Miserable sinus infection raging in my head. It's made the rounds throughout the house and just the baby boy has escaped (so far). Little boy who just may have spoken his first words this week--hi, go, car, mama, moon--zooming trains around his sweet little train tracks. Vroom vroom. Lights up on the bushes outside, courtesy of the 10-ager. There are burnt out spots and unappealing gaps of bright orange electrical cords, which to the untrained eye appear very Griswald-ish, but to this practiced mama's eye are pure beauty. Chaos reigns. It started to feel not a lot like Christmas and then I listened to this song.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nQZmni-oeg4
Andrew Peterson, Behold the Lamb of God
A Christmas album worth the splurge
The first Christmas wasn't silent. Or serene. Or perfect. But it was sacred. Full of love. Steeped in grace.
"Embrace the mess," I hear Christ whispering to me. "I'm not looking for the cleaned up version of your life that reeks of human control and functional atheism (according to Parker Palmer functional atheism = the myth that we have control and therefore no real need for God in our lives. Why bother if we can get there on our own with good behavior and clean living?). I am used to the mess. I made my entrance into humanity in a stable full of animal noises and smells and excrement with a young couple who just trusted. I can make my entrance into your life amidst bickering big girls, toddler boys who only want their mama especially all the time, laundry piled up to the ceiling, Christmas lists that have nothing to do with Christ that are nowhere near to being begun."
Come, Lord Jesus, come. My messy Christmas needs this Christ. Maybe yours does too?
Wednesday, December 5, 2012
Monday, October 15, 2012
She's fourteen...she's beautiful...and she's mine.
There's this bewitching, brown-eyed, Asian beauty in our house. She's organized (most of the time) and enjoys taking photographs of unusual elements that she sees in nature or in life. She has a certain sense of style that evolves on a daily basis, but usually incorporates some variation of her love of riding a board on wheels at breakneck speeds (shhh, don't tell her daddy). She is an adoring older sister (most of the time), and she has lovingly taken to spending every spare second with a certain little toddler boy.
She solemnly gazed at me with those perfect almond eyes when she was just about 5 months old, the day she was placed in my arms in Nanchang, China. And now when I look at that face, I still see the baby girl there, the one who took a while to warm up to her new, novice parents. The baby who absolutely, positively would not utter a word until she was sure to form a sentence. The little girl who squealed with raucous delight the first time she discovered that she could tumble across the floor, cartwheel after cartwheel. This little perfectionist was a seriously devoted gymnast, and her specialty was the balance beam.
Then she/we realized that her heart might be better served without such nerve wracking hours of practice demanding perfection and she discovered the wild open fields of soccer and creek-walking and idle time.
Her natural habitat, though, is the ocean, probably on a surfboard inside the curl of a semi-colossal wave (we've only surfed the East Coast, so colossal is like, totally relative). She transforms into a Polynesian princess, sun-kissed and salt-water soaked and full of sunshine.
We named her with Grace because she is just that, a precious, undeserved gift given to us by a loving and generous Father.
She is counting down the years (now days I was informed earlier) to driving; and while I am utterly and completely freaked out by this thought and truly believe that I just blinked and my baby (my baby) is well on her way to womanhood, I am delighting in every newfound interest, every controversial conversation, every midnight heart to heart sprawled along the bed that used to be mine that she sleeps in.
She reminds me of all that I know to be true about this life. It is full of beauty, if I take the time to really see. It is fleeting. It is a gift.
I love you, Ally Gracey. You are beautiful (and I see you!); you're growing up fast (and it's so much fun to grow with you!); you are a gift.
Thursday, August 9, 2012
Happy birthday baby
Dear Levi,
Today you are 2 years old. Wow! You are such a big boy. It's your second birthday, but your first one with us. You'll learn soon enough that I'm a bit of a wreck on my babies' birthdays. Your story has a sad beginning, and my heart aches for the woman who carried you inside of her and gave birth to you and eventually, gulp, abandoned you. One day when you're old enough to read this we'll have a heart to heart about that, but for now, here's your story.
You are meant to be, my beautiful boy. You were prayed for and longed for and celebrated for 6 long years while we waited for you. And you were worth the wait!
