Each time I sit down to write for this blog I get stuck.  I rack my brain around and wonder how I can contribute to this blog every time my turn comes up.  The point of our blog is to be motivating but I don’t always feel as if I’m a motivating person.  What do I have that other people don’t have?  How can I encourage you to be something more than you already are?
How can I tell you to Keep Rolling On when sometimes I don’t feel as if I over came anything like my parents have.

I do not want to complain.  I do not in the slightest want to say anything bad about my life.

But here is the 100% truth.  I was sheltered as a child.  My dad took his gun shot wounds and his paralysis and promised that I would never have to endure anything like that in my life.  My mom took her teen pregnancy and taught me that even though I turned out fine that I didn’t want a kid so young.   They took how they were raised and they chose to raise me the opposite from their parents.  They wanted to give me all the things they didn’t have growing up.

They each have their own battles, paralysis, losing their childhood to become a mother, adoption, losing babies, having a child with mental illness, and still trying to raise a family, and writing a book. 

So when it comes to writing about overcoming and motivating.  What do I have to overcome?  My parents did it for me.

I am very grateful for that, I really truly am.  I have not experienced anything dramatic in my life.  I look back at my childhood and it was filled with my dad playing barbies with me, my mom reading me a bedtime story every night. I always had dinner on the table.  And I had more barbies and beanie babies than any kid really should have.

I was always wrapped in love.  

Someone recently said to me at a t-ball game for kindergartners and first graders, “I never played sports growing up, did you?  And before I could answer she said “Oh yeah you played everything didn’t you.”

She said it in a way with an edginess to her voice.  As if to say “Oh of course your parents let you play every sport, you were spoiled as a child.  But she also said it with sadness. She didn’t grow up with parents who encouraged her to play sports, who took her to ball games and watched her play.  I didn’t take it offensively, I knew she was hurt that she didn’t get to do those things as a kid.

Neither did my parents.  They didn’t do sports, or school plays or school clubs.  So when it came to me as their kid they signed me up for everything.  They didn’t want me to miss out on the activities that they missed out on as kids.  My parents didn’t go to the prom, they didn’t go to football games or basketball games.  They didn’t do any of the things I did growing up and sometimes I forget to remember that I am truly a blessed person.  Not everyone has the luxuries I do. 

We can break those cycles,  my parents broke the cycle with me. And the lady at t-ball is breaking it with her son.  She signs him up for every sport that he wants to play, and she goes to every single game.  I bet she does that because she remembers that she didn’t get that opportunity.  Even if she doesn’t realize that’s the reason I know she tries to give her son more of a life than she ever had.

I think every parent tries to give their kids everything they never had.

If I MUST be motivating today, because I started a motivational blog, it’s this: Write your way out of a hard time.

Write your way out.  It won’t solve your problems, well maybe it will, but it will make you feel better.  You might not feel better as you’re writing, you might feel worse, but afterwards you’ll feel better. I wrote a short book of my life, I wrote it to encourage other people to write their own stories, to tell their own stories, but I also wrote it for myself.  So I can remember who I am and where I came from.

And I have been through hard times in my life, I have been depressed before, I have had times where I would cry every single day.  I wouldn’t be human if I didn’t.  But I have not endured any of the pain my parents have.  Because they fought hard to make sure I didn’t have to.  

Write it all out.  Take all of your feelings no matter what they are and put them on paper.  Bleed them on to the pages.

Keep Rolling On!

When I gave birth to my oldest daughter at the age of 14 she was my only child for 14 years until my boys were adopted. Our home had changed dramatically as trucks, bikes, legos and noise were introduced into our lives.  While struggling to get pregnant, I would often dream of how I would look carrying a baby and how Sergio would see me.  I wanted so much to give him the experience of a pregnancy and a birth.  I made myself believe our marriage was not complete without it. When I did get pregnant I miscarried twins and believed that I had done something wrong.  It was my fault because once the babies were living in me it was my job to care for them.  I was in a dark place filled with guilt and shame. The battle to add to our family was very painful, I did not know if I would ever recover.  I didn’t know if I was worthy enough to parent child with special needs.  Children who have been adopted have special needs.  Very specific special needs.  God’s response was “Norah all I asked was for you to answer the call I have on your life, you did that and I will be right here beside you as you give each and every one of our children what they deserve, love.

When those scared brown eyes looked at me my mind instantly asked my heart if we were doing the right thing.  Had we made the right decision?  I was raising two young boys while in the process of trying to become pregnant.  This would be my last attempt to carry a baby.  I was reaching the age I had originally said I would be too old to carry a health baby.  I was almost 35 and felt I couldn’t take any health risks.  Looking at her stare at me without blinking reminded my heart that she needed me.  When those long eyelashes would finally blink I would smile allowing her to feel the comfort I longed to give her.  I knew feeling comfort from a stranger would take time.  I would need to be patient.

