and that's what needs to go on...people need to know about God because I can't imagine my life without Him.

But I'm still going to be uncomfortable, so CAN YOU HELP ME?

1. Because there will be no communication allowed with me and my home (unless there is an emergency) I would like to find 13 people who will send me notes that I can open every day. That way I can feel like I've "called home". So if you think you can do that, ask for my address through facebook or e-mail and I'd love to give it to you. If you send it in the mail, please mark it "DO NOT READ UNTIL POLAND" or I will open it because I will just think you love me. Please send the cards by March 15th. If any of you would like to write some to the youth, that would be AWESOME too! Let me know!

2. PLEASE PRAY. There's lots to pray about, so hopefully lots of you will!

- Mike will be home taking care of the kids for 13 days!

- Mike's mom Sue will be going through chemo.

- Our foster baby will be getting ready for us.

- There are a million things to go wrong and right on the trip- I'm pretty nervous about an 18 hr flight!

- Everyone stays healthy- no migraines for me specifically.

- We will learn and grow and people will accept us.

- I will find an instant coffee that doesn't taste like death.

I went shopping yesterday and I bought a few things for the trip and I also bought some fun pink paper for my baby announcements. Even through this time I have hope that this is not forever. There will be some major dancing going on when our adoption is one day final and we can relax knowing that our child is safe in our arms and we won't have to rely on paperwork or the state ever again. But there are going to be a lot of trials until then. It won't be easy. We can't but He can.

There is a song that I love and I will end with it's lyrics. Thank you for reading this friends. One thing I'm thankful for is I will never walk alone because of my God and because of the mountains and mountains of friends He has given to me...while I'm waiting.

I’m waiting

I’m waiting on You, Lord

And I am hopeful

I’m waiting on You, Lord

Though it is painful

But patiently, I will wait

I will move ahead, bold and confident

Taking every step in obedience

While I’m waiting

I will serve You

While I’m waiting

I will worship

While I’m waiting

I will not faint

I’ll be running the race

Even while I wait

I’m waiting

I’m waiting on You, Lord

And I am peaceful

I’m waiting on You, Lord

Though it’s not easy

But faithfully, I will wait

Yes, I will wait

I will serve You while I’m waiting

I will worship while I’m waiting

I will serve You while I’m waiting

I will worship while I’m waiting

I will serve You while I’m waiting

I will worship while I’m waiting on You, Lord

While I'm Waiting by John Waller

I Was Running (in Forrest Gump voice)!

2010-01-16T13:27:00.000-08:00

I'm not what you'd really call an "active person". I don't "regularly exercise". I don't raise my heartbeat past its resting rate unless Mike comes home in his uniform. I am, I'll say it, fat and lazy. But not anymore.

It's crazy how many consequences we, as humans, need to see before we begin to think, "huh, maybe I should do something about that". For example the surgeon who spends his days removing lung cancer takes his breaks to smoke like a chimney, or the alcoholic who watches Intervention episodes and says, "Man, those guys are idiots!" Neither sees a correlation to the problem in their own lives, only in others.

Well, this is how I've been about my weight. I've been watching Biggest Loser for probably 6 seasons, cheered them on with success as each overweight person slimmed down on live TV and gave their families the greatest thing they've ever had in their lives...themselves.

I try things all the time to loose weight and quit weeks and most often days later because that's just what I do. But I have to keep going. I have to keep trying. I can't let the weight issue win with me because, well, I just won't let it, and because I owe my family more. I owe mySELF more.

One angle I haven't really tried much is exercise because I've NEVER found something I like. I always hear that...to find something you like, but that would have to involve other people and food in order to keep me interested. I can find a friend to exercise with sometimes, but I hear eating while exercising is frowned upon.

Well, I think I just may have found something I like. At least for almost 4 weeks I've liked it. And that's why I'm blogging about it. Because I want people to know I've started and to ask me about it (and therefore keep me accountable) and also because it makes for a good story, to read about a fat girl who runs.

