Our Hinson Hope

As we first began to dream about this family, we had high hopes. We imagined. We dreamed. We prayed. We knew it would have its challenges, but in spite of everything common sense seemed to be telling us (sometimes through the mouths of others), we planned to put together an uncommon family. The challenges first presented themselves through document difficulties and waiting periods that seemed forever long. We clung to our hopes. We imagined that the waiting would only make us all the more grateful for the outcome. We dreamed about six full chairs around the dinner table; six smiling faces in a family photo; six sets of linked hands in prayer. We prayed away the documents difficulties and the weight of the wait. Then it all became a reality. Those high hopes turned to dashed hopes. Those dining chairs were full...full of complaints. The smiles in the family photo were not genuine- elicited by a desperate father. "Do this for your mother." Prayers became a part of the chore chart. Hope became a thing of the past. We had moved from hope to hard work. And it was just not any fun at all. Days felt like weeks. Weeks felt like months. Months felt like years. And then one day we emerged from the fog, staggering. We were not the same, nor were we better. We were just alive. And we began to see one another more clearly. The evidence of the struggle we had been through was all around us. The casualties lay in shadowy places around our home and in our hearts- the families we were, the individuals we were, the homes we once had, the languages we had spoken, the dreams we had undone. We began the arduous process of burying the dead and creating a life in the broken world around us. It was a new world...to us all. And through the many months of recovery from what felt like a full on war in our home, I never imagined we could hope again. I laughed a little at the title of this blog. Hinson Hope. Ha! Hinson...hope we don't lose our patience today. Hope we don't lose our minds. Hope we don't lose our faith. Hope we can forgive our children for being children- and ourselves for being human. Hope we can make our minds up about what kind of parents we want to be- loving, patient, forgiving...strict, enforcers of a law with no mercy...your best friend...your worst nightmare...the stranger, locked in the master bedroom. Hope we can survive. And one day, I began to think maybe that's what real hope is- not a picture you paint in your head, but a lot of hard work for an outcome you CAN'T see- when many others would choose to walk away. Hope is struggling through the mud ahead when there's dry ground behind you. Hope is holding the sweaty hand of a teenager when all you have to do is let go. Hope is hard. Today, as I spoke with my son, he reached out and held my hand. It wasn't a conversation that required a declaration of emotion. We were just filling one another in on our days. In that moment, I experienced just a touch of hope fulfilled. I imagine that's what heaven will be- complete fulfillment of all our hopes. That's when all the work will be worth it. Then, and only then, will my heart feel settled in the way things are. Day by day, we renew our hope. Day by day, we choose to fight and not to flee. That is our Hinson Hope.

Mother's Day: Plan Z

There are not enough white picket fences for every little girl who dreams of one day becoming a mother. That's always plan A. Never in the history of childhood fantasies has someones daughter dreamed of divorce, visitation or single motherhood. Never has a child abused her dolly or forgotten it even existed. There are no day dreams of drug or alcohol abuse, no imaginings of what it might be like to live in poverty or to be so completely wrapped up in her own pain that she would one day not even hear her baby cry. That's not even plan B. No one would choose to become "that" mother. And yet for millions of young women every where, that will be their reality. And unfortunately, that leaves millions of children born into Plan Z. Plan Z involves a mother who tried, maybe even died trying. Plan Z involves so much regret that the very word has lost it's meaning. It's a state of being that so completely shatters the lives in it's path that they don't even know it's NOT plan A. Good intentions were replaced with survival mechanisms. Dreams were killed by reality. Hope was crushed by despair. The world will often judge this mother. The world that was born into a very different reality will not understand how this woman could have taken such a turn. They will not see her sorrow. They will not feel the ache she feels each time she sees a newborn baby. They will shake their heads and say there is no excuse. They will walk away and not turn back. They will perhaps pray for her "lost" children, but they would never bow their heads in prayer for such a despicable excuse for a mother. Plan Z often involves another mother- a mother from a very different set of circumstances. This mother clings to hope. This mother dares to dream. This mother will be praised by many. She will often hear, "They're so lucky to have you for a mom." And she will know that this was not plan A. She will remember the woman the world will not pray for. She will see her smile in growing faces. She will wonder if the resemblance is strong. She will wish they could share a sofa and a nice cup of tea. This mother would love to tell "that" mother just what her babies are up to. She will never be able to understand the whys of it all, but she will be so grateful for the gift "that" mother gave. Every Mother's Day, there are children who feel a tug in their hearts, an ache in their bones, a glitch in their DNA. There will always be a shadow from plan A that casts over their lives. No matter how great plan Z might turn out, it will never be what should have been. This mother knows that. This mother cannot judge "that" mother. This mother can only cry for the little girl who once dreamed of plan A...who is now living in plan Z.

