Category Archives: Uncategorized

10 Days and counting…

We survived summer! The Cherubs aren’t in school quite yet, but #1 is at soccer tryouts right now, and #2 spent the morning at an 8th grade leadership workshop she didn’t want to attend, and we are close enough to resuming normal that I’m calling it done.

Guess what? This summer didn’t suck! I’ve shared before that I am bad at summer – bad with planning, bad with figuring out the structure our kids need, bad with attitudes that pile up as the days go on.  And while some of you shamed me (“Didn’t you ask for this?”) and a few of  you mocked me (“How hard can it be???”) most of you CAME THROUGH and told me, “Fill those days right up and don’t apologize!” So that’s what I did.

Probably the best decision we made was to send the Cherubs to a sleep-away camp several of you recommended for two weeks. We spent all their college money on hiking boots and waterproof camping gear they’ll never use again, and it was worth every penny. They got to have an experience that was exciting, structured, fun, adventurous, safe, and theirs to have without us. And Steve and I got to have two weeks to not do all the things parents are told we absolutely must do. It was glorious.

We didn’t eat dinner at a set time each night. Some nights we forgot it entirely. We stayed up late, came and went randomly, skipped church, and took a midnight walk along the beach because the moon was so bright on the water that it seemed a sin to drive by.  We talked about things at all different times of the day, not just after bedtime.

We realized some grave mistakes we’ve made in our family building endeavor…and had the energy and bandwidth to course-correct and imagine a new way forward. And we solidified our core: God first, our marriage second, kids third, work forth, church fifth.  Those ducks had been flopping helter-skelter across our pond for months, fighting for dominance. This time gave us a chance to wrestle them back into a row, and it’s made such a difference.

I know some of you are waiting for a newsletter I promised back in the Spring, and that may still happen. But trust me when I say that from an events standpoint, not much happened this summer that would justify space in your inbox. I hope this next season will be different!

I almost sent a book newsletter, because reading was THE unexpected joy of these past few months. I read a strange and eclectic assortment – a multi-book series by David Baldacci about a CIA sniper (LOVED!), the new essay collection from David Sederis (weird), a memoir by a woman who billed herself as “The Very Worst Missionary” (funny), another by a recovering drug addict (raw), and a surprisingly engaging novel by James Patterson & Bill Clinton (Who knew???). It was so fun to open up the gates and read anything and everything that caught my attention without regard to whether it would inform my thinking in some important way or generate good sermon material.

This will sound so cliche and obnoxious, but I guess I spent this summer breaking out of a bunch of patterns that weren’t working, and finding new ways to live. I’d accumulated some bad habits. Not on purpose, but because I was figuring so much out on the fly and I wasn’t sure what else to do. I’m not all sorted, yet, certainly. But I’m excited that the possibility of change is available even now, as I’m at the age where I used to believe life was set and unmovable. Thank God that’s not true. More on all of this in future posts, I hope.  For now, I’m glad to be back in the blogsphere, and curious to see where it takes us.

Happy almost-September, friends. The best season is almost here!

High School Reunion


I attended my High School reunion last Saturday. Yes, I wore Stitch Fix. No, not the Moto Jacket. (Too warm). It’s taken me four days to process the experience and I’m still not sure what to say, other than that it was so incredibly good and I’m really glad I went. But I haven’t blogged since May (sorry!) I figured I’d dive in and post something in the hopes that some thoughts will make sense as I go.

I grew up in a small town in Maine where we went to school in the same yellow building from Kindergarten through 8th grade. After that we moved up to the High School, where we merged with kids from the town next to us. By senior year, our graduating class was about 150 people. Everyone knew everyone else, and almost everything about each other.

This was the first reunion I’ve been able to make since we graduated. I’m in awe of what it felt like to be back together in the same room with people with whom I share so much of history…and yet in most cases, we knew next to nothing about each other’s current lives. I was surprised how NICE that was. Sure we did some updating. I have friends with grandkids, and friends with newborns. We’ve had moves and career changes, big wins and hard hits. But mostly we reminisced about what it was like to grow up in our little corner of the universe, and how differently we see it now.  We were all sort of staring at each other in this happy way, saying things like “this is surreal…” and “I can’t believe you’re here…” interspersed with the most common comment of the night, “WHY did we all have such ridiculous hair???”  It was so much goodness wrapped up in one event.

