The End.

As with all good stories, eventually they must come to an end.

And only today did I notice something strange about our summer calendar. Each night we would mark a square with a black X, signaling that day's finality. There are no X's this week. It's as if no one cared for the visual reminder of our imminent separation. Maybe if we didn't mark it on the calendar, the day would never come.

But August 14 came and went. As I stood in the Dallas airport that early Wednesday morning, surrounded by the chaos, time and sound seemed to halt. My mind played a film, seemingly in fast forward, of the past six weeks. So many memories to absorb.

In the end, things just worked out. When you are too close to it, it is hard to see. Kind of like trying to pinpoint the precise moment the sun enters the sky, night giving way to day. It just happens. And by noon, nobody can deny that it did.

Alina told us she desperately wants to be a part of our family. She and Macie buried the hatchet. She became more gentle and she seemed more comfortable with her place. She followed directions and tried to help with chores. She said thank you for most everything she was given and she looked for ways to serve the other kids.

Ilona agreed to get her teeth fixed. Out of the three kids, she worked the hardest on her English. She continued to draw pictures and write love letters. She cooked and did dishes without being asked. She showed gratitude. She developed a crush on one of Jaxon's friends. She pouted less when she had to share the front seat. And she told me she was sorry.

Sasha learned to drive a car and how to use a credit card. He asked permission anytime he left on his bike, and he always returned home when he said he would. He attended a church he liked, most likely because it was only an hour and he didn't have to wear a tie. He became very conscious of how much things cost and he got upset with me when he read the McDonald's receipt that said $35.00. "Ma! Three - five??" "Yes, Sasha. Three five." And he tried to have real conversations with me without using google translate.

Tuesday afternoon the kids bid their American "dome" goodbye. Squeezed to the max with bodies and luggage, we blasted the radio and cruised along the Mopac expressway towards Aaron's office, just as we did the first week they were here. Again, tears found their way from my bloodshot eyes, down my cheeks and out from behind the cover of my oversized sunglasses. From the seat opposite mine and one row back, Ilona noticed. She told Sasha to ask me to remove my glasses. "No thank you," I said. They both just stared at me and I drove on, pretending not to notice.

Once at the office, Aaron joined us outside and shared a tearful goodbye with the children. His schedule the next morning would not allow him to make the trip with us. He held each of the girls tightly in his arms and then whispered to me, "I've gotta find a way to go. I can't say goodbye to them yet." He is such a knight in shining armor. The girls screamed with delight and ran to his truck to wait for him. The other kids scattered to various friend's cars, and we dutifully pointed our cars northward to do something none of us were sure we wanted.

Once at the hotel, my dream of one last special night together was quickly crushed as Sasha announced he was going to swim with his friends. Aaron told him no, but that didn't seem to matter. He took off. I spent the next half hour consoling the other 6 kids who didn't think it was fair they couldn't swim. Tensions were high and I barked at all of them to get in bed. The next we saw of Sasha was around 11pm when the pool closed. I was standing in the hall outside our room when he came to tell me he planned to stay up all night. "Sasha no sleep."
"Yes, Sasha sleep."
"NO! Sasha no sleep." And with that, he turned to walk down the hall and he was gone (visualize with me here, this is about 18 Cokes and Mountain Dews later).

Wandering in the hall, I came upon one of Sasha's friends who confided in me. "Sasha is very sad. He is not coming back to your room because he is afraid you will see him cry."But I waited, and he came and we shared a few last conversations together through that sleepless night.

The airport farewell was excruciating. We were surrounded by nearly 30 other families, tearfully trying to accept the reality of their own separation. We brought these children here, loved them as our own, now it was time to send them back to a life that resembled nothing they had here. The concourse was so overcome with sadness, even the employees had difficulty holding back the tears.

Waiting in line took an eternity. We hugged, laughed a little, and cried a lot. Aaron had to rush to work, so this was his final goodbye. The girls looked so precious and sweet. Innocent. Desperate. Sad. Sasha played it cool. He dressed in his favorite pants from home, the "mad pants" that spoke to me many times during our summer, shiny new high tops - 2 sizes too big, laces undone, and a blue sleeveless shirt that showed his boyish arms, perhaps a bit bigger than when he arrived. Most important, he wore his prized sunglasses. With arms folded, he moved through the line, unwilling to look or speak in our direction. He was going home and he needed to be strong.

