first things first

yesterday started by getting my bum kicked in a pilates class.

before it started as we were sitting on our mats, one of my friends asked how i was doing- you know in that casual way that expects the typical 'fine' response. but instead she got a real answer.  that i was overwhelmed, that all this confusion and up-in-the-air-ness of our situation with rose occupies a large part of my mental energy, that zoe is having way more sticky thoughts since the departing of her best friend - and instead of being able to sympathize and help her cope - she's driving me crazy- bringing up all sorts of old bad memories and scaring me about the future.  that since we've had rose, i haven't been working clinically, and i like working with patients, that i need to make a schedule so i have some control- that i need to build in breaks- like this impossible pilates class or yoga or tea fields.  i rambled on about a few other things too.  i think she was sorry she'd asked.

but i tend to believe in transparency. in being vulnerable with each other.

after class i felt good and ready to tackle my planned 'retreat to move forward'. i wanted to figure things out- to try to get a grip on all the stuff going on in this life. i wanted to be able to answer 'how are you?' with 'fabulous!' again. of course it would involve the creation of a giant todo list, followed by time on the computer sending emails, researching options, moving ahead and 'finally getting things done.' 

but.

thankfully it turned out differently.  thankfully i didn't go on the computer or make a todo list.  thankfully i came across a little workbook in between the car seats called  'first things' (by the guy who wrote 'the seven habits of highly effective people.) 

it asked me to look at the things that are most important to me in life, and then to look at my time, at where i'm spending it and how i'm spending it. to take a raw look at my life, and really evaluate if my my goals, if what's important, match up with the how i live my life.  it asked me to look at patterns, and barriers that get in the way of the match up, and then to think of concrete ways that can help me live into the things i want to live into. 

a few things came to the surface- and they all surprised me. 


i assumed that because i felt a disconnect between my values and my time, that there was a disconnect, but when i put it down on paper that's not true.  i am spending a lot of time investing in the things that are most important to me- aka my kids, my family, and seeking God.  it's not that i'm spending my time in the wrong places, it's how i'm spending my time there.  it's my attitude in those places.
instead of trying to write while they're jumping around me, i can give them focused attention, and then set aside time to write later.  i need to put the computer down and pick them up.  i need to be present- available- showing them how much i adore them. 

there are also certain activities that are necessary priorities- we have to eat- this means someone has to cook dinner every night.  so why does this seem to always surprise me? and annoy me? since it's not going away- i might as well enjoy my time making dinner.  same with our one hour ride to and from school each day. instead of dreading it- loathing the possible smacking and fidgeting and aurguing- i should value it, make it the best it can be- because it's not going away- and how i spend those hours with those sweet, little nutballs, matters in how they interpret their world. 

what i saw is that i waste time and energy and decrease joy by having my head in tomorrow, by my scheming and my todo lists and my need to do everything, all the time, and get there an hour early to do it.

i have always burned the candle at both ends  i bite off more than i can chew.  i create scenarios of stress to function better- because that is what i've always done. but i can learn to say 'no', i can tell myself to wait, i can slow down, it doesn't all need to happen right away.  i'm allowed to enjoy not having too much on my plate.

i found a priority that i would never had listed as a priority.  being everywhere in life on time or early at the cost of  creating anxiety that isn't good for me or my relationships with my family.  i actually waste time- mental and physical time- in my need to be somewhere. this seems funny and kind of bizarre but again it came as a welcome relief! it brings hope.  acknowledging this helps me change it. now that i see it, i can let go of it. ahhhhh. 

it asked me to write a missions statement for my life and to recall it in the decisions that i make through out the day- so that i stay where i want to be, striving to be who i want to be.

i want to practice seeking more than knowing,
and patience over hurrying,
enjoying over annoyance,
loving over being angry,
forgiving over judging,
being present over just being,
affirming and adoring my family.
i want to practice vulnerability,
and availability,
and transparency,
and deep thankfulness.

i want to search for God in everything, to be greater than my thoughts and greater than my moods.

so yesterday i put away the computer and enjoyed the afternoon- playing football with jude, and sitting on the porch while my life happened all around me.

last night i was inspired making dinner- i stayed long and sung many songs with each of the boys and rose at bedtime, i was able to be calm when zoe wasn't put together.  and i was happy. 

slowly by slowly it starts. each day a new beginning, each moment really. 
i will again, try to be still and know....