I realize how protected we were back then. And how privileged. We weren’t wealthy (at least most of us weren’t) and our families weren’t perfect. But the world was manageable, and there was time and space for us to grow into it. And we were just a good group of people. That makes a difference.

I hope to have more thoughts on this at some point. But for now I’ll just say, Kids: go ahead and perm your hair before your senior pictures! It will give you a great icebreaker at your reunions for years to come ;)




Big Chicken News

I hadn’t planned to blog again today. Then this big chicken story broke.

Behold, Big Boss:

As a writer for CNN observed, “It’s like the prologue to a poultry-themed apocalypse novel.”

It demands a response.

First, let me establish my chicken credentials, so Big Boss knows who he is dealing with.

I have a rooster-themed spoon holder.

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And a Chickens Of the World dish towel.

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I welcome chickens from other countries.


And celebrate differently-abled chickens.


But Big Boss should notice some commonalities among my favorite chickens. A certain…fixedness. He should know that I am not a fan of chickens in motion.

Now the truth is, if Big Boss is breeding an army, it’s likely that he sees us as a viable target and might be plotting a takeover.

We need a plan, people.  Because even though my local supermarket can rotisserie this guy’s little cousins like nobody’s business…


They either saved it for me or named it after me. Not sure which.

…and I’ve rumbled with a chicken or two myself


R.I.P. Wonderful Gift Rooster. 

This may call for something bigger.

But never fear, friends.

We have Beyonce.




What If My Kids Never Love Me?

Today’s adoption question is from Beth:  How do you deal with the fear and/or reality of the kids not loving/attaching to you, and you to them?


Before The Cherubs moved in with us, when we were in the transition phase with visits on Wednesday nights & weekends, our kids declared that they were not going to call us Mom & Dad until the adoption was finalized.

That was fine at first.

But after six months or so,  I was tired of being called Trish & Steve. It didn’t bother me much at home. But when we were out in the world, and people were trying to make sense of who we were to each other because we don’t look alike? It would have been so much easier for the kids to call out across the grocery aisle, “Hey Mom, X is on sale!” than “Hey Trish….”  Plus, when you’re doing all the work of a Mom & Dad, it’s nice to be acknowledged as such. Having them call us Trish & Steve felt way too much like we were just sub-contractors employed to fulfill their parenting needs.

And yet, #2 Cherub asked me almost daily in the weeks prior to our adoption finalization, “Are you SO excited that we’ll call you Mom & Dad after that???” I said that indeed, I surely was.

The day came. It was wonderful.


When we arrived home, #1 immediately ran across the street to his friend’s house to tell them he’d been adopted. Then asked if we could hang the certificates on the wall in the kitchen, “so everyone can see them.”  (Cue  tears as I hand Steve a hammer and two nails.)

But the kids still called us Trish & Steve for two more months.

It wasn’t until we went to a conference in Syracuse, where our family unit was a distinct entity in a sea of people they didn’t yet know. That’s when called us Mom & Dad for real. It was 15 months from when we first met. Not a long time as I look back at it now. But during those days? It felt like forever.  And it was really hard.


One of the big things the Cherubs said when I told them about this blog series was, “Make sure you tell people who might adopt not to be offended if the kids don’t want to call them Mom & Dad right away. It’s not personal. It just takes time.”

That’s the overarching theme of adoption: it just takes time. Human attachment doesn’t happen instantly. Some circumstances (romantic love, childbirth) give you a surge of hormones to kick things off. But adoption is really much more like meeting a new roommate: You hope you’ll get along well and even enjoy hanging out. But there’s no way to tell how long that might take.

Even though I knew this, it doesn’t mean I KNEW it. The picture you create in your mind of our future family is about being a family, right?  Whatever that means at any given moment, it’s always about more than being roommates.

Here’s what I learned about attachment: it’s not about what I thought it was about. I thought it would be about affection, attention, positive interactions and new memories we created together.  I thought that if we did enough of that, love would just bloom and grown in a neat, orderly (rapid) way.


Attachment is about reliability.

Attachment is when you become the people your kids look to for answers, approval, and assistance. Attachment is when they trust – not with their minds, but with their instincts – that you will see and meet their needs.

There is very little reciprocity in the early days of adoption, and what there is is probably your kids faking it, trying to guess at who and how you want them to be. It’s all YOU, pouring out everything, meeting all the needs as they come up, and trying not to get discouraged as your kids don’t seem to care.

