For better or worse, In sickness and health....

What's love got to do, got to do, with it? What's love, but a second hand emotion. I love me some Tina Turner. But she was flat wrong on this one. Love has everything to do with making a marriage last. Celebrating my 10 year anniversary today is proof of that. These 10 years with my husband have been the best of times and the worst of times. But mostly the best. We celebrated the true unity of his children and me with our marriage in 2005.

Then we grieved pure loss of his job at Wilkes Tool and everything we had worked so hard for. We celebrated God opening that door of loss to show him that he should go back to school and become a barber. We honored God's vision and he went back to school. It was so difficult that most people don't know we had to live separately for a while to even make ends meet. (No folks, we weren't separated, his parent's home and my grandparent's home couldn't accommodate us all). We saw each other most evenings after work and spent the weekends together. Divorce was never an option for us. When we said our vows, we said "For better or for worse, for richer or for poorer, in sickness and in health". We didn't say "Only for better until it gets hard, only while we have a lot of money, and only while we're both healthy". Living separately only lasted about a month until we could get some debts paid off and find a place we could all move into. Jerry completed barber school and worked in Lenoir for a year. Then came time to take another leap of faith with God's guidance and open Hud's Barber Shop. God always provides when you follow his direction and give him the glory. We took foster parent classes soon after and made the decision to adopt. Again seeking God with this decision. My job at Wachovia closed and I became a stay at home mother to our beautiful foster children and God paved the way. Fast forward to 2015 Jerry's business is booming, we have adopted three beautiful children, our other two  gorgeous children are grown, we are stronger than ever in our faith, our marriage has God at the head of it and divorce never was even in the hard times and never will be an option for us. Love is a feeling but it is more a decision. You decide to love. There are days I don't feel like getting up but I do. There are days I get up and I don't feel like "feeling" but I decide to. I'm not saying we have it all figured out, and we certainly aren't perfect, but we haven't had the easiest road and we've made it. If more people would decide to love and decide to stay committed, their outcome might be a little different too.

The first day I met my youngest son.

I was driving home from my mom and dad's house. It was already getting dark and my cell phone rang. It was Melissa Hutchens from DSS giving me one of the best gifts my family would ever receive, it just took a long time to get to the good ending. "Hello". "Beth, we have two boys that need placement. One is 4 months old and one is 3 years old. Can you take them"? I said absolutely without hesitation-some would think I was nuts because we already had a 4 year old girl and 3 year old boy. Here is the baby that we met that evening in November 2012.

He was tiny, he smelled like smoke, his face was covered in eczema and his crystal blue eyes were cloudy, but it was love at first sight. He has double crowns so his hair grew in a baby Mohawk. A good bath for him and his brother and they fit right in. The "twins" as I called them because they were both 3 (Mauri and C) baby powdered the living room, wrote with string cheese on the front door, turned over the Christmas tree, and put all the DVDs inside the TV, just to name a few things. John-Blake continued to grow and thrive and gain weight. He learned to eat baby food and get on a good eating schedule. Saharra was enjoying having a real life baby doll to play with and help with. Then the phone call came that shattered us. "The case has been moved to a different county and they dismissed it. The children are returning home". Devastation ensued. There were many tears. I had said all along with all belief that God would not take away the children I was supposed to adopt and I had the adoption feeling with these two. So why was this happening?! We kept open communication with the mother and father. The mother and children lived with us for two weeks. We shared in his first birthday. We really had shared parenting down pat so that we could continue to be part of their lives. They came and went 5 different times. But each time the mother put more emphasis on us keeping John Blake forever. The struggle was hard on our family. It was hard on our marriage. God wouldn't let me let this family go. In Jerry's heartache, he was done. I wanted to protect my heart too, but God kept telling me to trust Him. This was the difficult part on our marriage. Sometimes God only tells one spouse. It's all part of trusting, obeying, being one with your spouse. Jerry had to trust me as much as I was trusting God. Whew. It was hard. But we made it. 

