Category: Family

And Then There Were Five

For many years the Peace Corps ran television ads. At the end of these ads a deep, male voice would intone the slogan, “The toughest job you’ll ever love.” I believe the same could be said about parenting. Perhaps, even more so for foster parents. A phone call can change your life in a matter of moments.

For instance, Amanda and I got a call this past Friday from DCFS. We were informed that a two-year-old girl needed placement. As you might know, we just adopted a foster child in March. We are also fostering a two-year-old boy. Needless to say, we never have a dull moment in our house. Despite this, we’d not change a thing. Our two boys bring us so much joy and laughter.

The little girl we just welcomed has been rather timid. She will not let Amanda out of her sight. However, since Friday she has slowly started to warm up to me and the boys. One very special part of this story, is that she is a half-sibling to our four year old.

My days have been enriched by having these young lives join our family. They teach me daily lessons. Likewise, they help me to be more patient. They even make me cry at times, with what they do and say. For example, Hudson, our four year old, likes to sing a song when we are headed home from an event. The song, goes, “Here we go to Hudson’s house to Hudson’s house, to Hudson’s house. Here we go to Hudson’s house, to Hudson’s house today.” This is a song his grandma has taught him.

One day I substituted “Daddy’s House” for “Hudson’s House” and Hudson promptly told me it was his house. Since then we have had a few more discussions about the ownership of our house. He has told me that “Jesus didn’t make me a home.” Apparently, Hudson paid $400.00 cash for “his house.” He also told me that “Jesus made this home just for him.” That is when a tear or two came to my eye. If only he knew just how correct he is about this.

Hudson came to us when he was three days old. From the start, it seemed providential that he would be our’s forever. God answered our prayers and made that so. We pray that our two other little ones stay with us forever as well.

The logistics of having three little ones can be a nightmare. Since saying yes to bringing another child into our lives, we have realized we need a bigger car. However, where God leads, He provides. God has made a home for all of us. We are blessed to share our home with these babies. I am excited for what the future holds for each of them.

In closing, I am thinking about starting a podcast with a fellow, foster father. Would you be interested in listening? Drop me a comment and let me know.

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Letters From a Father to a Son

When my father was in the navy, he would often correspond with my grandfather through letters. Fortunately, my grandfather saved these letters and I have been able to read many of them. They provide insights into my father’s life aboard ship. Likewise, they are snapshots of events that were taking place around the world at the time. For instance, in one letter, the death of a local man is mentioned. This man was killed while serving in the Vietnam War. I believe my dad knew the fallen soldier, as they had been in school together. These are the ties that bind those of us that live in small towns.

This morning I spent a lot of time thinking about these ties. My wife and I adopted a child. On December 29, 2019, Hudson came to us when he was three-days old. His birth parents were unable to properly care for him. We welcomed this little boy into our lives. From the very beginning he was our child. We love him as if he is our flesh and blood. His enthusiam for life is both refreshing and exhausting.

Hudson is a boy after my own heart. He loves cars and trucks, watching tv, and playing outside. I cannot wait to share experiences with him as he grows and matures. I want to take him to his first baseball game. Hopefully, I will have more time with him than I did with my own father. I want him to know who I am while I am here. He is my son and I am proud to be his father. He may only be four years old, but I know he has the potential to do great things. I will be here to encourage him as best I can. My hope is that he grows up to respect me as my father respected his father.

It was a blessing to Amanda and I to have both of our families with us this morning as Hudson legally became our son. I wish my father could have been there. I know he would have been proud. However, a piece of him was there as he was not far from my mind. It is often said that the “Lord works in mysterious ways.” Hudson, I believe is a gift from God.

His story was already beginning to be told in those letters between my father and grandfather. For you see, the fallen soldier mentioned in those letters, was Hudson’s great uncle. The letters from a father to a son written in the 1960’s live on today through my son.

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Air

When I was in college I took a music appreciation class. I’ve always loved music. This class gave me an opportunity to explore various genres of music. For instance, we listened to quite a lot of classical music. Through this experience I gained an appreciation for the classical composer, Johann Sebastian Bach. One piece in particular of his that I enjoy is “Air on the G String.”

