Back the Truck Up

My dad called today to say he was buying plane tickets for us.

For us? I said. For where?

Hawaii.

Um, I thought we hadn't settled on a date for Hawaii...had we?

Well, apparently everyone else had. Now, ordinarily when someone gives you an all-expense paid trip to Hawaii, you gulp dramatically and say, "I'll race you to the airport!" But I am feeling...not quite like that.

I am struggling to lay my finger on how I feel. And let me say right off the bat that this has nothing to do with my parents' generosity and everything to do with my (and my husband's) general approach to life.

See, I am a reactor. I roll along, having a hard time with decisions, until something happens and I react. I spent many years being dragged into things against my will until I learned the power and the beauty of the word "No." And while that has been very freeing, I still often roll along without really deciding in advance where I want to go. Sometimes I am waiting for God to tip His hand, sometimes I am attempting to avoid going off half-cocked (or fully cocked, whatever) before I really know what I'm doing, sometimes I am waiting for my husband to make a decision. This last bit is where I get into trouble.

My hubby is a roller, too. He sometimes waits for me to decide and then events overtake us and we have to react -- react, instead of proact. We are being acted upon, rather than stepping out boldly and decisively, knowing what it is we're aiming for.

So the Hawaii thing overtook us in the midst of waiting -- in this case, waiting for God's will to become crystal clear regarding adoption. Like, engraved-invitation-clear. Or neon-sign-clear. Or walk-this-way-clear, thankyouverymuch Arrowsmith.

The problem is, if we go to Hawaii for 10 days as planned, my hubby will have used up most of his vacation for the year. You know -- the year in which we would possibly, maybe be travelling for an adoption. The year in which two weeks of vacation might be critical. Or not. Remember -- we're still waiting on the not-sure-what-to-do train.

I am tired of being flattened by my life. And even more tired that the good things can flatten me almost as effectively as the bad.

Still Short

So I crunched all the numbers and even if I add in what I think my hub's bonus will be this year, we would still come up about 5000 short of being able to complete an adoption. Is this a deal breaker? I'm not sure.

I have, in the past, gotten the odd freelance assignment that brought in 5 grand in one throw, so it's not out of the realm of possibility that I could get one or more projects that would make up the difference needed.

Also, by some smallish miracle, we appear to be about 400 ahead this month, so perhaps with a little focused belt-tightening over the next year, we could just stash that much away.

Or we could just trust God to provide, somehow, through any and all of these means and any other brilliant tricks He might have up His sleeve.

I'm kind of in the "trust God" camp, because all of it is a big "if" and none of it would be in my actual control anyway.

I am so tired of watching children's files get returned because no family could be found for them.

The Problem Is

We are getting closer to saying the big "Yes" to adoption.

This is not actually the problem.

The problem is, as I look at children, I find myself feeling a kind of low-level distress because the idea of choosing a child, of saying "yes, you," means that I will in turn be saying "Sorry, not you" so someone else. Someone who just as desperately needs a home, a family, a chance.

This is hard.

How can I say, "you I can parent, but you I can't"? What in the world qualifies me to make a decision like that? Nothing, that's what, other than my own very narrow, human view of what I think I can "handle," keeping in mind that I am frequently wrong in this area.

Some things were easy. Deciding to go with a boy instead of a girl was easy. Many, many more girls will be adopted before anyone so much as looks at a boy. Plus, we already have two girls and my son needs some help diluting the Barbie vibe around here.

Deciding on china was easy. I've had a "thing" for china for, like, ever. But I will admit that I can get behind orphans from almost anywhere and if I weren't pretty certain I can only manage one more kid, I'd be like Angelina Jolie, with a ramshackle, multi-colored bus full of kids (or was that the Partridge Family? I forget).

But deciding between two or three kids, weighing their particular merits (say wha?) just feels wrong because they all have exactly the same need and who am I to exclude anyone for whatever trivial reason?

Hard.

Why "I Are Unhappy" is not an Excuse to Go Off on Anyone

Let's catch up, shall we?

I was having this difficult week....with a difficult person....who I usually ignore...but who was all up in my bidness and not going away....and I was mad.

Although I really wanted to have a little temper tantrum, or a little confrontation, or a little something in which my feelings were allowed some aeration, I did not give in to temptation. This is somewhat remarkable because when I feel like I'm gonna blow, I usually do. However, I was able to LET IT GO.

