I threw perfect out the window.

Disclaimer: I should soooo be cleaning my house. Or sleeping. But I need to process, so writing it is. And chocolate. Thanks to my super-husband, who left a lovely box of chocolates in my car along with an equally lovely card, I am set. Definitely a dark chocolate kind of night. None of that sissy stuff.

Where to begin? How about this: My standards have lowered. In a good sort of way, I think. And I don't think they will stay quite this low, but hopefully the attitude of "focus on what's truly important" is a keeper. They've lowered partly by choice (I really don't want to be a control-freak constantly busying myself with appearing as if I have everything together), and partly by sheer necessity. As in, I just simply DON'T have everything together!! And if I'm going to stay afloat something's gotta give. So right now that means my house. I'm getting the kids in bed by 8 and I am DONE. Totally, completely exhausted. A few nights I've even gone straight to bed right after them! Cuz, guess what, it starts all over again bright and early in the morning!

Last Saturday I remember thinking I was having a pretty darn good day. Lots of time playing with the kids, no big issues, pretty much a happy home. Then I looked down at 4 pm and realized I was still in my jammies. Whatever, sometimes you have to redefine success.

We are going on 2 weeks with 4 kiddos age 4 and under in our home. Not to be dramatic, but I'm tired just writing that sentence. I KNOW that one day will come when this will not seem all that challenging (just like you get used to 1, and 2, and 3 babies...the day does come!), but all I know is IT IS NOT TODAY.

I feel like wearing a sign, or telling every one I see, "I have 4 kids, you know!" as if that explains everything from my impatience to my dirty car. As if I'm the only one with a challenge on my plate. Lame, I know. But I want to be completely honest here (so as not to appear like I have it all together!) and admit that most everything seems like a huge deal right now.

We went from a family of 5 to a fam of 6 on Valentine's day when our newest little foster baby came to stay. For now, I'll call him C. He's 16 months old and cute as can be! We are thrilled to have him. The kids adore him. And we're pretty much scared to death of falling in love with him. We don't know how long C will be with us, although it's likely to be several months, and then he just may go back to his dad.

So we are walking that road that we've been hypothetically trying to figure out how to walk for over a year now: How do you love a child with everything you have (which is the kind of parental, pour-out-your-heart, allow-myself-to-bond-with-you kind of love that he needs) and not completely lose it if he leaves?

We are already falling for this kid. And Kevan spends hours every week trying to help C's dad get him back. What a conflict of emotions. What a counter-intuitive thing to do. No wonder we are exhausted.

This is not the way families are supposed to be. Babies are supposed to be born into loving, nurturing arms and remain in the care of adoring parents. But sometimes it is much, much more complicated and messy than that. And God has led us to be a part of this very complicated, messy thing. We have no idea how it will end. But we do know this: God has led us here, and He will carry us through. And, if we keep our eyes on Him, He will do great things through us while we are here. That is our hope; that is our prayer.

The words are starting to blur together. I've eaten 2 fabulous pieces of chocolate. I think I need to call it a night. More on all this later, I'm sure. But here's a summary: We are tired. We are blessed. We are completely fulfilled. We are changing day-by-day as the Spirit works within us. And we are thankful for HELP.

Good night!

My girl.

Rebekah Jane,

You should have been asleep long ago, but last time I peeked you were playing with your bunny - holding it up by it's little arms and pretending it was dancing on your tummy. I couldn't hear for sure, but I'm nearly certain you were whisper-singing a little song to go along with the dance, one that you made up all on your own with silly words and lots of high, drawn-out notes. You are unbelievably cute.

Your 3rd birthday has come and gone and I've been thinking about this little letter quite a bit. I've been waiting for just the right window to sit down and jot my feelings towards you, to put into words the joy that you bring to our lives.

I love how 3 brought with it a dancing, singing, tip-toe walking ballerina. I love how you always have a song in your heart and you will sing it loud and proud from the fireplace hearth (I mean, your stage) to anyone willing to sit on the couch and listen. I love how you usually say, "Your turn, Mom" and nod me onto the stage next. And then - and this is truly my favorite part - your eyes sparkle as you clap with joy and say "Good job Mom!!" as if I just gave the finest performance you'd ever seen.

Thanks for inviting me to play with you. Even if I do have to be the wolf sometimes, I love that you want me to be your playmate.

Even though we have fun picking out your outfits (you always want to know "This match, Mama?"), I can't seem to keep you in them very long. If you had it your way, you'd wear a costume all day, every day. Tinkerbell and Snow White are your costumes of choice and, yes, I've let you wear them the grocery store and the bank.

I love how, whenever you get a gift or receive an act of kindness, you squeal "For ME?!?" followed by "THANK YOU Mama!" (Or brother, or whoever). Today we were talking about how you may one day grow up and marry someone wonderful like daddy and become a mommy too. You were thrilled with this idea, placed your hands over your heart and said "For ME?!? I get to be the mommy?? THANK YOU Mama!"

We've had our ups and downs this past year, baby girl. You remind me of the poem about the little girl with the curl in the middle of her forehead. When things are good, they are really good, and when they are bad they are....well, certainly not pretty. Funny thing is, when we come out of a rough patch and re-enter the glory days, I can hardly remember what had me so concerned about you. I see the sweet and amazing qualities rise to the top and they snuff out any memory of your moodiness. God is so merciful to us in that way, baby. When we are His, we don't have to sit in our sin - He pulls us from the mire and makes us new creatures, without even a trace of our old self to remember us by. How I pray that you will one day soon be His.

That you would come to know and love Jesus at a young age, and that you would find and marry a man like daddy (one day!) - that is what I pray for you the most. And for loyal, life-long, Godly friends. I pray often for that, too.

You take my breath away with how beautiful you are. I still look at you and wonder - all the time - how you are mine. God has made you this way, created you just how He wants you. But remember baby, while others may judge you by your outward appearance, God is much more concerned with the condition of your heart. Beauty, true beauty, comes from a heart transformed by God.

So, here you are, 3 years old, and I'm still pinching myself that I get to be your mama. I love that you're my girl and - at least for now - I love that you're my only girl. It's me and you and all these boys, and we do pretty good being girls together, don't we baby?

I love, love, love you, my Rebekah Jane.