You love trucks and trains and dancing. You have the funniest attraction to red solo cups (which I'm praying does not remain true when you're in college!). You love throwing things, usually of the truck variety, into cups full of coffee or water or the occasional glass of wine. You're really fast, especially when a flight of steps is in your sight.
You are resilient, a fighter, having had to rely on yourself for survival when no baby should. I'm pretty sure you had the nanny in your room wrapped around your precocious finger. She sobbed when we met her and she handed you to me. She told me that you were the smartest boy in the whole orphanage and that you played nicely by yourself, a much-admired trait in an orphanage, and one we are endeavoring to transform.
You are solemn until you feel settled and watch out world, then you're a laughing bouncing busy boy. You have two big sisters whom you adore. They get the most laughs. And daddy. But I get the most snuggles, so it works for me.
You're the little prince in our family, and I fear it will always be so. You are good natured and inquisitive and you love to scratch things. You used to sleep and suck your thumb, but now you're learning how to talk so we think it's a good trade.
You like to do yoga with me, especially riding on my back from plank to downward dog. You love to interrupt our practice when you hear Lenny Kravitz's "Believe" because it's definitely time for us to dance.
So happy birthday baby boy. This is the day we praise God for creating you. I promise I'll pull it together with a happy smile when you blow out your candles!!!
Love you to China and back, for reals!
Mommy
Today you are 2 years old. Wow! You are such a big boy. It's your second birthday, but your first one with us. You'll learn soon enough that I'm a bit of a wreck on my babies' birthdays. Your story has a sad beginning, and my heart aches for the woman who carried you inside of her and gave birth to you and eventually, gulp, abandoned you. One day when you're old enough to read this we'll have a heart to heart about that, but for now, here's your story.
You are meant to be, my beautiful boy. You were prayed for and longed for and celebrated for 6 long years while we waited for you. And you were worth the wait!
You love trucks and trains and dancing. You have the funniest attraction to red solo cups (which I'm praying does not remain true when you're in college!). You love throwing things, usually of the truck variety, into cups full of coffee or water or the occasional glass of wine. You're really fast, especially when a flight of steps is in your sight.
You are resilient, a fighter, having had to rely on yourself for survival when no baby should. I'm pretty sure you had the nanny in your room wrapped around your precocious finger. She sobbed when we met her and she handed you to me. She told me that you were the smartest boy in the whole orphanage and that you played nicely by yourself, a much-admired trait in an orphanage, and one we are endeavoring to transform.
You are solemn until you feel settled and watch out world, then you're a laughing bouncing busy boy. You have two big sisters whom you adore. They get the most laughs. And daddy. But I get the most snuggles, so it works for me.
You're the little prince in our family, and I fear it will always be so. You are good natured and inquisitive and you love to scratch things. You used to sleep and suck your thumb, but now you're learning how to talk so we think it's a good trade.
You like to do yoga with me, especially riding on my back from plank to downward dog. You love to interrupt our practice when you hear Lenny Kravitz's "Believe" because it's definitely time for us to dance.
So happy birthday baby boy. This is the day we praise God for creating you. I promise I'll pull it together with a happy smile when you blow out your candles!!!
Love you to China and back, for reals!
Mommy
Friday, August 3, 2012
The greater good
Sooo...wrote this about a month ago, but thought its worth posting in the interest of full disclosure. Adopting special needs is hard. And amazing.
July 10
Its been a rough week. Baby boy had big time surgery last Tuesday and I haven't slept much since. He's a thumb sucker, you see, so in addition to the pain that he's in from his mouth being literally reconstructed, he is really ticked that we are not letting him suck his thumb. And he's wearing these nifty little arm restraints that our surgeon lovingly (joking) calls "no-nos". Here's the rub. He has to do this so he can speak. There is no backing down, no relenting when he's wailing. It's for his long term gain.
We all have no nos that we wear from time to time, some self inflicted, some we can't control. And I have for sure kicked and screamed and tantrumed my way through in hopes of avoiding pain. But there is a forever picture that we often forget to see, a greater good. For our boy it's the ability to speak. For the rest of us it could be anything really, the trivial getting into shape for a 25th high school reunion (wait, did I just say that out loud???) or the major kicking an addiction or you name it in between. So here's a shout out to the ones in the middle of the fight right now. And here's an encouragement. It's not over. Press on. It will be worth it. You just wait.