The other day I experienced, for the first time in my LIFE, going beyond my goal and I was so proud of my accomplishment that I immediately wrote the following e-mail to my girlfriends Lindsay and Laura, who also are fairly new to running. Here is that e-mail:

So, there I was, me, my cut-off sweats and my mini-van headed for the gym. I'm not one for goals, or really pushing myself, but have been proud to make it there twice to three times a week to run 60 to 90 second intervals every 2-3 minutes. But I was ready to push. I'm done being the fat girl that doesn't try. So I said to myself, "Self, why don't you just run that first interval and try to keep going past that first 90 seconds and see what happens. In fact, why don't you try to go FOUR minutes without stopping?" I knew I probably wouldn't make it, but I thought it sounded fun.
I sucked in my stomach and handed the hot guy at the desk my keys. I gave him the "It's me, Darbi the Runner" nod." Last time I was in there and dropped of my kids at the child care center they said, "Hi! Are you guys new?" Shut up. We've been going here two years...every three months. But now I'm Darbi the Runner. Everyone will know it.
So I found the treadmill of my choice, plugged in my earphones, turned on Days of our Lives, warmed up and started to run. And guess what? I ran for 10 MINUTES, yes I did!! 10 MINUTES!!! And I think I probably could have gone farther but I was starting to cry and wanted to hurry and get home and tell Mike. =-) When I DID get home to tell him, I started to cry again. He said, "What?!" and I just stood there. I told him the news. He said, "Goll, by the look on your face I thought you filled our van with Haiti orphans or something." =-) Nope, just that run. It was amazing. I've never done that in my LIFE. Not even in PE because my mom always wrote me a note. Yep, I was that girl.
So, I'm headed toward the 5 K in March and I can't wait. It'll be hard but awesome and I just can't wait. Maybe I'll even pass some people!

Back to the blog: I know I can't have this high forever, and the percentages of success are against me as far as weight loss go, but if I'm going to die early I want to make sure it isn't from something I've done to my body. That just doesn't seem right. I want to have as much time with my grandkids as is humanly possible. I want to give my kids and my Mike the most and the best of me that their can be. Those are just some of the reasons I'm going to run.

I'm off to the gym right now. I hope it's as fun as it was last time, but I know it won't be every time. I'm just glad I wrote this down so that down the road if I'm not "into it" or have a bad day, I can remember I'm Darbi the Runner and sometimes I just plain kick bottom.

When's a good time to have a baby?

2010-01-12T14:37:00.000-08:00

I've heard people say they're waiting to have a baby because of certain reasons...they want to finish school first, wait until their loan is paid off, get a better job, have their other kids grow a bit, buy a bigger house, save up for a van, and I admire those people. I really do. Especially when they can actually stick to those plans. To me, that's what the 9 months of growing a baby is for...the planning. Any more time than that to plan anything would be excessive. I'm very impatient, especially when it comes to the matters of tiny people (one of my favorite things).

But what happens next is you might be in the right position financially, physically and emotionally and decide to start trying to have a baby and there's a whole new list of things that can blow your plans off track. For example a womb that once worked after the first try can just decide it doesn't want to work anymore, an adoption that is supposed to take around 6 months can take years, or congratulations, triplets! I guess I'm just realizing that the more and more I try to plan my family, the less control I realize I actually have over any part of it...and I'm finally okay with that.

Today was our home study which really should have been called a you study. I have been asked far less at a job interview, and yet I wish all people would have to go through such an interview before being denied or allowed to conceive. The case worker wanted to know how old my parents were when they met. (I don't know, old?) Where is the location of our tree frog we had listed in the paper work a year ago? (6 feet under.) What kind of grades did I get in middle school? (Were there grades? I thought there were just boys.) The questions continued for 2 1/2 hrs. But then they got good:

"Mike, what attracted you to Darbi?" We smiled, paused and looked at each other. This was not one we had practiced ahead of time. I didn't know what he was going to say.

"Other girls made me feel like I had to be different. But not her. She just liked me for who I was from the beginning. I didn't have to try to be somebody else. I was just me. And she liked me. " I got all teary but tried to keep it together. Only losers cry during their home studies.

"And what would you say is the hardest thing you have ever been through as a couple?" And out the tears come. I looked at him and gave him a nod and he told her the story of loosing our Hope. He told her how it was by far the hardest thing we'd gone through, but we did in fact get through it because of our faith, our friends and our family that stood by our side and held us up when we couldn't stand on our own.