When it came time for the last goodbye, we hugged the girls over and over and expressed our love in the best way we knew how. As I scooped Sasha into my arms, the smell of smoke permeated the embrace. Through my tears I laughed as I said, "Sasha. You smoked!"

"Just one, Ma. Just one."

Yes, Sasha was going home. And this was the first step in returning to his old life.

The children lined up to go through security and although we were separated by a rope and a staircase, we could still hold them with our eyes. One by one, passports were checked and children disappeared behind the wall. Ilona and Alina smiled, waved, and finally, they were gone. Sasha positioned himself near the end of the line so he was one of the last ones to go. But before he did, something unexpected happened.

He broke down. Sadness overtook him and we watched him suddenly hug Yana, the chaperone and our friend, who was standing by him in line. His shoulders rhythmically moved up and down, up and down as he held her. And then I saw it. From behind the glasses, a tear escaped, trailing down his cheek to his chin, followed by another one and another one after that. I was desperate to comfort him; this sad, sad boy who never knew until now how it felt to have a family who loved him. With Macoy in my arms and the other children at my side, we stood there and let our tears escape too.

If this was the end of the story, it would be sad enough. But Sasha wasn't quite done.

After his desperate hug with Yana he looked our way, put down his backpack, ran through the security line, ducked under the rope, and came back to us. He hugged us again and I told him he was family to us. He nodded his head. Then I told him I loved him.

"I love you too." And again, he was gone.

Back in line, he picked up his backpack and looked our way. Only this time, he removed the sunglasses he so often hid behind. Tears continued coming down and he stood there watching us, undeterred. Unlocked. Vulnerable. Trusting.

As I watched him approach the security officer, something pulled my attention for the moment, and when I turned back around he was gone. I missed the final moment. I turned to his friend and told her I was sad to have missed it.

"You didn't miss him. He will come back." And then she yelled, "SASHA!"

From behind the wall he appeared again. The kids and I waved goodbye. And I mouthed the words, "I love you."

And he was gone.

It's been almost 4 months since we said goodbye. The warm summer days we spent together have given way to cold. And the landscape is as barren as my heart. This post has been written for months, nudging me from it's draft folder, beckoning to be finished but I haven't wanted to put the events of August 14 into words. I'm proud to finally say I'm finished.

However, I don't think I will ever be finished learning lessons from this summer. Nearly every day I am pointed to an insight that has context only through my experiences. But I expected to learn. I expected to grow. What I didn't expect was the grief that has followed our separation. I love those three children like they were my own. I wanted their home to be our home. I thought that is how the story would end.

For now, I pray.

God loves those children too. He brought us together, of that I have no doubt. We wait as His perfect plan unfolds and we thank him for our part.

Do svidaniya for now.

Alina, Faith, Ilona, Macie

Macoy, Sasha, Jaxon

Ilona

Alina

Sasha

Faith

Macie

Jaxon

Macoy

Pa and Ma

Lost

I walked out of the grocery store yesterday and stood there completely confused. Should I turn left or right? I had no earthly idea where I had parked my car.

And then it hit me. This was the first time in 6 weeks I had been to the store without Sasha, and he is the one I've relied on to find my way. My breathing became shallow and tears streamed down my face as I wandered aimlessly around trying to distinguish my black SUV from the 50 others parked there, realizing that the parking lot isn't the only place I've grown to rely on him for direction this summer.

All 3 of the kids have led me, perhaps more than I've led them. And I'm not sure I'm ready to say goodbye. But August 14 is upon us. This morning there is packing to do and last minute conversations to have, so I must tend to that. When we return home from bidding them farewell in Dallas tomorrow, I will sleep, process, and when I have the words, I will write. For now, here is a peek into the summer that changed our lives forever.

Collins Family Ukrainian Summer of 2013

Exit Polls

I walked across the rickety boat ramp yesterday, the sun's relentless rays scorching my skin, arms loaded down with bags of gear, 7 children in front of me, and it happened. A crack in the emotional dam I've built weakened, and the tears pressed through to the other side. A side I thought was safe.

Sunglasses masked the damage, thankfully - I'm not ready to expose myself just yet, if ever. I want the kids to feel how they need to without being swayed by my silly emotion.

But enough about  me. Let's hear, once again, from the troops on the ground.

FAITH:

How do you feel about saying goodbye to the kids on Wednesday?
Sad. I will miss them so much.

In what ways do you think our family has helped them this summer?
Sasha has realized he can go without smoking and they have all learned to work.

