Battle of the Sexes

I started second grade in a brand new school, good old Austin Road. When you start a new school, you tend to also start a new bus route. While the bus was never my favorite form of transportation, I remember making a friend early on that year. A sweet girl by the name of Jackie. I would get on the bus before her and wait anxiously until she joined me and we could enjoy the rest of the ride together. Those first 10 minutes alone were some of the least favorite of my day because, let's be honest, you just never know what's going to happen on a school bus.

The thing about Jackie was, she was kind of a tomboy, too. She played sports and liked to spend recess running around just like I did. And I remember this one conversation we had on the way to school more than anything else we ever did together. There we were, 7 years old, talking about why the boys in our class seemed to not want to talk or play with us and how we didn't always feel comfortable hanging out with the other girls. (At the time, I didn't realize that particular conundrum would become a theme in my life.) So, we devised a plan. Our devious little minds decided that if we were to actually walk into Mrs. DelGrosso's class talking about the Yankee game the night before, the boys might actually let us play with them. It wasn't hard for either of us to talk about it, both our dads were pretty obsessed with baseball and the games were always on at home. We'd both been to Yankee Stadium(the old one in the Bronx) and seen games in person and genuinely enjoyed the game. I think the plan even worked for a time. The boys couldn't resist chiming in on our, I'm sure, startlingly poignant observations about the most recent matchup. We had moved over to their turf, the world of sports. We were interesting. We were ok. For girls, that is.

It's interesting to me how often this memory comes back to me. For years I remembered it just as a silly story, as a small triumph in manipulation, in the power of becoming all things to all people. But more recently it reminds me of a deeper issue in our world, this way in which the "things of women" are often portrayed as less interesting, more silly, certainly less worth the time for most of us than the "things of men". I use quote marks because I hate that we put these interests into gendered categories at all. It's the same problem that labeled me, an athletic girl, as a tomboy or that makes people worry when a little boy likes dance or art more than his soccer games. The same issue that made me proud of being a tomboy and terrified of being a "girly girl." That made me struggle with feeling thankful that I was born a woman. Yes, I confess it. I've added to the problem just as much as the next person.  
 Don't hear me wrong. I am not trying to argue that there are no differences between men and women. I think there are beautiful ways in which we often approach life from different angles and we need each other to understand the world more fully because of that. But when my son says things like "I can't get that, it's a girl color" or tells me that the girls won't play with him at school, I wonder why it has been so easy for this divide to take root. I wonder at which point his friends will start to make fun of girls for the things they like to play. I wonder if they'll say things that I heard from boys growing up, things about my general inferiority or silliness or those backhanded compliments along the line of "you're different from other girls, you like sports" or "you can be one of the guys".

We own a board game called "Battle of the Sexes." I have no idea who got this game for me, but whoever it was no doubt thought it would be perfect. After all, half my life could probably be summed up by that phrase. The point of the game is for men to have to answer questions that women would typically know the answer to and vice versa. Um, can anybody say stereotypes?! Here's the deal with this game: every single time we have played it with people, the women have won. And every single time the men have complained that the game is unfair. It's my opinion that it probably is unfair, but only because it's reflective of a culture that makes it necessary for me to know more about "guy stuff" than men have to know about "girl stuff." The way we do gender is, a lot of the time, messed up.

Now, as a parent, I want my little boy to feel free to be who he is. To not feel bound by certain things, like the color of a toy or shirt, to learn how to respect the differences between him and the little girls he plays with and to not grow into the perspective that one gender is inherently better than the other. I want the little girls he is friends with to be given the chance to be themselves and not be at risk of being called a tomboy or girly-girl or needing to say or do a certain thing so the boys will think they are cool enough to hang out with. I want toy manufacturers to think hard about ways to engage kids that don't just play into stereotypes, challenging kids to explore all facets of their imagination, to put things on the market like this new female-oriented engineering toy, GoldiBlox, you can read about here or watch the video below. . If I had a daughter, you'd better believe I'd be pre-ordering. I might just get it for my son, in spite of his aversion to pink as a girl color.