I heard this particular piece a couple of weeks ago. Since that day “air” is something that has taken on a quite a particular significance. That same day Our Little Fighter was airlifted from our local hospital to one over an hour away. He has a virus that led to an infection in his lung. Our house is just a couple of blocks from our local hospital. I heard the helicopter land and take off as it carried Our Little Fighter away into a world of uncertainty.

A brief time after the helicopter departed, an eagle appeared high in the sky. It circled our house a couple of times and then flew north. I was reminded of Isaiah 40:31, “But they who wait for the Lord shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings like eagles; they shall run and not be weary; they shall walk and not faint” (ESV). These are words that I have had to keep coming back to, especially since progress seems to be slow.

This past week, while Amanda has been keeping watch over Our Little Fighter at the hospital, I have been home with Little Boy. He has been keeping me entertained. This morning he put his fork behind my back during breakfast, proceeded to sit back down, then with a puzzled grin asked me where his fork was. Usually we play this game where he hides behind me and then I ask where he has gone. He will peek around my shoulder and say, “here I am.” Apparently, he is building his comedy chops. I love every minute of it.

We will wait upon the Lord, as He is the source of our true strength. No matter where life leads, God is in control. We will keep trusting Him to provide strength in our weariness. He already is doing so through the humor of a little boy. I am just hoping there are no forks in my bed tonight.

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Punching Clouds

There are times when words or phrases I hear will get stuck in my mind. For instance, the other day I was listening to one of my favorite podcasts and the host used the phrase “willful incontinence.” The twelve-year-old boy that is still inside of me got a good laugh from that. My mind instantly began to wonder how I could work that into a blog post. My mission has been accomplished! But seriously, that is not what this post is about.

I’d like to share another phrase that came to me today as I was watching Our Little Fighter play on the floor. He has a little mat that he can lay on that has various age-appropriate toys suspended overhead. One of these items is a cloud with eyes. As I was watching Our Little Fighter, he reached up and “punched” the cloud. He reminded me of a boxer using a punching bag while in training. Furthermore, it reminded me that I too have a few of my own “clouds” that need a good thrashing.

Those of you who read my blog on a regular basis know I have been battling some health problems lately. With these have come some dark mental clouds. However, I am a fighter too.

I just needed a reminder to keep “punching” the clouds. They are small compared to the good things in life. You just need to have a childlike faith. I’m fortunate to have reminders of that on a daily basis.

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Peace of Mind

This week has been particularly challenging. Monday was fine. However, on Tuesday things got turned upside down a bit. Our Little Fighter went to the pediatrician to get some routine immunizations. When I came home from work on Tuesday, he was pretty lethargic and was quite warm.

After feeding him a bottle around 5:30, he turned an ashen gray and started having trouble breathing. Amanda rushed out the door with him and took him to the ER. I followed soon after. Thankfully, my mom was at our house so she could watch Baby Boy.

It was difficult to watch all of the poking and prodding being done to Our Little Fighter, as they began to run tests on him in the ER. I was wishing I could take his place with all of the needle pokes to his tiny body. I now can empathize with my parents who spent countless hours with me in the hospital when I was younger. It is frightening when something is happening over which you have no control.

Once all of the testing was done, acute respiratory distress was the diagnosis. However, we have no idea why it happened. Children born with trisomy 18 can have respiratory problems that can lead to sudden death. Therefore, Our Little Fighter was sent to OSF Children’s Hospital in Peoria for observation on Tuesday night. Fortunately, he was able to come home on Wednesday evening. However, we still don’t have any real answers.

Yesterday, he did fine here at home. Today, he seems to be doing better still. However, there is now always going to be a question as to if and when he will stop breathing again. Pray for peace of mind for all of us.

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The Toothbrush Roadie

Baby Boy has been learning a lot of new skills lately. As his father, I too am learning a few new tricks of the trade. If you’ve ever been to a concert, you certainly have seen a “roadie” at work. They are the individuals who haul pieces of musical equipment to various venues, set it up, and make sure it is ready to go for the night’s performance.

