Worth The Wait

A lot of adoption news in the community has been hard news lately. Court delays, slow downs, investigations, "on hold" are never good things to hear. But as adoptive moms and advocates for setting the lonely in families, we at LoPa Art know that those precious kiddos currently smearing jelly over our walls and fighting with their siblings were two things: God-timed and Worth the Wait.

We recently travelled to several shows with our art and our t-shirts and they were HUGE hits. Since we are gearing up for our annual shopping in trip to Ethiopia next week, we need to clear out some inventory. Here is where the special for you guys come in.

Our Worth The Wait shirts come in both adult and children's sizes. For only a few days, we are offering our shirts for $20, which includes tax and shipping. I've attached the list of our remaining inventory. All we ask is that you send us an email at lopa3moms at gmail dot com and tell us what shirts you want. You can paypal the amount to our account and we'll pop your shirts in the mail before we skip over the ocean for a month. If you order more than two shirts, please include an additional $2 per shirt to cover shipping. Not only will we be able to continue to support LoPa artisans, but we'll also continue to help our partnership agency with their feeding program in Korah.


Remember to check our inventory list at the bottom of this post and I'll update them until they are all gone.

Is our model not the cutest preggie mommy ever?

Adult Shirts:

Pink with yellow-
Xs-1
Lg-1

Blue with yellow-
M-3
L- 3
XXL-1

Charcoal with yellow-
S-1
M-2
L-1
XL-1
XXL-1

Charcoal with green-
S-1
M-2
L-2
XL-2

Charcoal with purple-
S-1
M-2
L-2

Putty with purple-

M-3
L-2
XXL-1

Children Sizes:

Pink with yellow-
S-2
M-1
L-2

Lime green with purple-
M-1
L-2

Putty with green-
M-3
L-3
XL-1

Blue with yellow-
M-1
L-4
XL-2

Brown with yellow-
XS-1
S-2
M-3
L-3
XL-2

My Favorite Day Ever

Saturday, The Angel turned Seven.

I wonder how old she is in Angel years?

Since I don't know what a biological child experience is like,

all I have to go on is the here and now with The Angel and The Dinosaur.

There are days that I stare at her face and I wonder if she

even knows the depth of how much I admire her.

For her strength,

her laugh,

her outlook on everything,

and her ability to grieve for what she's lost

and still enjoy the present.

I am honored to share a house,

a life,

a love

with such a fighter.

I despise kid's birthday parties.

The planning,

the expense,

the expectation of outdoing the other moms on the block.

The unnecessary buying of gifts that you know will be returned

or never played with more than once.

Please hear me:

I LOVE BIRTHDAYS.

The cake.

The ice cream.

The singing.

The celebration of one's life.

An entire day about being selfish.

I want to teach my kids how to celebrate,

without the gluttony of entitlement and stuff.

We talked to The Angel a lot about what she wanted.

She only had three requests.

Dinner, with her entire family.

A new bike.

And everyone singing happy birthday

Loud.

Just for her.

We gathered everyone together.

The Hero and I bought her a new bike.

I covered our house in balloons

and pink and yellow streamers.

She got a new "sparkly" tank top

and new shorts.

We all sang Happy Birthday.

Twice.

Just for good measure.

We ordered her favorite cupcakes.

And made her favorite dinner.

And the grandparents overdid it with gifts.

Again.

The Hero built a bonfire.

We made smores in the backyard,

sat around the fire

and relished in the glow of her face.

As she "snuggied" in my lap

and I stroked her hair,

She smiled and told me

"Mommy, I didn't have a birthday in Africa."

"I know sweet heart."

"But mommy, it's ok. Because today is my favorite day ever."

"It is?"

"No. I guess not. Every day is my favorite day ever."

Dear Angel,

Thank you for being a daily reminder

of strength,

beauty,

love

and opening my eyes to the fact

that each day

should be my favorite day ever.

And as long as you are a part of it,

it will be.

Just for Tonight!

School is out.

Summer has begun.

The Angel turns 7 tomorrow.

And she has a brand new bike in the garage.

But none of these did we celebrate tonight.

Tonight, we celebrate for the one(s) who come(s) next.

The newest addition(s) to our family.

Over the past months,

We've inquired about several.

Prayed about many.

Scoured waiting lists for siblings,

older children,

special needs children

and felt our hearts be tugged,

pulled

and stretched.

But today, we filled out paperwork for _______?

There will be plenty of time for questions,

all of which we will answer.

But not tonight.

Tonight, just join us in knowing

That the Andrews' clan is growing.

And we think that is a ROCKIN' thing to celebrate tonight.

Without Fail

My kids adore my sister and brother in law.

They came home the first week we were home from Ethiopia.

The Dinosaur was captivated with Brian from the first day.

He even made up a song about him as he fell asleep in Brian's arms.

It went like this:

"Papa Chu.

Paaaaaapa Chu.

Papa Chuuuuuuuuu."

To this day, none of us know what Papa Chu means.

But the nickname stuck.

The Dinosaur has no clue Brian has another name.

He had such a hard time saying Laura,

she has been forever relegated to the name LaLa.

At every meal, every night time prayer, my son opens up the prayer.

He bows his head and says three words.

"Papa Chu,

LaLa"

Laura thought I was kidding that he prayed so consistently

and without fail only for them,

until I started recording him.

