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Happy 2nd Birthday my Grace Yuelan.  How far you've come in the 7 months that you have been with us.  How far we've come in becoming your own.  I love that mouth open wide.  It represents you well.  No palate hanging down anymore, but raised and sealed.  Fully extended mouth despite some tightness around that lip scar.  I love those pig tails that hold your curly hair.  You are special and unique and really really cute.  I love that bent knee that speaks of your spunk and life.
So many recent firsts...talking to the monkeys at the zoo and becoming a "predator" to any other animal encountered with a loud roar and flailing arms.  Swimming in a pool, feet kicking and splashing like a professional, although likely her very first experience.  Bonding with a "lovey" for the first time, holding Will's old monkey, gifted to her the night before the hospital by her little big brother.  Carries it with her wherever she goes and insists that it be given bedtime milk too.  Sleeping through the night.  Hysterical giggles after dinner when with one touch of her finger, her siblings fall to the ground, beaten by her super hero strength.  Sea World in the rain, picnics in the park, the dentist, and the recognition of friends.  Kisses goodnight to the entire family, and a kiss for the Batman logo on Dad's shirt.  Just because she knew it was somehow really funny.

So today sweet girl on your first birthday with us, we will do the things that you love.  We will dance and spin and swing and read and sing.  We will let you tell us what to do.  We will cuddle and play puppets.  We will laugh and eat pink cupcakes.  Oh, and William insists that we eat french fries because you love them.

And we love you.  So we probably will.

God and Bruce Lee

I am writing it all down so I can tell her someday in the words of one of my favorite songs, that it "looked like the evil side would win," but it was "LOVE that wrote the play."  And in this darkness LOVE will show the way...

After Mother's Day, things started to look a little worse for Grace.  We had sounded the call for healing and that palate seemed to just sit lower in her little mouth to spite us, on her tongue for most of the days beginning the week.  Just the sheer uncomfortable nature of her mouth being full of something just barely attached was good reason as to why she was completely miserable, crying and frustrated all day long.   I would be too.  It was heartbreaking and we couldn't do anything to help.  Add to that, her inability to eat and drink enough with that happening and we found ourselves exhausted and confused about what direction to take come Tuesday.  A dear friend stopped by that day, and I found myself grieving the entire thing; crying and certainly not sounding very eloquent or theological at all.  It had become very simple for me in the chaos.  I wanted Grace to heal.  I knew God is good and that He loves me and loves her and loves us but I don't quite understand.  I was  honestly being tossed about in that divine mystery of a windstorm of how Satan prowls around ready to devour and a Sovereign God who sees and allows, and the working of things to good and sifting like wheat and the testing and Job and David crying out and what we are really battling and the Great Physician and for some tearful hours that day, I was spinning a bit and in a crisis of how to pray about it.  Ultimately, I knew it would be ok somehow and someway, but it was as if I was spinning and could see the eye of the storm and had the capacity to jump to it when ready.  But the spinning was fast and I knew I could miss it and needed to land soft and center.  Because the eye held peace and I knew I just wasn't there yet.

Heap into that windstorm the effects of adoption.  I'll speak honestly here because I don't really know how else to explain it.  My hope is that it will encourage and link arms with a stranger or friend who is about to be there or is in it currently.  In that spinning I carried tremendous guilt.  Guilty that we had paid Grace's ransom only to bring her here to encounter not one surgery complication but now two.  Nothing had gone right for her and the result was pain.  Physical pain and emotional pain that reintroduced trauma back in (don't worry, we've instructed it to go).  Guilt that we were messing her up and our other children up and that I could possibly be looking at months logged into the hospital and a summer gone by.  Guilt and grief as I had "lost" some summers a time back when I couldn't stand well and invented every creative game of bubbles and paint on a fence and races and water all from the masqueraded comfort of a lawn chair.  Tremendous pain but smiling for the sake of children.  Trying to do that again this past week and wondering what things would look like.  An all too familiar pang in my heart that I had no intention of revisiting.  And that's when it happened.  When I started to see it for what it was.  Contrary to popular belief, I don't always see it this way.  Sometimes a hang nail is just a hang nail and not a hellish attack on the Providence of God in my life.  Attached to that pang though were some old acquaintances called fear and bitterness that disguise themselves as the comfort of friends.  They are "friends" that I don't care to have anymore and have kicked to the curb in times past.  What came with them was that stench of the enemy that I can smell a mile away.  The adversary, the thief.  Hand always overplayed, guilt and condemnation by the bucket full and in the next two days, an annoying opposition to anything good that we experienced.  In that spinning sort of windstorm it was then I could safely drop into the peaceful eye and into the presence of a loving Father and although I wasn't getting big direction or specific answers, I was getting a flicker of a flame expanded and not snuffed out.  When I got really still, that flame still read "Go for it.  Press in.  It's not about what you see.  The battle isn't against her fleshy palate hanging on by a literal thread.  It is unseen.  Stand here.  Stay here.  I've got this.   But, keep praying what I've already done."

