Source: Rescue the Forgotten
Don’t just allow this photo to break your heart, go online today and do something about it! Help us as we work every day to help Rescue the Forgotten!
But we did not go crazy!
Just had a date…without kids. I ate mushroom soup. He had zurek. I had super gooey hot chocolate with whipped cream. And we split a cheese pizza.
And now he is still working at 1:30am. So I am posting this photo to prove that at least we had an evening together 🙂
In other news…
He and Ada had a tremendous time in Arizona, Nevada, California, and Colorado.
We appreciated everyone that Rich got to meet and share with in regards to our work! (Find us on Facebook for the time being~Bread of Life~while we work on getting our website up and edited)
Ada got to share about being a multi-culture kid—super excited about that. I think she ended up speaking to nearly 170 mostly kids but some adults too. She said she had so much fun. Funny fact: She did the majority of her presentations in Polish. I asked her why. She said she was less nervous to do it that way 😉 And I guess the biggest hit of all was “Kupa Zupa” (What little kids would call Poop Soup) served once a week at school. Haha! If I was a kid, I would find that great fun to learn about, too!
The littles and I barely survived—snow. Freezing cold. Many wooden fire nights. Coal. More coal. Have I mentioned coal? And then 8 days of sickness. And then 1 glorious last week before Rich and Ada returned where the sun started to peek through and the babies weren’t puking.
So, truly, before they re-arrived back in Poland, I was able to straighten the house, make food, and somehow regain a bit of sanity.
But we’re all still super tired. Poor Ada has been going to sleep at 4am, 2am, and tonight midnight. Well, I guess midnight is progress, eh?
And Rich has now officially gone to bed while I am busy typing this—makes sense since he has a 7am meeting.
Perhaps I should follow?
In the meantime, Rich and Ada have only been home for 4 full days but it already feels like a blessed eternity.
SOOOO happy to have my husband and my first beautiful miracle back in my home.
And not just because I want him to stoke and clean the coal—and light and clean the fire.
I promise 😉
xo for now (I’ll post Minion Mom’s devotion tomorrow—OOPS. I think that I better get back online to keep up)
P.S. Sunday we got to take a few photos at church—So, this is just a day plus a few hours after Adelyne arrived back home. You should note that she chose to wear her dress from the wedding she was in last year in Botswana—and so, of course, Josephine had to wear her beautiful dress form Ivory Coast. Maxwell, to be honest, I am happy that he just let me put him in clothes and that he didn’t choose to go naked to church or in his baseball pajamas. It’s a rare day when Maxwell is actually dressed.
You know…We are special, right?
I mean, after all, my mom tells me I’m special. My dad tells me I’m special. My husband tells me I’m special. My daughter, Adelyne, tells me one million times a day that I’m special. She has even said that if I am the only present Santa brings to her this Christmas season, she is okay with that.
In fact, on another occasion, she has said, “I want Mommy to do it because Mommy is special.”
My husband inquired, “If Mommy is special, what am I?”
She answered, “Handsome.”
At least he left happy with her response.
But, let’s even think about this a bit more…
What is it that makes me special? What is it that makes you special?
We figure out what makes us special. We take tests that tell us how we are special. We apply for jobs and talk about our “assets” that are so uniquely special the interviewer should toss all other resumes and immediately call us for work!
Yes. Special, special, special!
I studied Special Education in college. When I became a teacher and it was time for the awards ceremony at the end of the year, I realized that none of my students would ever receive a special award from the school based on the school’s criteria. After all, the school demanded great grades, superb attendance, active participation in school functions/sports/clubs/so forth, wonderful behavior. As the list went on and on and on I realized that not a single student of mine would meet any of that criteria.
Because—they were crack babies or FAS kids. They suffered from brain damage or constant epileptic seizures. They had such severe learning disabilities that they couldn’t even read or spell rat/cat/bat/fat in the 7th grade. Some smelled so badly it was required they took showers upon entering school premises in the nurse’s office for their sakes. And, to be honest, the behavior of many of them was more gangster than Dangerous Minds.
Yet, to me, each and every one was so extremely and uniquely special. Don’t get me wrong. Many afternoons when the school bell dismissed the swarm of teenagers, I sat behind my desk crying—amazed that I made it through another foul language-laced day filled with fights and security escorting students from my room. There were even times I wondered if the student was going to or planning on harming me.
And, still, each and every student remained special. Somehow, in some way, I was able to look beyond what they had become to what they could potentially have in store. In a sense, I felt as if I was the only one at times to think this way.
So, when the school ceremony came, I asked that I award my students, too. The administration didn’t even blink. Maybe they were growing accustomed to my varying ways. And, on that candle-filled night, I (with my other S.E. teacher) awarded 2 of our students with awards that we deemed worthy of them.
At the end of the evening, one mom came up to me crying. Her daughter was often the source of frustration to so many and even more frequently forgotten or dismissed due to her very severe medical disability. This award, however, showed her mom that someone cared. Someone, besides her, cared about her daughter and also knew that her daughter could one day be or accomplish greatness, in her own life, to the best of her ability.
