I’ve been working on a second post about attachment in marriage featuring a painfully honest story from some years ago. But I was thinking today how much I miss just sitting down and writing a letter to you. So here it is.
Dear friend,
I’m writing to you from very sunny and warm Orange County, CA. My second-oldest daughter (M) is having a baby any day now; in fact, her due date was last Saturday. But we’re all for being patient and letting the baby come in her own time (within reason), especially since M is feeling so good.
The last few days have been filled with walks through Doheny State Park, good food, afternoon naps (which is why I’m at my computer right now), and time together.
It’s a different world here. We watch surfers waiting for waves, and stroll by big family gatherings at the beach, complete with canopies, music, and balloon arches. And we try to stay out of the way of the e-bike riders zooming past us as we walk the trail to the beach.
Apparently, I don’t get enough sun at home because I had an immune reaction to the sun and developed an itchy rash all over my arms and legs. According to Dr. Google, it’s PMLE, so I’m taking allergy meds and slathering myself in anti-itch lotion. I’m generally cautious with sun exposure and wear hats, sun protection shirts, etc., but that wasn’t enough this time.
In contrast, at home, massive combines are harvesting wheat outside my windows and tomatoes are ripening in our garden. I generally stay inside during the heat of the day, emerging again when there is shade on the patio. I avoid too much sun exposure.
One great gift of this visit is that Russ is here with me for the first part. He’s currently on a Zoom call for work while sitting on the balcony with palm trees swaying with the breeze across the street.
Our primary responsibility is caring for our granddaughter, B. She’s a lively 3 1/2 year-old who knows just what she wants most of the time. We’re pulling out our TBRI skills, offering choices, asking for words, giving clear instructions, and giving lots of prep for transitions.
“In five minutes we’re getting out of the pool.” “In two minutes we’re getting out of the pool.” “It’s time to get out of the pool. I know you don’t want to stop having fun, but it’s time to go home. We’ll come back to the pool tomorrow.”
So far, so good.
She’s requested a “Gramma putdown” every evening, which means that after we read a stack of books, I get to lie in bed with her, listening to recorded stories of Frog and Toad or Winnie the Pooh while she drifts off. It’s a very sweet time. She rests her head on my shoulder and wraps my arm around her.
In other family news…
I can’t tell you how often this happens! I begin writing, then get interrupted and never get back to it. Right now, I have 24 partially written emails and posts in my Drafts folder on Substack. Rather than leave this one unfinished, I’m going to jump back in. I think of writing to you—I really do!
Our granddaughter was born more than a week after I arrived, so I extended my trip to offer more support during her first two weeks of life. She’s now three weeks old and is absolutely precious.
With three grandchildren born this year, I’ve had the opportunity to witness the profound adjustment for the newborn, parents, and siblings. It’s so clear that families need substantial support in the early weeks. So many early challenges result from lack of sleep and emotional support. Even having someone make sure the mom eats and stays hydrated is significant. Simply being present and allowing new parents to rest can make a difference. It’s a privilege to offer this to my children and their children.
I often think of the many adoptive, foster, and kinship moms I serve. Exhaustion, isolation, overwhelm, and fear are common. Parenting children who came to them following traumatic beginnings, and who may have very challenging behaviors, leaves parents in an exhausted state. If they have other children living in the midst of the chaos and who are vulnerable to harm, the stress is magnified.
The churches that encouraged their congregations to foster and adopt left many hopeful, determined parents drowning in the waves of overwhelming challenges. This may result in physical illness, depression, anxiety, substance abuse, divorce, blocked care, and even more tragic consequences.
[You can read more about blocked care in this post.]
It breaks my heart, truly, because I’ve lived it. The days can get very dark. Serving and supporting these parents is my vocation, my calling.
Which is why I offer the Hope Circle for moms and Steadfast dads. You’re not alone. We understand, and we’re with you.
And I host Fullness of Joy retreats for adoptive, foster, and kinship moms. I intended to send this before opening registration for the Fall 2026 retreat, but I’m a few days late. A few spots are still open for October 8-11.
If the retreat has filled by the time you read this, and you want to be among the first to know about the Spring 2027 retreat, please drop your name and email in the Fullness of Joy Updates List. I’ll open registration first to the Hope Circle and my private coaching clients, and then email the moms on this list.
Summer is winding down, tomatoes are ripening, and classes at UI began Monday. We’re standing between two seasons, which honestly is how I feel about my entire life.
I’m in an in-between, or liminal space. I’m not an empty-nester, but my one child at home is nearly independent. I’m not even close to retiring, but I’m praying these questions: Should I write more? Coach more? Travel and speak more? Offer more retreats? Or should I do fewer things but with more depth?
And what kind of grandparent do I want to be? And how can I be that grandparent when all of my grandchildren live far away? Thankfully, one is less than two hours away, but the others are in different parts of the country.
These questions swirl through my thoughts.
Did you have enough support when you became a parent by birth, adoption, foster, or kinship care? What did you need that you didn’t get?
What kind of support do you need now in this stage of your parenting journey and life?
Does anyone else relate to being in an in-between or liminal space?
Please leave a comment and answer anything above, or say hello. I miss the blogging days when I sat down at my laptop early in the morning, wrote a few thoughts, and then hit post without too much angst.
I’ve been gone so much this summer that, early this morning, at the end of August, Russ and I were trying to arrange an umbrella and chair on the patio so I could sit in the shade while I read and prayed. It seems like that should have been a June task, but we should have it sorted out by September.
I’m praying for you as I post this. May the grace of the Lord Jesus Christ, and the love of God, and the fellowship of the Holy Spirit be with you all.
Much love,
Lisa
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