So, we drove that afternoon to the hospital where Grace was admitted for dehydration and was pumped full of good IV fluids for two days to help with her inability to take anything in.  And we danced and sang and begged and tricked and tried anything to get her to take fluids by mouth.  A fight and a battle for sure.  Our clothes reeked of Pediasure and there is puree on blankets and all over furniture as we simply tried to get her to be nourished.  A little more success each day by the milliliter or teaspoon but something.  Cory took over one night so I could sleep at home and get my first 7 hours of sleep in I don't remember when.  A little time with the big kids and back at dawn the next morning.

Back at dawn with my Bruce Lee t shirt on.  A shirt that Cory gave me this Christmas because we think Grace has Bruce Lee hair.  Don't get me wrong, it is beautiful and curly and really unique.  But in the bed head of the morning it is Bruce Lee.  Sort of like when her mom sleeps on wet hair.  Big and powerful.  So I came back with a little sleep and a little fight left and faith the size of a pumpkin seed or two.  I've never seen a mustard seed but when I measured my faith for a miracle that morning, it was pumpkin seed sized and although it felt very small compared to the pumpkin sized faith I carry for other people, I knew it was enough.  It had rooted down some hope and fight that were distracted the day or two before.  So I bribed Grace with the promise of sitting with me and watching cartoons hooked up to machines and all and it worked.  God has been really good at providing little epiphanies of how to meet Grace where she is.  Some little "g" grace for tough moments.  This was one.  I had been kicked and hit and screamed and yelled at by my frightened daughter and she downed the can of pediasure and looked and felt content.  Similar to earlier in the week when she downed a smoothie drink and baby food puree at Target in the cart before we paid for it.  The thrill of "breaking the rules" seemed to do the trick.  I can't take credit though...it was God who knows her and knew she would like the control and excitement where she has none right now.  To pick off shelves and eat it in the store was a pretty big deal and the only food we got in her that entire day before waving the white flag and traveling to the hospital.

So, some success.  But here is the most amazing.  That little palate that had landed on her tongue was raising.  Not so low anymore.  Actually kind of high during parts of the day.  I can tell you honestly that we didn't believe it to be possible.  It looked wrecked.  But, not so much anymore.  It was pink and alive and fitting like a puzzle piece where it should or close to it, like when you find the spot that the puzzle piece should fit and just haven't set it right yet.  In a 30 year career of one of the consulting surgeons, he had only seen this happen eight times.  How about those odds for our little statistical anomaly?  Our surgeon had never seen it.  Another surgeon said he had seen it before, although not often and it heals on its own every time.    The night prior, we had a renewed sense of hope and direction and I remember that Cory and I had prayed for her on each side of that hospital crib.   I was praying resurrection life over her palate (because doesn't that cover it?).  I stole that prayer from a friend and liked it so much that I have added it to my arsenal.  Cory, who I had watched with his head in his hands feel so disappointed at the horrific outcome, was praying raising and sealing and healing with the twinkle back in his eye and he continued to pray in that manner every hour that night when she would wake up confused and upset.  Over and over again.  And we were seeing it.  After about 24 hours, we agree with great joy that her palate is raised.  It just needs to seal now.  We believe it will.

In the last 24 hours, Grace has almost completely turned around.  While eating even just liquids and puree hurts, she is trying more and more.  A friend brought over a beautiful mexican dinner and as we ooohed and awed over the presentation, Grace was pointing and saying "more."  After a week of not eating, she requested and devoured TWO bowls of refried beans thinned out with sour cream and water.  When I called this friend to thank her and tell her of the joy my mama's heart felt seeing my baby eat, she informed me that she had prayed over that food all day long.  That it would be used for God's glory.  It is now known as the anointed refried beans and just confirms that Grace belongs with us and in San Antonio!

