Pt. 1

It was an ordinary Saturday.  And by ordinary, I mean I may have still been in my pajamas even though it was the middle of the afternoon.  No one had brushed their hair.  I think we'd been looking at music or books - something insignificant - and the kids were playing.  The conversation came up like it always had over the past two years, abruptly, awkwardly and accidentally.  What were we going to do next?  And when?
But for whatever reason that Saturday, the shadows of every other conversation unresolved were chased away by the comfort of decision, and the extraordinary pleasure of complete unity.  As much as we could plan it, no more babies for us.  But yes to more children.  Adoption.  International adoption.  And our country was India. 

Although we had for a long time and for various reasons felt a cultural affinity for India and supported social justice causes there, we didn't know what the adoption landscape looked like.  But we knew adoption was possible, and that it took a long time, so logically we should get cracking...  So from music and books to searching about adoption from India and within 15 minutes we had more information than we could absorb.  But we could tell even at first glance this was going to get interesting real quick.  India, notoriously bureaucratic at the best of times, had halted all new dossiers in an attempt to clear a backlog of cases and introduce a new, more stream-lined process of adoption throughout the country.  What timing we had!

I was mildly bummed, but we both felt compelled to keep pursuing however and wherever it may lead.  If this was a worthy pursuit, the way would be made clear.  In just a few days our search for an adoption agency narrowed, and our perspective started to change...

lemons. lots of lemons.

We were recently handed some lemons, both literally and figuratively.

Because I was dealing with life lemons, these actual lemons (two boxes of them) sat with perky optimism in the garage while I lived in a place of happy denial inside, eating a jar of nutella.

The thing is, I actually like lemons; lemonade, lemon curd, lemon bars, lemon cheesecake, lotions, balms and whatnot.  Oh the places we'd go little languishing lemons, if only life didn't get in the way!

In a rare moment of clarity, I decided the only thing for it was to squeeze them.  No, I'm not going to make the proverbial "lemonade".  Forced optimism is a bitter pill to swallow right now.  So I just milked them for what they are worth, and am moving on.

I keep trying to write about our story - what's going on, what we're up to in the process.  People around us are very kind and ask regularly if there is any news, and I'm grateful for every single one of them.

The adoption process is kind of like learning to drive stick - there is a lot of bunny hopping.  You wait, talking, wondering, trying to figure things out and then you lurch forward in dramatic fashion with enough force to give you emotional and mental whiplash.  That's not a criticism - it's just the nature of the beast.

So I hesitate to write about the ever-changing landscape of our adoption... Perhaps because the story isn't done yet?

Sigur Rós - Ekki múkk from Sigur Rós on Vimeo.

vision

You stand there on the top of your hill, all the questions and journey of your decision-making behind you, and you declare with fists in the air and all your might, the wind in your hair and a vision of your next life's accomplishment looming with Matterhorn-like grandeur before you...

We.  Are.  Adopting!

Your words echo back to you with exhilarating confidence and then fade away into the distance...

adopting... adopting... adopting...

And you're confident that after reading all the stories, and after witnessing all the little miracles that got you to this place, all the challenges ahead of you in this journey are going to play out like this:

And some of them do.

Some however play out like this:

 ...aaaaand hello Fire Swamp.


Does your grand vision still exist, is it there?  Yes.  It's obscured by trees, the dark of the valley, the ducking and dodging of spitting fire, over-sized rodents and quick sand, and the tending of your own wounds... but it's still there.

If you have a propensity towards self-reflection, it is tempting to become ungracious with yourself.  "Why can't I be standing back on my little hill?  Why can't I see my vision of mountains and glory?  What have I done wrong on this journey to be so disconnected from my destination?"  And fear sets in...

But you learn.  There is more beyond the limit of your tree-filled vision.  It is dark here, but light beyond.

And as Wesley says, "No, no. We have already succeeded. I mean, what are the three terrors of the Fire Swamp? One, the flame spurt - no problem. There's a popping sound preceding each; we can avoid that. Two, the lightning sand, which you were clever enough to discover what that looks like, so in the future we can avoid that too. "

As for the ROUSes... I'll address them in another post.

Someone who has read the story before (or watched the movie) can tell you that either way, a glorious leap of faith or a tumble into the valley, doesn't determine the end of the story.  But it can make you stronger, and more faithful and make the ending that. much. sweeter.

love & obedience

We are doing something crazy:

There is this child.

We are strangers to them. 

This child has no family.

This child has issues - some of them you can see, some of them you can't.  Some of them don't even exist yet.

And we are going to say to this stranger-child, "Hey!  There is a lot - an awful lot - that stands between us and you, but we are willing to cross all those bridges.  We'll span the oceans.  We are willing to let your issues be our issues.  Your mess, our mess.  Your story, our story.  We are willing to be your family and love you always."

Wait, you say.  That's not crazy.  That is exciting, noble, wonderful!

Perhaps.

There is a cost you see... the hidden, secret cost. 

Because to take a complete stranger with all their mysterious messiness, and call them family... to open your arms to a child whose unknowns will shake you to your core, whose potential for disaster may outweigh your potential to love, and be willing to chose to love even still...

That means you have to stop looking at what you want.

Stop looking at what you need.

Take all those things that you are so desperate to call you own - your dreams, your fears, your hopes, every deceitful, pacifying half truth you tell yourself, your reputation and your friendships - every good and bad that defines you...

...and give them up.

Then you must choose to be obedient to a vision of love that is outlandish.

wild

misunderstood

presumptive

bold

undeserved

stubborn

hopeful

And you must choose it in your darkest hours, in the blindness of your selfishness, in the midnight of your despair.  Again and again, over and over and with every breath...

You must choose love, and obedience.

Pondering the future.

Sometimes I think it would be nice to have a dog.

I'm thinking maybe something of the medium height variety, with some poodle or collie in them (those breeds are smart and don't shed the same way as regular dogs).

I always imagined when I was a grown up that I would have a boy dog and name him Quasar.

My husband and oldest daughter would rather have a cat. I guess that might make for an interesting menagerie.

One day.



(edit: I did not know would not post again here for about 3 years. in that time a lot changed.  among other things we had another daughter, and a cat found us.)