Mostly, I don't want my kid to ever have to feel like this is a battle, that there is some inherent war going on between him and the girls in his life. I lived like that for way too long myself. It's a whole lot easier to just go ahead and be yourself and love the people around you for who they are than to constantly fight. To speak truth when necessary and to refuse to go along with the status quo when it's wrong, to take those parenting moments when you have the opportunity to impart some huge piece of wisdom on the subject and use them well. To refuse to get into those conversations, seemingly harmless, that jokingly bash the opposite gender or perpetuate harmful stereotypes on either side. To be light in one area in a world that still has a long way to go to be a just and safe place to live for all people.

Orphan Sunday

There are a lot of made up holidays out there. National Mustache Month, Talk Like a Pirate Day, Valentine's Day. Most of these holidays that aren't really connected with something significant don't make much of an impact on the global scene. My life stays relatively unchanged even if I choose to walk around saying "argh" for one day of the year.

But last Sunday was Orphan Sunday. Yes, another truly made up day. A day initially started in Zambia that spread across the world for churches to talk about the orphan situation. To talk about the millions of children who are without families due to war, disease, natural disasters and abandonment and all the implications that go along with being alone in this world. To challenge individuals, families and churches to think about what role they might play in alleviating this tragic problem. A made-up holiday that has the potential of actually impacting millions of lives.

My church put together a video highlighting families that have already adopted as part of a way to talk about Orphan Sunday and showed it during the service. As I sat in my chair, I swung back and forth from laughter to hope to sadness at the scope of the problem. I beamed seeing several families from my own life group represented and being so honored to be a part of their lives as they've walked this incredible journey. You can see the video below.

CHBC Adoption Families

As a family who is actively waiting to adopt and one who is part of a community that is full of adoptive families, Orphan Sunday didn't feel wildly different than usual. We think about this all the time. We wonder if there are other things we can be doing while we wait. I'm so proud to be a part of a community that cares about this issue and is asking questions on a corporate scale. I'm glad that after the service, people could walk into the lobby and immediately start sponsoring a child or get information from a number of adoptive agencies. Things are happening here.

But I know it's not the same everywhere. When I hear people say things like "Wow, you're doing such a great thing" or "I don't think I could do that" I just want to ask why. Why is something that is all over the scriptures and something that is such a massive issue on the global scale something that so few families think critically about? Why is it so often "plan B" for so many of us, something we might eventually think about if we can't have biological children or only after we've had as many biological children as we want? 

Friends, don't hear me wrong. I don't necessarily think everyone should adopt. Maybe some of us aren't built for the specific types of challenges that come with this. Maybe we have children who wouldn't do well with added stress in the family. Maybe you are reading this and have a spouse who would never consider it even if you might. Who knows? What I am saying is that this problem is huge. And it's something we can't afford to ignore, especially if you call yourself a Christian. So I think it's always worth asking "How can I be involved with this issue, right here and right now."  And being open to at least laying the bigger question before God that might say "What role should I and my family play in adoption in the future? Are we meant to adopt?"

On Orphan Sunday last week, my pastor prayed a very vulnerable prayer before his sermon. He confessed to God that he was afraid of what asking some of these questions could mean for his family. He wasn't sure he would like the answer. But he was convinced by scripture and the need in the world that he still needed to ask these questions and he needed to be willing to hear the answers. And he reminded us all that God does a lot of work in us between the time when we ask a question like that and the fruition of the answer. What might be fear now could be transformed to something else in the waiting. I know this has proved true for us, even as we wait amid so much uncertainty in our own adoption process.

So, I challenge you, friends. Read about Orphan Sunday. Become aware of the huge scope of the problem every day. Check out your foster system or a local adoption agency or orphanage and see what needs they have. Be willing to ask God "What role might you have for me in all this?" and then be willing to hear the answer. Scary or not, if we trust our lives to God and care deeply for the state of the "least of these" in this world, the question is always worth asking.