Something changed when the Bruce Lee t shirt came on.  Not in a crazy superstitious way but in the way that the natural always reflects the heavenly.  I grew up dozing on a couch on Sunday afternoons when football or golf wasn't on, occasionally seeing a Bruce Lee film that my Dad and brother were watching.  My husband and oldest son can get pulled in too.  The skill and training and work and effort look fluid and well, effortless when you watch him fight.  It is almost like dancing.  We have pondered this week if the Lord is not only raising and sealing Grace's palate, but if He is raising and sealing her in  Him.  Raising and sealing us even more.  Training us in the battle with a great purpose but so it looks effortless next time.  Like  dancing.  It can't look like that without something in the past stretching us towards the next glory.  Not without a deposit of faith when you can't see the outcome.  Not without some bruises or bumps along the way.  Grace starts eating, and my sweet sister in law gets hit with the stomach bug plague at home as she is caring for our older children.  Grace's palate starts to raise and her nose revision stitches fail.  Surgical Complication number three.  We finally get home from the hospital and our air conditioning breaks for 24 hours in 97 degree Texas heat.  Backfist, Front kick, Shadowless kick.  Like a dance.  "And yet I will still Praise you Lord" said outloud to whoever was listening as I bathed a weary baby for the first time in 3 days.  "Really Lord?" said to Him not in a backtalk way, but in a real kind of way, like, "Are you seeing this?  I know you are.  Quite the dance, quite the battle we are in.  Glad we're on your team."  Kung fu moves have styles and names that are expressive and symbolic.  Let me tell you some that we used this past week.  When we were needy, Yahweh-Yireh, the Lord provides.  For relief for a hurting child, Yahweh-Rophi, the Lord who heals.  When there is victory in the battle, Yahweh-Nissi, the Lord our banner.  When the windstorm is spinning and you drop to the soft center, Yahweh-Shalom, the Lord is peace.  And my very favorite move, Yahweh-Shammah, the Lord who is there.

Bruce Lee could take out entire factories of evil workers in a matter of minutes.  I'm sure there will be those who are offended at my mention of him and his cinematic gems in the midst of a post about God, but sometimes wasn't Bruce sort of smiling or had a cocky grin in the process of liberation?  Quite the battle, quite the dance, but He who sits in the heavens laughs.  A joyful confidence.  Because He's already won.  He has won it for Grace.

And for us.  So we will just keep on kung fu fighting.

Sweet little Grace asleep in the hospital bed

Safe with Dad

I was napping in the bed with her and in her sleep that little leg plopped itself on top of mine.  She slept like that another whole hour.  I loved it.

Really wanted to push the bed buttons.  Wasn't allowed to call the nurse station.   So she drifted off to sleep making the monkey do it.

Finally home to a house without AC.  But you still get a bath and get to yell into the fans so it's all good.

A Different Kind of Mother's Day

(I realize that I have been a slacker of a blogger.  Life has been full and rich and good and I haven't taken the time.  I will go back and fill in with fun pictures and updates later on.  I tend to write when I NEED to write and this is one of those nights.  Grace's lip, although needing a revision in about a year, did heal and we are thankful and have just lived life since!  This post deals with her palate repair, that was done earlier this week on May 7th.)



I had a different kind of Mother's Day today.  It is one that I will remember and one that will stand out in the years of flowers and cards.  I woke up this morning with an unusual anguish in my spirit; unusual because it is rare that I feel that way.  I remember feeling it when it looked as though Grace's lip repair would bust wide open with infection.  It did not.  I remember it when I couldn't walk well and the prognosis was grim, but with the help of some metal, I got a second chance on an active life.  I had been up every hour the previous night as Grace struggled and kicked and cried and tried to restlessly sleep.  A response to surgery or painkillers or just agitated in general, her night and our night was rough.  She and I had just had a string of rough nights in the hospital and I am walking that all too familiar "mom fog" that is a combination of adrenaline and hope and protective survival that many new mothers know and I now know is common for mothers who are caring for a hurting child.  The day before, Cory and I noticed that Grace's brand new palate looked as though it was moving and loose.  As the day progressed, we noticed that the one part of the palate was hanging down in her mouth.  That palate that had been so carefully constructed over hours of parents waiting and praying and passing time.  That palate with the "successful outcome" pronounced as the surgeon walked us to her PICU room, where upon just seeing her for a moment, I started crying.  That was my daughter surrounded by doctors and nurses and techs and I couldn't get to her just yet.  My sweet sweet daughter who held my hand in the dark of that room with a swollen tongue that just threatened to obstruct her airway, but never succeeded.  My little fighter who is tough but graceful enough even post surgery to hug and kiss her doctors.  And so this morning, when Cory and I were confident that something was indeed truly wrong and one phone call to the surgeon confirmed it,  the fact that it was Mother's Day only made my emotions that much stronger for my children.  Grieving that my oldest three wanted me to see their cards and homemade gifts and I couldn't just yet, because Grace was crying and agitated and refusing any and all liquids even though she really needed them.  Grieving that I couldn't make it better in that moment for any of them and feeling really helpless.  And that anguish that a mom has when her children are in pain and confused.  And this crazy deep gratitude that the Lord chose me to be their mom.   In the midst of it all.  As helpless and exhausted as I felt, that I still got the job.  It is strange but, I don't know if I have ever been more thankful on Mother's Day.