August 3
Turns out it was a rough month. Little Levi went on a hunger strike so we invested hundreds of dollars in Pediasure and he's weaning off it now. Didn't know that babies stop sleeping when they stop sucking their thumbs. More investments made in concealer for a tired mama.
And it's worth it. He's making so much noise! Speech therapy starts next week. He's hearing (the tubes in his ears have given him full hearing!) and laughing and learning.
Here's to the greater good. May we all press on toward that which God has called us, including a good night's sleep!!
July 10
Its been a rough week. Baby boy had big time surgery last Tuesday and I haven't slept much since. He's a thumb sucker, you see, so in addition to the pain that he's in from his mouth being literally reconstructed, he is really ticked that we are not letting him suck his thumb. And he's wearing these nifty little arm restraints that our surgeon lovingly (joking) calls "no-nos". Here's the rub. He has to do this so he can speak. There is no backing down, no relenting when he's wailing. It's for his long term gain.
We all have no nos that we wear from time to time, some self inflicted, some we can't control. And I have for sure kicked and screamed and tantrumed my way through in hopes of avoiding pain. But there is a forever picture that we often forget to see, a greater good. For our boy it's the ability to speak. For the rest of us it could be anything really, the trivial getting into shape for a 25th high school reunion (wait, did I just say that out loud???) or the major kicking an addiction or you name it in between. So here's a shout out to the ones in the middle of the fight right now. And here's an encouragement. It's not over. Press on. It will be worth it. You just wait.
August 3
Turns out it was a rough month. Little Levi went on a hunger strike so we invested hundreds of dollars in Pediasure and he's weaning off it now. Didn't know that babies stop sleeping when they stop sucking their thumbs. More investments made in concealer for a tired mama.
And it's worth it. He's making so much noise! Speech therapy starts next week. He's hearing (the tubes in his ears have given him full hearing!) and laughing and learning.
Here's to the greater good. May we all press on toward that which God has called us, including a good night's sleep!!
Sunday, June 17, 2012
He's a good father
I have the best dad.
He's a country boy, I'll kick your ass kind of a guy, as in he loves his horse and his dog and his beat up t-shirt. He'd rather be bush hogging a backfield than playing a round of golf. He builds fences and mucks out stables. He's happiest driving down a long, old dirt road that ends at a meadow with a shimmering lake full of fish waiting to be caught.
He's a sage who never learned that you reach a point in your life where you've got it all figured out. He's journeying to the mountains on weekends to retreat and discover the wisdom of dreams. He can look into your eyes and pretty much sum up what lies in your heart. He listens with careful attention and only offers advice when persistently requested. He reads with relish the likes of Thomas Merton and Karl Jung and Richard Rohr, and his life reflects their rich spirituality. He wouldn't like that I'm bragging on his insatiable curiosity about God, about people, about the Christ whom he serves with devotion and gratitude.
He's a recovering corporate warrior who travels at dawn, precisely packed, an expeditor extraordinaire, and a surfer, with a knack for finding just the right wave because he is patient and knows the art of biding his time. He is the playful Poppy, beloved to his granddaughters for bursting in on a scene of jumping on the bed and joining right in.
He knows how to raise a daughter. He had different rules for me than my brothers. I wasn't allowed to say any bad words, like fart. I had to be home at eleven. No dates until I was 17. Working the late night shift at an ice cream shop was strictly forbidden ("no daughter of mine is closing up shop by herself and driving home late at night"). He nurtured my dreams of going back to the south for college, to the alma mater of my ancestors. He teased that I was going to Furman so I could fall in love just like he and Mama did, just like Poppa and Jenky did. And wouldn't you know, he was right?
He was my first love, as every daddy of little girls should be in my opinion. During a drawn-out dry spell, with no suitors in sight, when I was 16 going on 17, he took me on my first date. We dined at Timothy's in Scottsdale, a fancy pants kind of restaurant. I sipped my first glass of wine (didn't really like it back then; my how times have changed), learned which fork to use, and delighted in a conversation full of dreams for the future. He was setting the bar for those suitors to come. He set it high.