They totally care. But they are terrified this will go away, or that the other shoe will drop and you’ll turn out to be mean, or a loser, or both. And so they don’t have enough energy to reward your awesome parenting with gold stars of Cherubic appreciation. They’re just trying to get through the day without losing their sh*t.

When you adopt, get over the idea that anything in the first six months will be rewarding.  This isn’t about rewards. This is about building, and building is WORK.

Consider this:

Adoption is a bit like getting your family from IKEA: you start with component parts and vague instructions, along with a vision of what you hope to have at the end. You don’t expect your IKEA building experience to be fun or rewarding. You just hope it won’t wreck your relationship or drain your sanity beyond what you can replenish. These are reasonable, appropriate goals.

Practically speaking, “building” meant in every area of our new family dynamic, we went first. We loved the Cherubs first, in word and action, without any response from them.  We affirmed them over and over again, for all manner of successes (“You made the soccer team? GREAT!” “You cuddled with the dog? WOW!” “Your hangnail healed? WAY TO GO!”) We made school lunches, cooked dinners they didn’t want to eat, kept to a daily routine, and arrived every single place we went at least fifteen minutes early (they HATE being late).  As I shared at the start of this series, love isn’t affection at this point – it’s consistency. That’s what our kids needed most when they first arrived.

So how did we deal with the fear that they might never attach to us? Or the moments when we weren’t sure we could keep up this level of unreciprocated enthusiasm?

We took advantage of small escapes. You have to build in the pressure release valves early in the process, because all that steam needs a way out. I had a weekly night out with a friend that I did not stop when the kids moved in. They HATED this – they were sure I was out doing something shady, and had no trouble expressing their disapproval. Whatever, out I went. (Steve did have a talk with them about how & why he trusted me, which helped a lot.) Now, if I miss a night, it throws them off that I’m not gone.

Steve kept playing hockey twice a week before work, even though we were beyond sleep deprived, and it made our morning routine a little more complicated.

And we gave the kids early bedtimes so we could have some time alone together in the evenings, during which drank more wine & beer than is probably recommended. Don’t get me wrong – we were always sober. But I think we needed a finish line to the day – a reward! And it had to be something where the Cherubs couldn’t say, “Can we have some of that?” Because they had everything else. (Here’s the stark truth:  when you’re in the thick of  pre-attachment parenting, there’s a good chance that the guys at your local beer & wine store will know your adoption story.  BLESS IT.)

Here’s the thing though (and if you’re about to adopt, you should copy, paste & print this paragraph):

This doesn’t last forever. This weird roommate-esque, non-reciprocal relationship? This is not your permanent relationship. Your family will not always be a crooked wonky shelf from IKEA. You have all the parts you need. But the attachment part of adoption? Turns out it’s grown, not built.

Our kids are still not fully attached to us. But we are light years away from where we were even 6 months ago. We function like a family now. We have inside jokes and longstanding debates. We hug and say “I love you,” and they look us in the eye when we talk to them.  They look to us for help, answers, and approval. They watch when they think we can’t see them to see if we notice them, if we know where they are, if we’re paying attention.

And none of this progress comes in an orderly way. Growth shoots up out of nowhere. Like this:

On Saturday night, I was up in our bedroom working on a sermon for Sunday morning. For the first year we knew them, the kids would never come upstairs, and were convinced I was doing something nefarious if I was up here anytime other than to go to sleep. But that’s been changing lately, and now they’ll come up to ask me a question or pet the dog. But Saturday, they both came up, and we all just sort of hung out, laughing about silly things. #2 demonstrated her pushup technique. #1 hid across the room, texting me to see when his sister would notice he was there (too bad I’d left my phone downstairs). Then Steve came up and we all petted THIS DOG, who was lying in the center of the bed, soaking up the love and clearly thinking, “FINALLY you people get this pack thing!”

It was good. And let me tell you, it felt totally beyond us until the moment it happened.

DO NOT GIVE UP, new adoptive parents! Today is not forever in this relationship. Keep building, hang in there, find some (preferably healthier and less causing of weight gain) ways to let out some pressure. You can do this! And it’s worth it.



