unexpected blessings

One child throws up.

Another runs a fever.

One fights taking meds.

Another does too.

A few take turns being sick and sleeping on a mattress on the bathroom floor.

One wiggles out from under her mosquito net.

(She gets malaria.)

Three hide food to make sure they won’t go hungry like before.

One scavenges through the trash and eats whatever she can find.

That one eats crayons too.

And chalk.

And silly putty.

(That last one was an accident. She thought it was gum.)

One catches geckos at night when he’s supposed to be in bed.

Another throws birthday parties for stuffed animals.

One wants to change her dress at least three times a day.

Another pouts if jeans aren’t clean to wear that day.

Six love books.

Six love each other.

Six are loved.

Six are ours.

I never expected to be a mom of six.

And I am thankful for God’s unexpected blessings.

changing my perspective of home. {for now}

Sometimes a change in perspective helps more than you’d think.

(I could write a dozen posts about figurative changes in perspective, but that’s not what this post is about.)

No, I mean a literal change in perspective, as I write this post from a different location in the room. I swapped Jocelyn’s bed and the table, and then angled mine and Lee’s bed from the opposite corner of the table.

{excuse the mess. we all - minus Zoe, who is sleeping in another room - share this one room}

Now the room feels a bit more like home.

I hope it’s only home for another week, but regardless of the length of our stay, our family needs a home and not just a room.

The rearrangement was just the change our space – and my heart – needed. This place is home.

For now.

the hair. oh, the hair!

If you've talked to me in the last few months (or hung around on Pinterest long enough to see my latest pins), you know my biggest concern about this adoption:

I'm white. 

I'm not in control of my own hair most days, and I average one or two haircuts a year.

Black hair? 

In a word: YIKES.

I once told a friend that I'd only consider adopting a black boy, because hair for him would be easier. The options and tips and styles for girls? For a girl who either wears her hair down or in a ponytail, black hair maintenance scared me.

Then we said yes to our precious sibling group of three, including not one but two girls.

Then came the whammy for me: Our children's first mother was a hairdresser.

White girl, meet a high bar set for black hair care.

I'm anything if not determined. And I decided that if my two newest girls had known a mama who loved to care for their hair, I would do everything I could to be the second mama to do that.

All three of our darlings had very short hair when we arrived, which is typical in orphanages due to the difficulty in caring for longer hair and avoiding things like lice in institutional settings. This was a good thing, because it means I have some time to learn.

Now, their hair is around an inch long, if you stretch the curls. I'm beginning to realize that they each have a different hair type: Patience is a 4b, Philip is a 4a, and Patricia is a 3c.

This means we cover the gamut of types, since Lee is a 3b, I'm a 2c, Robbie is a 2b, Jocelyn is a 2a or 1a (depending on the humidity), and Zoe is a 1c. So much for being a low-maintenance mama!

I don't know if this will be helpful to anyone else, but I know the product chase was one of the most daunting parts. So here's what we've been using, first for washing:

Now, for upkeep and daily care:

To be honest, I'll probably be on the search for another pair of products for washing. The ones we're using work great for me and Zoe and Patricia and maybe Lee (though he hasn't tried them), but they're not enough for Patience or Philip. They're working for now, but I'm not in love with them. I'll be on the hunt for something new, particularly a shampoo that strips the hair less of natural oils and a conditioner that moisturizes more. Given that most washes will be co-washes (that is, washing with just conditioner and not shampoo), the conditioner is the most important of the pair.

The upkeep and care, though? I'm in love with these products. The pink oil one I picked up at a store here. It's made in Kenya, so I'm going to have to find something similar in the US (though I'll probably pick up one or two more bottles here to bring back). I spray the detangler, brush with the Tangle Teezer, massage in the pink oil (using the most for Patience since her hair is the driest and the least for Patricia), and the follow up with the olive oil cream.

If you're on the hunt, I got the olive oil cream at RiteAid, the Tangle Teezer and just for me products at Amazon, and - as I mentioned - the pink oil at a local store in Entebbe, Uganda. The olive oil cream was sold at the store in Entebbe too, which made me feel a bit validated since I figure they know best here about black hair!

All in all, the hair care isn't as scary as I made it out to be.

That said, Patience is begging for a style soon (and for some reason, the girl doesn't think wearing a headband qualifies as a "style."), so we'll see how that turns out. I have my trusty Pinterest board, so I'm hoping those pins won't fail me!

every night and every morning

Every night, Patience declares, "I am going to America tomorrow with Mommy."

Every night, we explain what we need to do next before that can happen.

Every night, I set out six sets of pajamas.

Every night, we have to tell Philip that he needs to stop running around naked and that it's time for pajamas. 

Every night, I cuddle at least two children to sleep

Every night, we secure mosquito nets around each child.

Every night, we say "Sedika" and "Webake" more times than we can count. 

(That's "Quiet" and "Sleep" in Luganda.)

Every night, we have to confiscate at least one LeapPad from a child who snuck it into bed.

Every night, I check what's dry on the clotheslines and put it away.

Every night, Lee and I chat over coffee or soda and our hidden stash of Nutella.

Every night, we go to sleep, not knowing how many more nights we have in Uganda. 

Every night, at least one child needs some help or assistance after we've fallen asleep.

Every morning, God's mercies are new for yet another Ugandan day as Dingle, party of 8. 

“The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases;
his mercies never come to an end;
they are new every morning;
great is your faithfulness.
“The Lord is my portion,” says my soul,
“therefore I will hope in him.”
The Lord is good to those who wait for him,
to the soul who seeks him.
”

— Lamentation 3:22-25

homesick.

I want to be home.

I've made it 21 days without being terribly homesick. And now?

It has hit hard.

I love Uganda, but I. am. tired.

I love all six children, and I love that we became legal guardians of the newest three upon a ruling issued today, but I. am. worn.

I love Pineapple Mirinda soda and the rooster in the morning and the sky's beautiful palette in the evening and the chiapati and the fresh fruit and the sounds of Luganda around us and the boda bodas and the cool night air and the hot sun and the breathtaking views of Lake Victoria and even the mental math needed to convert Ugandan shillings to dollars... but I love home too.

The reminder I needed today is that our Ugandan children love home too.

They talk of going to America with us, but they don't know what that means, other than the excitement Patience has about being able to go to school. They don't know that they'll be homesick for here once we're there.

They don't know they'll miss Pineapple Mirinda soda and the rooster in the morning and the sky's beautiful palette in the evening and the chiapati and the fresh fruit and the sounds of Luganda around us and the boda bodas and the cool night air and the hot sun and the breathtaking views of Lake Victoria...

...and so, for today, I'm soaking in Uganda as I long for home, experiencing a little bit of what Patience and Philip and Patricia will feel as they soak in America and long for their first home.

God is redeeming this time for all of us. As we wait, he is reminding me that adoption is all about redemption and that this life is meant to be marked with a heavenly homesickness, a longing for the day when all broken things are made beautiful.

And not only the creation, but we ourselves,
who have the firstfruits of the Spirit,
groan inwardly as we wait eagerly for adoption as sons,
the redemption of our bodies.
Romans 8:23