"And what would you say has been the very best thing you've experienced?" I immediately said, "Blake's birth" just as Mike said, "The rest." I looked at him and just paused in a moment of awe. If we were in a movie right then the camera would have zoomed in on me staring into his cute face for a while while the case worker went on with her questions but some mushy song would be playing in the background. He's a man of few words, so when he says them I just melt.

Looking back at our marriage so far we definitely didn't get the kids we planned or when we wanted them. But a life any different than the one we've lived is so hard to imagine. We've done life together and we've got some qualities of an 80 year old couple because of it. We couldn't bond that way or learn those things if we would have taken the easy path we had "planned" for ourselves.

The case worker left our house this afternoon and will write up a 13-17 page profile of her visit with us today. That will be placed on top of all of our paperwork and sent to the licensor who will hopefully give us a license in about a month. But none of that is in our control. Any number of things can happen in the meantime that can either speed up or slow down the process of getting our baby into our hands. And that's okay.

My life is perfectly imperfect and complete right now with a history of blessings and bruises along the way that shaped me into the Darbi I'm supposed to be, the mom I'm supposed to be of the children I'm supposed to have. There will be a next one, I don't know who or when, but when they enter this home there will be so much love, laughter, care and hope waiting for them that there won't be room for their little cheeks!

So when's a good time to have a baby? Never...and always.

Fingerprints: Check!

2009-12-01T21:56:00.000-08:00

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,

2009-10-19T23:01:00.000-07:00

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...

2009-10-14T21:25:00.000-07:00

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

2009-08-12T14:46:00.001-07:00

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

2009-07-19T18:43:00.001-07:00

"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...

2009-07-19T18:14:00.000-07:00

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...

2009-06-10T00:16:00.000-07:00

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!!!)

2009-06-02T13:17:00.000-07:00

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

2009-05-14T15:44:00.000-07:00

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...

2009-05-08T13:19:00.000-07:00

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

2009-05-03T15:58:00.000-07:00

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...

2009-05-01T18:23:00.000-07:00

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.

2009-04-28T10:08:00.000-07:00

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

2009-04-14T14:11:00.000-07:00

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...

2009-04-11T22:38:00.000-07:00

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

2009-04-06T13:47:00.000-07:00

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?

2009-03-01T15:01:00.001-08:00

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!

2009-02-03T17:23:00.001-08:00

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!

2009-02-01T20:08:00.001-08:00

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.

2009-01-22T10:21:00.000-08:00

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?

2009-01-15T13:12:00.000-08:00

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...

2009-01-05T14:22:00.000-08:00

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.

Out of their little mouths...

2008-12-30T14:04:00.000-08:00

Grab your coffee, hot chocolate or martini of choice because once agian, it's story time, but this time, it's about those funny Johnson boys:

1. Yesterday I wanted the boys to nap SO bad. We have had two days of HECK with them because they won't nap PLUS they are learning to fight like cats. So I put them in their bunks and threatened them with the swatting spoon from the get go. "If you boys get out of bed or talk, I will go down stairs and get the spoon. " Their eyes got as big as silver dollars and they said, "Okay mamma!" They immediately laid down and were silent. I went to the next room and watched my latest addiction, Adoption Story on Discovery Health, and over it I could barely hear them chattering. Then they got louder...and louder...until suddenly they were full on yelling because Tyler wouldn't go get Blake a book he wanted. I really wouldn't spank the boys for talking, so I shouldn't have threatened it in the first place so I muted the TV and yelled, "BOYS, THIS IS YOUR LAST WARNING!" Dead silence. Then I hear Tyler, 3, from the bottom bunk say, "Blake, what did she thay?" (He has a lisp that is priceless.) Silence. "Blake, what did she thay? Did she thay this is our last morning?" Again, Blake fearing the spoon, said nothing. "Blake, I just don't know what she thaid and I just need thumbody to tell me what she means!" 5 minutes later, they were sound asleep, after their final morning. =-)

2. Today at naptime I had a suprise for them. They always sleep with a CD on and I had just fixed a Veggie Tales CD they used to listen to all the time. While they were laying down, I pushed play and it started. I expected them to freak with excitement. Instead Blake (5) said, "Mommy, it's my turn to pick the music,"

I said, "I know honey, but I fixed your CD so I put it on for you."

He replied, "But I need to listen to the radio because I need to hear the news. If we listen to the CD, I'll miss the news and won't know what's going on." Yep, he's Mike's kid.