endurance

i've been thinking about endurance.  about how hard it is- how long it takes-how never ending it can seem. and how much i don't like it.

endurance- bearing with hardship, pushing on, continuing existance- even when it hurts like heck.

i think these days many of us have become intolerant of endurance. 
we much prefer avoidance, or if unavoidable then overcoming- but the idea of enduring- we don't like it, in fact we hate it.  i'm in that group.  when i find myself sitting with something really tough or painful, the last thing i want to do is endure it. i want to fix it.  so i begin to problem solve, make lists,  do research,  investigate and then implement. 

it's only after failing, after many attempts to go back to the drawing board and try the other avenues and then failing again, after getting really mad, and obsessing and perseverating, and usually after several other unrelated categories in my life have broken- their fragments added to the heap i'm dealing with- only then do i stop.  only then do i take pause and think about endurance. only then do i consider that maybe 'the something' i'm trying so desperately (and yes that is an appropriate adverb) to overcome, is something to be endured.  maybe this is something that will not go away.  maybe it's not to be overcome. maybe it just is and i might never know why. so maybe my energy needs to be spent differently. instead of fighting it, learning to exist with it- problem solving about how to press on- building community and support to sustain my endurance.

today, after writing most of this post, i was acutely reminded of what requires tremendous endurance- zoe.  i wanted to wring her neck.  i wanted to not hear her voice, to not see her, to not have to spend another minute discussing her getting 'another chance' about whatever. 

raising children requires endurance.  raising children with special needs- who demand a lot of time and attention- who technically qualify as at least 2 children- that requires even more endurance. 

this evening, while trying to get out of the house to meet some visitors from the US, i was followed around by jude who wanted to calculate the exact amount of time that his parents would be out- bryn who wanted more food- rose who wants to tell me the names of everything because she's so excited to know more english- and zoe who was behaving in a way that required time and attention- doing things that she knew would make the time revolve around her. 

comparatively it wasn't that bad. but.  after a full day with her- giving her lots of time and attention- spent working on helping her regulate- hiking with her- playing- being incredibly patient with her multiple times- and basically feeling like i deserved a medal for my excellent behavior and parenting skills- i was just done.  i was so tired of having every interaction need so much support.  i was mad that she was taking time away from the other kids again. that she was the squeaky wheel, again.

surprisingly i didn't explode on the outside (for which i do deserve snaps) but on the inside i was furious.  because while she didn't know it, my patience tank was on empty.  there was nothing left. i was out of gas.

when mike and i got in the car- i kind of exploded- or vented loudly with a few *&%^&$ exclamations about how 'done' i was.  and as we bumped along the road and sat in a bunch of traffic, i remembered what i'd been writing about. endurance.

oh yeah, that.

that is exactly what i need to work on.  how to endure. how to live with this. how to even bloom in this. because she will always be the squeaky wheel- the child who takes more time- that is not going away.

i have several friends who are dealing with things that are so very hard that any of my trials, my bad zoe moments,  seem tiny and really insignificant.  they are living with things i wouldn't want to endure.  they are enduring cancers, some that are cured and some that aren't, and amputations, or medical problems that are unsolved and causing tremendous pain and stress, or children that demand much more time and energy than mine, or poverty. 

there is nothing wrong with trying to fix anything, and everything.  when it's fixable. but somethings aren't.

so i pray into this.  that i will learn to endure and churn my hardships into some sort of beauty.  that my energy will be learning how to endure, leaning on my God, sometimes crawling to the cross, and sometimes singing hallelujah.

full circle

it is beginning. 
the last family with young kids has left.  the campus feels empty.  my children are crawling the walls bored and sad and the worst part is tomorrow there is no school.  which means they will be driving me crazy. all. day. 

we had a plan. it involved an hour drive, and a pool, and sunshine.  but.  right after our friends drove away, it began to pour.  it rained so loudly that we couldn't hear each other.  it rained our plans right out the window.  so we ate lunch and baked a cake, because chocolate cake always makes us feel better.  then the power went out so we sat in the gloomy dark house and played monopoly, and felt like real missionaries.  no lights, no friends around, playing board games with the family.