I am blessed to have known the love of a faithful father who has loved my mama for going on 43 years. I am blessed to have known at the way-too-young age of 19 what I wanted in a man who would one day be the father to my children. I wanted a man with my father's heart. And I found him.
Praying for good fathers for all of God's children. Praying for the one true Faithful Father to gather the fatherless in His arms. Praying for the future fathers we are raising.
He's a country boy, I'll kick your ass kind of a guy, as in he loves his horse and his dog and his beat up t-shirt. He'd rather be bush hogging a backfield than playing a round of golf. He builds fences and mucks out stables. He's happiest driving down a long, old dirt road that ends at a meadow with a shimmering lake full of fish waiting to be caught.
He's a sage who never learned that you reach a point in your life where you've got it all figured out. He's journeying to the mountains on weekends to retreat and discover the wisdom of dreams. He can look into your eyes and pretty much sum up what lies in your heart. He listens with careful attention and only offers advice when persistently requested. He reads with relish the likes of Thomas Merton and Karl Jung and Richard Rohr, and his life reflects their rich spirituality. He wouldn't like that I'm bragging on his insatiable curiosity about God, about people, about the Christ whom he serves with devotion and gratitude.
He's a recovering corporate warrior who travels at dawn, precisely packed, an expeditor extraordinaire, and a surfer, with a knack for finding just the right wave because he is patient and knows the art of biding his time. He is the playful Poppy, beloved to his granddaughters for bursting in on a scene of jumping on the bed and joining right in.
He knows how to raise a daughter. He had different rules for me than my brothers. I wasn't allowed to say any bad words, like fart. I had to be home at eleven. No dates until I was 17. Working the late night shift at an ice cream shop was strictly forbidden ("no daughter of mine is closing up shop by herself and driving home late at night"). He nurtured my dreams of going back to the south for college, to the alma mater of my ancestors. He teased that I was going to Furman so I could fall in love just like he and Mama did, just like Poppa and Jenky did. And wouldn't you know, he was right?
He was my first love, as every daddy of little girls should be in my opinion. During a drawn-out dry spell, with no suitors in sight, when I was 16 going on 17, he took me on my first date. We dined at Timothy's in Scottsdale, a fancy pants kind of restaurant. I sipped my first glass of wine (didn't really like it back then; my how times have changed), learned which fork to use, and delighted in a conversation full of dreams for the future. He was setting the bar for those suitors to come. He set it high.
I am blessed to have known the love of a faithful father who has loved my mama for going on 43 years. I am blessed to have known at the way-too-young age of 19 what I wanted in a man who would one day be the father to my children. I wanted a man with my father's heart. And I found him.
Praying for good fathers for all of God's children. Praying for the one true Faithful Father to gather the fatherless in His arms. Praying for the future fathers we are raising.
Saturday, May 26, 2012
when love comes to town
guess why there are no new blog entries?
he's 21 months old...
the big sisters are very active...
i'm almost about to graduate from yoga teacher training...
hello...this is your 41 year old self reminding you that IT'S A LOT DIFFERENT THIS TIME AROUND.
you know how in your 20/30's you blink and your kids are in elementary school? i've decided that is not going to happen this time. my days are pretty much spent in the same room with the same toys with a very smart little boy reminding him that i'm his mama and i'm not going anywhere. i think he's starting to get it.
the big girls were 5 months and 10 months at their adoption; little guy was 19 months. we've been home about 7 weeks and finally, finally we are getting some traction. he's smiling. he's laughing. he's hugging. and it's amazing. i've never worked so hard in my life.
what you do with an orphaned soul, what you do with anyone, is just get into their world. speak their language. play their way. spend lots of time doing what they love to do. here's what i've been doing: stacking stackable cups any which-way. racing cars any which-way. saying ahh any which-way. our boy is missing the muscle to be able to speak words (it's being repaired in July). but oh my goodness does he speak. expressive eyebrows. lots of screeching. he's making the cars say vroom, vroom, vroom. and he loves to dance. and he laughs.
resurrection life is happening right in front of us. Levi and me and daddy and big sisters. when loves come to town, you better catch that train.
he's 21 months old...
the big sisters are very active...
i'm almost about to graduate from yoga teacher training...
hello...this is your 41 year old self reminding you that IT'S A LOT DIFFERENT THIS TIME AROUND.