For Love of Legos: Livin' the Party Life!

My son turned 6 this week. The only gifts he now asks for are legos and percussive instruments. That's it. And you can imagine that being an only grandchild and only nephew on both sides, that he tends to get what he asks for. This year, to round out the fully lego-centric year we had, he wanted a lego birthday party. I, in my delusional clinging to an increasingly elusive free schedule, obliged, meaning that I probably spent way too many hours working on creative plans to make a great event.

As a disclaimer, most of the following pictures are not necessarily completely original ideas. The internet is replete with wonderful examples of lego parties. I added my own fun spin to a few things. Mostly, it was a blast to put things together with him and to enjoy watching him share his love of legos with friends from school, church and soccer!  I decided to post this just in case any of you who have kids who are similarly obsessed might enjoy a little (very inexpensively done) inspiration! Enjoy!

The Invitation (With location specifics blurred out!)

The Invitation: I found a lego font online (legothick), discovered a legobrick background on a google image search, added the specifics and "voila!" I just addressed the other side and mailed them as postcards.

The Welcome: We had to welcome the kids to legoland! I confused one poor parent who thought that there must be a place called Legoland in Durham and tried to Mapquest it, but for the most part, it was just a clever way to describe the location.

Welcome to Legoland!

Then, of course, we had to plan for the food. I am never, nor have I claimed to be, all that into cooking. The idea of coming up with clever, lego-themed foods and actually being able to create them was a tad overwhelming. Thankfully, there were a lot of great ideas on the internet. We decided to make Lego cakes, Lego Chocolate bricks and Lego Pops.

 The lego pops: They are quite simply one large marshallow and one small one stuck together with yellow candy. Then you spread the whole thing with more yellow candy, let it harden and draw on the faces. I wrapped a piece of floral foam with tissue paper and made a label with my fun lego font and there you go.

 The choco bricks: I found a plastic mold for $1.27 on amazon and melted chocolate chips to make my own little lego shaped chocolates. Cost almost nothing. Again, made fun little labels and wrapped them up. These were in our favor bags.

The cake: I made a 9 x 13 sheet cake and shaved off the dome after cooling. Used some gel coloring to make red, yellow and blue frosting. Cut large marshmallows in half to make the dots on the "brick" and then iced the whole thing. There were two long bricks and two square bricks. The kids loved getting to choose which color lego brick they could eat!



Minifigure Head Cookie Decorating:

Decorating Cookie Heads

I made sugar cookies in the shape of lego minifigure heads. We set out a bunch of bowls of frosting and candy as well as some gel writers and let the kids have fun making their minifigure faces.

The Clues!

Putting together their cars!

The Scavenger Hunt: I broke the kids up into three teams- Blue, Red and Yellow. Good solid lego colors, of course. I came up with clues that would lead them to little bags of legos. Their final clue came with instructions on how to put their legos together into little cars. Each team had to find all their clues and then race to put together their cars. It was fun to see their brains work to find the clues, looking under tables and climbing in the backyard and then to work together following instructions to put them together. I think it was definitely a success!

Looking for clues!

Indoor Game: Anyone up for "Build-a-Minifigure? These kids were!  I just used card stock and came up with 10 different body parts to pin up. Like the traditional pin games, they were blindfolded and got to try to put the pieces up on a white piece of cardstock on the wall!

Kids Working Hard!

Our Completed Minifigure!

 And, of course, the Goody Bags! Josh had a lot of fun tracing the circles and helping me tape them to the bags. I found a pack of these cute little bags at 5 Below, made up some nametags with my favorite new font, filled them with the choco-bricks, some lego coloring pages, a lollipop and we added their minifigure cookies, nicely wrapped, to take home with them.

Overall, I think the kids had a great time. Apparently, today in Sunday school, my son offered up a prayer of thanks that his mom and dad gave him a lego party. So, we feel pretty confident he enjoyed himself!