In what ways have they helped you?
My mom said it would be hard, but I didn't understand what that meant. I now realize she was right, but I have learned to deal with it.

What have you noticed about mom this summer?
She has been really busy.

What have you noticed about dad this summer?
He has been more patient and finds a way to love all of us.

What have you noticed about yourself this summer?
I have noticed that I really don't like chaos.

If you could have one wish for these kids, what would it be?
That they could live a good, successful life in Ukraine as a family.

If you could have one wish for yourself, what would it be?
Unlimited wishes.

JAXON:


How do you feel about saying goodbye to the kids on Wednesday?
SAD (great big letters)

In what ways do you think our family has helped them this summer?
We helped them like America so we can adopt them.

In what ways have they helped you?
They helped me by getting another friend.

What have you noticed about mom this summer?
She loves them.

What have you noticed about dad this summer?
He loves them.

What have you noticed about yourself this summer?
I want to adopt them a lot more than before.

If you could have one wish for these kids, what would it be?
They get adopted by us.

If you could have one wish for yourself, what would it be?
We adopt them.

MACIE:


How do you feel about saying goodbye to the kids on Wednesday?
Sad. 

In what ways do you think our family has helped them this summer?
New clothes, food, Lagoon, boat, lots of other things but too many

In what ways have they helped you?
They helped me want more kids.

What have you noticed about mom this summer?
She didn't really pay as much attention to us as she did them. But that's ok.

What have you noticed about dad this summer?
He probably paid less attention on them than us. So we all get about the same attention.

What have you noticed about yourself this summer?
My temper got worse ;( EEEE!

If you could have one wish for these kids, what would it be?
To adopt them. Yes. That's what I said. HA! HA! Oh my gosh!

If you could have one wish for yourself, what would it be?
If I could start the summer over I would.

MACOY:


How do you feel about saying goodbye to the kids on Wednesday?
A little sad because we won't ever see them again probably. I do hate Alina screaming.

In what ways do you think our family has helped them this summer?
I'm just going to say, "doing work."

In what ways have they helped you?
I've had more friends.

What have you noticed about mom this summer?
That she has been mean sometimes. But she's been nice mostly and fun mostly.

What have you noticed about dad this summer?
Last night Ilona and Alina were playing with him.

What have you noticed about yourself this summer?
It's hard to love so many kids.

If you could have one wish for these kids, what would it be?
Giving them their favorite thing.

If you could have one wish for yourself, what would it be?
The best mom.
Oh my gosh, this is a lot of questions. I'm out.

Gettin' crazy

I'm irritated. Big time.

Saturday was dental day for our kids. After Aaron completed the work on two other children from Ukraine, it was our turn. Sasha and Alina went. Ilona refused. We pleaded, cajoled, and lovingly tried to explain all the good reasons for fixing her teeth. 12 cavities. A willing pediatric dentist and anesthesiologist...free of charge. And of course, a big, fat "nyet". (that's 'no' for those of you who don't speak Russian).

As she was throwing her tantrum, a well of anger started to bubble inside of me. I asked the anesthesiologist if he had a tranquilizer gun. 

"Sort of," he said.

"Well use it. This chick doesn't know what's good for her."

Now Aaron, being the much more mature and Christ-like person that he is, told me I couldn't order the tranquilizer. Dang. We couldn't force her to do anything she didn't want to do. We had to make this her choice. And she chose to refuse the gift. And not only did she refuse, she had to spend the rest of the day treating me like dirt, because clearly we had wronged her in our offer.

That experience pretty much sums up our summer. 

But you do the right thing because you know better. Sometimes I just hate being the one who knows better.

You take them school shopping - all 7 of them, and you keep your sense of humor while they tell you how stupid American clothes are.

You contain your utter bitterness as you offer to alter one of Aaron's good suits for Sasha (because he told you he needs one for school next year) and he tells his sister to tell you he "no like" and he tells you he didn't get out of bed for this. 

You apologize to your friends who invite your newly expanded family over for fun, only to have 3 out of the 9 of them sit with their arms folded and their mouths turned downward.

You watch in defeat as you see their English tutor (their pro bono English tutor), sweating and scurrying to gather her lesson materials at the end of class, telling the kids, "No crazy next time."

You shake your head in disbelief as they ask for money to do a simple household chore.

You swallow the lump in your throat as your son reveals bruises inflicted by one of the girls.

And you lay awake at night, marveling at the irony of it all. And you realize that no amount of  opportunity, structure, fun, guidance, self sacrifice or love will be enough for someone unwilling to accept the gift. And that truth kills you inside.