And calling her during meal times with the phone so

The Dino couldn't see it.

AND...making my mom a witness when she's with us for dinner.

He is so devoted to it that even when Brian and Laura travel home,

and are WITH us during dinner

and nighttime prayers,

He STILL prays for them.

I think Laura believes me now.

A month ago, we took the kids on a small road trip.

To a place in the northern part of the State.

And found this adorable little church inside Har-Ber Village.

At the front of the church was a prayer bench.

The kids wanted to know what it was used for and how.

The Hero explained to them how to kneel and speak to God.

The Dinosaur only had three words.

"Papa Chu,

Lala."

I was bawling.

I made him go back and do it again.

Because I knew Laura would never believe me.

That even in the middle of vacation,

whenever my son calls out to God,

he only has three words.

My mother's side of the family is consistent, normal; nurses, farmers, firemen, and land owners. Beautiful really, but the people with the craziness and the ridiculous stories is my father's family. Gamblers, hell-raisers and overall lovers of life, stories about them always left me slack-jawed and wide-eyed when I was a kid. With it being Memorial Day, I thought about one of my favorite Willis family legends.

My great-grandfather, Harry fell over drunk in a rose bush in the front yard of a woman who only discovered him because he wouldn't stop singing. She later married him and bore him three sons, one of whom was my grandfather. Harry's drinking was legendary, so was my great-grandmother's church attendance at the local Baptist church. Harry would be coming in from a night or a weekend of bar-hopping while Mattie had spent the same amount of time or more at church, on her knees that Harry would come to his senses. She was consistently pleading that God would provide a way for Harry to sober up.

She thought the oldest of her boys being drafted into the United States Army not long after Pearl Harbor would be enough. She was wrong. When their middle son was drafted not six months later, Harry's time inside a bottle only increased, as did Mattie's time in church. But when my grandfather, the baby, was drafted only a few months after both the older boys, Harry met Mattie on the porch of their house as she arrived home from church. For the first time in a long time, he was sober.

He only had one question: "Mattie. Is your God big enough to bring all three of my sons home from war alive?"

She only gave one answer "Of course He is Harry. Of course He is."

Now I've heard that you're not supposed to make deals with God, but apparently, my great-grandfather was clueless. He told Mattie to go back to church and tell her God that if He would bring all three boys home safely, he would never drink another drop.

Four years later, one after another, each of the boys came home. Safely.
And Harry kept his promise. He never drank again.
At he and Mattie's 50th wedding anniversary, someone offered him a margarita. He laughed and refused. All he said was "He kept His end of the bargain...I'm not going against mine."

I only remember meeting Harry a few times. He died when I was just a child. As we celebrate those who've gone before us this weekend, I am reminded that I have an ever-growing list of who I can't wait to talk to in Heaven. Harry is definitely at the top of the list.

Bacon Make You Feel Better?

Today was hard.

You know the type.

Words are snippy.

Attitudes are haughty.

Open disobedience abounds.

And that was just Mommy's day at the office.

The Angel has had a spell of lying lately.

It's completely out of character.

As I tucked she and The Dinosaur into bed tonight,

We talked about lying.

Why it's not good.

Why it makes it hard for Mommy to trust her.

Why it makes it hard on everyone when she lies.

She cried.

I cried.

We prayed.

She prayed to recognize the truth and own it.

I prayed to provide grace.

Even when she fails.

Just like my Father does for me.

The Dinosaur watched in amazement from his bed.

Still.

Through the talking.

Not a word.

Through the praying.

Just stares.

Until The Angel started crying again.

"Hey {Angel} bacon make you feel better?"

I thought he mispronounced a word.

I asked him to repeat.

"I ask {Angel} if bacon make her feel better?"

I almost fell off the bed laughing.

So did the Angel.

I asked the Dinosaur if bacon made him feel better.

"No. Why?"

Mommy, Was That God?

Weather in the MidWest has been tumultuous this week.

Last night it was here.

RIGHT above our house.

In 14 months together, we've never had to open the storm shelter.

Until last night.

The Hero toured the kids through it first.

I made emergency kits.

We prayed.

We asked God to send his angels.

We fed the kids dinner and

as The Dinosaur chomped his pizza,

the sky above our house rocked the loudest clasp of thunder I'd ever heard.

I've been in Oklahoma for 31 years.

The Dino stopped in mid-chew, solemn faced and said

"Mommy, is that God?"

"Yes son, that's God."

"Ok. Cool."

Resume eating.

The Hero and I stood outside for awhile, watching the hail pound our house.

Golf balls of ice pelting the ground.

And the kids were thrilled.

Ice cubes in the middle of the yard.

But when the rain and the hail stopped

and the sky opened up

the air stood still

and everything was really quiet.

Mommy looked up and knew that it was God.

And while so much destruction is not pretty,

watching a cloud collect over our house was alarmingly beautiful.

And before Mommy headed into the shelter, I stood on the lawn and gave thanks

that He is who He is

and He always will be.

Even when the clouds surround our house.

As we headed into the shelter with neighbors and friends

and two dogs,

The Dinosaur and the Princess were true to form.

Even in the midst of pressure,

he was cracking jokes,

she was calm and helpful

and The Hero watched the weather

until it was all safe for us to come out.

And as we emerged from the shelter,

we were safe,

warm and dry

and together.

Today we are praying for those who are not.