The One Where Miguel Gets Rid of His Paci

While we were at Disney World recently my mama told me something I will hold onto the rest of my life- she said, 'Miguel does not know what he is missing, you do. He is loving every single second of this and not listing the things he is not getting to do.' This topic was hot off the press as I was drying my tears on Main Street because my birthday boy fell asleep seconds before the parade approached the spot we had been melting in for 35 minutes. I remember feeling so defeated too many time this trip because I, like my mother, live for the big moments. A friend told me once that I love to create moments, it is true. I really, really do - but since becoming a mama I have allowed that to almost rob me of the authentic moments. 

I knew on Miguel's birthday we would be giving Mickey Mouse his paci, it was something we have talked about for months - 'Miguel who are you giving your paci to? - Icky Mouse he would say with excitement. Then the time came, we were at Disney on his birthday to celebrate him turning three years old, him becoming a big brother and truthfully any reason to go - we find it. Anyways, we walked into the place on Main Street to meet the mouse. Miguel had his paci in a little gift baggie. He held it the entire 45 minutes that we waited to hand it off. I explained to a cast member what we were going to do - he seemed to understand and said that would be fine (because I would be leaving with the paci, obviously) I just needed the mouse to take it from my three year old who was passing it off willingly. We got inside, Miguels eyes lit up - He was seeing the mouse, his bestie, MICKEY MOUSE. He took the bag and tried four times to hand it to him and the mouse shook his hands - I looked at the cast member confused and upset, but I grabbed the bag shoved it in my pocket and said, "Mickey says thank you, he will get it soon." I smiled with tears in my eyes for the picture and then guess what - we were too close to the mouse and he pushed us away, looked at us and motioned for us to scoot over. The cast member who stood by the new photo box, did not use his words in communicating a single thing other than 1...2....3.... say cheese. Homie, I will NOT be cheesing at this point. I am upset that this moment I dreamt of was taken because nobody paid attention. I walked out, my husband asked my son what he did and with the biggest smile he said, "I gave my paci to Ickey Mouse like a big boy." He did not know any of the awkward things that had just transpired, but boy did I. I took myself over to the wall of ears and ugly cried, my 24 week pregnant self ugly cried in front of the wall of Mickey Mouse ears because we just, 'gave his paci,' to the rudest mouse I'd ever met in my whole life. Y'all I literally messaged customer service on the app - "WHERE DO I COMPLAIN ABOUT A MEETING WITH THE MOUSE?" was the topic. I laugh about it now, but boy did I have to make some jokes to get through that one. 

That night we had reservations at Chef Mickey and I refused to get in trouble by a mouse or any of his pals - so I was anxious about standing up to take pictures/interact with the characters. We found out that we could in fact interact with the characters and it was the best thing! My baby boy got to meet all of his pals. He loves Goofy and watching him admire him was the greatest moment. 

That's the thing. Chef Mickey was something we booked a week before we got there. It was not something that I had time to butcher with my expectations. It was something that I did not play over and over in my head or worry about getting the perfect picture to remember the moment. It just happened and those are the memories I will carry forever. Obviously, the rude mouse will be something I never forget, but the nice Mickey an hour later will be the bittersweet prefect ending to my baby boy's third birthday. He even got a birthday cake and Donald Duck helped sing Happy Birthday, then Miguel and his cousin Addie went face first in the cake because why not?! 

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I didn't get a pictures of him eating a cupcake in front of the castle.

I didn't get a the perfect paci pass off. 

I didn't get the ideal weather. 

I didn't get to show him the fireworks at Epcot.

I didn't get to take him to Animal Kingdom.

I didn't get him a balloon because he told me he didn't want one.

I didn't get to take him to watch Frozen.

but

We did get to take him to Disney World. 

We did give his paci to Mickey Mouse.

We did get to see Tinker Bell fly.

We did ride Buzz Lightyear 5 times.

We did ride Goofy Train (Mickey and Minnies Runaway Railroad) 5 times.

We did get him any toy he asked for (Birthday Disney Giftcards)

We did have dinner with Mickey and his pals.