3. The other day I took Tyler to a scrapbooking store. The gal who worked there was about 19 and wearing low-rise jeans. She was filling up a sticker rack that was on a bottom shelf so she was squatting down and her pants were very low. Tyler was watching what she was doing very carefully. I was in a different section of the store and all of a sudden heard him say in his non-indoor voice, "Aren't you going to pull your panth up?" (again with his lisp) I wanted to run out of the store and leave him there, but I think you can get arrested for that. The gal just looked at him without a smile and reached back and pulled her panth up. I went and took his hand and kept him with me.

Later that day Blake and Ty were playing with their Legos. They didn't know I was listening. Tyler, out of the blue says, "Hey Blake, today at the store, I sawed a girls underbuns!" Not kidding! Aparently locker room talk starts at 3. Dear Lord, help me!

Missin' Mom...

2008-12-24T10:21:00.000-08:00

Well, this is Dick and Dianne Fankhauser. The people who decided to have me 31 3/4 years ago. This was taken at their 25th wedding anniversary, shortly before my mom passed away from complications of Aplastic Anemia almost 8 years ago. I can't believe it's been that long! I still feel her regularly in my life, I think mostly because even though I fight it, I have become her. =-) But, my last post has made me want to reminisce a little more (here you go, Christi!) so here are some of my favorite memories of my mom, the one and only Dianne Yvonne Fankhauser, as remembered by Dianne Jr, aka Darbi. (Yes, I know the picture is sideways. I can't figure out how to turn it. But it's too cute to not post.)

1. While I was in college, we would talk on the phone almost every day. She loved to tell me what shows she was into. She wanted Mike and I to start watching Everybody Loves Raymond. Since we never did, she would tape it for us. We'd get home. She'd make us sit down. It would take her at least 20 minutes to, on VHS, fast forward through Oprah, nope, went too far, rewind Letterman, now cue it forward....here it is. We'd watch for 15 minutes, just long enough to get into the show as she'd stare at our faces, and then sure enough, a new Oprah would start that she had taped over Raymond with. She'd get a puzzled look on her face and say, "Oh wait now..." and start the whole process over again.

2. She loved her Richard Simmons Sweatin' to the Oldies tapes. After school, she would close all of the curtains and turn one on and dance her heart out. Then she'd call me from the back room for the finale. If you've ever seen the tapes, Richard has all of his exercisers as actual former fat people, instead of models. So at the end, they all make a row and clap to the music, while each former fat person dances down the row alone with a big grin (and they still shouldn't be wearing spandex, but they are) and the screen says their name and how much weight they've lost so far. Mom would just sit and cry EVERY TIME! She knew what was coming, she knew their weights by heart, but by golly, she was so proud of them!

3. One Easter eve, my brother Paul already had his licence and I was 3 yrs younger than him. Every year my mom would make our Easter baskets and then hide them in the house. She'd always put together a scavenger hunt with clues all over the house. It was SO fun Easter morning. Well, I don't know what was going on in my mom's life this particular year, probably just the stress of having 2 teenagers. But anyway, as I was wondering what would be in my basket and where she would hide it, she hands me a check and says, "Here. Go to Safeway and pick out your Easter basket." At first I was crushed, but then I realized the possibilities. Paul and I jumped in the Chrystler Le baron and headed south. Jelly beans, peppermints and 50 different ways to mix chocolate and peanut butter together were all in our cart. Then we hit the checkout. Back at home, mom hears the phone ring: "Hello?"

"Mom, It's Darbi."

"Hi honey, is everything okay?"

"Not really. They won't let us use your check."

"Oh, yes they will, I do it all the time. Just let me talk to them"

"Yeah but mom, this time you signed it 'Dianne Safeway'."

4. My mom was crafting in her craft room and she saw a rat! She was home alone and so she naturally called 9-1-1. The dispatcher answered.

"What is your emergency?"

"I'm OK! I want you to know I am o.k. It's just that there is a giant rat in my craft room."

"Ma'am, we are for emergencies only. You will have to call someone else about a rat."

"Well WHO am I supposed to call then? I know DAVE!" and she hung up.
Our neighbor was Dave and he always helped us out of any situation. In this particular case he came down the road in head to toe camouflage with his hunting bow and arrow and got the rat with lots of laughs and little to no effort. But my favorite part of the story is "I AM OK!"

