Land of the Free . . . Home of the Brave

I'm feeling so grateful today. For little things like tiny hands with dimpled fingers, giggles around the breakfast table, and for a few minutes this morning to write about God's goodness in my life.

And I'm grateful for some big things. For men and women who sacrifice their lives each day to serve our country, for the blessing of waking up each morning in the land of the free, and for a son who at only 9 years old truly understands what a gift it is to be an American.

For years I've celebrated National Adoption Month as a proud adoptive mother. Many more years I've celebrated Veterans Day as a grateful American. This year those celebrations are beautifully intertwined.

My kids attend a wonderful Christian school and every November they have an amazing Veterans Day assembly. Each year they have the students write essays and make posters thanking Veterans for their service. It's a great way to make the kids really ponder the sacrifice made for our freedom.

A couple weeks ago, I asked Daniel if he wanted to write an essay in preparation for the upcoming celebration. He responded with, "I don't have much to say. I've only been an American for two years." I reminded him that he has a perspective that many don't have. That starting out in another country will give him an appreciation that many Americans will never understand.

He grabbed a few sheets of notebook paper and a pencil, went to his room and closed the door. About an hour later he returned with the following words written in his best penmanship. As he read it aloud, the tears streamed down my face. He has given me permission to share it here. I corrected his spelling and grammar--but this was all his work . . . an outpouring from his heart.




Grateful for My Country
By Daniel Williams

I am 9 years old, but I have only been an American for almost 2 years. Back in Guatemala, I was so scared sometimes that I would put furniture up against the door so no one could break in. One night I heard guns shooting and often I couldn’t sleep because I was scared. I wished I lived in a country where I was safe.

I saw kids so poor that they would make shoes out of soft drink cans and make shelter with old boxes. I saw people taking guns when they would go to the bank because they were afraid of being robbed. I saw even small children begging for food. I have never seen these things in America.

December 24, 2009 is when I knew that my life had changed. I remember when I got off of the plane when I was adopted by my family and I saw the American flag. I knew then that I would be safe, I would have a home, I would not have to worry about putting things against the door, I would have plenty of food, and I would have a family.



Thank you, Veterans, for serving our country. Thank you for being away from your families and risking your lives for us. You make our country a safe and happy country. I think the difference between Guatemala and the United States is freedom.

(Photo of Daniel and siblings on his first 4th of July as an American.)

Here's a photo taken as we were in a hurry to get out the door this morning--of Ava with the poster she made, Daniel with his essay, and Brady barely awake. (He doesn't have school on Friday and is wondering why his crazy mom is taking his pic.) The school had their beautiful celebration yesterday--such a sweet time of honoring those who serve our country.



When Daniel got home yesterday he said, "I think some day I'd like to be an Army guy and fight to protect our country." Oh, that would make this mama so proud.

Happy Veterans Day to all the brave men and women who serve our country. I'm grateful for my grandfather, my dad, and my mother-in-law's husband Bob--who passed away last April--for their service to our country and sacrifice for our freedom. Thank you, Veterans, that a little boy named Daniel is grateful to be an American because he lives in a "safe and happy country."

God Bless America!

With Gratitude,

Kathie

Loved to Pieces: Lessons from the Toy Box

Big Bird just turned 40. Six months older than me but aging much better. My only consolation is that he’s still learning his alphabet (and I’ve pretty much got that down).

But the most popular Sesame Street friend at our house is Elmo. Pronounced Melmo. Not sure why the “M” is invisible, but every child I’ve known under the age of 4 has called him Melmo and I frankly don’t have the energy to debate with a preschooler. (And, well, it’s just so cute, why would I want to correct them?)

Brady’s Elmo once looked like this. (This special portrait was done by my niece Kaitlin.)



Now he looks like this. (Warning: Due to the graphic nature of this photo, it may not be suitable viewing for children or furry monsters.)



I hear gasps of horror coming from toy boxes around the world.

This former Tickle Me Elmo hasn’t laughed in years. Passed down from two big sisters, Brady and Elmo became buds early on.



No other stuffed friend would do. Believe me, we’ve tried to expand Brady’s social circle. Elmo has been to doctor’s appointments and Disney World,





school activities and sister's slumber parties,



grocery store runs, library reading time, and trips to Guatemala.



He provides comfort, security, and companionship like no other.

Unfortunately he hasn’t aged as poetically as the Velveteen Rabbit. He’s been washed numerous times to keep the Centers for Disease Control from running tests on him. His intestines leaked out and he lost his eyeballs when a friend’s dog mistook him for his chew toy. His deteriorating condition has earned him nicknames such as Industrial Accident Elmo. At one point his box of batteries connected with wires began to hang out of his nether regions, thus he was given the name Colostomy Bag Elmo. (I don’t think this one would market well.)

But I relate to Elmo. Sometimes after a long day, I look over at him and know just how he feels. Worn out and emptied, used as an emergency Kleenex, missing most of my original parts, and broken. There are times that I feel loved to pieces . . . by my kids, by my husband, by my friends, and even by God.

Well, a few months ago, my metaphoric twin was lost. We couldn’t find him anywhere. We retraced steps, called stores, distributed flyers, and offered a reward (okay the last two we didn’t really do but we were close).

Days passed with Brady absolutely distraught that his “Ruined Elmo” (as he affectionately calls him) was missing. One night I was trying to convince him that it was okay that the old Elmo was gone because we could get a new one to love. He pleaded that there was only one Elmo that he would ever love and he could never be replaced. I asked him why he was so special and he replied with an answer I wasn’t expecting from someone in Thomas the Train underpants: “He’s special because he is always wif me. He’s special because he ruined himself wif me.”

Gulp. I did a rewind of his words: “He’s always with me . . . He ruined himself with me.” Or even better: “He ruined himself FOR me.”

Hmmm. Maybe I was seeing my analogy upside down. Perhaps it is my Savior, the One I cling to for comfort and companionship, the One I feel lost without when I feel He’s not near, the One who is too special to be replaced, . . . the One who “ruined” himself for me. And if I am to be in His image, then emptied, worn out, and broken just brings me closer to understanding who He is and how He loves us. For this is what it truly looks like to be “loved to pieces.”



We did find our sweet Elmo, praise God, and he is now under house arrest (not taking any chances of losing him again). And when I look at Elmo snuggled up with his buddy (smiling even though he’s been reduced to an orange nose with some red threads dangling from it), I remember that being loved to pieces isn’t such a bad thing.

Gratefully His,
Kathie

P.S. Today is Veteran’s Day. Few people exemplify Christ’s sacrificial love as beautifully as the brave men and women who serve our country. Thank you, veterans, for your service, for your sacrifice, and for you willingness to be “loved to pieces” for our freedom.

This post is linked to The Finer Things in Life Friday because there's nothing finer than being loved.