because it was dark and i was kind of bored and sad that people are gone, and everyone was feeling crabby, and i had another migraine, i indulged in feeling sorry for myself.  i allowed myself to miss everyone and everything. i wanted to go to the fernbank and dr. bombays underwater tea house and eat rainbow ice cream.  i wanted to feel the heat of georgia and swim at the emory pool and see people that look like me and know me.  i wanted to go to target to buy a sparkly tank top and stop by the king-of-pops and have a mexican chocolate popsicle and eat it on the curb of the gas station parking lot in a race before it melts and wins.  i wanted to go to yeah burger and eat the bacon sauce.  i wanted to walk to john howell park and watch the sky through the leaves of all the trees while the kids run and play.  i wanted to have a TV and turn on 'noggin' for them when we get home and then i wanted my friends to come over and sit on the porch and drink cold white wine and eat potato chips in our mosquito free yard (thanks to 'junior' who would have just sprayed us free of them). 

i miss the ease, and the familiar, and yes, sometimes i even miss the consumption.  i miss the normal of it, and the options- the endless options of things to do, rain or shine.  the options of so many friends and family to be with, to talk to, to share life with. 

then i indulged further - online people magazine- in an attempt to feel normal and american again.  but. as usual it sends me back here- where i belong. because seeing pages of sunglassed- made up hollywood stars reminds me that i don't need a sparkly tank top, or bacon sauce or popsicles to feel good or be happy. 

i have all that i need.  i even have all that i want.
i'm just a little lonely and wanting some sun.
so it comes full circle.
and here comes the sun.
but i still miss you all.
 

extra complicated but still beautiful

the range of emotions i've felt today has been impressive, but i bet it doesn't compare with the range of emotions our little rosie felt.

today was the day to visit with her birth mom.  it was the day when we were supposed to get her 'birth card' and find out her full name and birthday so we can proceed with getting her passport.  it was the day to discuss our trip to the village where we will meet with the clan, to make decisions about who will be who in rose's life.

today her birth mom put down her infant and scooped rose up in her arms and rose complied.  she sat on her lap, mother and child.  they look alike, same beautiful mouth, same little nose, different eyes, very different eyes. eyes that have seen very different things even just in these weeks.  different feet, little painted toenails and feet that have walked bare for miles, feet worn by a life lived on them, feet aged by that life.

rose watched us with her searching brown eyes, as she sat engulfed in those arms that bore her. there was love there- we could see it.  confusion and bewilderment, but some love and connection too.

for a moment, i wanted to just walk away. to leave the scene.  to not interrupt the natural born order of things.  to let my heart break a little bit so that they can be together.

the translator began the meeting.
no one could find the birth card. 
when could we go to the village.

wait.

i looked over again at my little girl.  who is really not mine.  ownership didn't matter.  what does 'mine' mean anyway?

i had to ask, so i did.
does she want her child back?
because how could she not? because it looked like she might.  as she examined her childs teeth and felt her scars, the same scars she had, two dashes on the hands and arms and feet and chest.  i could feel my paleness- my lack of scar-ness- my blue eyes.  i could feel the difference.

but my question fell into the air and returned unanswered because we don't just speak with different tongues, we live different paradigms.

'what is in her heart?' i begged the translator to inquire, to tell me.  but how can she answer that if her heart is just one part of a heart that beats as a community, if her heart doesn't stand alone.  if her heart doesn't have a voice.

'she will be with you, and we need to go to the village.' was the answer. what part of this are they not understanding? she must have thought. we are a clan.  we work as a group.  rose is the child of my people, not me. why do they keep asking me what i want?

for a moment i had fear.  fear that was real and confusing- fear that this woman didn't have a voice and we were taking her child, and fear that we might lose rose who we love dearly too. fear that the village might want to keep her, take off her second hand H+M outfit, hand her a large yellow jerry can, and send her for water and firewood.  and my mind wandered to strange places with fears that were ridiculous. that we would be killed and cooked over that firewood and eaten with the rice and beans that we'd brought for the village. because it all felt so weird and surreal anyway.

the infant cried.  my mind returned. rose was handed to mike.  the birth mom nursed the baby.
rose was happy to be with him again. she watched that new baby suckle at her mom's breast. it was confusing.  it was a lot to take in.  she was so brave- so big on the inside as she sat with so many people who have loved her, betrayed her, returned to her,  and i think love her still, beside the people who feed her and hug her and tell her how much they love her and tuck her into a warm bed each night with a belly full of food.  there was trust and distrust and love and anger and guilt and fear swimming around in that room and in the hearts and minds of everyone.  but the greatest of these was love.