Jerry received a phone call in September 2013 from the mother that said "I can't do this anymore. Your son is coming home". We went and picked him up that very evening, signed and filed the adoption paperwork and Mr. Johnathon Blake Hudler has never looked back. We still keep up with C. He is well taken care of by his MiMi who we love dearly. Happy 3rd Birthday, my precious son. We've come a long way from the first day we met, but I knew then that it was love at first sight. God has a way of preparing the heart if we listen and trust and hold on and believe. It's not always easy, in fact, it almost never is, but here's proof, that good things come from following God's direction.

Ding Dong, Ding Dong, Wedding bells are ringing.

To start this off, I'm back from my very long hiatus from blogging. I had a very intense surgery, then some minor complications, then we travelled, then the wedding...busy busy. But, we're back by popular demand.

It started out as a very exciting day. May 29th 2015. This was marked as the rehearsal to my younger sister's wedding, but it was also the day my brother's children would meet my children in person for the first time. Now one would think that we would have maybe planned a day ahead for their meeting but we like to really take things by chance and live in the moment. My children and I arrive at the beautiful vineyard full of rocks and water and dirt. Where they are to remain clean and calm. With two boys. And it was hot. Am I painting a clear enough set up here? Then the cousins arrive. My three children and my brother's two scatter like cockroaches. They head down to a pond (no children are obviously allowed there and that's the first place they go). There are too many for us to keep up with. All the authoritative people are in the wedding party and are being called to line up and start practice. Gigi, Pawpaw, Me, Uncle Josh (daddy to two of them) and my children's father had not arrived yet. I called in a panic "Honey, where are you" Jerry: "Are they doing construction work there"? Me: "Um, no. That's John Blake and Bear beating a metal trash can with a stick".  Then I hear Mauri say "Mommy, I'm going to throw up". We did get them still long enough for a photo op. But you can see devil horns are out, mouths are wide open, silly faces are happening and Mauri's head is an armrest.

I finally get my daddy's belt and dare my three children to move until their daddy gets there.

Fast forward until wedding day. Saturday, May 30th, 2015. Again, it was outside, hot and there was red dirt that the kids could play with in their black suits before the wedding. If it were not for Kayla Williams coming along, I would have been more of a nervous wreck than I was. She helped maintain my children while I did bridesmaid duties. 

As I was scrolling through my sister's wedding pictures, Lauren Waterhouse captured this gem right here.

The children from left to right: Saharra is prim and proper, Sanae has her tongue out, Mauri is looking for a place to run, Bear's hair is wild and his eyes closed because John Blake the sneaky snake has pushed him at the perfect moment. 

Not to take away from the wedding with the silliness, it was a gorgeous wedding. I was honored to be a part of my sister's special day. She and Kevin are perfect for each other. I've gotten to see them stay together through college, see the engagement and now the wedding. So to the newly weds, I wish you a life of joy, happiness, good communication and children who are not nearly as wild as your nieces and nephews.

He had to be moved at lunch for comments about his hotdog...

(Que sirens here) This is not a drill, I repeat, this is not a drill! I thought all those years growing up with a brother would prepare me for this moment and NOTHING. Zilch, nada. I got nothing. I stared at the ominous note from the teacher (teachers, if you're reading this, I adore you. Keep doing what you're doing). Usually I am able to write something back to them. "We are addressing the problem, we are working on it", etc. All I could do was put a check mark and my initials to acknowledge I had seen it. Here it is in all of its glory. 

To hear his side of the story, hotdog was not a metaphor. They had hotdogs for lunch and he was, gasp, waving it around and saying "things". That's the only story I got. Quite frankly, that's the only story I want. Raising boys is not for the faint of heart. They're gross. They think body functions are hysterical (neither of these first two statements decline much with age). But they love as hard as they possibly can. Here's the culprit, I mean, precious angel. 

Both of these were faces he was making during family photos.

Now, on to the good things. This is just a phase (hopefully). He didn't learn this at home (we certainly don't behave this way). He's a brilliant child with chestnut brown eyes and I know he's going places. He's testing me to every limit and boundary I have, but that's okay. Mauri has made me break out my "Wise Words for Moms" by Ginger Plowman, more than once. Ginger missed the section on when he decides to "comment about his hotdog". In our home, we do discipline, love, sorry, fun, Bible reading and prayer. Lots of the last two. 