I too am a “roadie,” except I work a little closer to home each night. In fact, I don’t have to leave my bathroom. Baby Boy has a set of toothbrushes. One features Sesame Street’s “Cookie Monster,” while the other has a picture of “Elmo.” It is my job to fine tune these instruments. Essentially, that means putting a dab of training toothpaste on each brush, as he likes to use both each night. Then it is time to watch the maestro at work.

I wish I could say it is like watching a great guitar virtuoso perform a jaw-dropping solo. However, it is more like viewing a road construction crew on an Illinois highway in the dead of summer. Lots of digging around in holes, but not much actual work being done. I think the best part is watching him rinse each brush and toss it back in the drawer. For this is when he usually finds both of Amanda’s brushes and decides he will perform an encore for his audience of one. This is generally done sans toothpaste.

It makes me nervous when he exits the bathroom while eyeing the toilet brush. I begin to wondering if he thinks he should grab that and end the night with a real showstopper. If that happens, I think I’ll take a page out of Jimi Hendrix’s notebook and set fire to all of the brushes in the house.

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Laying My Burden Down

I am scared. Life is full of ups and downs. One moment things seem to be fine. Then the next everything changes. In these moments writing has always been very therapeutic for me. Therefore, I am going to let my fingers do the talking today.

As I mentioned in an earlier post, Amanda and I have taken in a new foster child. This baby was born with the mosaic form of trisomy 18, which means some of his cells have three copies of chromosome 18 while other cells have two copies of chromosome 18. This defect in the cells can lead to a host of developmental problems. No one really knows precisely in which cells the chromosomal abnormalities are present.

Currently, Our Little Fighter’s only visible issue is a cleft lip, which makes feeding a little more difficult. His breathing is also a bit labored. However, he sleeps, poops, and pees just like any other baby. What scares me is that the prognosis for babies born with trisomy 18 is very poor. Only between 10-15% of children with this condition live past their first birthday.

Life has thrown a lot at us since December of 2019. That is when we first became foster parents. Shortly after that the world seemed to come to a standstill due to the COVID-19 pandemic. Through this period my work life has changed a lot. The office where I work has lost two employees to retirement. One transferred to another office. Three others left to pursue other careers. Then, this past Tuesday I found out the manager of my office opted for early retirement and was gone the same day. Needless to say, there is a lot of uncertainty in life at the moment.

I wish I could say I knew how to deal with all of this better. Fortunately, Amanda and I have great support from family and friends. However, the uncertainty remains. We have had our first foster child for over 2.5 years now. To us he is our’s. I love him like I never knew that I could. He is still a ward of the state officially, which scares me more than anything else. Any day he could leave us and be given back to his birth parents.

I have to put all of this in God’s hands. Mine are not big enough to carry this load. He is faithful and just. My head says to trust Him and His will. However, my flesh is so very weak. My middle name is Thomas for good reason. I am filled with doubt on a daily basis.

There is an old spiritual song that has been covered by musicians across several genres of music. I believe I first became aware of the song via a recording done by Mississippi John Hurt, a blues musician who passed away in the mid 1960’s. The song is about laying down the hardships of life now and focusing on the good that is yet to come, especially in a spiritual sense.

This is something I still struggle with on a daily basis. Just when I go to “lay my burden down” I pick it right back up again. Hopefully, one of these days I’ll truly realize my hands are not big enough and I’ll “lay all of my my burdens down.” I do believe better days are ahead.

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Notes from the Road

It has been an eventful week, but we have returned home after a restful vacation in New Jersey. After nearly 2,000 miles and countless hours in the car, we are back where we belong. It always feels great to be home after time away, even after an enjoyable journey. I made a few observations along the way that I would like to share.

First, having been born and raised in Illinois, I am always amazed at how much better things are done in other states. For instance, in Indiana, Ohio, and Pennsylvania, there are several convenient travel plazas along the interstate. Most of these are very clean and have a lot to offer weary travelers. Illinois has very few of these, and the ones that are available are nowhere near as nice. Where does the money go from the tolls that motorists pay when travelling through Illinois?