Here's to legos, the most amazing toy in the world and the first and last thing my son wants to do every day of his life. 

The Sugar Experiment - One Year Later

It has been exactly one year since I started a sugar-free six week experiment. One huge prayer, a lot of complaining and panic and I dove into what I thought would be an impossible goal. Those six weeks turned into seven which turned into eight and kept on going. In fact, I consumed almost zero sugar from just before Halloween until Christmas Eve, when I allowed myself the tiniest, most pathetic little piece of apple pie ever consumed by mankind. It was Christmas, after all. And when that wee piece of pie was done, I kept right on the no-sugar bandwagon. Or at least the very-low-sugar bandwagon.

I've had a lot of funny interactions over this. People will offer me a dessert at an event which, up until a year ago, I would never have turned down. Now, I politely say "no, thank you." This inevitably leads to either a hurt look on said person's face if he or she has been the one to bake the dessert or a look of confusion. What decent American turns down dessert, after all? So, I've often found myself explaining why I'm not eating sugar in a futile attempt to make them feel better. Usually this backfires because then people feel guilty for eating the dessert themselves. Rock. Hard Place. Me.

When I first started this experiment I wouldn't have thought I could go more than a week. An old high school friend, upon learning of my new endeavor, called me to give me some pointers and warned I'd not probably feel well while my body went through detox. He was right. I'm glad I was warned because I might've rethought the decision and given it up. For the first two weeks, I didn't feel great. My energy was weird, I didn't sleep well, I craved sugar 24 hours a day, I spent hours justifying in my head why this was a dumb experiment but in the end my rule-keeping won out and I didn't give in. Halloween candy entered the house but not my mouth. Thanksgiving pie scents wafted through the air and I sulkily munched on nuts. When afternoon sugar cravings hit, I ate hummus instead. A LOT of hummus.

And slowly, ever so slowly, my body began to like what was happening. My energy increased, my sleep improved, what few headaches I had remaining after earlier dietary changes and acupuncture virtually disappeared. PMS, gone. Brain fogginess disappeared. Exercise felt better than it had in years. Running three miles used to feel like an unattainable goal to this sprinter body but now it's a regular and increasingly easy jog for me. I have even, for the first time in my life, entertained thoughts of signing up for a race longer than a 5k. Woh.

Now, it's no secret that originally this was a dietary change intended to, yet again, solve my infertility. And again, that aspect of it was a big failure. No pregnancy, no baby. And for awhile, every time I abstained from sugar I was reminded of my infertility, an unfortunate side effect of a good decision. But slowly, as God has been helping me with acceptance of my uncooperative body, as I've been readying our home and my soul for the baby that IS coming through adoption, the reason for the sugar-free has faded into the distance. After all, I feel great. The change was for the better, no matter the initial reason. If I never do have a second biological child, there is nothing but good in my life for having changed the way that I eat.

So now I, Carolyn, lover of all things chocolate, former imbiber of a daily pre-slumber glass of chocolate milk (with a straw, of course), once consumer of multiple desserts per day, see sugar as yet another unnecessary ingredient in my life that I've been conditioned to need.  And the truth is that I don't need it, I barely want it now and I've found that there are plenty of other delicious foods that I can consume that won't mess with my body. Do I eat it occasionally? Sure. Little bits here and there. Do I completely abstain from any food containing even 1 little gram of sugar? No, but I try to. Do I still bake my son a birthday cake and let him eat it? Of course, I'm not an ogre and I'm not trying to make anyone else in my life adhere to my own change.

But what was an experiment is now a way of life. I'm glad I took the risk to try something I never thought possible and am humbled by the results of trusting God with something as seemingly insignificant as my crazy sugar addiction.   

The Last Cuddle

I've never been the most touchy-feely of people. I remember back in college I was dating a guy who asked me if he could hold me hand on a walk and I told him (and I think I really believed what I said) that I needed to have my hands free so I could move with proper momentum. And any kind of PDA's? Nope, not gonna happen. I just like when people keep their hands to themselves. Didn't we all learn that in kindergarten, anyway?

