A Compass Points North ... (Revisiting a Revisit: Foster and Adoption)

 First, a link to an earlier entry: Revisiting Foster Care and Adoption

 Second, the videos, starting with the newest: ReMoved #3

Third, the original two: ReMoved, and Remember My Story: ReMoved Part 2

Fourth, What's it to you?

I really don't have a lot to add to the above today, and I admit to being pretty worn out. But I can say this: If you can find it in your heart to love someone who is hard to love, and give them a little something that they would not otherwise have, do it.

Just that: Do It.

Love is never wasted. Kindness is never wasted. 

If you watch ReMoved #3 you'll get the title of this blog.

Spread some Love around.

Yes, You CAN!

"L'il Bit's Hug Song"

 It's been forever since I've posted here.

Our grand-nephew is having his fourth birthday. Well, actually, he had it almost a month ago. Everyone was set to visit Sis-in-Law's place in the middle of the back of beyond (no problem with that, she likes her space), and have a good time. It's not the first celebration, or even the first birthday we've held for the lad in this remote location. But, winter being what it is, and in spite of it being an excessively mild winter, chose that very weekend to throw us a slushy winter storm. And considering the travel requirements, it was thought best to reschedule. 

It's been rescheduled (yay). The snow has melted, the roads are open spring is springing (almost) and it's St Paddy's Day, for the love of Mike.

For his birthday, I dug out something I'd written some time back that was hiding in my steno pad notes. I settled on steno pads as being the best thing for carrying around to write notes in, not too big, but big enough that I wasn't forever flipping pages on my shirt-pocket notepad to get what I had in mind written down. No wonder stenographers used them.

Yes, I know, everyone nowadays has a phone with voice activation to take notes with, but old habits die hard; I'd established this habit in the early nineties, and I've only had a fan-dang fancy phone for the last five or so years. 

True fact, the newest iteration of a so-called 'smart' phone I made sure it had a stylus for writing things, and two of the apps I added were sketchpad and floorplan apps. Great! 

The one problem is, the registration of where the stylus taps and what appears on the screen is an infuriating couple of millimeters off from each other. And not even Motorola lists a way to tighten up that gap. 

Life is.

BUT, that's all just stuff and nonsense. The story's the thing, after all. 

I wrote this "Hug Song" while having a breakfast at McDonalds a few years ago. I decided it was time to transfer it to the computer, and was (finally!) able to find the steno pad it was written in. I cleaned it up a bit, then tried to enlist my own bear-cub to team-read the story (she was unavailable). I read it aloud myself, and recorded it as a nighttime story for grand-nephew, and burned a CD (actually a DVD) of it and a few other things.

And finally I'll get to deliver it.

I thought you'd like to read it, so here it is.

                L'il Bit's Hug Song

The scene: LizaBeth (“Li’l Bit”) Behr’s bedroom. Cub-sized bed with a toy chest at its foot, pine cones carved into the tops of the bedposts. Li’l Bit is tucked in, holding her favorite stuffed toy, a bunny holding a carrot. The coverlet is a patch-work quilt, well-used and well-loved. The only light comes from the bedside table lamp, the ceramic base in the shapes of the three monkeys, ‘Hear no evil, See no evil, Speak no evil’. The room is cozy despite the wind making the pine trees shiver and sprinkling the window with snow. A bit of moonlight is sneaking in through the window, past the snowflake lace curtains.

Beside the bed, in a straight-backed chair, sits George Bear, story book open but forgotten on his lap.

“Papa?”

“What is it, cub?”

“I don’t want a story tonight. Can I sing a song instead?”

George smiled, “I suppose, Li’l Bit. Is it a song you learned in school?”

“No Papa. I made it up myself.”

“Those are the best kind. Go ahead.”

Li’l Bit’s Hug Song (with asides)

     (The rhythm is a slow waltz time) 

I have a family that’s nice, so nice. 

They’re warm and fuzzy not cold like ice.

And do you know what else is right?

We all hug each other all day and all night.      (“We do?”)

                                (“Yes. Now hush, Papa. This my song!”)

                                          (“Oh. Sorry.”)

Mama hugs Papa, He Hugs her right back.

Ma hugs J.R. And he makes a big fuss.               (“That doesn’t rhyme, hon.”)

                                (“It doesn’t hafta rhyme, Papa!”)

                                          (“Okay.)

But when she’s not lookin’ he’s smiling so big.

But when she’s not lookin’ he’s smiling so big.

My Mama Hugs me, an’ I feel so safe.

Nobody can hurt me when she’s right there.

Papa is big, an’ he growls a lot,         (“I do?”)  

                                (giggling “Yeah, you do.”)

But I know he loves me, ‘cause he hugs a lot, too.    (“Awww.)

 

I hug J.R. when he’s not looking.

He growls at me an’ says, “Hey Cub, what’s cookin’?”

He’s not meaning supper, that’s just his way

Of askin’, “What’s up, Cub? How is your day?”       (“Hey! That rhymed!”)

                                (“Papa!)

                                          (“Oh, sorry.”)

                                (“J.R. sometimes gives me noogies.”)

                                          (“Is that bad?”)