Because I don't believe anyone born into this world lacks a tremendous and beautiful potential. I see it in these children. And I would be doing them an injustice by painting a picture of them using nothing but dark strokes. They are brilliant, strong, tender, caring, teachable, funny, brave, forgiving, helpful, loving and even gracious at times.

Sasha offered the prayer at church and thanked God for our good and loving family.

After working for days to earn money, the kids tell you they did it so they can give it to their brother in Ukraine.

You agree to get Sasha another paying job and your friend texts you and says, "Some kind of helper you sent me." He meant that in a good way.

You watch Ilona, the one with the most difficult time relating to people, devote hours to caring for the animals at our house.

You see Alina's sensitivity to our down moods, and appreciate her trying to bring peaceful feelings back.

You get a request from Sasha to go running with you in the morning because he's proud of his new non-smoking lungs and he wants you to see how far he can go.

You smile as their heavy Russian tongues try to make out enough English to play "Go Fish", even though they've told you they'd rather be sleeping.

You accept their unsaid apologies, because this is the first time they've ever experienced this and it's frightening.

You play, tease, and laugh with them as much as they will let you...savoring every happy moment.

And to cope with it all, sometimes you do things that expose how absolutely crazy you have become. Like when they suggest the most insane game of dress up ever. You say to each other, "you've gotta be flippin kidding me," but you agree because you know it will keep them occupied for the time being, make them laugh, and you've calculated that this will easily pass two more hours of time...that much closer to the end of their stay. It's terrible and it truly is crazy to have this conflict residing continually inside. Enjoy the pics.

The Shave

How do you mark the exact point when a boy becomes a man? Is it the day the police take him away from his parents because they are unable to care for him and he suddenly becomes a caretaker to his two younger siblings? Or the day he smokes his first cigarette? Or perhaps, just maybe, is it the day his American papa takes him to the store to pick out his first, very own razor?

If that doesn't make you a man, I don't know what does.

Sasha has this friend, Oleg, who is also being hosted by an American family. After being apart for over a month, they were able to see each other through Skype last night. When Sasha laid eyes on him, his laughter overtook his words. Oleg had a mustache. I told Sasha I thought it looked like more of a baby caterpillar on his upper lip. Whatever it was, it seemed that this was the first time Sasha had seen him with anything but plain old skin up there. And he thought it was dang funny. And kind of mortifying.

After a long conversation with his friend, Sasha casually waited for Aaron to come home. When he pulled up into the driveway, Sasha wasted no time popping the question. He wanted a razor. No, he needed a razor. Aaron studied his upper lip and questioned him, but Sasha was adamant. And off to the store they went.

Now it was my turn to casually wait for the boys to come home. I positioned myself on the porch swing and pretended to be reading a novel when they pulled into the driveway. Before the truck came to a stop, Sasha flung the door open, ran over to me, and sat down on the swing. Out of the crumpled plastic bag he revealed his treasures, one by one. A can of smooth performance shaving cream. A top rated, fusion technology, Gillette Mach 3 razor. And Risk, sensual scent after shave. I grinned and made that woot woot noise, perfect for occasions like this.

Then I asked Sasha if I could take a closer look at the situation. I tilted his head toward the light, squinted my eyes, and tried with all my might to locate a facial hair. I studied from several different angles, but each time I came up empty. The teasing continued, so he decided to show us his pits. Ahh, there's something. I'm pretty sure most men in America don't shave their pits, but Aaron does. It's cleaner, just like sitting down to pee. Maybe Sasha wanted to be like him, or maybe Ukrainian men like a clean pit too. Whatever the reason, he was proud to actually have something the razor could cut.

I've never seen Sasha excited to take a shower before this morning. I didn't hear him come downstairs, but the sensual waft of aftershave alerted me to his presence. He was holding his mouth in one hand and his razor in the other. From under his hand, I heard the word "fu", as he handed me his razor. And then I saw it. A drip of blood escaped from under his palm, and ran down his chin. "Sasha, what happened?"
"This razor is fu, Ma."
"Let me see your face."
He lifted his hand to expose 2 long slices, horizontally across his bottom lip.
"Sasha, you don't shave your lip silly. And you have to be careful and go slow."
"Sasha slow like dis," and he demonstrated his careful shaving technique.