It was January 2009 when God placed a little girl in my arms.  I don’t know why He had nor for how long he would trust me in caring for her,  I just knew that I had to answer the call.  A troubled mother asked my husband and I if we would care for her child because her current situation would not allow her to to.  We thought and we prayed about what we should do.  I was scheduled to see a specialty doctor one last time to try and conceive with the latest attending ending in failure.  How could I continue to try and add to our family at a time like this?  What was God trying to tell me?  Why was all of this happening all at the same time?.

A photo posted by @thewheelsofgrace on Jun 20, 2016 at 7:24am PDT

All of these events happened at the same time because God had a plan for not only my life but my whole family’s life and the life of my now 8 year old daughter.  He knew that this little girl would complete our family.

The first few months of her living with us was an emotional struggle, she came to live with complete strangers who often forget to speak her language. Her first language was Spanish and although my husband and I know Spanish, English is what we speak at home.  In the every day to day activities we would forget and talk to her in English until we remembered that she had no idea what we were saying.  We had some growing to do and it needed to start with our communicating with words she could understand and love she could accept.  When I would ask her if she wanted a particular food to eat and she looked at me with a confused look I quickly remembered to ask her again in Spanish. In time we were able to speak in both English and Spanish as she quickly learned English.

Without knowing how long she would live with us we placed a toddler bed in the corner of our room for several months.  This was soothing to she and I.  As a child whenever I stayed anyplace other than home I always wanted to be close to my mother.  If I was going to be fearful it would almost always be at bedtime or in the middle of the night. I wanted to hear her needs if any arose.  I wanted to provide her comfort by giving her close contact with my husband and I. Often in the night she wouldn’t say a word, just crawl into bed and lay beside me.  Whenever I would feel her tiny body next to mine I would wrap my arm around her waist and hold her.  In times when she was obviously emotionally struggling but couldn’t tell me why, I would pull her entire body close to mine and stroke her hair.  These nights I would cry for her.  I wouldn’t allow her to see my tears, I didn’t ever want her to feel that she was causing me any pain. I welcomed any opportunity to embrace her as I was working towards building trust.  This little red framed bed stayed in our room for well over a year. Where she would call her permanent home was not certain.  I couldn’t bring myself to make a room for her only to have to pack it. I was cautious with my heart, I was fearful of the pain I knew it would endure if this little girl left. Honestly whether I would’ve picked up an entire room or just that little bed the pain would have amounted to the same.  The thought of her leaving our home often brought me to tears.  I feared her unknown future.  I was already loving her and dreaming of what she’d look like in the years to come.  I was getting excited at the milestones she would cross and prayed that I would be able to see her accomplish them.

God knows my heart and he knew how that as much as I wanted to have a baby I was just as passionate about children’s rights to be in a loving stable environment.  It pains me to hear stories of children not having a place to call home.  Children not having their needs met.

I didn’t get pregnant and I know why. The painful end to our dreams of me carrying a baby was over.  We did our crying and mourning brushed away the tears help each other and set to raise the children in our home to the best of our ability.  In our recovery process we started counting our blessings one by one.  In doing this God made me realize that I was blessed being called mom by children that needed me to be their stability.  I was blessed that I was a mom to now four.

Over the years and a long battle my relationship grew with my daughter. She began to trust that I would answer her cries and respond to her needs.  Hard times have come and gone. Some days were harder than others. Somedays I didn’t know whether or not I would get to raise her. Her adoption was being contested over and over again.  Not knowing if I would be granted the opportunity of being her mother pledged me.  Living in the unknown was a hard place to be. With hard times came hard questions.  Is my real mom coming to get me someday was a common question. I would respond with I am your mom and I love you and could imagine a day without you.  Some questions I was be able answer and some I was not.  Where does my real dad live was a question I could not answer.

As God continues to work in me and through me I will continue to teach my children.  Teach them that at times we do not understand why things happen the way they do.  We do not have the answers to all of our questions and we do not know why our lives have gone the direction they have gone.  What we do know is that God has a plan for each and every one of us.  He has placed us right where we need to be when we need to be there.  My children will know that God chose me to answer the call because he loves them.

What are you being called to do?  Are you going to answer the call? In my life the calls were literally a phone call but in your life it may be that still small voice.  Are you listening? Are you going to answer it?  If you ignore it you may miss the biggest blessing in your life.  You may miss what you didn’t understand to be your purpose?  Answer the call and Keep Rolling On !

A wife to a man in wheels. Sharing my life with all of the struggles in hopes to open up the highways of understanding, compassion, love, and hope.Follow me as I tread through.