When next I saw this person, I was calm, gracious, understated. It didn't hurt that I was suffering from a massive head cold and felt like death warmed over. Nothing like a little illness to mute your more strident personality facets.

And now.....oh, now....I am so glad I did what I did. Because do you know what I found out? This person, the one who occasionally drives me straight to the edge of a cliff, was operating under some very similar demons. In fact, this whole shebang turns out to be not this person's fault at all.

Now what would have happened if I'd gone all medieval on someone? I would be a supreme jerk, that's what. And let's be clear here -- sometimes I am a supreme jerk. I have the robe and everything. But this time I LET IT GO. And beyond the satisfaction of being a grown up about something, I got the further satisfaction of discovering that being a grown up saved my heinie.

Turns out that The Person was being driven straight up the crazy tree by an ultra-controlling parent. And we all know that some parents can get involved in things that are none of their business and really mess them up. And that was the case here. All the fol-de-rol-lol was due to some extreme parental immaturity and meddling.

So here's the whole thing in a nutshell: I did the right thing and everyone benefitted.

Cue the angels singing, please....

I Are Unhappy

I am having one of those days when everything ticks me off. I can't seem to achieve any kind of zen to my day -- it's all a swirling morass of yuckiness.

There is this person in my life, someone that I can't ever really get away from, who used to drive me utterly crazy. Pull-your-hair-out-foam-at-the-mouth crazy. For many many years I was a slave to this emotional response. This person was an absolute genius at picking just the right set of circumstances and then pulling the one string that would make everyone involved come completely unglued. I finally reached a point -- I'd like to think it was maturity, but let's not get all cuckoo here -- where I just decided I was not going to react to this person's shennanigans anymore. I completely disassociated and it turned out to be a very successful technique. I grew calmer, refused to be drawn into conversations about this person by others who needed to vent, and developed a sublime indifference to whatever chaos this individual chose to create.

And then I lived happily ever after....until today.

The chaos is back and I am struggling with how to respond. My normal decision to opt out is not an option this time...I have to respond. And it makes me mad that this person has found a way to subvert my indifference, to force me to interact when I would really just prefer not to. I am very comfortable with the "you go your way, I'll go mine" lifestyle we've been leading and this all-up-in-yo-face tactic has me really annoyed.

See, I don't want to care but this person is really really good at making caring unavaoidable.

I hate when that happens.

Maybe I am approaching this all wrong. Maybe the truth here is that the whole thing is a tempest in a teapot. If I take a little time today and do some deep breathing and visualize world peace and center my chakra (? okay, I admit, I don't know what this is) then the sturm und drang will die down. Maybe it's only a problem if I let it be a problem. Maybe this whole thing just wormed its way through a chink in my armor because I'm tired and flustered about other stuff.

Hmmmm. I think I may be on to something here.

B.R.E.A.T.H.E.

I cam home from Bible study wednesday night and felt like my head was going to explode. 'Member when I said I was wrestling? Well, the battle reached a fever pitch at about 10:30 p.m. and I let fly like nobody's bidness.

My husband was a little floored.

I have always been this way, unable to really haul things out into the light until long after I should be in bed. I am famous for starting deep conversations (fights) after 10 p.m. and this night was a classic example.

I spilled, baby. I told my husband how frustrated I've been with how we're living, with what seems to me to be fairly pointless activity. Wheel-spinning. What are we actually doing? And don't say we're saving for new siding, because I can not get behind that as a life goal. When I stand before my maker I just don't think he's going to ask me "Did you get the siding? I was really hoping you'd get the siding..."

And I know we have to take care of this house -- I get that -- but right now I feel like we're being pulled another way and I needed my husband to see how indignant I am feeling, truly just full of righteous anger, that no one seems to care about all the kids in the world growing up without parents, without resources, without hope. IT IS SO WRONG.

So I shared. And I ranted a bit. And I told him some of the things that make my heart sick, make it ache for these kids. And I told him that I thought just maybe we were supposed to do more about it than just be armchair spectators.

Kids need homes. We have a home. They need families. We are a family. They need love and support and guidance. We can do all that -- maybe not perfectly, but it's got to be better than an orphanage.