He carried around a paper towel for a good while, trying to stop the bleeding. I took his other hand and led him into the bathroom where I showed him the tiny piece of toilet paper stuck to the shaving wound trick. He told me that was "cdraaazy", but I insisted he try it.

I'd pay a lot of money to have a picture of Sasha right then. But I didn't have the heart to snap a photo when his pride was already on the line. You have to be careful about those things when you're dealing with a man.

Happy 20th Anniversary to Us!

Twenty years ago yesterday, two starry-eyed, clueless kids were married. Family and friends forced smiles and held their breath, wondering if we could actually make a life together. We've made our share of mistakes along the way, but as I told Aaron in a card last night, "you are the only one capable of taking me to the beautiful places in life most people only see in their dreams." It's obvious we belong together.

Aaron spent the day at work, and so did I. I managed a car washing business for Sasha and Jaxon, helped the girls with their dog sitting, wiped away tears, broke up fights, cooked, cleaned, and planned for a romantic evening with my sweetheart.

Since going out on a real date is impossible right now, we would go in on a real date. The media room was transformed into a cozy dining room, Thai food was delivered, and the girls were hired as waitresses. Aaron texted me and told me to be ready at 5 to shop for a new ring. I texted him and told him to be dressed in his best. At 5:30pm, looking fresh and in love, we left the house for the 30 minutes we dared, tried on a beautiful new ring, and then returned home to unveil the surprise to Aaron.

With a carefully chosen playlist in the background, we closed the door and ate a quiet dinner alone. Our moment was interrupted by Sasha who begged to go to "Big Mac" (that's what he calls the store). He and Jaxon sped away on their bikes while we finished our romantic dinner. Aaron made his way downstairs and I was still upstairs when we heard, "MA?! PA?!" bellowing through the house. The boys were standing by our room with hands concealed behind their backs. When both Aaron and I got to them, their hands came out from hiding and revealed a dozen red roses and a box of chocolates. The girls had given us their own roses and chocolates the day before. We felt extremely loved.

The kids all gave us one last gift - 2 hours alone to watch one of our favorite movies. They behaved themselves and only interrupted about five times.

After the movie, an exhausted Aaron excused himself to go to bed. I hung with the kids in the kitchen and helped them scrounge up a late night snack. Then something unexpected happened. Ilona asked if she could say a prayer. Alina did too. We gathered together, arms folded, heads bowed, and listened to perhaps their first prayer ever uttered. I wish Aaron could have been there. It was more beautiful than any new dress. Or romantic dinner. Or diamond ring.

Emotional Monday

Monday I had my first real conversation with Ilona. We swam in the pool together and talked about boys, periods, her Italian mama and papa, and school. With no google translate to rely on, we took our precious time, patiently listening to one another form our thoughts into words that had more meaning than the simple adjectives we have relied on up until now. We each have so much to say, but our language differences necessitate that we continually hold our thoughts in reserve. It's frustrating.

What's also frustrating is that my English speaking children have the same struggle to communicate. After a tussle broke out between Faith and Jaxon, which ended in blows, they each took a long and painful time out while the others continued to swim. I sat down next to Jaxon to talk. I told him I missed the boy he used to be and asked him if he was proud of his behavior since the kids had been here. "No." His eyes welled up with tears that quickly overflowed into streams down his sunburned cheeks. "It's really hard."

When it was time to leave the pool another tussle broke out. This time it was between Ilona and Sasha in a fight for the front seat. I arrived on the scene a minute too late to find an infuriated Ilona with a deep, purple bite mark on her arm. Apparently the bite was in retaliation to her punch. I ordered Sasha into the 3rd row seat (his worst kind of punishment) and we drove home in verbal silence, but with the piercing sounds of Russian hard rock blaring from his cheap Samsung phone.

I pulled into the garage, slowly and silently making my way into the house. The girls went for a bike ride and I was glad to have them gone. Once inside, I found myself awkwardly alone with Sasha in the kitchen. I couldn't even look at him. I busied myself with dishes, then half-heartedly scrolled through emails on my phone - anything to keep from having to look up at him and meet his gaze. He watched me for awhile and then said, "Mom, you okay?"
"No Sasha. Mom is not okay."
He told me he was soddy.
I told him he can't hurt people. Besides making me sad, it's not right. It's never right. He hugged me and I hugged him back.
"I still love you Sasha."
"Okay."