One Year Later...

Okay...so I haven't been super great at updating this thing. Does it help that I've thought about it? That I've imagined posts? Probably not. The thing is, this being a mom of four boys thing is DRAINING! Even with the boys in school, I find my energy levels fairly low. It's exhausting keeping us with their schedules and continuing to teach piano/voice out of my home in addition to keeping up with the laundry, the cleaning and the cooking. Look, the bottom line is, WE MADE IT! I can hardly believe that a year ago, we began this journey together. So much has changed within that year. We forever lost the family that we were and have changed into a completely new family. Here's a glimpse of what we look like now, one year later.

Ruslan (18), Andrey (14...tomorrow), Levi (12) and Noah (7)

In the Thick of it

No energy to write an essay this morning. We are in the thick of it. Public school for the first time in four years. First time football player from Ukraine. Three boys in soccer. One in LEGO First League. One playing legos. Fifteen students in my home studio. Hubby's taking classes for his doctorate at OU. Translating homework, expectations and emotions. Art commissions for Josh. Mission trip fund raising. Lack of sleep. Loads of prayer. Would appreciate being added to your prayer list. We knew this would not be easy. We were not stupid enough to think otherwise. Would love to be covered in prayer instead of looked at like a freak. Sometimes I think people don't know what to make of us, so they just ignore us altogether. Faith means stepping out on a path you're unsure of, trusting that God will provide. I've never once before in my life stepped out in faith like this. It is not easy and it would be lovely to know that we have a cheering section behind us. Successful moments for sure. Disheartening moments, too. Learning the meaning of the words, "His grace is sufficient." Getting beyond the drama of today and leaning on the hope of tomorrow.

Summer Update

It's Friday the 13th, but I'm not scared. Living with four boys, I've seen it all. Here we are, nearly six months into our new family, and I can say with confidence that the "we" we were is slowly disappearing. Noah used to hesitate when referring to his brothers as his brothers. Yesterday, it rolled off his tongue at the eye doctor. "My brother Andrey likes to play that game." It seemed so natural. So does the arguing. Levi and Andrey got into it last night because one of them said the other was playing "like a girl." The wii fell to the floor, alerting Mom and Dad. "I got this," Josh said as he slid off the bed and into the living room, casually. There used to be a lot of stress whenever an argument would begin because we all didn't know one another too well and we weren't sure what each others reactions would be. Now we are more comfortable to let down our guards and just figure it out. There were only three boys home for the evening as Ruslan was "out with the guys"...again. Having a teenager is new for this family. The first few times he went out I felt like I was holding my breath until he came back. Now it feels routine. I am forever grateful that we have a community who has embraced Ruslan. He is fitting in as I never imagined he could, so early into this adjustment. He finished summer school English and did very well, for a first American classroom experience with NO ESL support. Now, he's working out three mornings a week with the football team. He hopes to be the kicker and possibly a running back. In a week, he'll go on a trip with our youth group to Colorado to climb mountains. I think he may have climbed a bigger mountain than anyone on that trip just by making the decision to join our family. I am so very impressed with him. So very proud. Andrey is having a busy summer, as well. First, he attending a three day basketball clinic at the high school. He wasn't crazy about it, but it got him out of the house. Then, my parents paid for he and Levi to attend a week long soccer camp in Texas. They stayed with Grammy and Grandpa, where Andrey had the chance to get to know them better. Grandparents are such a blessing! After soccer camp, he had one day to rest and then it was off to Camp J.A.M. with Levi and many other kids from our church. He's never one to admit having a good time, but I think he did. He at least enjoyed swimming, which he begs to do every day. Then we took a trip to Texas where they were finally able to meet and get to know my brother Steve and his wife Sarah. I stood there watching Andrey interact with them and the dogs in amazement. Here was this kid who could hardly say hello when first he came to America. Now he is open enough to show his true personality on the first day of our visit. It brings tears to my eyes to know he's feeling that comfortable. Next week, he'll attend Chickasaw language camp with Josh and a few weeks later, he'll have another soccer camp here in Ada, at which Ruslan will be coaching. Levi and Noah have been busy as well with various camps and time with Grandparents. Mom and Dad keep busy getting them to and from all of these opportunities...and cleaning up the messes and typical sibling arguments in between. We have definitely had our moments this summer, as we are all still adjusting. I'm just happy to say that they are fewer and farther between, that we feel more equipped to deal with them now and that we are no longer allowing them to control our emotions. I am so grateful for the progress we have made. God is faithfully guiding us through this thing. That doesn't mean it's easy. We very much need your prayers and encouragement. Thank you to those of you who check on us regularly and include us in your prayers. You have no idea how much it means. We are forever grateful for your support.