We did ride the monorail.

He did get to ride his first roller coaster with his daddy.

We did get him a StormTrooper mask.

He did get to ride Little Mermaid with his Mamey.

He did sing, "In Summer," WITH OLAF.

So many fun things. At the end of the day we asked Miguel what his favorite part of the day was and it was one of the things listed above. Then Alejandro and myself would ask each other and it was also something listed above. That's the thing - none of those moments were planned, all authentic moments that I never could have planned. 

I love Disney World for this reason, I always have and I always will. Those magical moments happen when we least expect them. So CalPal, needs to loosen up and stop trying to force moments. 

Busyness is not my calling

It's really funny that I hate running in real life, but in my mind I am a runner. If things get complicated, I become a track star in my mind. Trying to take the next flight out. I want to run away and start over. It is funny how my brain has created this pattern. 

When I became a Christian as an adult, I was 19 years old. I was in Uganda and I knew that I felt the Holy Spirit. I knew then that my life was about to do a 180 and it did.  I ended an awful relationship I was in for far too long, I started going to church, I changed my music to mainly just Bethel. I prayed more. I tried to teach myself how to have quiet time. I started serving at the church because that is what all the other Christians were doing. I knew that I had found my purpose, it was to serve. I felt like I was called to ministry in some way, so at 19 years old being a fresh -  I mean fresh Christian, I already signed myself up to be in full time ministry. I started overcommitting to the church I was a part of - I taught preschool every Sunday. I took pictures during the worship nights. These things were not and are not wrong, but somewhere along the way -

 I replaced my works with my relationship. 

I knew that I was passionate about Jesus because I surrounded myself with people who were passionate about Jesus. I knew that I was joyful because the people I was around were joyful. But the kicker - I was using others peoples walk with the lord to determine mine. 

I knew a few things about myself at the time. 

1. Africa was not just a continent, it was my entire heartbeat

2. I did not want a job that did not lead me in the direction of ministry.

3. I loved being busy. Coffee dates, church meetings, outreach, preschool. 

4. I never really silenced my mind. 

So I was 19/20 running on the fumes of my communities relationship with the lord and I was trying to find my groove as a Christian. I was reborn, this was all supposed to come easy. I was supposed to wake up every single day with a purpose. I was supposed to walk boldly in my calling. I was great at quite time in the mornings when I got up at 11, I would go sit under the tree in the field and read my bible and write. I would top it off with Bob Goffs book Love Does. It was the perfect thing for me, but my day would go on - I would go get coffee, go hang out with friends here and there, start planning fundraisers for my upcoming missions trip and then I would start getting anxious about, "what I was supposed to do with my life." So I would keep busy to try to avoid that question. Mind you, I was a licensed massage therapist, who talked about going back to college for a teaching degree - but instead I was literally frozen because I didn't want to make the wrong move. So I was a freeloader at my parents house for far too long.

I wish that I had a dollar for every time I have gone through this season. Someone told me once that our brains actually create memory lines- so any habit we have it is so hard to break because we are fighting the line our brain created. So for 10 years I have been reliving the same pattern over and over, not every day, not every month - but at least once a year for a couple weeks I do this:

I look back at my life and try to define when I was the happiest.

Mission Trips

Tour

Food Truck 

I then contemplate if either of those things brought me true joy or if I liked it because I felt busy. 

I then go through 25 different jobs that could maybe fulfill me in some way.

Then I list out every single thing I am passionate about 

Then I sit, I stew and I wonder - wow, so what in the actual hell am I supposed to do. So I sit more, I don't do anything, I become lazy and then I chat with a few friends and finally get out of my funk. But not until I make some major quick change. 

So tomorrow, I start massaging again. It will be good. It will give me purpose. It will give me income. It will get me out of the house. It will help me break that brain pattern. 