It’s Like Puppy Rescue (?!?)

cherub bergie hug

We have a sweet, smart little girl who comes with her mom to our church Life Group on Wednesday nights.  I’ll call her Awesome Blossom. She is seven, which means that she looks at #2 Cherub (who is twelve) with wide-eyed wonder and longing. The kids usually do their own thing on one side of the room while the grownups talk about the night’s Bible passage on the other. Last week I watched as Awesome Blossom worked up her courage and approached #2 Cherub with all her questions.

We’ve known for a while that Awesome Blossom wonders about our family. We’re confusing. We don’t match, at least on the outside. We leave in different cars because Steve comes to group straight from work. And her mom grew up with Steve, which means they’ve known each other longer than he & I have. It’s all a little confusing.

Last week, Awesome Blossom QUIZZED #2 Cherub. It was adorable. I could hear her part of the conversation, but not my daughter’s.  Later, I asked Reena, “How did you explain things to her?”

“It used to be SO hard talking to little kids about being adopted,” she said. “They have SO MANY questions because it’s so hard to understand. So now I just tell them, It’s like puppy rescue.”  

I’m pretty sure my eyes got HUGE when she said that. If there’s anything the adults in the adoption world do NOT compare this process to, it’s puppy rescue. No one wants kids to think of themselves as abandoned dogs, right?

#2 Cherub corrected my perception, P.D.Q. From a kid’s perspective? NOTHING is better than puppies! Who doesn’t want to rescue all the dogs when you’re a kid???

It’s the ultimate compliment.

And to be honest, it’s sort of the truth.

So there you have it. The key to building a second chance family, summed up by my brilliant, candid daughter: puppy rescue.

If you want to adopt an actual puppy (and you should!), start here.

If you want to adopt a cherub (and you should!), start here and here.

As the saying goes, TODAY could be the first day of your whole new life ;)

Raising our kids in our faith

This is Part 2 of the answer to Donny’s Question: Religion is a big part of your life – how are you raising the kids within a faith-based environment and why is it important to you and Steve?

On Friday I shared a about the why.  Here’s some of the how (the good, the bad, and the Wow, that really backfired…)


We knew going in to adoption that our kids would need to detox.

One frequent commonality among kids who have been neglected is that their lives have been rather boundary-less. If they’re older than three, they may have played hours of Call of Duty and Grand Theft Auto, helped themself to a beer or three, eaten nothing but Doritos and soda for weeks at a time, and stayed up late at night exploring what’s going on on all those grown-up channels. I’m not saying that The Cherubs did all of these things – just that whatever YOU would have explored when you were younger but didn’t because there were adults there to stop you? Imagine if those adults hadn’t been there. Of course, lots of kids live like this and don’t end up in foster care. Things have to get to a whole other level of dangerous before that happens. But let’s just say that there is a ENORMOUS gap between the “everyday normal” of most waiting-to-be-adopted kids and their pre-adoptive parents.

You need a way to bridge this gap.

Our plan is Jesus. (I know that sounds obnoxious, but stay with me. I’ll try to explain…)

Our faith in Jesus (okay, all of God really – Father, Son & Holy Spirit) is the helpful thing Steve & I hold on to when all else fails. You probably can’t imagine it now, but if you adopt, there will come a day where a D in Algebra, a call from the Vice Principal, a bedroom that looks like a hazmat site, or a two month boycott of all foods that don’t contain high-fructose corn syrup will be beyond your capacity to worry about or manage.  You’ll hide in your bedroom telling yourself, “I guess it will just have to be okay if they smell and they can’t do complex equations, because I don’t know how to fix it…” Of course, not all days are like this. Most days are just days. But sometimes, you can only care about one thing, and so you want it to be something that can help.

So no matter what has hit the fan on a particular day…or when a day is SO GOOD that I just want to tiptoe upstairs and revel in the miracle…we bring the Jesus:

We hold hands and pray before meals. Even in restaurants. (Yes, they are mortified.)

We have Prayer/Bible time before bed. We hold hands (you’ll see a theme here. When Mother Holding Child's Handyou first adopt, especially older kids, it’s hard to figure out affection because you’re essentially strangers. So opportunities like this where you can connect in a way that’s safe and not creepy are really helpful) We say the Our Father prayer – the Old English version Steve & I learned in Catholic Sunday School. Something about the THY Kingdom come, THY will be done adds much needed solemnity to the endeavor.  Then each of the kids reads a section of the Bible from Steve’s phone.