                                (“No, that’s Good; s’long as he doesn’t do 'em too hard.”)

Sometimes I wake up and I’m scared at night.

I hug my stuffed bunny an’ say “It’s all right,

“Listen,” I tell her, “That’s Papa’s Big Snore,            (“I snore?)

                                       (“Yes, Papa. You sound like a big tree breaking. Shh.”)

“And Mama’s snore, too. And what’s more,”

                              

“There’s that funny sound that J.R. makes … ("I’ve heard him, you’re right, it is funny.")

                                  (“Papa, HUSH!”)

                                            (“Sorry”)

“There’s that funny sound that J.R. makes,

“An’ the sound the house makes when it is asleep,

“It’s hugging us, too, to have an’ to keep.”

So I hug my bunny an’ snuggle back safe.

And smile to my bunny an’ smile to myself.

I go back to sleep with a smile on my face …

I go back to sleep with a smile on my face.

                                            (“Are you finished?”)

                                  (“Not quite, Papa.”)

                                            (“Okay.”)

There’s soooo many smiles, an’ there’s soooo many hugs.

Sooo many ways to know I am loved.

Sooo many smiles and soooo many dreams.

So many everythings are making good dreams,

So many everythings are making good dreams.

 

                                            (“… Now are you done?”)

                                    ( yawn “I think so, Papa.”)

                                            (“That’s a good song. Thank you.)

                                            (Love hugs for you, Li’l Bit. Honey Dreams.”)    

And that's that. I couldn't get my drawing eye to work (it's out of practice), so no picture to go with like "Forever Family." Such is life. I'm practicing, so maybe I'll add an illustration later. 

I'm gathering these stories to publish, hopefully sooner rather than later. Wish me luck!

IN ANY CASE, I hope you had a Happy St. Patrick's Day, and may the wind be ever at your back!

And until we meet (or meet again), may the Good Lord hold you in the palm of His Hand!

Begorra!

"My Son" a song to live by

 

I’ve become addicted to the ‘shorts’ that come over the smart phone.

I’ve got to do something about that. Not today, though.

Fortunately, I try to feed the algorithm information for its selection of good stuff. And it works. Occasionally I get something good.

Yesterday, I heard a song with the title of, I think, ‘The Other WayAround’; the guy was singing to his son about how much the boy looks up to him, that the (the dad) is his whole world, and the dad tells him, ‘it’s the other way around’. The boy is saying, “Don’t say that. It makes me cry. I’m crying ‘Happy Tears’. I know what he means. I hate crying, even 'happy tears'.

I can’t find the song on YouTube anywhere; I find a lot of 'other way around's, just not the right one. So if you find it, please send me the link. It'll have the lyric: "He thinks I hung the moon somehow ..." Thanks.

It did remind me of another song I’d added to one of my many playlists, and I spent much of last night trying to find it (the reason for ‘many playlists’ is to categorize and keep each individual list short. Well, shorter. It doesn’t work, and I have a long list of playlists. But I digress …). The list it was in was ‘Crazy Country’, and I found a lot of other things along the way: stuff by Home Free (a great a cappella group, btw), Cotton Pickin’ Kids, Homer & Jethro.

And Elvie Shane.

This is the long way ‘round to get to my point. The song: ‘My Son’ kinda says everything about what foster/adoption is all about. It’s not just about helping the children. It’s about filling a hole in your (my) own soul.

How do I explain this without sounding selfish? I can’t, I guess. But the making of one small person’s life as whole as you can has the benefit of making one’s own life whole as well. It’s unavoidable.

Explaining this to people can difficult.

Questions: “Which one is your real child?” They are all my real children. “Well, you know what I mean.” Yes I do. And your question is impertinent. They are all my children. You are only looking for gossip material. “Bless you for the good work you do.” Depending on the source, this one perplexes me. My wife and I are not doing this for ‘stars in our crowns’. We see a need we can meet and we are meeting it. Though people on the outside see this as charity work, it’s not. Or the statement: “I don’t understand how you can love someone who is not your blood kin.” Well, I love my wife, and she’s not my blood kin. “But that’s different!” It is, and it isn’t. But how do I help people understand this?

I think the most hurtful are the statements made by family.

After the funeral for my father-in-law another family member sat with his wife and started listing the grandkids. And left our adopted kids off the list. (I don’t think the person realized I was sitting there.)

That hurt.

I didn’t call attention to it at the time; like I said, this was the day of the funeral for my father-in-law. Nothing would have been served by my mentioning this person's omission at the time, no matter how low-key I voiced it. Mom-in-law knew the truth in any case, as one of my daughter’s children had been living in the home as sort of supercargo while my wife had been helping dad-in-law take care of mom-in-law. It’s all water under the bridge at this point.

However, that child, my grandchild, is now eighteen  and will graduate High School in thirteen days. Scary. She makes me proud.

Yeah, we fight, but we make up. I scold her, encourage her to do better. Take her to task. She takes me to task sometimes.

 Later today I’ll most likely be helping her with one last Physics assignment, and the teacher that I am, I won’t be letting her slide through it. I’ll be helping her understand how this relates to the real world around her.

