Three weeks ago, I looked up from working on schoolwork and noticed there were six children running through my house and yard that were not part of my household. In addition to L's best friend who lives over our back fence, most of the children have at least one friend who lives in this neighborhood. Some of the kids have multiple friends around us. Baby J's classmate, the little girl he has a crush on, lives on the other side of the back fence next to L's best friend. This weekend, some child I had never seen before not only hung out with Ch but stayed the night.
There are children running around my house constantly. There are friends and coaches that often offer to help the high schoolers get rides to where they need to go. II is happy at work. I have both a volunteer position that I love, and a paying gig that helps with the heavy expenses that these children incur.
In short, this family is growing roots in this community. This is a good thing, since I am still serious that I have no intention of moving again. Yet, I see it everyday. I see it in the lines of children that go running through my house, often leaving me asking, "Who the heck is that?" I see it in the schools that love my children. I see it in the co-workers and bosses that affirm that II is great at his job, and that I am cherished in my work environments. I see it in the warmth we feel here in this community, and the settling and thriving that most of this family is experiencing now.
This is what I hoped for. This is what I truly wanted to see happen. I just wasn't sure that the children could overcome the trauma of this forced move to thrive again. When we got here, they were so hurt, so devastated, so struggling. Today, all but one member of this family is thriving and growing and making this place a home.