Second, there are still a lot of good people in the world, despite what you may see on TV. Amanda and I met lots of kind people in New Jersey that were willing to take a few minutes out of their day to talk. Sitting outside a donut shop in downtown Asbury Park, we were greeted by several friendly people just out for a stroll. It costs nothing to be kind, other than a little time.

Third, it is always good to be with family. We may not see eye to eye on everything. Likewise, we may get on each other’s nerves from time to time. However, there is nothing like the love of a family. I am proud to say I have a great family both near and far.

Finally, can we stop putting gumball machines inside every travel plaza across the country? It seems like in every plaza we visited there were gumball machines just inside the door. At each machine stood kids who were much too young begging their parents for a quarter. Whoever came up with this idea must be making millions! On second thought, maybe Illinois could use some of these. Perhaps our schools and other essential services would then be adequately funded. If not at least we’d keep the dentists in business.

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Still Life at 80mph

As I write this I am laying in bed in a hotel room in Florham Park, New Jersey. The TV is on and I am unwinding after a long day of travel. On Tuesday we will head south with my brother and his family to spend a few days along the Jersey Shore. Travelling is something that we love to do, as it is a great way to make memories.

Yesterday, we left home, picked up my mother, who lives just a few blocks away from us. We then headed for Strongsville, Ohio. This is approximately halfway between our home in Illinois and my brother’s house in New Jersey. Memories have already been made, and a third-degree misdemeanor was accidently committed.

After hitting the road around 8 a.m. this morning, we made our way across the eastern side of Ohio. We then entered Pennsylvania, which is actually quite a beautiful state through which to travel. Around noon we stopped for lunch at a Dutch Pantry. This appears to be a franchise popular along I-80 in Pennsylvania.

This chain of restaurants could best be described as Pennsylvania’s version of the Cracker Barrel. In other words, the lobby was filled with chachkies no one needs, and the menu was filled with dishes considered, “homestyle.” However, the silverware was really nice, as one of us (not me) decided to walk out with a set. Sadly, this was not the most heinous crime of the day.

My mother, who is in her 70’s, has a smartphone. Today, as we passed particular landmarks, she would snap photos with the camera on her phone. I’m not sure she was very successful. She takes decent photos with her when she is stationary. However, get her in an SUV going down the highway at 80 mph and things are not so pretty, especially through a bug-spattered windshield. By the time a subject was in focus, we were already passed it by a mile or two. When I asked my mom to send me a few of the shots she took she refused. My suspicion is that she got some nice candids of insects entrails and nothing else.

We travelled over 400 miles today, a restaurant is down one set of silverware, I’m exhausted, but I am still curious to see what the rest of this week brings. Tomorrow, we begin with an Independence Day parade. The pictures should be better, as my mom will be standing still.

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When One Door Closes, Another Opens

One door is closing for our little family. However, another one is opening. We will be leaving our much loved two-story house on Saturday. It was nearly nine years ago that we moved into our current home. This house is cozy and it has a lot of character. Unfortunately, it is not very handicap accessible. Likewise, we have begun to outgrow it. So, for the last month we have been loading our lives into boxes. It is amazing how much stuff can accumulate over the course of several years.

This house holds so many good memories. It was the first house that Amanda and I shared as husband and wife. It has kept us warm in the winter. It has sheltered us from the storms of life. This house has been a retreat from the world around us. It is where we welcomed Baby Boy. He will be two years old in December. He took his first steps through these halls. He spoke his first words in these rooms. When we leave on Saturday, we will unpack our boxes and breathe new life into a much bigger house.

Our new house will be a place to create new memories. Likewise, we plan to add on to our family. Our house will become a home just like our existing house. I am excited to see Baby Boy running through the halls while opening each new door. There are lots of closets, so he will have many new nooks and crannies to explore.

Turning over the keys to this house will bring mixed emotions. However, I can’t wait too see what the future will bring. God has blessed us and I know He will continue to do so. Come and see us sometime. We will leave a light on for you.

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