we come from other worlds really- their clan, our nuclear family. we speak legal language, about citizenship and health insurance and college education - they know tribal law, cattle raiding, witch doctors and maybe finding a primary school under a mango tree. we want the same thing- what is best for rose- to be loved, known, educated, fed well, cared for- but the 'hows' and 'where's' of this, the 'when's' and 'what's' of this- are sort of unknown- and spoken of differently-understood differently-with very different cultural meaning attached.

so i settled on hope.  that somehow this crazy, potential mess of a situation would be okay- would even be blessed- would be full of life and become life giving. because things that are exquisitely beautiful are complex- the inside of an orchid- the sounds of a symphony- the miracle of how the ear works.  complicated doesn't have to be bad.  complicated can be extraordinary. and God loves to clean up messes- to make pure gold with dirty bricks - to bring forth spectacular from disaster.  

rose looked scared as her birth mom took her from my arms and carried her up the stairs to our car.  we said good bye in swahili and buckled her into the seat.  relief washed over her face- her smile re-appeared.

"rosies seat!" she confirmed pointing to her carseat.

'yes rosie's seat. lets go home!'

"mama, tata- i yuve eww!"

'we love you too rosie! you are so so loved by so many!'

this beautiful story will continue. next month we will travel to a far away place and we will sit and listen and experience something that most people never will.  we will become joined in some way with this clan who shares the marks and skin of our little rosie.  and we will embark on this complicated, messy, shared journey together.

sunrise, sunset

today i drove the boys into school.

we wake up in the dark and leave really early and the only good thing about that is the sunrise.  but it's a very good thing. it's so beautiful.  a little gift for people who drag themselves up as day begins.
 
i was thinking in that early morning light about how amazing it is that each sunrise is different and how maybe that is one of the ways God reminds us that he's around, that he cares about the details, that he is paying attention.  because they don't all have to be different, but they are.

we wouldn't even have noticed if the world was made to have the same sunrise and sunset everyday- it would still be beautiful.  but, each day, the color, the light, the shape, the spread of the sky in transition, is new.  unique.  full of promise and surprise. as is each day.  there is newness. a beginning. 















it speaks to me. it tells me that God is an artist, and artists love to communicate, to share themselves, to make things that are beautiful or things that make us stop and think and see differently.

that is what the sunrise does if i'm awake to enjoy it.  i stop.  i think.  i see differently.  i appreciate life and love, i feel smaller than i did in the dark, but larger too. and the best part is that it happens twice a day!  this blessing of an open, vulnerable sky.  the arrival and the leaving of the sun, the heat and the light, the cool and the night.

it's not a mistake.  it's not random.
it's too powerful to be an accident. 
it is spectacular.
we are not alone.

what is going on

this morning an almond croissant magically appeared on my doorstep in a box from my favorite kampala cafe.  a little gift fallen from heaven.  of course it's the day after i was given the recommendation to go gluten-free to rid myself of migraines. after i'd psyched myself up to embark on that sad breadless path that zoe walks.  the day after i realized that anything is better than a migraine.  well, except not having a divinely provided almond croissant.  i mean how can i turn that down?  gluten-free experiment might need to  start next week. 

last night mike and i decided to use our babysitter time to have a logistics meeting instead of a date night.  not sure that was a good idea.  i mean talking about the budget and our schedule and about meeting with rose's birth mom again on friday, might be best in the distraction of our usual chaos- not during the precious childless hours.  i'm mean maybe lumping all the challenge together is the way to go- keep the alone together time pure.  ooops.

i was kind of awful.  or at least a little bit.  i picked fights, i assumed i was being challenged, i didn't even know why? finally when i was lying in bed wondering what was really going on here- all sorts of stuff came out.  finally when i let my guard down- it wasn't about mixing budget talk and tilapia.

it was about people leaving- for good and for the summer- it was about the loss, and the being left and it was about how much we have to be for each other over here.

i need to process my life out loud (and preferably with a very understanding girlfriend).  talking through problems, or issues, or questions, or decisions is the way i roll- it helps keep the crazy down, it helps tie down the kite strings.  talking through being zoe's mom, and adding rose, and what about the boys, and being a missionary in africa, and how to begin to wrap my mind around my life as a whole, that it might not be lived in short sprints as i've been attempting- that it might be long distance.  that it is long distance- especially with zoe. or maybe it's less like long distance and more like running repetitive 300 yard sprints- over and over again.