you know how in your 20/30's you blink and your kids are in elementary school? i've decided that is not going to happen this time. my days are pretty much spent in the same room with the same toys with a very smart little boy reminding him that i'm his mama and i'm not going anywhere. i think he's starting to get it.
the big girls were 5 months and 10 months at their adoption; little guy was 19 months. we've been home about 7 weeks and finally, finally we are getting some traction. he's smiling. he's laughing. he's hugging. and it's amazing. i've never worked so hard in my life.
what you do with an orphaned soul, what you do with anyone, is just get into their world. speak their language. play their way. spend lots of time doing what they love to do. here's what i've been doing: stacking stackable cups any which-way. racing cars any which-way. saying ahh any which-way. our boy is missing the muscle to be able to speak words (it's being repaired in July). but oh my goodness does he speak. expressive eyebrows. lots of screeching. he's making the cars say vroom, vroom, vroom. and he loves to dance. and he laughs.
resurrection life is happening right in front of us. Levi and me and daddy and big sisters. when loves come to town, you better catch that train.
Thursday, April 5, 2012
China: A Retrospective
I had every intention of posting minute-by-minute musings as Mama and I journeyed through China to adopt our boy. And as soon as I met Levi, those intentions went right out the window. Because I'm 41 and I realized that these sweet moments of beginnings with babies are fleeting. And also because getting on the internet in still-communist China is cumbersome. So instead, here I am, feeling every one of my 41 years, jet lagged beyond words, and reunited with my beloved and Levi's adoring big sisters. I think it is the best place to reflect on our adoption adventure.
My brain is a bit mushy and the moments of lucidity are short-lived at this point, but I promise to highlight the good, the bad, and the not-so-pretty happenings along our path in China.
Here's a little blurb about Beijing: Tianamen Square is not written about in Chinese textbooks studied by schoolchildren. The information that the Chinese people can access is severely limited by the government there. The Great Wall is truly Great. Hiking to the top of it, twice in my lifetime, is one of my favorite memories. Doing it with my mom was thrilling. I didn't really like the food in Beijing, even though I had a stern pre-trip talk with myself about relishing the new flavors and cuisine. I just couldn't stomach the smell of Chinese food for breakfast, but I also couldn't stomach the Western french fries either. I stuck with croissants, strawberry jam, and the best black tea I've ever tasted.
Our guide, George, has a providential life story (well, we all do really, don't we?), and one of my favorite memories of the two days in China's capital is the time spent learning about him. More about that later!
The best part of life in a bustling, 14 + million city? We got an email from our adoption agency that our flight for Zhenzhou (the provincial capital of Henan where Levi lived) had to be moved up from traveling Monday evening to traveling Monday morning. No explanation was given, but I trusted my instinct that we would be united with our babies on Monday afternoon...
The Beijing blitz portion of our trip was just what it was meant to be: busy, informative, a settling in to the rhythm of life in China.
My brain is a bit mushy and the moments of lucidity are short-lived at this point, but I promise to highlight the good, the bad, and the not-so-pretty happenings along our path in China.
Here's a little blurb about Beijing: Tianamen Square is not written about in Chinese textbooks studied by schoolchildren. The information that the Chinese people can access is severely limited by the government there. The Great Wall is truly Great. Hiking to the top of it, twice in my lifetime, is one of my favorite memories. Doing it with my mom was thrilling. I didn't really like the food in Beijing, even though I had a stern pre-trip talk with myself about relishing the new flavors and cuisine. I just couldn't stomach the smell of Chinese food for breakfast, but I also couldn't stomach the Western french fries either. I stuck with croissants, strawberry jam, and the best black tea I've ever tasted.
Our guide, George, has a providential life story (well, we all do really, don't we?), and one of my favorite memories of the two days in China's capital is the time spent learning about him. More about that later!
The best part of life in a bustling, 14 + million city? We got an email from our adoption agency that our flight for Zhenzhou (the provincial capital of Henan where Levi lived) had to be moved up from traveling Monday evening to traveling Monday morning. No explanation was given, but I trusted my instinct that we would be united with our babies on Monday afternoon...
The Beijing blitz portion of our trip was just what it was meant to be: busy, informative, a settling in to the rhythm of life in China.
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