Non-traditional traditions

Every year, since our oldest kids were quite young, the children have put together a Christmas themed play to present on Christmas Eve. Then they follow it with their own unique version of the nativity…complete with live animals (dogs and cats), or small people playing the roles of live animals. Christel and I get to be the audience. Each year as children have been added to our Tribe, the productions have become even more wonderful. It has become one of our most treasured holiday traditions. This year’s play was a lively presentation of the classic story of The Little Drummer Boy.

Before.

After

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Jazz as Mary, Micah as the drummer boy, Honour as a lamb, Ty as a wise man.

Amber as a donkey (she was also the director), and poor, patient Lola as a camel.

"I'll play my drum for you..."

The nativity.

Micah and Jazz as Mary and Joseph.

Beautiful.

Michaela as a shepherd.

And special thanks to Aragorn from Lord of the Rings for stepping in and playing the part of a shepherd!

Honour and Lola

Lola's Christmas gift was this new bed. It says "If my dreams would come true, bones would rain from the sky."

Before moving back up to the northeast 9 years ago, we lived in Texas for about 8 years. Every Christmas Eve our family would go to a local stable, nestle into a pile of hay and celebrate Christmas together. Our evening together would consist of reading the Christmas story by candlelight, singing some carols and whispering a few prayers. Very simple, and sometimes wonderfully messy. The animals would look at us curiously as if they were wondering why we were there.

I remember one particular Christmas Eve in the stable. Lying right next to us was a VERY pregnant cow. While I was reading the Christmas story, the poor cow kept interrupting the most critical moments of the story with an agonizing groan or moan. The kids couldn’t help themselves from giggling through most of the story. Meanwhile a few stalls away, there were a couple of goats “getting friendly”. My kids began asking; “Hey Dad…what are those goats doing???” And at the same time there were the frequent exclamations of “It stinks in here!!” We LOVED every minute of it! It provided us with great opportunity to explain to the kids how this was just like it was 2000 years ago in the Bethlehem stable on that first Christmas.

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Christel and I would watch our children’s eyes grow wide with wonder as they would ponder why God would choose such a place to show up. And in watching them, she and I would, for a moment, recapture some of our own child-like wonder. I will never forget the quiet walks back to the car under a star lit sky. A sky that seemed to never end. Light piercing darkness. Silence about to erupt into singing. A God who was not afraid to get dirty…entering into the mess of the human race.

I heard a story of a 4-year-old girl who had a new baby brother. One night she asked her parents to leave her alone with the little baby. As her parents watched from a crack in the doorway, they saw their little daughter tiptoe to his crib and put her face next to her baby brother. Quietly she asked, 'Baby, tell me what God is like. I'm starting to forget.'

In these crazy times, and in all the mess the world is in, we are trying hard not to forget. During this time of the year and through our traditions, we are often undone by the hope, joy and wonder we see in our children. And it is often because of them that we are able to remember.

-Rob

3 wisemen and a Stormtrooper

Micah’s obviously in charge of security at the stable. He’s taking extra precautions to protect baby Jesus by providing a Stormtrooper on a camel. Either that, or the Stormtrooper caught a glimpse of the same star that drew the others to the stable and he couldn't stay away.

Merry Christmas from Our Tribe to yours!

Honour LOVES snow!!! And it snowed a lot this past weekend.

We always knew Micah had a little angel in him.

Still trying to figure out a way to harness Lola to the sled.

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Until we do...It's my job to pull the sled.

(Dad and Honour)

Honour testing out the "snowmobile."

No one wants to pull Dad.

Ending a day out in the cold with a fresh bowl of snow!

-Rob

My new apprentice

Because I’ve been away every weekend this past month, my traditional “Clark Griswold” responsibilities have fallen to others. One of my most treasured responsibilities has been checking for burnt out bulbs on the endless strings of lights. And yes, I like LOTS of lights. We spend the first six months after Christmas, paying off the electric bill because of my obsession with Christmas lights. I recall hearing comments in the past like “Honey, is there actually a tree under all of those lights?”

As a side note, I am a Christmas light purist…meaning that anything more than lights on your house is overkill. Okay…maybe one of those wired reindeer with white lights is acceptable. But leave the motion activated elves and life size plastic Santa for the department stores. I’m even thinking of beginning a campaign to end the production of those giant inflatable snow globe decorations people have been putting on their lawns in recent years. If you have one, and you wake up on Christmas morning and it’s popped and shriveled up on your lawn, it means that Santa had his little elf named Rob with him when he visited you during the night.

Anyway, this year Christel put up the tree, the younger kids decorated it and Tyler strung the lights. Well, when I returned home from my trip, I was a little confused by how dimly lit the tree was. It turns out that Tyler became very frustrated with my giant garbage bags filled with balled up, tangled strings of lights. Many of them with burnt out bulbs. He became so frustrated that he just threw most of them out. There goes my hope for passing down one of my favorite holiday traditions and responsibilities to my oldest son.

But all is not lost. I discovered that I do have someone who has the potential to carry on the tradition. Someone is rising up out of the masses, who I believe carries great potential. In fact she seems to have a natural gift, as well as the patience and love for testing bulbs. All will be well.

-Rob (AKA: Clark)

“A Little full…A lot of sap”

Most of our lives we have had a real tree for Christmas. We eventually broke down and bought a fake one that only LOOKS real. Mostly because of too many of these kinds of experiences, as seen in one of our family's all-time Christmas favorites:

Make an on-line slide show at www.OneTrueMedia.com

I was away when the tree went up this year. Honour seemed to really get a kick out of a tree being in the house. She’s probably thinking; “This is one crazy family I’m a part of now! It’s wild enough that they talk weird, eat weird food, have a dog the size of a horse, and are all different sizes and colors…but now… we are putting a tree up in the house!!??. What’s next??”
I think she really likes being part of this Tribe. She fits right in…like she’s always been here.
“AAAAAHHHH!!! There’s a tree in the house!!!” Honour helps Ty string the lights.