I have to get to wrapping now, but I will for sure add to these stories again one day. But the last thing you need to know about my mom is that nobody loved like her, nobody understood like her, nobody listened like her, and nobody laughed like her, even at herself. She could make a stranger feel like a best friend within minutes and her own kids felt like the world was all going to be okay, even in the middle of complete chaos. I say I fight being like her, but it really is an honor to be like her, for she was much more like Christ than anyone else I know. Minus the flaky parts. Those are just thrown in to make us love her more.

I pray that this Christmas you love like you've never loved before, listen like you've never listened and laugh like you've never laughed. Celebrate the freedom we have because Christ came and died for us, and the loved ones we will be gathered with again one day because of God's perfect plan. MERRY CHRISTMAS!!!

How do you do Christmas "right"?

2008-12-20T16:18:00.000-08:00

We took the boys to our gym the other day to see Santa. We knew it would be MUCH less busy than the mall, the pics were $2, and it was about 2 blocks away which made it nice in the snow. Blake didn't want anything to do with Santa even though he had candy and even though Blake was told he was just a guy who worked at the gym in a different costume. He stood by the door and wanted nothing of it.

Tyler, on the other hand, was all smiles. He loved the guy in the costume, loved the candy, loves the gym. We stayed for a few minutes, donated some used toys and left. The end. But here's the thing:

I'm having a hard time deciding as a young family raising kids who are finally starting to understand stuff, just how to do Christmas the "right way". I know there is no right way. There certainly are a lot of wrong ways...lighting baby Jesus on fire, that would be one wrong way...etc. But I mean there's the whole, don't tell your kids at all about Santa because he's the anti-Christ and it's lying so they may end up to be mass murderers, and then there's the way I was raised where Santa and huge presents were TOTALLY the focus, so I didn't really get the whole Jesus thing until much later in my college years. Christmas was about me and what I wanted and what I was going to get. In fact, here's how evil I was...

When I was 16, my mom dropped me off at the mall to get a gift for her. Dad gave me $20 to spend on her and mom was going to pick me up in an hour with my gift in hand. Does anybody out there remember Mr. Rags? It was kind of like Ambercrombe now. Definitely a teen store, not made for a woman's body. BUT they were having a buy one, get one free sale. So, in I went. There they were...Long neck mock neck Mr. Rag shirts...usually $40, but today they were $20, and if I bought one for MOM, I'd get one for ME! And so I did. Since the Medium fit my then 25 pound body, I knew the Large must be perfect for my mom, so there you go...I bought a shirt "for my mom" for Christmas.

When she opened it on Christmas morning, she acted like I'd bought her diamonds. Holding it up to herself it was OBVIOUS it would never work. There were two BIG reasons why. But she didn't say a word. She wore that thing all over the house, as uncomfortable as it must have been, cutting off her circulation in many different places, because she wanted me to know how much she loved the gift. That's how a true mom is. And I deserved the death penalty.

I was a brat to the core and I don't want my kids to end up that way. I know that how we celebrate Christmas as a family will have a lot to do with how they will decide to celebrate with their families in the future. No pressure.

So, last year Mike and I participated in our own version of Advent Conspiracy (look it up on YouTube if you haven't seen it already). We bought gifts out of the World Vision catalog for everyone and then bought little toys for the cousins and for our kids, on top of like a soccer ball for a child in Africa. It was great and we loved it, but we got a sense of being "party poopers" from others who just wanted to do Christmas the regular way. It's like it's hard to do it if other people don't want to do it with you . So this year we're going to do the same type of thing, but we still have all of these questions in the air...Do we buy our own kids gifts even though they don't need anything? How much do we let them talk about the whole Santa thing without being Scrooges? What do they really understand at this age anyway? And then I talked to an amazing woman, Pastor Jeanne. She's been at our church for YEARS and she is SO with-it. She wants to preach until her dying day. Sometimes she just says things that make so much sense and I wanted to share it with you.

PJ: "Darbi, are you done shopping this year?"

D: "No, we're going to kind of do some sort of charity thing but I don't know what yet."

PJ: "Ever since my kids were little, we always took whatever we spent on presents and matched it and gave it to the church."

D: "I like that idea. It's just so hard as a young family to figure out how you want everything to be for Christmas. You know, with Santa and gifts and all that."