What you need to know is that the other day a friend who is basically another version of me, we are truly soul sisters. one in the same. I have never met another human who is so much like me that its kind of wild to see. She told me that we (the type of person we are) tend to find our identity in the closest thing that feels like Jesus, but it is not Jesus. Meaning I, Callie, have put all of my passions into Africa, tour, fundraising, church ministry - but I have skimped out on my relationship with Jesus, like my true one on one relationship. Because somewhere along the way, I was thrown into serving. My husband and I both were. So we are currently rebuilding. We met on the mission field, we have served our entire marriage. And we just were never taught to sit and be poured into. 

Heavy, this one is heavy - but its necessary. In order for me to move past my past, which is truly a crap show - then I have to put this down. I have to realize that yes, the lord used me in the season of Africa, tour, all the things - but. I wasn't allowing myself to truly be filled by him. I was being filled by moments, by other peoples passion about the lord. It is a tough wake up call, but necessary. Because I am trying to redefine myself. Trying to tell myself that the mess that my last church caused is not because of the Jesus, it is because people ran the church. And people are messy. I am trying to remind myself that I do not need to have my hands in 5,000 things to feel like I am living out my purpose. Because just being a good christian, a good wife, a good mom, a good worker is more than enough. 

I gotta stop romanticizing busyness as my calling. 

come meet your baby boy

 I have found myself telling our adoption story so many times recently. I am not sure if its because this is around the time that we matched with first expectant mom, two years ago. Maybe its because I got a fun new job as an adoption consultant. I am honestly not sure, but there is a part every single time I tell our story that I cannot help but get goosebumps and teary eyed - and I have told this story at least 15 times. 

As many of you know our first adoption was a disrupted match. It was a goose chase for a few days. I remember being confused and broke, lost and hurt. But I still felt a sense of hope for some reason. I knew that we were not done. We knew our adoption had truly failed on a Thursday and on the following Monday we got a text about a baby boy who was born at 3:01PM - he was Hispanic, a stork drop and birth mom was ready to look at profile books. I can tell this story over and over - then I get to this part. 

On Tuesday morning Lisa, our case worker, called and asked if I was near Alejandro. She had a different voice than I had heard before. I wasn't sure what it meant exactly and I was still pretty numb to the chaos that unfolded a couple days before, but remember - I said I had hope. So with the ounce of hope that I had and a smidge of wanting it to happen. I heard, 

'Come meet your baby boy.'

a small cloud was lifted. We were ready to go, but couldn't leave that day due to flights. The next morning we got to the hospital and I remember being so nervous. Like the most nervous I had ever been in my entire life. I walked through the door in the NICU and immediately it was as if time was frozen and not a single second of heartbreak mattered anymore. We knew in that moment that we walked through every second of the mess to get to Miguel. I knew that I would need to process things, I knew that would come with time. But in this moment meeting our baby boy was so bittersweet and that was something to focus on. 

Over the next couple of days, Lisa was very good about reminding me that I would still mourn the loss of baby girl. I did not know that this would happen or how this would look because honestly I felt fine. But then, one night while doing skin to skin with Miggy I remember silently weeping. Alejandro was resting on the couch and woke up to see me crying over our new baby and then I realized what happened. I was processing. I was mourning, but joyful. I was in shock but excited. I as hurt, but healing. Miguel was not a bandaid - I will forever say this. This was a process I walked through for weeks following. I was never mourning what we did not have. I was mourning the fact that this child was being placed in state custody and there was nothing I could do. I was mourning the hurt caused by an expectant mom who was so lost that she created a trail of lie and deceit. I was just mourning. 

But as I say so often, we would walk through it again because we know the outcome. 

I still think about that baby girl, we named her Marlo. I still pray for her often. 

But I would never change where we are now as a family. I trusted that God had us and I knew that our story was not over. God truly had to break me to build me up. I had to loosen my grip fully before I could be an adoptive mom because that title while a beautiful one, can be a tough one. Guys, I do not wake up every morning thinking about the fact that Miguel is my adopted son. I wake up thinking about how he is my son. However, when I see the picture we have framed in his room - the one of us and his birth mama I am reminded that we, 'share,' Miguel. She gave him life. She birthed him. She chose life for him. She chose adoption for her child and she chose us to parent her child.