Boy Eduation

This weekend was our first official weekend visit with Gabe. We had so many great opportunities to talk and just BE.

After I picked him up on Friday, Gabe and I were talking about why his other placement didn’t feel right and why he wanted to be with us…because this really has been his decision. He told me that for the first time he clearly heard God’s voice about his situation. He said that God clearly told him that he was supposed to be with Kaleb and myself, and he told God that it couldn’t be because it wasn’t going to work out. He didn’t know about what was going on with Grace, and he still thought it was impossible that he could ever get back to us. He said that God told him that he was supposed to be with us, and later that day he was called into the office by the House Mom. I forget his exact words of shock when she told him that we wanted him back, but it was something cool to the effect of “I’m down with that,” only not so ghetto, because that wouldn’t fit Gabe.

A few months ago when it was starting to look like Gabe wouldn’t be placed with us because of Grace, I told Gabe that if he was serious about wanting to be part of our family he needed to pray, because God was the only one who was going to be able to open those doors. He apparently took my advice. It also helped that we had our small group and everyone else we could snatch praying for wisdom and clarity in the situation. God heard the heart of this young man, and somehow led him back to us.

God does open and close doors, you know. Even when they are really difficult doors, sometimes we have to walk through them.

So now I am taking my brain and heart that was learning everything there was to learn about raising an emotionally disturbed, preteen girl, and am having to rewire it and refocus to learn everything there is to learn about raising an emotionally healthy (for the most part), teenage boy. Teenage boys (at least this one) don’t care about the color of comforter in their room, or the color of the walls. This one only cares about black lights and having more than one pair of pants. This teenage boy doesn’t care about having a desk to put his stuff on, he cares about saving up enough money for a future snowmobile or four wheeler.

I talked to Grace tonight for the first time since our meeting that ended the process of adopting her. It was awkward, but fine. She wanted to know about some random thing that I had absolutely no clue about, and then about a movie that we had planned to watch together. She wants me to call her on Thursday, so I will. I am not sure what we will talk about, since she avoided pretty much every “serious” conversation topic I asked her tonight.

Oh, and now a supervisor from the organization Kaleb and I worked for has approached us about taking a 9 year old boy…BOY!!! I know this boy from substituting and teaching summer school, and he is a sweetheart. Very emotional, and has a temper, but nothing extraordinary. He is all boy. He loves to play outside, make forts, and is an AMAZING basketball player. He loves animals, but I haven’t actually seen him around them, so that will be a hurdle that will need to be jumped. Anywho, our supervisor friend will be calling us soon. “Jeremiah” needs a place to go before Easter, so we may start visits very soon.

Okay, so that’s the long update. I am going to google boy’s room designs now…sigh.

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Laughter Lives Tuesdays

This post is part of “Laughter Lives! Tuesday” on the Riggs Family Blog. Check our their blog to read everyone else’s “Laughter Lives!” posts.

So since I am kid-less as of yet, I have to borrow my brother’s kiddos for this post…and maybe a friends child as well.

Oh, Joanie!

My brother is blessed with 5 beautiful children under 7 and one on the way. The three year old, Jonas, is especially close to my heart because he is an exuberant middle child and reminds me so much of myself…he is loud, hilarious, and always getting into trouble. In fact, when we were down at my older sister Sarah’s wedding last June, the then- two- year- old Jonas was constantly doing things that reeked of mischief. At one point, Sarah looked at him and said, “Jonas, you’re trouble.” He looked her straight in the face and sternly corrected her, “I’m not trouble. I’m Jonas.” So noted. The rest of the weekend it became a game. He would point to any family member and rename them. I became Daddy, Daddy became, Mommy, and so on, but he would always end with “And I’m Jonas!”The face says it all.

My brother loves Johnny Cash. His boys have followed right along, and their favorite song is the Burning Ring of Fire. When my mom went to go visit this past summer, she had her cell phone set to play The Burning Ring of Fire every time her husband called…which is very fitting. The first time it played, Jonas came running into the room saying “That’s my favorite song. Where is that coming from?” Needless to say, the cell phone was a huge hit that visit. Joanie’s version goes something like this: “Down, down, down in da fire!”

The Cookie Monster Dog

We have two great friends, Eric and Teisha, who have two great kids, Gideon and Zanna. Gideon is a surrogate nephew to me, since mine are so far away. I steal him (with his parent’s permission) as much as possible. He loves going to Hannah’s house to see all the animals. He is big enough now, at 2 1/2, that he can actually interact with the dogs in some manner, and they really enjoy this miniature person who is much easier to lick than the tall ones. One weekend, while he was visiting, we were doing some baking. I gave Gideon a cookie and he immediately became the most popular person in the house. Zoe and Pe followed him at such a close proximity that if Giddy stopped too quickly the dogs would bump right into him. He kept telling the dogs, especially Zoe, “No, Zoe. My cookie.” as he wandered in circles around our house. About the 6th or 7th lap, they must have wore him down. I saw him open his hand and OFFER Zoe the cookie, which she gladly accepted. I looked at him and said, “Giddy, where’s your cookie?” He looked at me and shrugged as if he had no idea how it happened but simply said “Zoe got it.” Yeah, I guess she did.

This kid also spent a good part of an hour trying to call our Clevie cat out of the basement, patting his leg like you would call a dog saying “Cm’ere, kitty. Cm’ere!” Well, he was persistent. Clevie just sat and stared at him, of coarse.

Thanks for letting me share my stolen stories.

-Hannah

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