PJ: "We started from the beginning telling our kids that Santa is just a pretend man that children like to talk about at Christmas time. They were never once deprived by knowing that. I remember finding out as a child that he wasn't real and how upsetting that was that my parents had told me otherwise. I didn't want to do that to my kids. And as far as gifts go, we always did small gifts to the children at Christmas and told them they'd get their big gifts on their birthday. If they complained, we'd say, "Is it your birthday?" "No" "Who's birthday is it?" "Jesus'" and the complaining would stop. We would always have a birthday party for Jesus too."

So anyway, there is never a right way to do things, but I liked how Pastor Jeanne told me she did things. When Blake and Ty have a case of the gimmies, I can just explain to them that it's not their birthday yet. It's Jesus' birthday. And I think that's a good concept they can understand.

Hope you all are figuring out your special way to do Christmas with your families. It's hard, but as long as it's wrapped in love and prayer, it will be perfect. But let's just pray the snow storms will let up so I can do a little more shopping! Little miss last minute isn't quite finished and I don't want to have to shop at the Plaid Pantry on Christmas Morning like I've had to do a couple years in college because they're the only ones open!!

Ma-haller!

2008-12-07T17:13:00.000-08:00

Here's a taste of some pics from Hawaii! If you come over to our house, we will bore you with some more! Wish your were here! (Yes, I was looking for a treasure. Will I ever grow up?)
Sunsets on the beach are the best. And mornings. And afternoons. And nights.

Mike demonstrating a favorite instrument of ours. (We wanted to buy you one Matthew, but they were $50. Too much money just to make you laugh, so here's the pic.)

At the Dole factory. Didn't know how pineapple grew until now. How cute is that one?

Stinking gorgeous hibiscus flowers EVERYWHERE. In every color.

Yep. A guy just put his bird on my hand. And then yep, he charged me.

We were suckered into going to a time-share dealie right away, but this was our free "taxi"
plus we got $100, free lunch and a weekend get away at ocean shores. Not too bad. I think that's when Mike came up with the phrase Ma-haller!

We miss everybody but we're having a great time and we have lots of tips for when you come (like: please bring us with you). See you soon~!

In honor of baby Klovdahl

2008-12-07T16:40:00.000-08:00

Makenna showing Blake some love

Preslie, Blake and Makenna at church

My heart is heavy today for some of my best friends, the Klovdahls. Their 4th baby passed in the 10th week of pregnancy. Again, it is so hard to be away from friends and "celebrating" while you know they are hurting and you want to be hugging them and taking care of them. Since I can't, I just wanted to honor their little sweetie on my blog.

It's funny how we girls get when we find out we're pregnant, or even a friend is pregnant. As soon as we see that pink line on the pregnancy test, we already have that child's life planned out for them. I will tell you MY plan for that fourth Klovdahl child. =-)

SHE was going to have fluffy light brown hair, huge chubby cheeks, and look just like her big sister Makenna. She would be even more laid back than her big brother Connor (hard to imagine) and she would be fought over by all of the youth group girls to be held for the first two years of her life.

She was going to grow up with our family and go camping, go to the beach, go to church, and be in our pictures, our memories, our daily lives. She would say things that would make us laugh. She would fall down and cry and we'd run to save her. She'd call Kelsie from college when her boyfriend broke up with her and Kelsie would call me to tell me all about it.

I could go on and on but the point is that once again God has allowed a curve ball to be thrown into the lives of my friends and it sucks. But I know and they know that He will get them through this difficult time and that while we WANT this baby so badly to be with us, there is NO better place for her to be than safely in the arms of Jesus...until we join her in Heaven one day and can hold her for the very first time. Whole, healthy, complete, chubby Klovdahl cheeks and all.

I love you guys to bits and will be home soon.

And for you guys in blog land, I posted pics of Makenna and Blake from a few years back so you could see how cute the Klove kids are. They make the cutest babies, I swear!!!

Please stop what you're doing and dance...