Now, some reality.  No matter what, I knew and know that it would be ok.  There are some cleft kids who go through 3 palate repairs before it holds.  We know that.  It is rare and we just thought it would be fine this time.  There are mothers who, every holiday, wake up anguished over not being able to make it better.  My day is fleeting and it will get better.  If we have to make a space age palate out of plastic for Grace to wear her entire life, we will do it.  Whatever it takes.  She is ours.  But, this morning, when I spoke to my mom to wish her Happy Mother's Day, I broke.  Sobbed like a girl.  Not because it was terrible, but I heard her voice and how it sounds like mine and how she was mad at the enemy (also sounds like something I would say) for messing with her granddaughter.  I just needed to hear my mom.  I hung up the phone and needed to hear my God.  And I needed Him to hear me.  The sobs turned into prayers without words and the groans that Jesus hears and carries and keeps.  They seemed to say, "Please heal.  I know you do.  She has gone through so much.  Please no more trauma for this sweet girl.  I don't understand why but there is this little place of knowing that you will work it all for good.  Please.  I know you are good in it all."

I love Ann Voskamp's take on eucharisteo.   She took it from the Bible and I have loved that book long.  That thanksgiving that wells up despite it all.  I chose to be there this week.  Please know, it was a decision.  Even this morning.  I was thankful in the sobbing that God was safe to sob too.  That He knew.  That even in my lack of understanding, I trust that He knows.  And cares.  And loves.  I was thankful that I married a man who was praying the Word of God over my daughter.  That the same God that raises from the dead and seals with the Holy Spirit  would raise and seal Grace's palate.  Those are fighting words.  Big time.  No matter what, we trust God but I will camp with that faith regardless of the outcome anytime.  I like how he is betting and WHO he is betting on.  So much so that I'll put it in a blog not knowing how things will turn out because the deposit of faith is so much better and richer and more fun than the cavern of emptiness without.

So, we drove down the highway with our little girl to meet our surgeon on a Sunday.  I was thankful as we drove by the restaurants that I wasn't waiting in the lines and that a very kind friend and mother was making us food today.  Grace, with half her palate hanging in her mouth (very gross and kind of scary to see...trust us on this one) strode into the hospital with her little walk like she owns the place.  Her "fight" makes me crazy sometimes when she is kicking in anger or agitation about something small but it is that "fight" that keeps her resilient despite the circumstances.  Praise the Lord that we found a water fountain and my little girl who is refusing a lot of liquids, drank and drank because 1. It was fun.  2.  She got to push the button.  3.  It was something new.   Tomorrow a man is coming to our home to install a water fountain for this season.

Our surgeon confirmed what we had seen and that the palate had come apart on a side and in the front. Here is the amazing part.  It should, by the shear mechanism of her tongue, be put in place over the next days and heal and seal on it's own.  I remember when Cory was in medical school and that he would comment that he didn't understand how anyone could doubt God's existence when you look inside the inner workings and intricacies of the human body.  That this dangling palate has the capability and possibility to heal itself is nothing short of miraculous.  I am still trying to figure out how they made her one in the first place!  So we hope.  We hope for the miraculous but hope more in the God of hope who is filling us with all joy and peace as we trust in Him, so that we may overflow with hope.  Would you join us in hoping like that?  If you know my Jesus, would you ask Him to be who He already is and seal and raise her palate into place?

I was reading a devotional tonight to my children and it spoke of hope.  That if you belong to Jesus, there are 3 things you can hope in.
1.  God will turn even the bad things around for your good in the end.
2.  Your good things can't ever be taken away from you.
3.  The best things are yet to come.

So, we are hoping for healing.  Knowing that no matter what, we have Jesus.  Knowing that if I'm to write someday about all of the rare and crazy things that can happen with cleft palate surgery, at least it will have hope.  And maybe some humor too.
I did have a different but very good Mother's Day.  Today I didn't want gifts.  Just time with each child.  I had been at the hospital all week and missed them.  I took Grace for a walk in the stroller around the neighborhood, thankful that she was instructing me on which wildflowers she wanted in her hands along the way.  I "did school" (his choice!) with William and we colored and read and did patterns and it was so sweet.  I took a walk this evening with Carter who filled my ears with fourth grade fun and questions and retelling of tales.  Tomorrow I am planning to steal away my oldest daughter for lunch (she is street smart and knows that by waiting an extra day, she gets a sweet deal!).  I did get a gift and homemade cards, and duct tape vases and grocery list holders and even an original song with dance moves to end the night.  I was also asked in all seriousness today from one of my children who shall remain nameless, if I could "teach them how to hold their pooters in."  A good skill to have but not one I really know how to teach.  I mean, I have a Masters Degree in Mom but that one threw me and almost caused their aunt to fall out of her chair.
I loved this Mother's Day.  I would have written it differently but I still loved it.  I don't have the pretty picture going to church with kids all clean and dressed today.   They dressed themselves and the clean is questionable and their mom looks exhausted and graying hair that needs colored and a new normal of four children with one with a special need and surgery and therapy and this. is. what. makes. being. a. mother. really. special.  Grateful in the mess.  Joy in the sorrow.  A new memory for this holiday that has some meat on it's bones.  Some depth.  Happy Mothers Day.