So for now, this Mommy is praying with her little foul-mouthed babe from :

Psalm 19:14 ESV Let the words of my mouth and the meditation of my heart be acceptable in your sight, O Lord, my rock and my redeemer.

Parents tell their children to "be good because (insert fictitious person here; ie, Santa, Easter Bunny, etc) is watching" but I want my children to strive to "be good" because that's how Jesus was and we are called to be imitators of Christ.

God is a God of second chances.

Wait a minute. I wasn't ready. I call a do-over. A mulligan. I want another try. I feel like this almost on a daily basis. In one form or another I fail. I kept the kids safe, but we didn't eat as healthy as I would like. We made it to church but there were huge meltdowns and we spent the whole time fussing. We didn't make it to church at all.

Take a minute. Breathe. While I'm busy losing it, God is already busy forgiving me and giving me a second chance. And I'm so grateful. There is no measure of sin. A sin is a sin. But our God is a God of second chances. (Who would have thought an early morning Jonah Veggie Tales movie would've led me to write this)

Luke 7:49 ESV ..."Who is this, who even forgives sins?"

Thank you God for reminding me that you provide second chances to everyone. No matter the magnitude of sin, no matter how unworthy we feel, you are the forgiven of sins. If I only cry out to you and ask, you make me new each day.

Photo credits (http://harvestgainesville.org/series/hes-a-second-chance-god/)

I want my Mommy!!

I want my Mommy! No, really. Me. I want *MY* Mommy!

Almost three weeks out post-op and the past three days, I have started running a fever. Not an infection fever. A "you've done way too much and you need to sit your behind down" fever. Fast forward to today when it hit the fan. I was feeling terrible, the big kids wanted to go outside and play, daddy was at work and John Blake needed a nap.

I get everyone fed lunch and laid down and John Blake decides it's time to fight me. He hits me and kicks me, right in my incision. I saw stars. Then came the tears. My tears. All I needed was for him to lay down and go to sleep. Just this one day. Any other day, he would've done it, but the day I felt the worst, he complied the least. I begged him. I bribed him. He hit me. I spanked him. (That made no parenting sense whatsoever. I'm spanking you because you hit me. But I wasn't in my right mind). There was only one thing left to do. Cry for my Mama. I admit it whole heartedly. I'm 32 years old and I wanted nothing more than my mom to be right here with me. I called her in tears. The conversation went something like this: "(sob) I'm feeling worse instead of better, (sniffle) I shouldn't have tried to do it by myself this week, (sob) I still need help". My mom calmly listened. She acknowledged that my surgery was a major one and that I did need additional help and she offered a solution just like I knew she would. I can always count on her.

It's not always been this way. My mom and I butted heads for a number of years. That was completely my fault. I blame it on hormones and stubbornness. But as I've grown up, gotten married and especially since becoming a mother myself, I've grown to appreciate my mother. Immensely. Thank you Mama for all of your help since my surgery.

Psalm 119:147 ESV I rise before dawn and cry for help; I hope in your words.

Thank you God for showing me that I cannot receive help if I do not ask for it. Thank you for my Mama!

Huh? I didn't hear you.

Hey kids, come pick up your toys before daddy gets home. Hey Saharra, come do your homework and pack your lunch. Hey Mauri, what are you doing? Hey....anybody listening? Guys. "Huh? I didn't hear you". I feel like I'm constantly repeating myself. I'm a scratched CD that keeps skipping. No one hears me. No one is listening.

It could be the dandelion stuck in his ear. Or it could be that they're busy. They're off playing, doing their own thing. Too busy for whatever mom may want. And then I think, that's how God must feel about me. Beth, hey Beth. Are you listening? I don't have a dandelion stuck in my ear, but I am busy. I don't quiet myself long enough to listen for His voice, most days. I don't divulge in His Word because I'm too busy, most days. We are His children. He has the desire to shape us and mold us and guide us. The way we have the desire to do the same for our own children. But we have to listen. We have to be open to His suggestions and His warnings and His love. We've got to start requiring the same of ourselves that we do of our children, TO LISTEN.

Proverbs 19:20 ESV Listen to advice and accept instruction , that you may gain wisdom in the future.