Most nights, this is a debacle. The Cherubs argue over who’s turn it is to “host” Prayer time in their room. They jockey for position on the bed. One decides to prove that yes she CAN do a pushup the right way. The other “remembers” that he has three weeks worth of dirty clothes stuffed under the bed and he really should take care of that now. (Sounds normal for kids who are 5 and 7, right? Ours are 12 & 14).  THIS DOG comes in and puts her nose on our clasped hands like she’s joining in the prayer time which makes it impossible to focus on God because… cuteness (Strangely, having the dog there seems to focus us all – it’s like somehow she makes us realize, If Bergie wants to be part of this maybe it really is important…)  But it’s rarely the soft, dreamy stuff of which Christian movies are made.

But if for some reason Steve or I suggest skipping prayer time? THERE IS OUTRIGHT REVOLT. Prayer Time is sacrosanct in tradition, if not execution. It’s what we do, and the Cherubs do not take it well when we deviate from this plan.

We pray for healing. If someone has a head or stomach ache, the first thing I’ll do is put my hand on their forehead and say, “Be healed, in Jesus’ name.” Then I’ll ask when the last time they had some water, if they’ve eaten anything recently, and all the other normal questions. But we start with Jesus, and how he helps when we’re sick. I can’t tell you how often we get through the follow up questions and they feel better. It’s pretty cool. (I should also be clear that we also believe that Jesus works through Tylenol, and doctors, and all sorts of other things. We use prayer in conjunction with human wisdom & effort, not in place of it.)

We also pray for them to do well on tests, and for friends who are struggling with challenges large and small. We pray short prayers all the time about all sorts of things, believing that Jesus is there with us in the middle of it all and is always up for a conversation.

And the most unexpected thing we’ve done…

We planted a Church.

As I shared in a previous post, we had a bit of a Goldilocks experience visiting churches iu-4when we first met the Cherubs (this one was too big, this one was too odd, this one made all the kids get up in front of the congregation and do a PRAISE DANCE to a song my kids had never heard before to teach the rest of us about the Holy Spirit…) The kids hated it. We were off to a bad start.

So we switched gears and did church at home that summer. It was great. We started with the basics – who is Jesus, what does he offer us, how would one pray if one were inclined to try, what can you pray for? We talked about how God gives all of us spiritual gifts that are helpful and cool, and then we experimented with them – asking God to speak to us, encourage us, give us ideas to solve problems. Friends came and joined us some Sundays, which lent credibility: Steve & I weren’t the only people who believed that the stuff in the Bible is real for us today. We took communion every week, using sparkling grape juice because the kids were still in State custody and we couldn’t risk serving them actual wine, even just the small amount dipped on a crust of bread.

The best part was how this relieved the pressure for them to pretend to know things about faith. We hadn’t anticipated how HARD it is to come into Church Youth Group culture at the middle school level. You’re surrounded by kids who have been in this world since birth, who all know the skits, the songs, the dances, the bible stories. If you’re already feeling awkward about being the only black kid AND the only adopted kid, there is just no way you’re going to admit that you don’t know who Joseph is or what the problem was with his brothers. So getting the Cherubs out of that was one of the best things we’ve done.

iu-5Then one afternoon in July, I was in our home office, scrolling through Facebook while the Cherubs played Wii with friends in the next room. A friend of mine had posted a video from the National Conference of the Vineyard – the denomination where Steve & I had each discovered Jesus before we met. It was a talk called something like, “Characteristics of Vineyard Leadership.” The screen shot was a picture of Rich Nathan (a pastor in Columbus, OH) with a Power Point slide behind him that read You Will Be Betrayed.

I’m embarrassed to admit that the snarky side of me hit click before I even gave it a second thought. Being betrayed was such a defining part of how our Vineyard experience ended a few years earlier. I was totally looking for the satisfaction that comes from having your fury vindicated, as someone in a position of power acknowledges, “You’re right, that was MESSED UP…”

Rich may have said that, but if he did, I missed it. Because something else happened. As Rich described the casual, high-faith approach to ministry in the Vineyard, I realized, “This is what we’re teaching our kids every Sunday in the living room!” Soon I was in tears, which was surprising (I was sure I could not cry any more over church losses) and awkward (with four kids in the next room screaming at the Wii). I was overwhelmed with the realization: We’re not alone in this. These are still our people.  I felt like there was a giant family reunion going on and we were missing it. I didn’t want to miss any more, and I wanted the Cherubs to know they were part of this family.