Rare

"No, we've never seen this happen before....we're not sure what to do...it just doesn't happen with these cases.....it is rare."

Not the words you want to hear as a parent, sitting in a sterile office, watching your sweet child's every move..staring at a wound and incisions that just won't heal.  In fact, they are infected and it is rare that it happens.  But it happened.

Sweet Grace, despite what looked to be a successful surgery, is battling an infection in her repair that is ripping the incisions and pulling and tugging her beautiful new lip and space between her upper lip and nose.  Nothing has gone right so far, except that her lip is pretty amazing and lovely.  But, her nose collapsed and pinched nostrils much more that the team hoped for and her labored breathing during sleep is something that they have never seen before and now this.  At dinner last night, we thought she turned wrong in her highchair and nicked her incision.  There was gushing blood on the kitchen floor and Cory and I panicked.  We could see what was a deep hole, right above her lip.  It is unlikely the high chair did it, but that the infection was slowly breaking down that part of her repair and it just came undone and split open.  This post is not for the weak of stomach or heart, I'm sorry!  So, her incision has just oozed infection all day and we make daily trips to the hospital to monitor it.

"It is rare."  The Lord has reminded me today of another season that we walked (or limped through) where a rare disease literally ate my left knee and down into my shin and no one could figure it out.  For years.  A slow death of bone on an otherwise healthy mom.  Someday I'll write about it because several have asked me to do so, but the important part tonight is that it was rare.  Unexpected.  Hard to explain.  The calling card of the enemy, because it about took me out in every way, but what the Lord did in the working of good...His calling card...well, it was life changing and it is much better on the other side.  A deposit was made that would not have been had it not happened.  When you can't walk and lose control, and come out on the other side hand in hand with the Lord, control doesn't seem to be an issue anymore.  And it really hasn't been.  It pops up now and then, but overall it got cut out with a blade just like my buttery knee bone was sliced and removed.  The story looks a little different though with a child.  My child.  If I was in control, it wouldn't look this way.  Like any parent, you don't wish bad on yourself, but you would trade places if you could.

But today and this week, we know that the Lord will allow this and use it for many reasons beyond our grasp.  But there is one that resonates currently with both Cory and I.  There is a refinement for us to behold.  To be and to hold.  Thanksgiving despite circumstances, rejoicing in all trials and situations, abiding peace when fear threatens to take over.  Trust in the only ONE worth trusting.  No, we haven't arrived there yet and have failed miserably on several occasions this week, but we are closer to that shore than we've ever been before.  It is OK to grieve with a good Father.  And, we are.  No parent wants to see their child suffer.  We pray that the infection stops and exits, that there is no worse damage that needs further procedures and that her repair does not break down anymore.  We pray she doesn't have to go through any more trauma than necessary.  We grieve that it happened.  What?!  God, aren't we supposed to have some heavenly free pass?  We adopted, we got her, we moved heaven and earth.  She is special needs as it is..doesn't that exempt us somehow?  Shouldn't all surgeries be smooth?  Hasn't she earned that right?

I came home from the hospital today around lunch time and saw the news where the leader of North Korea sent America some sort of twisted hallmark card.  I didn't watch it but felt the Lord saying, "What that leader just sent to America, is what infection looks like.  The same kind that is threatening to tear down your baby's incisions, wants to seep in and bring fear and hate and destruction to the world.  That is never my work.   Aren't you glad you have me?  Aren't you glad I am Master of you and Grace?  Don't you wish he had me?  (insert picture of North Korean leader) Wouldn't things look different?

What is happening this week is rare.  I don't fully understand it or what the outcome or ramifications are going to be.  I do know this with all my heart.  We serve a rare God.  The only one from any study that I've done that conquered death and took our place so we could be near His perfect Holiness.  So we could look like our Father, get to Him and be sons and daughters.  Not because of anything we did or do or didn't do.  All because of what He did.  He sets the table for us and invites us there.  That is rare.  The rarest thing of all.  If I chose too, I can set this week up next to that and know that it is going to be OK.  That His great love for us is enough.