Thank you God for showing me that I need to be still and quiet and listen. You are there to show me the way if I would only accept the instruction.

I do not live in a Magical Kingdom.

As I sit back and read some of the glorious Facebook and Twitter posts of others, I (whisper) envy them. They seem to live in some sort of Magical Kingdom.
-Their childrens' clothing is pristine.
-Their family is always happy.
-They seem to have lost weight after birthing 5 children (I gained from adopting 3).
I can just envision birds helping them fold the laundry and other wildlife creatures helping with chores like they do in the Princess Fairy Tales.
Then there's my life. I do not live in a Magical Kingdom.

Those are laundry baskets full of clean clothes and there's more in the drier. Where are MY birds?! 

Now let me ask you this. Do you willingly compare your child to other children? Most likely the answer is, "No". For example; "Saharra, your friend ______ keeps making 100 on their spelling test. Why can't you be like her?" No, I don't do that to my child!!! Then why do we constantly tear ourselves down, as mothers, with comparisons? I was finding myself feeling guilty for being a GOOD mother. How ridiculous is that? I was feeling guilty because I couldn't be as crafty with my children as her, or as pretty while mothering as her, or I'm sure she never loses her temper. Meanwhile, I was still keeping three precious children fed and alive. Those are two great feats themselves. They are happy to have me as their mother and love me unconditionally. Even when I fail. If I don't accept comparisons for my children then I'm not going to accept them for myself either. I'm going to look at my own life. I can only be me. And that's good enough for my babies. I am blessed beyond measure if I will stop comparing what I have, need, want, etc, to someone else.

Psalm 40:5 ESV You have multiplied, O Lord my God, your wondrous deeds and thoughts towards us; none can COMPARE with you! I will proclaim and tell of them, yet they are more than can be told.

Thank you God, for your many blessings. Thank you for helping turn my eyes from comparing myself to others and realizing that no one can compare with you.

'Cause I'm a Cowboy, Baby!

(Singing) I've got my guns a blazin' and the sunshine shinin'. Yes. Be appalled. Very appalled. That was to the tune of a 1998 released Kid Rock song. And every time I see my boys dressed as cowboys, the song plays in my head. At any rate, here is my wild cowboy. His mouth agape, screaming, running and firing both guns at the same time. John Blake (Age 2). He will be 3, May 25th.

He makes no secrets to the way he feels. If he is sad, he tells me, if I make him mad, he tells me that too. He's one little ball of honest, Herculean strength, boy. All boy. John Blake can unlock and open any door, carry anything you think he can't, and almost wrestle away from me. He's STRONG. But he also has the most precious little loving heart I've ever seen in a child of his age. He ran into the arms of an older (Age 70s) gentleman sitting on a bench in the cantina area at Sam's and hugged him and kissed him because "I just wanted to div him some wuvins mommy". The look on that precious man's face changed for the better and he told Jerry and I that John Blake had made his day. John Blake has done similar things for others numerous times. I'm constantly wary of strangers. Stranger Danger and keeping my children safe. But aren't we called to spread love? If God can use my 2 year old son, then surely I can stop letting fear be my excuse. Within reason folks. I'm not saying to approach strangers in dark alleys and parking decks where you could be kidnapped, but how about you just acknowledge someone new today? How about you look up instead of at your phone while you're walking? And see who we may be able to smile at or see frowning and hug. Or even better, see an opportunity to witness to. 

Romans 12:9 ESV Let love be genuine...

Romans 12:10 ESV Love one another with brotherly affection...

Thank you God for showing me, through my child, how to love unconditionally. God bless my little cowboy.

A lie is a lie...or is it? Yes, it's still a lie.

My beautiful, green eyed, wild haired, angelic Saharra (Age 6) is a hard core fibber. No. Please tell me you're joking. Someone so sweet and precious...Listen, I understand how difficult this is for you to hear, but it's true. Her daddy and I can catch her doing something and ask her about it and she will swear to the death she didn't do it. Why you ask? Well, I'm working on figuring that out. But part of it began with me. I was encouraging her to lie simply by my accusatory tone and my angry face. Would you want to tell this the truth?