-Rob

No one left on the Island!!

One of my favorite Christmas movies of all time is Rudolph the Red Nosed reindeer. This year while watching it with the kids all cuddled on the couch, one of my favorite scenes suddenly took on new meaning. The scene I’m referring to is at the end of the movie when the brokenhearted toys are once again seemingly forgotten and left alone on the island of misfit toys. At one point the dolly laments “I haven’t any dreams left to dream”.

This scene struck me this year as almost allegorical for those of us who have waited and those who continue to wait for our children to come home from a particular province in Vietnam. This province has become notorious for taking an excruciatingly long time to process adoptions as compared to the rest of Vietnam.

Our family is beyond thankful that our daughter Honour finally came home a little over a month ago. But there were periods during our very long wait that we had a hard time dreaming anymore. There were times we felt alone, and even forgotten. We often wondered if Honour felt the same way. Other than some close friends, our life line was the handful of families who found themselves waiting on the same lonely island. Some of those families are still on that island. Still waiting. Honour has a foster sister who continues to wait in Vietnam. When Honour looks at her picture, she puts the picture up to her face and whispers to her sister. Maybe she’s telling her that she misses her. Maybe she's telling her to not give up dreaming.

As we all know, the movie version has a happy ending. Santa comes flying in with Rudolph leading the way and not a toy is left behind. I believe in Christmas miracles. I want to ask you to believe with me and pray for a miracle for these waiting families and children. Pray that a miracle would happen this Christmas, that these families would hear the good news of being able to bring their children home. Pray that no one will be left on what has come to feel like a cold and isolated island. To our friends still waiting…you are not forgotten.

And to the little ones still waiting… Don’t stop dreaming. Keep looking and listening. You may not hear the sound of sleigh bells, but you will soon hear the sounds of home. You probably won’t see a sleigh carrying a little fat man in a red suit, but instead...there will be a 747 carrying your Mom and Dad. And you will be the greatest gift to each other that any of you could have ever dreamed.



-Rob (AKA: Charile in the box-the official sentry of the Island of Misfit Toys)

Pile on!

“Home is a name, a word, it is a strong one; stronger than magician ever spoke, or spirit ever answered to, in the strongest conjuration.” - Charles Dickens

For this Christmas…Amber’s home!!!!! And Honour’s home!!!!!
For a short time, all eight of us are home together. And that’s all that matters.

The traditional welcome home pile on!!

-Rob

Dog saliva, FedEx and a little phoenix

I don’t remember much from my days in school. Mostly because I spent most of my high school years in a kind of…shall I say…haze? Thank God those days are long gone.

One of the few random things I do remember from school was learning about Pavlov’s salivating dog experiments for his research on classical conditioning. It wasn’t the significance of the research that impacted me as much as it was the idea that experiments with dogs and spit seemed pretty cool.

Anyway…I’ve come to realize that I am a victim of classical conditioning. And it doesn’t involve dogs or spit. It involves FedEx trucks. Every time I see a FedEx truck, I experience a conditioned response. My heart instinctively skips a beat and I am flooded with a sense of joy as well as genuine affection for the company. Why is this?

It’s not because I’m expecting a special delivery from FedEx. Instead, it is a conditioned response birthed out of a single experience that happened a long time ago. It didn’t take multiple experiences like the poor dogs in Pavlov’s experiments. It just took one, breathtaking, unforgettable, magnificent moment.

That moment occurred a little over 10 years ago. Christel and I spent the longest weekend of our lives waiting for a FedEx delivery. We found ourselves running to the window at the sound of every vehicle slowing down in front of our house. We were waiting. Actually, it would be more accurate to say we were expecting. I don’t remember breathing that weekend.

I will never forget the moment when we heard the sound of yet another vehicle slowing down, but this time it STOPPED. Running to the window, we looked out and saw THE TRUCK. That beautiful truck. That wonderful, purple, white and orange truck! It was like seeing Santa’s sleigh parked on the front lawn. Only better.

We ran out of the house and just about attacked the driver as he held the expected package out to us, partly to protect himself from the two wild eyed freaks charging at him. Without even looking, we quickly scribbled something that looked like our signature on his pad. Running, tripping and scrambling into the house with our prize, we quickly tore the package open revealing its contents.

In that moment, the world seemed to stop spinning and we were overtaken by what seemed like an audible hush, as if even the angels stopped for a moment to gaze upon the small photograph that we pulled out of the package. It was a picture of our daughter Michaela. Though we had been in the adoption process for several years, it was the first time we saw her face. In that moment, our lives changed forever.

Michaela was our first venture into the world of adoption. She started this beautiful addiction. A little over a week ago, we celebrated her 13th birthday. As we sat having dinner at Olive Garden (her choice for the traditional birthday meal) we couldn’t help but marvel at this amazing girl and who she is and is becoming. Michaela is thoughtful, intelligent, inquisitive, beautiful, resilient and tenacious. She has not only courageously endured the challenges of orphanage life in China, but the incessant probing of doctors and multiple surgeries as well. She is like our little phoenix rising from the ashes, who against all odds, insists on flying.

So in reality, we don’t just celebrate her life on her birthday, but everyday. And on the days I forget…I will see a FedEx truck. And I smile. It’s a beautiful, conditioned response. And a lot less messy than salivating. Happy birthday Michaela! We love you!
(For more of Michaela’s story click here.)

Michaela and Jazz

Michaea after big sister Amber decided to go creative on her hair.

-Rob