Fast forward to the birth of my child. God's sense of humor strikes again when I am given the child who could win the award for "clingiest human in the universe" his first two years of life.  For two years my child cried, whined, freaked out, pulled hair and basically clung on to whatever part of my body he could reach at any given moment rather than risk the scary world of independence. I had to utter sentences like "I just need you not to touch me for 30 seconds. Just 30 seconds, love, how about mom gets to stay sane with just ONE. LITTLE. BREAK?"

After we moved to North Carolina and my son miraculously began to understand that there were indeed perks to this whole independent thing, I started to understand what other moms would talk about when they would utter sentences like "I wonder what so and so is up to? I guess I should look for him." I'd never had to utter such a phrase before because, oh look, he was always attached to my leg. But he began to branch out, he began to climb on playgrounds (yes, I had been up to the very top of the chick-fil-a play spot in a vain effort to get my son to play without me, thinking that if I could just show him how wonderful it was up there, he'd go free. Didn't work. And it was NOT easy to get back down.)

Now he's turning 6 in just 2 weeks. He's in kindergarten for 6 hours a day. He's really a boy now. And ironically, the thought enters my mind every time I get the chance to cuddle up with him, "I wonder if this is the last cuddle?" All kids are different and I don't know when they are supposed to start detaching. I don't know when to expect the eye roll and the "Mom, not here, my friends can see you!" kinds of statements.  But something in my soul has started to panic a little. For someone who has never loved the cuddle to begin with, the thought of losing those cuddle privileges seems suddenly to be the saddest prospect in the world.

I've mentioned this to a few friends, some of whom have older kids and I have been reassured that there are 8-year-olds out there who still dig mom time. And just last week while we were at worship rehearsal at our church, the mom of one of the teenage guitarists showed up and he gave her a big hug and kiss right in front of God and everyone. Score one for hope.

So, I've decided to savor the cuddle. To treat each one like it could be my last, to enjoy the smell of his hair (because I'm pretty sure sniffing his head when he's 30 would be less than appropriate), to tickle him as much as I can, to drink in the giggles and the warmth and the sweetness. And to do my best not to dread when this phase ends because if there is one thing I've learned through 6 years of this whole parent thing it's that each new phase has amazing and wonderful surprises of its own and spending time wishing he'd stay a certain way is an exercise in futility and an affront to who God is making him to be as he grows up.

So, little man, bring on the cuddle. Let's enjoy it while it lasts and let's savor the ever-changing ride of this incredible journey of growing up.

Lessons From the Little Field

I got into youth soccer coaching accidentally. One moment I was responding to an email asking for volunteers with my own questions about the details of coaching so that I might better consider coaching from an informed standpoint- after all, I didn't want my kid to be wait-listed for lack of volunteers but I was growing in this whole ability to not always say "yes" to every opportunity that came my way. The next moment I was receiving an email back with a roster of sweet three and four-year-olds. So much for my cautious response.

I remember well my very first practice. It inspired its very own blogpost, Herding Cats, that I ocassionally go back and read to remember how far we have come. The Mighty Tigers, that first season, felt chaotic, fun and frustrating all at the same time.  In the seasons since then, as I have watched these kids grow up and seen some come and go, I've learned a lot.

Here are eleven lessons from the little field:

(1) Never Show Your Weakness. The practices that I have shown up for exhausted have been the ones most likely to dissolve into chaos. It's as if these little people can tell you are on the edge and they manage to suck out every last vestige of patience, control and vitality from your very soul and take it as their own. The more energy you can infuse into your being before you show up, the better things will go.

(2) Never, Ever Turn Your Back. I learned this one the hard way. The second you turn away from a team of little kids, all hell breaks loose. Balls flying through the air at people's heads(including the coach) Kids lying scattered on the ground like a bunch of bowling pins. And noise. Noise everywhere. Noise that will make your head explode. 