Steve and I reached out to some of the leaders. After several conversations, our area pastors challenged us: would we be willing to move forward with the church plant plan we’d started back in 2011?

We said yes. But that’s a different blog post :)

But I will say that planting a new church – giving the Cherubs the chance to see week in and week out how God brings people together and then works in each of our lives – has been a really cool experience. They realize that the are part of something larger than just us, something dynamic and real, something personal where they are known and loved.

Church isn’t always this way. But when it is? It’s just the best.

That’s what we want for our kids.








On Truthful Blogging…and Chickens

I recently learned that there is a woman in my home state of Maine who earns a quarter of a million dollars a year blogging about chickens.

[Go ahead. Read that again. I had to see it a couple of times myself before it sank in.]

chickenHer name is Lisa Steele, and she runs “the largest natural chicken keeping resource on the internet.” I’ve been smiling about this for days, because I just think it’s so incredible. I mean, $250,000 a year to blog about chickens! Who ever said American wasn’t great???

(And no, that’s not a political comment, but rather an expression of awe and wonder that we live in a place where such WEIRD things can happen. I think that’s cool.)

Of course I went immediately to her website, Fresh Eggs Daily. It’s pretty spectacular, even for an avowed chicken-phobe like myself.

Discoveries like this pull me into exploration mode, and soon I was immersed in the online world of farming & homesteading.  This was a bit of a shock. Apparently, chickens are a thing. There are even jokes about how baby chicks are the gateway drug that quickly leads to piglets and milk cows! I kept blinking at my laptop, trying to imagine.

(By way of reference, I just threw away our latest failed attempt to grow chives. Who can’t grow a CHIVE?) The idea that people go out into the lonely countryside – on purpose – to spend their days raising creatures they eventually have to kill? I can’t even fathom. But I am intrigued!

Here’s what I noticed: the sites are pretty. They depict the slow-paced, bucolic rural life one might dream of on a morning commute on a Red Line train that’s stuck, mid-tunnel, deep in the bowels of Cambridge. Because when you’re packed in tight with that much sweaty, stressed humanity, and there’s that smell that tells you at least one rat has been fried on the third rail, a life of farm, flowers & feathers seems like the perfect antidote to all that is wrong with your world.

Lisa’s site even has a picture showing that her bird enclosure has a SWING (scroll down about halfway).  Do chickens swing??? (I guess I mean that in all sorts of ways…it just raises so many questions!)  So yes, there was a brief moment where I wondered what it would be like to have swinging birds in my own backyard???

Awful. That’s what it would be.

We have HAWKS in our neighborhood, along with at least two outdoor cats who make the local bunnies scream with terror late at night. The circle of life is not always bucolic or serene. It’s not even consistently better than life on the Red Line. I’m sure there are moments of peace, joy & miracles, of course. And for anyone who loves chickens the way Lisa seems to, that’s living the dream. I think that’s what makes her site so great – it seems real, even when she’s doing a product placement for giant bags of bird feed. But this life we live is complicated, no matter where you live it. So the secret is to figure out what battles YOU’RE equipped to fight (and win) and find your place in the world, rather than envying and trying to copy someone else’s…particularly if your only window into that world is through your computer screen.

(Lisa mentions in that chicken swing post her sadness over losing a favorite duck. I for one am glad she didn’t post pictures of what that particular loss entailed.)

So, no chickens for me.

Why am I writing all this instead of answering your questions about adoption?

Because I’m wrestling with this dilemma:

I know that if I tell you about the incredible moments we have as a new family – like the snowball fight we had in the backyard one night last week after we shoveled out the driveway – you are likely to wonder, at least for a nanosecond,  if adopting a child from foster care might be right for you.  Maybe there’s something you’re missing out on that you can’t get any other way?

You should, and you are, and I hope you will.

But if I just give you the sweet parts, you’ll get hammered when a hawk swoops down and eats your chickens, so to speak. Adoption (along with parenthood and, well…life) isn’t all bucolic and serene.

I want to be honest here on the blog, and give you the whole picture. That way, when YOU adopt awesome kids from foster care, you’ll know that hawks happen…but they don’t define the endeavor, and there are ways to keep them away.

I’ll be back with an actual answer to one of your questions soon. Until then…check out all the CHICKENS!