Our sweet Grace, despite current events, is still her beautiful self...waving at everyone in the hospital and placing stickers on my behind as I answered phone calls today, as if to say, "I am really over all of the hooplah about my face... can we just get into some things that we shouldn't be?"  After Grace went to sleep tonight (here's hoping for night #2 of good sleep thanks to prayer and breathe right strips!) we had a talk with our big kids, letting them share their thoughts and questions and honest little hearts about this whole situation.  They love her and are worried and think the scar is really gross with what looks like snot pouring out and wish she wouldn't cry so much but she is worth it.  We prayed and apologized for the places where we didn't do it as well as we could have this week and everyone went off to bed.  And Cory and I spoke about the weights we carry that aren't ours to hold in this.  As a surgeon, Cory's burden is heavy.  What he knows and how he watches Grace's care is indicative to him.  Terribly hard.  The burdens that I carry (and didn't even know were there until a dear friend showed up at my house to pray with me today) are the pressure to walk this out well. To meet all four children's needs in pinterest/sally clarkson/mrs. cleaver fashion and do it smiling and impeccably groomed.  What was rare was me driving down the interstate in my pajama pants this morning to pass Grace to Cory because her wound was opening worse and seeping.  Even more rare was me showing up to the hospital without a stitch of makeup or hair combed and deciding to keep it that way all day.  I have discovered that this produces results!  If I look like this, it must be bad! :)

Those aren't my burdens to carry...the pressure and guilt if not suffering perfectly...they are false and not from the Lord.  The condemnation is not from Him either.  Sometime in the last few weeks, I was standing at the kitchen sink and telling the Lord who felt near and close, that "I am a bad mom today."  His response was quick.  "Yes, but you are a bad mom today but you love me.  And, I love you more than you love yourself and I love your children more than you do.  And with that, you are going to be just fine."  And I laughed in relief.  His mercy is new.  It is rare that the creator of the Universe would want to commune like that.  I know of no other god who can do that.  Be that immense and that huge and speak so personally.  So, I trust Him in this, despite not knowing the outcome.  He is worthy to be trusted and worthy to be praised in the midst.

I have thought about Superman today too.  I have stared at those incisions on Grace like I had laser beams that could come out of my eyes.  Watching for infection to spread, for pieces to fall apart or disconnect.  I wish I had the laser beam eyes...just fix everything with a glance.  If I concentrate really hard, it could just heal!  I know Jesus can do that.  I'm asking Him to do so.  I don't know of anyone who has that gifting...laser beam healing eyes...but if you do, I would like to have it right now!   You can come and pray that gifting for me as we could use it! :)  And, I would totally be in with the 4 year old superhero crowd.

My favorite thing that Grace and I did today was meticulously stack and count duplos and place them in a plastic bin.  We did this over and over...I think she is like her mom in that it was a soothing and therapeutic thing to see success that easily and order in what has felt chaotic.  She is learning to count and we placed them quietly and carefully in the bin.  But here was the fun part.  The biblical part I believe.  Once the duplos were in, I shook the bin like a crazy woman and we both screamed in shock and delight as they flew all over the room.  Then we picked them up and did it over and over again.  I saw and heard her cackle with glee...something we had not heard in a while.  A big smile creeping over her tight and infected mouth.  Giggle upon giggle.  Joy in the trial.  Rejoicing in the suffering.
I want to camp there no matter what tomorrow holds.  I don't want it to be rare to land there.  I want it to be rare not to.

Please pray for our amazing Grace.  Thank you for the calls and emails and texts and surprise meatloaf and playdates.  And thanks for the prayers...we know the One who hears them.  And He is always good.

Grace's Lip Repair and other new things

First, a disclaimer.  My last post was indeed my "favorite things."  Not, "this is how things always look at my home" post or "every moment of Christmas looks like this."  I had so many nice phone calls and emails and comments that I just wanted to be very clear.  On a blog, you can put your favorite things if you want.  This is not how it always plays out.  I was about to be invited to speak at a Homeschool Convention because those pictures and posts and poems look so organized!  (Not really.  That is a shout out to my homeschool mom friends.  Even on my favorite things post, I have not arrived to your level! :)  )  So, to keep it real, please know that there were Christmas time outs for the older three and a couple "time ins" for the newest addition, AND I am pretty sure that Cory threatened to cancel Christmas at least once.  It is another holiday tradition that I look forward to.  The annual threat of demolishing Christmas.  And just for good measure, here is a picture of NOT one of my favorite things.

Four children are no joke.  Neither is the laundry they produce.  If you can't find me, I've been swallowed up by the black hole of never-ending laundry.

So, some new things in the new year that are fun...

Everything is better with a visit from Palpa!  The new year brought a much anticipated visit from Cory's Dad which was so much fun!

Palpa's visit also prompted Will to take off his training wheels and burn rubber on a new bike.   Palpa and Will went and picked it out.  He learned fast and is breaking hearts left and right on his "Blue Thunder."

There are so many captions I could pick for this picture, but I'm going to go with, "Duke.  Represent.  Or get off my driveway."