There is a Ghost in our House

The journey of adoption requires flexibility...in fact, sometimes I feel like I'm walking through life, bent over backwards. It's like saying hello to what you want while simultaneously saying good-bye to what you had. There is a ghost in our house. A ghost of the family we used to be. And sometimes it haunts me. Four years ago, we made the decision to home school Levi (for many reasons, to varied to mention). It was not something I ever imagined doing...and yet I found myself teaching the third grade...and learning more about my son than I ever knew before. When Noah became school age, I had the honor of hearing him sound out his first words. It was a beautiful experience, watching them learn about the world around them. There were a few rough moments, but overall, it was wonderful to be able to see so much of them. Today was our last day of home school. We have made the decision to put all four boys in public school next year. It's definitely the right decision for our Ukrainian boys...and we feel strongly that it's the right decision for our whole family. The pressure and stress of this adoption has been a lot for me to bare. If it's been difficult on me, a grown up, I cannot imagine how it's felt to the four boys involved. We pray that giving them their own space in the world, away from the constant adjustment to our new family, will help the bonding process at home be less intense. It's just one change we've had to make. One of so many. And I'd be lying if I said I didn't think about how much easier and different it would be if we were still the family we were. But the joys of our triumphant days far outweigh any sadness that lies in our hearts as we learn to bend a little further. The pressure we are feeling now is surely from His hands- the potter, molding the clay. And taking a new shape can be exhausting. But in the end, we hope we look more like Him. About three weeks ago, we turned a corner in a big way. I feel like we're seeing glimmers of hope that this will feel like a real family for all involved one day. Walls are coming down...walls that obstructed the view of who we all really are. When we can truly see one another, it's so much easier to exist together and to learn how to love. It will surely be a long, winding road for us all, but four months into this thing and I feel like I am beginning to see the light. I pray that the flexibility we are committing to now will pay off big time in the lives of our boys down the road. I pray that we are all learning what real family is and that our boys are learning what a real father is. I pray that God will use this winding road to lead us all to our eternal home, encouraging others along the way. I pray for the strength to say good-bye to the family we were...and the weakness to become the family He wants us to be.

Family Tree

Our family tree has changed a little this year. I'm grateful for the new branches. Andrey drew this family tree as an assignment for school. He let me keep it in exchange for an apple. He loves apples. He would eat 10 a day, if we'd let him. He had already had his one apple for the day. But he's a smart boy and knows how to strike a deal. I still think I got the better end of that deal, but he was happy. The new family photo was taken on Easter in my in-laws home. Getting four boys to all smile (with no goofy faces) was quite a task. I'm grateful that my husband was up for the challenge. "Smile- or no allowance this week!" Say cheese!