2008-12-04T02:09:00.000-08:00

No pictures yet, but it's midnight our first day in Hawaii, and it is truly paradise. Both of us are stressed because there are too many things to do and not enough time to do it in, but it is amazing. It is more than we could have imagined. More people, more buildings, more poverty, more entertainment, more beauty, more excitement & more creative ways to spend your money than they ever showed us in that double episode of the Brady Bunch.
Its been so weird to take this vacation in the first place when other people who are close to me are having a rough go at life. My brother is struggling with addiction, several good friends are laid off and have small children, there's sickness everywhere, and we're just going to celebrate our anniversary like we don't even care?
Tonight Mike and I sat in an open air bar and were listening to two guys singing to an acoustic guitar and a ukelele (my favorite!)They're called Beach 5 & will hopefully be linked to here . They were singing all songs we knew that we could kind of sing along with. I just LOVED it. The temperature was perfect, our food and drinks were perfect and the atmosphere with the palm trees was just incredible. So then the singers asked if there were any birthdays and sang happy birthday. Then they asked if there were any other special dates out there. I, of course, had just taken a huge bite of my fish taco, so I just held up 10 fingers. He said, "You're 10 years old?" This is in front of about 100 people. I said, "No! Married for 10 years!" So he said, "Congratulations. This song is for the couple who has been married for 10 years." and people clapped. The song was "Still the one". I reached across the table to Mike and took his hands. Instantly everything flooded my mind as I looked into his sweet face. The laughing we do so hard until we cry, the fighting we do over mostly dumb stuff, the births of our 4 babies, how much he loves me just because I'm me and how much I love him just because he's him and how I can't imagine life without him. I said, "Honey, I'm going to cry right now, okay?" and he said, "Okay," And I climbed over to his bench and reached my arms around his neck and he reached around mine and we swayed with the music and just loved each other while the men sang that song for us...IN THE GENTLE, BREEZY, NIGHT IN HAWAII. Can you stand it?
I didn't want to write this to make you puke, guys. I wanted to write this to tell you that we have been through a lot in our marriage. We have had times of mourning and times of "being in the valley" and it is not fun. But let me tell you, NOW that God is leading us through a time of dancing, we are cherishing every second and will NOT take it for granted. One, because we know this will not last (Hello, foster system) and two, because our friends can not all be in this place with us. But if anyone is out there in blog land reading my ramblings and you are in a valley time, please be encouraged. Know that this period will not last forever, that God will get you through your situation somehow, and try to look for the LITTLE ways in your days that you can dance.

Anybody got a coconut bra to loan out?

2008-11-24T18:06:00.000-08:00

So the day started out as a giant stress ball. I came down stairs to find Mike on the phone, his eyebrows wrinkled, papers spread out on the counter and huffing his breath. You know that sound. The sound you get from your husband when he asks you how long you've been driving the car with the oil light on and you say, "I can't remember." That huff. But before I tell you what was wrong this time, I need to back up...

The way Mike and Darbi work is that Darbi is in charge of all of the fun, the mess and the stress, and Mike is in charge of the logic, the peace and the cleaning up of all of my messes.

On December 5, 1998 we became man and wife and have had quite a ride getting to know each other through life's ups and downs. But if there's one thing we've learned over the last 10 years it is this: WE NEED A VACATION. We want to celebrate our marriage and what we have been through and are currently going through together. We will leave the kids with the grandparents, leave our computers and phones at home and lay on a beach for 6 days somewhere warm next week and we will LOVE IT. But where?

This is where it gets interesting. We consider ourselves "medium" people. We don't buy new cars or designer clothes. We get a lot of our stuff at garage sales and off of craigslist. Mike cuts the boys hair and his own and I get my hair done at a $15 place. We buy furniture at Ikea in the rare event that we DO buy it new, the rest is hand-me-downs. I've always wanted to go to Hawaii some day, but when we decided to go on this vacation we wanted to go to a "medium" kind of place so that we could do something cool with our money later (possibly a missions trip to New Orleans this summer).

Mrs. Fun (that's me!) got on the computer and found a great package deal for Puerta Viarta, Mike said "Book It!" and we were going! Woo hoo!

Then Mr. Logic (that's Mike) woke up this morning. "Hmmm. I wonder what you need to get across the border. " He thought. His huffing? Passports. Do we have them? No. Do we need them? Yep. Can we get them? Yep. But it'll cost us. Three HUNDRED to over one THOUSAND dollars to MAYBE get them in time for the trip. Mrs. Fun started doing a lot more than huffing. Mrs. Fun needed a drink with her Cheerios.