(3) You Gotta Have a Trick Up Your Sleeve. There is no reasonable and straightforward communication involved in a kids soccer practice. Everything has to have a spin. If you want the kids to take a water break and actually return to the field, you have to make it a race. If you want the kids to listen to something you want to say, you need some kind of gadget to keep them quiet. (If you hear my voice, clap once..if you hear my voice, clap twice...etc.) If you want the kids to go get their balls and bring them back to where you are, count backwards from 10. Otherwise they will take roughly 2 hours to go get them and likely end up on another field altogether throwing balls at innocent bystanders. True story.

(4) There IS Crying in Soccer. My first season, with kids who were barely larger than their soccer balls, I would consider it a successful game if there were any kids left on the field by the final whistle. Sometimes it looked like a war zone- kids laying on the field picking flowers, one kid sitting squarely in the middle of the goal just waiting to get walloped, multiple children sobbing in parents' arms for varied legitimate and, in my opinion, illegitimate reasons. But then I've never been high on compassion. We've made it through two games now with no tears and I feel like we're on our way to the Olympics. It's that miraculous.

(5) When in Doubt, Abandon Ship! It wasn't until this current season that I could really try to run a drill and have kids actually participate. Up until now, it has been games, games and more games. All, of course, purposed to increase skills in dribbling and kicking, but games nonetheless. Occasionally, though, even games fail. Kids are freaking out, balls are not even on the right field anymore. If that happens, abandon ship. Give it up. Always have a new game ready to replace a failure. You just never know what's going to be a hit and what is going to usher in armageddon.

(6) Cheer like it's your job! We've made it a priority to have a fun cheer every season. Because no matter what, whether a kid has sat out an entire game sobbing or scored 20 goals (yes, we do have a few of those kinds of kids, too) they all want to celebrate at the end. And they will fight to the kid to have their hand be the one on top in the middle of the huddle and use their "outside voices" like they've been given the best gift in the world. Pick a name, create a cheer, teach it and do it often. The kids will leave the field smiling even if they lose 100-1 or have had the worst practice in the world. And after all, if the kids aren't smiling, what's the point?

(7) Keep Things Moving. You've got to have a plan. And it's got to be a plan with very little down time. The second the kids are standing around wondering what's next is the same moment you lose control. From warm-ups to cool-down, the kids should know every minute what they are supposed to be doing. If not, they may initiate a very cute, but hostile, takeover.

(8) Smile and Nod. Kids will want to share totally irrelevant details of their lives in the middle of your most inspired coaching moments. They will want to show you their pretty pink purse or stick-on Spiderman tattoo or tell you about the birthday party they are attending next month. This is important to them. If you shoot them down, you might send them into a downward spiral from which they cannot emerge. Love on their info, smile and nod and tell them you are excited to hear more after practice and them make it a point to actually follow up. They'll love you for it.

(9) The Name Thing. Everyone's had that moment when someone in authority could not remember their name. It's no fun when you're 30 and it's no fun when you're 5. I make it a point when I first meet my kids to say their name constantly that first practice. By the end of that first hour of knowing them they should be fully confident their coach knows who they are and cares about them and will notice if they aren't there. If you're bad with names, bring a camera and take pics that first day then make it a point to memorize those sweet little faces. Believe me, their parents will rest easier on the sidelines if they know you actually care enough to know who are their kids.

(10) Go Team! Kids sports can be a world in which parents live vicariously through their children.It can be highly competitive on the sidelines even if the kids on the field aren't even sure which direction to run. Encourage your parents from the get-go that this is about the kids having fun, playing hard and learning good teamwork. Help them learn the kids names. Ask them to cheer for all the kids, not only their child and team but also the little ones working hard on the other side of the field. There will be plenty of time in the future to get competitive- maybe if we infuse our kids with a healthy view of sports, teamwork and the opposing team, their trash talk won't be quite so mean in those later years.