Ok. So that's Michelle Obama, not me, but you get the picture. She's looking down, eyebrows raised, lips pursed, etc. My precious child was afraid of me. Do not read into this. She's safe and well taken care of. But if someone taller than you is looking down at you with a mad face, I'd be wanting to resolve the issue quickly myself and move along. This prompted the lies. Quick, efficient, no further discussions required and moving along. So she thought. It really only escalated the problem. But since then here's how I have changed:

* I sit in the floor and ask that she sit in front of me to talk to her.
* I am very aware of my facial expressions.
* I do not cross my arms.
* Sometimes I hold her hand (She's not touchy feely so she has to accept it)
* I do not raise my voice.

Here's where the judgements from all of the great, wise parents who have come before me will come. I bargain with her. What?! Oh yes. I do. "Saharra, before you say anything to answer mommy, if you tell me the truth, you will only have to do ____ but if you lie to mommy, then it will be _____." I am letting her know that the choice she's about to make will decide her punishment for her. It usually gets the truth. Does that mean I have it all figured out? No. I never will. That's just what works for us. But I so desperately want to teach my child how to make good judgements and how to tell the truth that I'm willing to try anything for her.

Leviticus 19:11 ESV ...;you shall not lie to one another.
Thank you God for showing us your commandments and helping me change so that I can show my children how to keep them.

So for now. We are helping Saharra see that it's still a lie if she tells one and there are consequences for that but I'm trying extra hard to make sure I'm not forcing her hand.

Perception. It's all in the way you look at it.

Since seeing the movie "Moms' Night Out", I felt God tugging on me to write about my family's story.

Side bar: Moms, if you haven't seen that movie, please take the time to watch it. And if you have seen it, watch it again. It will make you feel appreciated and will speak volumes to a ragged, tired, weary body and heart.

My family doesn't have the "typical" fairy tale beginning. But who decides what's typical. Maybe we're the normal ones. (That's the hysterics part to all of this. There's nothing normal about us. I wouldn't have it any other way though.)

My husband and I have been married for almost 10 years. They've not all been good years. They've been HARD. What?! You mean these are not going to be rose colored glass stories? No. Because that's not real life. We had good times, but we had bad times too leading up to this point and it's okay to share that. If you don't share truths, how can God use your testimony for His glory?

We now have a total of 5 children. Two are my step children (I would completely claim them if I could) and 3 beautiful adopted children. We chose to adopt through foster care. We have had over 13 foster children total - some have been for no more than a night, but God wanted us to cross paths regardless.

Now, let's get to the heart of the first blog post.

Full of energy is a perfect description for both of our boys. Mauri (Age 5) wakes up literally bouncing like Tigger from Winnie the Pooh. He has springs in his feet. But it's not just that. His mouth has a motor that will not stop and he typically will run sprints through the house. Now to the typical outsider it looks like the child would need medication. Hyper, ADHD, etc. We've even had concerns ourselves and have to remind him to "calm down" numerous times. Privately Jerry and I have discussed talking to the doctor about medication or alternatives because of how rambunctious he gets. He seriously cannot even eat without wiggling. The "wilder" he gets, the "wilder" John Blake (Age almost 3) gets. John Blake's outlet is to throw things. Usually at his brother. More specifically, his head. It's just a snow ball effect.

Yesterday as Jerry and I were having a discussion (we don't like to call them arguments), he said something that really hit home with me. He said "Mauri wakes up in a fantastic mood every morning and we try to take that away from him. I wish I woke up in half as good a mood as he does." I cried. I bawled. I owe my son and hug and an apology today because only today could I keep my composure and not be a sobbing basket case.

My husband and I had been making a mistake. There are times like at the dinner table when we need to use good manners and be still, but if he wants to bounce to the beat of his happy little drum in the mornings, who am I to stop him? And why should I try? What is he hurting? As long as the dynamic is staying happy and not overtly wild, then I am the one that needs to change, not him. Perception folks. It's all in the way you look at it. God calls us to be joyful. And my son sure has a lot of joy.
Psalm 30:5 ESV ...but joy comes in the morning.
Thank you God for showing me that my son's joy in the morning is not something I should try to squash, but should embrace and realize he truly has a child like faith. My children show me daily how much I fail and all I can do is hug them and start again tomorrow.