Just beautiful.  This is how Grace looked before surgery.  There is a nasoalveolar molding that Grace wore in her mouth, covering her teeth where her palette should be.  It also went into her nostrils to help prepare her for the lip repair.  It moved gum lines and teeth center, while keeping the nose from collapsing.  She wore this for 6 weeks, along with the taping, that stretched her skin around her lip and nose area so that the repair could be made with plenty of skin to use.  No one thought she would keep all of this in, but she did.  It really worked and really helped her outcome.

This is Grace a day or two before surgery without the tape on.

If you have to wear all this stuff on your face, you can definitely look stylish doing so.    She is so girly and loves bows and shoes and makeup (stealing her mom's makeup and attempting to put it on and rub it in the carpet).

If you're going to have surgery, a first trip to Krispy Kreme is a good way to celebrate.   Grace gave it 2 glazed thumbs up!

Up close shot.  We are constantly amazed at how willingly she let us pull out the retainer and tape and clean it and reapply every night with more tape and surgical glue.  Never moved or tried to take it off.  Sweet girl.

Way too early and just a bit giggly on the morning of surgery.

This is Grace the morning of her lip repair surgery.  We had to wake up at 4 am so she was a little tired, but so very sweet.  She let us cuddle her and sing to her.  I will never know if she knew what was going to happen, but she was very clearly ours and so loving.  It was such a wonderful gift.

She looked very cute in the Looney Tunes pjs and started to act a little looney tunes when they brought her a nice "cocktail" right before they took her from us.  We are thankful that she won't remember that part.

After surgery that evening.  Grace and Mom prepare to settle in for the night.

Look at that happy face.  Traumatized by every doctor or staff who walked in our recovery room EXCEPT when her brothers and sister showed up.  She squealed in delight!!  She was jabbering away and pointing to all the cool buttons on her space age crib.  They sang songs for her and Cory and I stood back and watched with thanksgiving.  We are family.  

Four days home.  Outside with big brother William getting some fresh air.

So, Grace's first surgery went very well.  Her recovery has been rough in that she is having trouble sleeping due to some "fight or flight" old habits coming back from the experience of all of this surgery and doctors and strangeness and getting used to a new way of breathing while asleep.  Grace, Cory and I have averaged 3 hours of sleep each night this week as Grace easily wakes up uncomfortable and with a temporary sleep apnea response to a new nose and lip.  We don't think she is in much pain anymore, but likely sore and stiff.  I will post more up close "before and after" shots in the next post, but am too tired to line them up the way I want and the man with the answers is sound asleep on the couch.  So, those can wait a few days more!  We are trying to document each day with a picture (thanks Amanda!) so we can see the progress, which I will share soon!  She should feel much better in a week or two and the dramatic difference in her lip and nose will be noticeable in a couple of months, although we are pretty amazed already.  Plastic surgery is such a phenomenal common grace, especially for little children.  That Grace can already say new sounds and blow bubbles and have a sucking reflex that we hope to try with a straw soon is just such a gift.
Honestly, we miss that sweet little cleft lip face that we fell in love with...we all have adjusted to a new look on this girl we love and it took some getting used to.  I know it sounds weird, but we loved her as she was.  And, we love her now as we are starting to see glimpses of our Grace come back as the swelling goes down and a little smile starts to try and creep in, despite a very sore lip.  Tonight she was dancing and giggling and her little exhausted eyes lit up like we know and love.



Before I close this out tonight...
Two last pictures....
Right before Grace's surgery, Claire and Cory had a date to the movies.
1.  The only man that will be kissing Claire in the movies for quite some time.
2.  The only man that she will be kissing for quite some time.  In the movies.  Out of the movies.
3.  Super cute pics and so glad my daughters have a Dad like this.

A Few of My Favorite Things

Christmas Eve 2012

These four are my favorites!  Cory noticed last night how the three blondies all have their little protective hands on their new sister.  She is so loved (and likely a little over stimulated :), but loved nonetheless!)

So, I took a little break from blogging for the holidays.  It has been both a busy and restful time and while I often wanted to sit down and write, sleep beckoned or a Christmas movie with my crew or Christmas cookies or some combination of it all!  Thank you to Cristen C. and Erica G. for requesting that I step back in.  Such a nice compliment....

Some more favorites to share...

Sweet William on the morning of his very first preschool Christmas music program.  

I love this picture.  First of all, Grace can rock the cleft lip.  So beautiful and cute even with that defect that we really don't see anymore.  And so happy.  She was playing with the leaves and loving her time outside.

Orphan no more.

This is Carter at his class Christmas party with his proud papa.  Today Carter and I sat and did a 200 piece puzzle.    While my heart hurts a little every time I catch glimpses of the young man he is becoming, I do love those moments when we are just friends.  Doing a puzzle.  And he is old enough to be thankful in the moment which is such a blessing to a mom's heart.  