(11) Never Go It Alone. I won't say it's impossible to coach kids by yourself, but it's pretty darn hard. Get the parents involved. Beg, borrow and steal to get a friend to be your co-coach. I finally have one this season and I cannot begin to explain what a difference it has made. Whatever you do, have an ally. Two is exponentially better than one. Especially if your assistant coach is a bald guy who can scare the heck out of unruly participants.

To those friends of mine who are considering coaching your kid, go for it. I have faced some of the most frustrating moments of my life with these teams but there is no question that I have experienced some of the best moments of my life as well. Watching my kids go from chaotic and weepy Mighty Tigers to this current season of the Fireballs where they are communicating and passing and laughing and staying on the field the whole time is just incredible. And seeing your own kid excited to tackle practices and games and so proud and excited that you are his coach- well, that's a pretty awesome bonus!

The Best Kind of Homecoming

It's that time of year again. Football rivalries are all over facebook, I'm getting mailings all the time from my college about upcoming events, Josh's school is planning a spirit week and pep rally and teenagers all over the place are stressing about a date. Homecoming. I still remember all the hype (and unnecessary drama) that surrounded it when I was in high school. I remember the excitement and work everyone put into making a few days a little more special than usual. And when it was over, its memories faded quickly as we rushed on with our classes and sports and extracurriculars.

This past weekend, our son got invited to a Homecoming Party. One of his best friends and, incidentally, one of the sweetest boys I've ever met, was allowed to invite one friend out to dinner to celebrate the anniversary of the day he joined his family, the day he was adopted. We'd never even heard the term before but I immediately fell in love with it. What a wonderful idea and perfect name! Of course, when anything new is introduced to a five-year old, roughly 784 questions immediately follow. What's a homecoming? Why did he invite me? Do we bring him a present? Who did he live with before his family? Does he know his other mom? And on and on. 

Now, because of our own process my son probably has a slightly higher adoption IQ than your average five year old. Because of his inquisitive nature, he has wanted to know the ins and outs of just about every stage. So, I'm used to answering questions that inevitably increase his understanding that the world we live in is a broken place. When your kid asks questions about why a baby wouldn't have parents to take care of it, your heart breaks a little. Or, frankly, a lot. Answering some of these questions in the context of the life of his good friend was emotional for both of us. Adoption has been so abstract for him, this mythical baby in the vague future that will all of a sudden be a part of our lives. But looking at his friend, with whom he plays soccer and legos and superheroes and builds forts and teepees and giggles incessantly, here was a real kid, a real baby 5 years ago that needed a family. Something clicked.

So, the idea of getting to celebrate that day five years ago when his friend was adopted was incredibly special. As we sat around that table, laughing, cleaning up spilled drinks, watching our two skinny kids inhale more food than their bodies could possibly hold, passing around this child's baby pictures and the picture of the first time his parents got to hold him when he was eight months old, I was blown away. Blown away by this family with whom we have gotten to be close friends, grateful for their wisdom and the risks they've taken, overwhelmed by this beautiful kid who has become such a sweet friend to our son, amazed at God's goodness in their lives and ours. Reminded again that God brings sweet beauty out of ashes, redemption out of tragedy. I could see the raw emotion in the eyes of his parents in that photo, this crazy moment where you are handed a child you've never met, not carried in your own body, and told he is yours. Forever. Being able to celebrate this with our friends was an unexpected gift, both to see into their family and rejoice with them and to be reminded, yet again, that our own homecoming is on its way.

As much as I remember those fun football games and dances and fighting with people over the best float idea, homecoming didn't change or affect my life. I barely even have pictures of it. In the grand scheme of things, it was another school event, a fleeting surge of school pride, another something to be involved in for a few passing moments.

But this. This is the best kind of homecoming. This day to celebrate when a forever family was established. This is where the joy and the expectation and the excitement really belongs. This is the real stuff of life, a moment that will stick with me for years to come.

And I can't wait for our own homecoming, can't wait to take those shell-shocked pictures, to be able to see my son's eyes light up when he holds his new sibling for the first time. To celebrate again every year the day our child finally came home.