Ilona returned from her bike ride and clung to my side. As we stood there together, she held out her arm to remind me of the bite. Inside me a dam was breaking but I fought with everything I had to keep it intact. She looked at me with pleading eyes and I started talking. "I'm so sorry you are hurt. I'm sorry for it all. The bite, your confusion...your life. I'm sorry I couldn't protect you. That's what a mom is supposed to do. I'm sorry your brother has had to be a parent for so long and neither of you should be expected to fill these stupid roles. I'm sorry I don't understand you and you don't understand me. I'm sorry for your hurt."

She just stared at me.

"You don't understand anything I'm saying, do you?"

She nodded.

I made dinner, still in somber silence. The kids played together and it felt peaceful for the first time that day. When we were all gathered at the table, Sasha announced that it was his turn to say the prayer. We fought mightily to conceal our shock at his request, while inside we were bursting with joy. Perhaps this is the first time in his life he has prayed. We will never know. But to have him offer a prayer in our home, at our table, with our family, will be a moment we will treasure forever. His words were foreign to us, until he expressed gratitude to God for our family (spasibo...Aaron, Tara, Faith, Jaxon, Macie and "Micola").

When dinner was finished and dishes were done, the kids scurried outside to play (all except Jaxon who went to the store with Aaron). They were laughing and jumping together on the trampoline and I decided to surprise them by bringing dessert out to them. I whipped up a batch of caramel apples and just as I was scraping the last of the caramel out of the pan, an earthquake once again rumbled through our house.

Sasha and Alina ran in shouting for my phone. Sasha typed that mother of all swear words in google translate and said Macie was saying it to him. I marched outside and grabbed Macie to give her a piece of my mind and send her to her room for the night. Satisfied, Alina and Sasha jumped in the pool for a swim. Then Macoy ran in crying. Ilona and Faith came inside yelling about Sasha, explaining that it was him, not Macie, who was saying the bad words and pushing Macoy down.

I ordered Sasha and Alina out of the pool. Now I had 6 kids surrounding me, all vying to scream out their side of the story louder than the next guy. This was a no-win for me. Without caring that the kids couldn't understand my words I cried out, "EVERYONE to your rooms. You are tired. And grumpy. And unreasonable. And mean. And for the love....QUIT SAYING THE F WORD IN MY HOUSE."

That was it. Five angry kids marched to their room and Sasha stood in the kitchen just long enough to take off the watch we had given him and throw it on my desk. He stormed into his room, slamming the door and predictably changing his clothes. Aaron refers to them as his "mad pants". The taking off of the watch and changing back into his old clothes has become a sign to us that he does not need us. Moments later I was startled by the slamming of the front door. Sasha was gone.

Upstairs I found the other kids dutifully changed into their pajamas, and Alina sitting in the window ledge, tears in her eyes, watching Sasha walk down the driveway. I assured her he would come back. She wouldn't look at me.

I returned to the kitchen and with nervous energy, began the task of cleaning up the caramel apple mess. Before long, something outside caught my eye. Sasha was back. He paced around outside. I tried to be inconspicuous as I stormed around the kitchen, but really I was focused on him. He sat at the table outside and didn't move. Aaron and Jaxon came home and walked past him, into the kitchen and asked what was going on. Without taking a break from my cleaning, I briefed him on the story. I stole a look back outside and realized Sasha was gone from the table. I sighed, picturing a search through the neighborhood to find him and bring him home. Then again, something caught my eye.

Sasha was on the porch swing. He rocked for several minutes before coming inside. Without saying a word, he sat down at the kitchen table and watched me finish cleaning.

With the last swipe of the countertop, I told Sasha to come upstairs with me. I gathered all the kids together and ordered them to get a pair of socks and meet me downstairs. WHAT??? They looked so confused. "You heard me, kids. Get your socks and get downstairs. NOW."

I pushed the coffee table back and arranged the kids in a circle. The Collins kids now figured out what was happening and became excited for the others to catch on. It was time for a game of "Knock Your Socks Off". The rules are: you have to stay on your hands and knees and the object is to pull the other guys socks off while protecting yours from being pulled off. The last guy with at least one sock on wins. Mark, set, go.

Four rounds later, our sides ached from laughter and hurts were forgotten. Two of the rounds found Sasha and Aaron in the finals, man to man, wrestling with all their might on the floor. It needed to happen. It all needed to happen.

I handed out hugs, kisses, and I love you's to 7 children once again and then pleaded with them to get in bed. But before they scattered, I reminded them how much better it feels when we aren't hurting each other. We are all searching, but it is love that holds the key to the answers. Someday I hope they get that.

Winner Circle