And then came the children. I don’t think I ever remember having a conversation about how many kids we wanted to have. I was so happy to have our first daughter, that having another never really dawned on me until one night at dinner, Norm suggested a second child. He was working on his degree, I was a working mom—which I did not enjoy! But once the thought was there, we decided to have another and God gave as a second daughter. Our two girls were as different as night and day so I think I had to relearn how to parent. Norm worked hard at school and after he graduated, we moved back to Alaska. He found a job and we settled in and had our third child—another girl! We hovered there at three daughters each born about two years apart—not really sure if we were done having kids. Money was tight, we bought our first home and we debated for months before trying one more time! And along came daughter number four—born 3 1/2 years after number three! Life was busy and Norm worked hard for our family. I ran a home daycare to make ends meet but life was pretty good. We had friends that blessed us, a good and loving church, and we cherished our little family!
The next step in our journey was a job offer for Norm to move to the Seattle area. We were up for the adventure but following came a series of layoffs and job offers. In the Pacific Northwest years, we found ourselves managing a summer camp and living on Puget Sound. Delano was beautiful and fulfilling and although Norm still worked a full time job in Seattle, living at Delano exposed us to numerous families that had adopted internationally. We felt God tugging our hearts towards adoption. Our adoption story was filled with ups and downs and miracles and obstacles but in the end, we come home with Brinkley girls; numbers five and six from Kaliningrad, Russia in November of 2004. Life was busy, the little girls had so much to learn and our older girls were growing up. The demand of Norm working 2 hours away in Seattle and camp becoming more and more time consuming was difficult —God opened the door for us to move to Houston. Everyone said we would hate it. I even doubted that I could love this hot and humid city that sprawls on forever like a flood of concrete ever seeping outward! But I did love it. Norm was happy in his work, the girls were thriving in our homeschool and church community. We bought a house and settled in. Pretty soon our older girls met their husbands and within a few years, the older ones married.
And then we felt that familiar tugging. We had a six bedroom house and several of our rooms were empty. So God led us to foster-care. We fell in love with each child but not all were meant to be ours. Fostering and adopting is not for the faint of heart. We had our share of sorrow and heartbreak interlaced with abundant joy. Every child that came to us had already established themselves in previous families. They had broken hearts, holes in their education, and deep fears when it came to trust. There were struggles but there were blessings. And with that journey, we adopted a sibling group—one more daughter and our first two sons. These kids rooted deeply in our hearts despite challenges and uncertainties that we tried to face together. But alas, boys ARE very different but having sons of our own, Norm gained two shadows that watch and imitate every move he makes.
And we thought we were done! But then a spunky little preteen dropped into our world. It felt like she was ours from day one and after a lengthy adoption process, she became the 10th Brinkley child.
I have questioned God many time since then. I question Him because 47 days later our world fell apart. Thanksgiving didn’t feel right—Norm was not his normal jovial self. He was losing weight and quite tired much of the time. When Christmas came and Norm slept his days away in his chair while our kids and grandchildren ran circles around him screaming and laughing, I knew something was not right. He made a couple of appointments with his primary care doctor and we even went to the urgent care but had no answers. Finally, after seeing a gastro doctor in early January, he sent us to the ER with elevated liver numbers.
The ER room had a picture on the wall of a peaceful, flowery field seemingly out of place among the myriad of the machines and tubes, and medical devices that filled the room. He had 3 medical tests done in less than an hour. The doctor entered and softly, matter of factly, and stumbling through his words-- mass, pancreas, cancer. These words fell from his lips as his fists jammed into his lab coat pockets and his eyes darted back and forth, never really looking at either of us. He quickly exited the tiny room. I couldn’t breath. Tears streamed down Norms face for several minutes. We hugged. We cried. We prayed. And true to his nature, not able to live in an unhappy place, Norm found the humor, cracked the jokes and settled in for a fight.
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