But friends, I don't want to drag you through my whole trip to the health department, Mike on the phone and computer, Blake and me locking ourselves out of the car at his school, sob story of a day. I want to get to the part where Mike called and said, "Guess what?"
"What?"

"I just talked to the travel agent and you know how the cheapest passport would be $300 and we only MIGHT get them in time?"

"Yeah,"

"Well, it's only $267 to switch our tickets to Waikiki, and you don't need a passport in Hawaii!"

One more word friends: ALOHA!!!!!

I got my mixing bowl back...

2008-11-22T00:16:00.000-08:00

For those of you who know me well, one thing is I'm a great procrastinator. I'd rather play legos with my boys than do dishes, or watch 5 episodes of the office instead of folding laundry. Not something I'm proud of. So as far as adoption news goes, the good news is that our packet of paperwork has been sent to the foster agency (yeah!) but the bad news is that it should have only taken a couple of weeks to complete (Note: we got the paperwork in June). Considering the crazy summer and fall we've had, I think the timing has worked out perfectly. However, in order to prepare to add a member to our family and ADD to my responsibilities, I must now re prioritize my to-dos and make sure...REALLY make sure the things that take up time in my life are worth it. We need to be available for whatever foster child God places in our home and I don't want to be busy wasting my time. Got it?

So lets talk about family pets. We get them for our children. Yeah. And they're going to feed them and take care of them every day. Uh huh. So right now in the Johnson household lives Gus the girl cat, Mickey the tree frog, 30 crickets to feed to Mickey the tree frog (yes, they need a separate container, yes they need to also be fed) and thanks to the church carnival, 6 fish: Harry, Gary, Larry, Mary, Joseph and Airport.

I'm afraid to say this because I don't know if CPS checks blogs or not, but my own children are lucky to get a decent lunch on time some days, so you can imagine how often the fish water is clear enough for them to see outside the glass. And when Aunt Kathy comes over, she just gives me "the eyebrows" and says, "Darbi!" She then takes Blake and makes it a FUN project to clean out the fish bowl and feed them and talk to them and tell them about Jesus. (I added that last part to enrich the story).

Here's the thing...In my marital vows nor in discussing the building of a family did I ever promise to clean out three cages, a litterbox and a plethora of food and water dishes (you should SEE a crickets food dish. It's the cutest little thing...) and therefore when they are stinky and cloudy it should not be a reflection on who I am as a mother. Can I hear an amen?

So tonight I put the boys to bed early. Mike is at work so I could have some alone time. I went to check on the frog real quick and he doesn't look so hot. Gary and Airport have already passed away in the last week and I JUST bought 30 crickets. This frog was NOT going to die until he ate all $3 of those little guys. So, I set my freshly made peppermint coffee down, rolled up my sleeves and prepared to clean out frog filth. For an hour and a half I cleaned the frog cage and the cricket cage and all of the tiny parts. I put Mickey in his freshly cleaned home, fed the stinking crickets their yellow goup, and then looked at the fish bowl. Brown stinky water. I can't just leave them. As I walked closer, yep, there was another soldier down...or should I say up? I think it was Airport but I can't be certain. His tattoo was on the other side. And then a voice came from nowhere and said, "flush them all, Darbi. You are downsizing priorities. The fish are unappreciated and the boys will never notice. Besides, you've kept them in your really nice Pampered Chef mixing bowl for over a year now. Don't you want that back? You deserve it." In hindsight I'm pretty sure it was the voice of the devil, but it's too late. I flushed them all. And I got my mixing bowl back. I'm afraid for the morning, or next month when Tyler says, "Where are the fish?" What will I say. I'll tell them they went to see Jesus, but I just don't know if I'll let them know I helped take them there.

Now for the real question...Will I ever use my bowl again for making delicious meals for my family? Not a chance in heck. But I got it back...and I have one less job hanging over my head.

I'm finally a blogger!

2008-06-26T19:29:00.000-07:00

We are beginning the exciting process of adoption, along with living a life full of joy with our two boys. It is finally time for me to start a blog. My favorite things to keep tabs on will be of course the progress we're making for baby Johnson #3, but also the funny things our kids say at just the right time that leave us in stiches. Hopefully this will be somewhat entertaining so that you'll want to come back again and again! Here goes nothing!