in high school i ran track.  i'll be honest.  i did this because it seemed the easiest way to "letter".  to get that jacket that only came with a sewn on symbol of what extracurricular activity you did well.  turns out i could sprint- so i did. the 40, 50, 100, 200, and 300 yard races, depending on if it were winter or spring.   the three hundred yard was the killer for me- it was a straight out sprint that went on and on. it was painful.  maybe that is like life with special kids.  so you have to build in breaks.  you have to learn to stop and drink a lot of water (or something) before you go on to the next one.

so living wholly and balanced and patiently remains the challenging theme of my life.  talking logistics somehow shines the light on this.  i was feeling unbalanced and confused and made up of disjointed parts.  i was missing people who are far away and who are about to be far away. i was feeling the absence and the void and the extra demands that living culturally isolated puts on our relationship.

late at night under that mosquito net, i figured this out.  it became less confusing and complicated and really very simple.  i like my friends. i miss them when they are away. they help bring wholeness and balance to my life.  they remind me of patience, they model kindness and love.  they tell me that even though i feel like i'm in the same spot all the time, i'm actually moving in a spiral- slowly going up- slowly evolving- i just circle back to the same spot and don't see the motion.  

so we didn't make the perfect schedule or resolve the budget, but i felt thankful for the people in my life, and for mike who gets me, knows me and likes me anyway.  especially thankful for the grace that helps us  be for each other all the things we need to be here.

our days, our choices

what is in our days? 

we sit with time, in it, around it, pushing it, fitting it, squeezing what we can from it.  time goes on with or with out us, ignoring what we do or don't do with it, whether it's packed and busy or empty or appreciated or not.  so it's up to us to make it be beautiful.  we have a choice- each moment is a choice.  i don't mean that in an overwhelming way, or a burdensome way, but in a way that we should remember.

i've been having a lot of migraines this year.  i've spent a bunch of time trying to figure out why- what the triggers are- what foods, drinks, smells, weather patterns, sleep patterns, stress levels- predict a headache, what is causal, what ingredients go into to my small version of suffering.  so far i'm kind of stuck, i don't know what causes them, and i'm so very sick of thinking about it, talking about it, expending any energy trying to understand, that i've given in- i'm realizing that i might not know- it might be random- i may have very little control.   and i still have my days, my children, my work, my life.  those things don't change if i have a migraine or not. so i have a choice.  i always have a choice. 

this week i've had about 4, thankfully only one was really bad. it's discouraging, annoying, and obviously uncomfortable but i would never have called it suffering.  when i was in kenya i was talking with someone who said his wife "also suffers from migraines".  i remember saying, "well, i don't know if i'd describe it as suffering."  and he thought i was a little bit crazy and wondered if i actually do get migraines or know what one is because clearly you'd describe it as suffering.

i think he's right.  there is suffering.  my head hurts, my body hurts, i'm often off balance, my head is foggy, sounds and light and smells bother me and my mood is bad.  there is enduring pain and distress and knowing that it will return.  but my question has changed from what is the cause of this suffering, to what can i do with it?  what choices can i make with this thorn in my side?


i can choose to not let it stop me.  i can choose to get up and get on with my life and make dinner and bathe people even when i'm feeling poorly. i can choose to feel fabulous and be so, so very thankful for days like today when i'm headache free.  but i can also choose to be more gentle, to be patient, to be more kind to myself, and to be forgiving.  i can use it to remember that life doesn't need to run at a neck breaking pace all the time, that slowing it down can be good, that life is harder when you feel out of whack. 

maybe this thorn is revelation.  maybe it's to stop me in my tracks and force me to see life for zoe in a way that i couldn't have with out migraines. to know a part of her world- sometimes off balance, sounds too loud, lights too bright, clothes too tight. now i can understand her better.  so maybe i can accept the quirks, and love her ability to be happy most of the time despite feeling off.  maybe i can learn from watching her choices, learn from her choice to power through a life that feels out of whack. maybe these migraines will help me to be more tolerant of her slowing down, more forgiving of her oversensitivity and more in awe of her endurance. 

"Suffering carves space in our heart to be more accepting, loving & forgiving." phileena heuertz

maybe that's why it hurts.  it's the carving.  but inside is a gift, inside there can be space. and accepting, loving and forgiving? i want to be these things.

so i will breathe deep and enjoy today and be softer to zoe, and softer to others, because we all suffer in some small unacknowledged way.  breathe.