And, like the arrows in the hand of a mighty man, I will help launch one more child into the world.

World, you have been warned, here comes another Hansen!

And you, child-now-grown, fly straight and true. Know that I love you, and you have added as much and more to our lives as we have given to you.

That’s the nature of generosity: as you help someone else, you build strength in yourself.

I don’t understand it; I only can state from experience that it is true.

Be Generous. Take a kid under your wing.  

Yes, You Can!

Learning to Walk Like a Child of the King

You'd think I'd have this down by now.

Part of the learning process is to start where you are and expand your boundaries little by little.

I'm seldom patient enough for that. Instead, I want to leapfrog to the end result; I see little point in most of the intervening steps. I forget that learning to do anything requires taking it a bit at a time and mastering that bit before going further.

A classic example is weight training: if all you've ever picked up is a glass of milk, you are hardly likely to pick up that 100 lb. barbell on your first try. You have to start small and work up to the barbell.

The same with the Walk.

You're probably asking yourself, 'What does he mean "Child of the King"?' and 'How do you walk like one?' Good questions. Taking the second question first, it's not about how you move your feet, or the latest dance step.

Okay, you knew that.

It's about behaving in a manner that marks you as a certain kind of person.

You know what I'm taking about. An athlete who is serious about his sport will take care of his tools (his body), learn his sport, and repeat movements until they become second nature. And, since he knows that what the body doesn't use it lets go of ("Use it or lose it."), he continues to train his body and exercise it to keep it running well. He also feeds himself good stuff, in the right amounts. He allows his body to rest and recuperate. He is a detail person on how he can improve himself. He also has a sharply defined goal to strive for.

Tiger Woods is a great example of this. He once changed his entire swing and trained for months to unlearn his old way and learn the new one, all in order to send the ball farther down the fairway.

That's not 'Hard Way' thinking. That's 'Best Way' thinking.

You can tell such a person when they walk into a room, they don't have to tell you. You can see it in the grace of their movements, and the aspect of easy, controlled strength in their bearing.

The true athlete is not a braggart; he lets his ability do the talking. This aspect of self control expresses itself in how he looks at the world, and interacts with it. He is not a bully; he has no need to be. He's not perfect, but if he's smart he knows this, and knows that perfection is an exemplary goal, but an unattainable one. I think even Michael Phillips would say that. Even after taking all those gold medals, he would say 'There's room for improvement on my style, maybe even a total reworking of it, to get better performance.' Getting better is a never ending path, and perfection will always be out of reach.

I'll say that again:

Getting better is a never ending path, and perfection will always be out of reach.

Now that you know what I mean by 'walking', let me tell you what I mean by 'Child of the King'.

Now, the 'King' I'm talking about isn't Elvis. He's not Julius Caesar, or Harald Fine Hair, or even Holy Olaf. Nor is he any king you can name, all the way back to king Solomon, David, and especially not Saul (never mind Atila the Hun!).

This king was physically strong, mentally sharp, and attitudinally dedicated. He had a good idea of right and wrong, but, more importantly, he knew the difference between acting good and being good. He knew when to be forceful, and when to be gentle. He knew how to sacrifice the right things for the right reasons to get the right things done.

He gave himself away to the world, and stood between the forces of evil for the benefit of his subjects, even those who would side with evil against him. He even grants pardon to those who see the error of their ways. (Yes, he is still doing that today.)

I could go on, but I'd be here all day, and the next few days besides.

This King was worth following for all the right reasons. He was perfect example of how to interact with the world around him. He granted the right to be a part of his family, not by blood oaths, or by enormous sacrifice of self-worth, or by buying oneself into it (I couldn't afford it anyway, neither could you), but by allowing you and me to accept his kingship and rule.

Who would want to follow such a king, and be a part of his family? I dare say most folks.

The pity is, most people never see the King, just the pitiful examples most of his followers provide, myself included.

That's why I'm learning, all over again, how to walk in his footsteps, do the things he did, and as best as I can, be a reflection of his strength and wisdom and good-ness.

Here's the catch, though: through all of this the guiding principle is to show his kindness through humility. He even said, "To be great in my kingdom, you must become the servant of all."

I have a hard time with that.

Even when I was 'doing it', when a friend wrote in my high school yearbook that he hoped that I'd become the 'servant of all men', I was offended, though I didn't say so aloud at the time. I think that offends most of us in the Kingdom, until we truly understand what the point of the kingdom is: giving, healing, and loving.

I can't do those things with a selfish attitude. But I'm working on changing my attitude. And I'm practicing all those things that truly reflect that changed attitude. So can you.

I need to be humble enough to ask the King for help on doing this, for I can't do it by myself. I need his strength.

So do you.

I ain't there yet, by any stretch of the imagination. Just because perfection isn't attainable, doesn't mean I shouldn't try!

By the way, for those of you who, like me, have fought with the idea of having money versus being 'better' by not having money, remember, money is not evil. The love of money is the root of all evil. In other words, it's all about attitude, again. The more I have, the more I have to give.

Be rich, but be good. Put your riches, such as you may have, to good use. Walk like a child of the King.

Yes, you can!