This was a Sunday night a couple of days before Christmas.  The kids were still dressed up from church and we all decided to go to the mall.  We didn't need to buy any gifts but wanted to go see the lights and people and hustle and bustle, but stress free and with joy and fun.  And cheeseburgers.  We have a thing for cheeseburgers.  Cheeseburgers at Christmastime with music playing....let's just say that the restaurant got a lot of Barnett food inhaling/singing and dancing.  We like to bring the cheer.

I loved this night.  One of our favorite traditions is Christmas cookie making.  Homemade dough and homemade icing and a tripled recipe that has mounds of dough in the fridge for the duration of the holidays.  Grace was all in and is now a big fan of her family tradition!

Will and his buddy as cows in the nativity.  Really cute cows.

Grace in her Christmas nightgown standing on the dining room table touching the ornaments and jingle bell hanging from the light.  Big fun.

This girl is so cool.  Like her big sister, she can wear the tennis shoes and fleece and look amazing.

Grace's favorite Christmas present.  It sings and talks.  Totally obnoxious but every little girl needs a pink and purple pony.

I'm pretty sure that the drool was in response to her yelling some version of "YEE-HAH!"

This was so fun...cranberry cherry pie that smelled like Christmas.

Because, why not put stars on top?

Cory led us in starting a new tradition this year; writing a poem to Jesus or in His honor.  This was definitely one of my favorite things this Christmas.  We had full and amazed hearts in hearing what our children wrote.  Their poems were hands down better than their parent's poems.  

Not Like You by Claire Barnett

On Christmas the songs are sweet. 

But not as sweet as you.  

On Christmas it's joyful.  

But not as joyful as you.  

On Christmas it's fun.  But not as fun as you.  You're nice and good.  You're great!  

On Christmas it's great.  

But not as great as you.  

On Christmas it is wonderful.  

But not as wonderful as you.  There's candy and gifts.  But they're not as good as you.  If it's nice, you're nicer.  If it's good, you're gooder.  If it's great, you're greater.  You're awesome!  I love you!

Untitled Acrostic by Carter Barnett

J ohn, one of Jesus' disciples

E verlasting you are

S in He took away

U niverse in His hands

S ad, He took away

C ross, He died on

H appiness, He gave

R ighteousness, right with God

I Am is one of His names

S tephen, died for His glory

T emple, you told to take it down

William drew a cross for his poem and on each four sides wrote Baby, God, Joy and Worship.  He drew faces to accompany "Baby" and "God."  What I marveled at about Will's poem is that one of the things that trips people up about Jesus being fully God but coming as a human baby didn't really seem to bother this four year old.  It is what it is and causes him to have joy and worship.  

Please let me have faith like a child.  

Like Straw by Jen

There was once a time I thought that I would like to be the star

That shed the light and showed the way to where you laid your head.

To shine on you, the promised babe.

Or an angel or a shepherd or a lamb who all bowed low

But it doesn't seem low enough.  Or close enough.  To you, the promised babe.

For I am much more simple now, like straw.

I know that I am dry and cracked unless I'm near to you.  Nearer still.

Yet that hay seemed like the softest place where you could rest your head.  

It was the nearest place to you, yet much less than a kingly bed.

Where you first were cradled; the nearest to your baby sighs.  

I would have loved to have been the hay.

There was a time I thought that I would like to be sweet Mary.  

But I know her mother's heart could scarcely hold the promise, the destiny, the resounding joy and pain that was birthed on that night.

I see dimly through a mirror

the secrets that she kept, the mystery too beautiful and vast for spoken words.

She held and kissed her promised babe for it was all that she could do.

Yes, I think that I should be the straw.

Cut off, tossed away, but closest to you.

I wonder if it had new life - if where you laid your head breathed holy air into what was lost and sheathed from roots.  

Holy air that made a lowly bed a place instead for divine yet human slumber.  Baby slumber with heaven looking on.

Yes, I think that I'd like to have been the straw.

and Cory's poem....one of my favorite things as well....

Untitled by Cory
Darkness shrouds this silent night, stolen affection and a guilt-stained conscience hide the light.
A coronation is held in dirt and obscurity.

Heaven waits in constrained anticipation as time and eternity nod in agreement and the secret is finally shared.
Holiness rests with the scraps and the dung.

Silence can no longer restrain the Joy unspeakable!
Eternal wealth gifted, exchanged for poverty and the wisdom of man is laughed away.

Immanuel!

I LOVE this mantle of stockings all in a row
the dark haired girl with the big red bow,
her elder sister in beauty and light
the brave little boy near to love and to fight
and the older one beyond his years...
my glad tidings of comfort and joy.