The other parent, a single dad of two teenage daughters, just was…He just was. Silent. Strong. Proud. His daughter’s learning struggles were intense. Yet someone recognized that she was a star and had potential and could become someone, in her own right, someday. His lack of words spoke enough that no words were actually needed.
This…what I just wrote…this is how we at our foundation/fundacja Bread of Life feel about each and every person we work with through our foundation.
It’s not even that we feel it. It’s that we know it. If we look beyond what they have become and instead look at what they can become, then their futures are so bright. In fact, so bright that we all better wear shades!
We have an expression at Bread of Life, “Rescue Even One!” The people we work with truly are special-it’s just no one ever took the time to tell them, to discover it, or to honor them for their lives.
Now, isn’t that sad? I think so.
What makes you special??? Perhaps it’s your willingness to help someone else realize they are special, too.
Lying on the Street in Waste: http://wp.me/p3Bh9m-aq
I Once Lit a Homeless Man’s Only Sweater on Fire: http://wp.me/p3Bh9m-4l
The Day that Santa Died: http://wp.me/p3Bh9m-ee
This article was originally written for our foundation on our now defunct blog page. Our new foundation’s page is http://www.rescuetheforgotten.com — Please check it out and help us Rescue the Forgotten!
I have a baby in my belly and a 1-year-old and 7-year-old at home. And I have a husband that I have rarely seen since June.
My daughter, well, right now while we’re in Arizona (United States), she’s the invisible girl—hardly seen! But that’s an awesome thing. Because it means that she is usually with friends or cousins playing her little heart out. You see, we technically live in Poland (since 2001…we started something called Fundacja Bread of Life). In fact, if this surprise belly didn’t pop up, we’d be back there right now.
Yep! We were scheduled to be back in Poland on May 10th. But around May 5th, I felt a little something…called pregnant. Sure enough, about 10 dollar store tests later, we both finally believed it. Good thing our mud run was the day before, eh?
And so, my hubby and I decided that there is very little in life (outside of Jesus) that is more important to us than our children.
You see, we went through 5 years of very hollow infertility before God gave us Adelyne Marguerite.
And then it was another 5 years before God gave us our heavenly baby Sam (here’s a honest look at loss and miscarriage: http://wp.me/p3Bh9m-6B).
And, well, I haven’t shared it all on this page, but then 2 years after Sam, we were given Maxwell Loren. But he was a gift that was almost returned to heaven. We nearly lost him…multiple times. He’s our spirited little fighter and an absolute joy in our life.
And that brings us to today…a year after Maxwell was born. Now I’m pregnant with, whom we call, Belly Josephine (here’s some photos here: http://wp.me/p3Bh9m-gp), inching my way to 40 years of age. Yes, getting fossilized here, folks!
13 years of marriage to a man that I nearly didn’t date…
13 years of marriage and 4 babies: 2 that we’ve been able to keep here on earth; one waiting for us in heaven; and one kickball champ in my belly.
And we’re suppose to be in Poland.
But since we value our babies more than life itself, my husband and I decided that I would not travel and would ride out this pregnancy here in the United States with my family just one minute away. Therefore, I’ve remained in our little rental farmhouse with egg-laying chickens…and he, well he’s been back and forth and around the world getting his “work on”.
He spent the majority of his summer in Poland and Moldova and Zambia. He’s spending the majority of this fall in Africa and Europe…and I told him that if he’s not back in time for the baby, Adelyne’s my partner in the delivery room. She was thrilled with that and told me she would sit around and eat popsicles. Sounds like she’d be great support, eh?!
His work is awesome…but he’s also missed a ton: Maxwell’s first steps and most of his first words. Maxwell’s new affinity to climb all objects and to feed himself with a spoon. Josephine’s major belly kicks and several doctor’s visits to date. Most of Adelyne’s swim meets, and so much more.
In fact, he’s been gone so much that my son walks past the computer and says, “Hi, Dadda!”
I say all this to say…
Home. Alone. With an invisible 7-year-old. With a 1-year-old. With a belly baby.
I decided that NOW is the time to start a blog.
And boy it has been a challenge. And a ton of fun. And I have not one specific topic to write about—nor focus on.
Sometimes I’m all roaring wife.
Sometimes I’m all crazy momma.
Sometimes I’m zany foreigner.
And sometimes I’m all religious nut.
But…hopefully all of the time…I am real.
And, hopefully, you have enjoyed my blogging journey.
Two months, today! Woot-woot!
Over 8,500+ views.
And Fifty+ Countries on 6 continents. Thanks, friends!
It would appear that you are a bit crazy, too.
Just like I am.
Just like Rich.
I just KNEW we’d get along swell!
Looking forward to what the next two months will bring. Because often even I don’t know until the day before (or, to be honest, the morning of).
Sending you off with a big American hug and 3 Polish kisses,
Brooke (aka the first half of the crazy)