It felt so good to blow off steam. To let all of that out. And now we're praying -- really praying -- that God will be very very clear about our path. I asked specifically that he confirm it through Tim, because I want to be certain it's from God and not just me going off all half-cocked (which I might just maybe occasionally tend to do. A little. Sort of.)

So we pray. Just the two of us, just before God.

Breathe, baby.

(enter Fear)

Sometimes I am so perfectly assured of the rightness of my desire to adopt, that I could practically levitate myself overseas by sheer force of will. Dossiers and paperwork? I spit on you. Homestudy? I sneeze in your face. Financial considerations? Your mother smells of elderberries.

Then, I get all second-guessy on myself and I think of all the things that could go wrong -- really wrong -- during or as a result of an adoption. I get a tight little panicky feeling around my throat and am secretly glad that my husband just isn't quite on the same page with me right now.



I'm hanging on to the balance beam for all I'm worth. But I don't think this is how we're called to live. I don't think this is how I'm called to live. I think there has to be a point where I step out and do the scary, good thing without any assurance that it's going to end well.

And what if it doesn't end well? It will still be a good thing. And the power of God will not be compromised. And I will have let go of the balance beam to the glory of God.

Still

Have you ever wrestled with a problem. I mean really wrestled?

That's where I'm at. I am wrestling: twisting and turning, struggling to keep my shoulders off the mat, contorted into positions where it's hard to breathe, searching for that last ounce of grit from whatever place it lives inside me so I can flip this problem on its can, put both hands in the air and yell "YEAH!"

But that's the victory and I am not at the victory. Yet.

It feels like things are moving. All the hollowness I've felt for months, the conviction that it's not enough to acknowledge a problem, to say sincerely "That's a terrible thing," to shake our heads and turn away sorrowfully, all of that finally seems to be communicating itself to my husband. And not because I sat down with him and said, "look, this is all crap..."

Though I would certainly like to.

Yesterday we saw a clip from a sermon by Francis Chan and it was electrifying. Why? Because it's exactly what we seem to do in the church, and particularly it's what Tim and I have done in our family.




It opened my husband's eyes. He's not all the way there yet, but I think we're going down the right path.

Jen Hatmaker, I Love You

Day three of the Big Why.

Went to bed last night still churned up, still asking God "why?" and reminding myself, "God is GOOD. He is FOR you." This became significantly harder after the five year old came in at 11:30 (precisely 4 minutes after I had fallen asleep) and announced she had wet her bed (well, of course she did. Her sheets were freshly washed and she'd just had a bath. It was kismet). But I did it. I slept and only clenched my jaw a little bit.

One of the really hard things to swallow was this thought: "What if he's right?" Because what comes with that rightness is the sneaking suspicion that I am not really the mom for this job, that our mojo as parents is so very fragile that this kind of event would sink it beyond recovery, that it might be a mistake of epic proportions, the kind you never really come back from. That we have done a really spectacular job of screwing up the kids we have and should never, under any circumstances, be unleashed on someone with no genetic obligation to us.

So I was letting all this junk swirl around in my noggin, depressing little thoughts bubbling up here and there, and I sat down at the computer to read a blog or two and came across this post which made me feel so much better. In fact, it made me feel so much better, that I firmly believe it was not an accident that I stumbled on it today.

Here's is what I'm holding onto right now: I am covered with GRACE. I can't ever be perfect. No matter how much I hold that as my standard, I will never, ever hit it. But between my best effort and the righteousness of God is GRACE. It fills that gap in a way I could never hope to do myself. Grace completes what I cannot complete. Whatever my husband says about our pathetic parenting skills, my secret weapon is GRACE.

Breakfast of champions? Grace.

Two Days...

and I am still aching. We had the big adoption talk, and the DH says "I just don't think so" and I am upset.

And if you know me, you will know that the italics indicate massive understatement.

I am feeling lost and drifting and without rudder. I am feeling frustrated and out of synch with my husband, and hurt, because being out of synch is kind of painful, like a pebble in your shoe painful. I have been mad at God these past two days, too. Because WHY God would you lay this on my heart and bring me to a point of submission and then let my husband bring it all to a screeching halt like some kind of cosmic speedbump?

I have tried to push it out of my mind. Tried to sublimate it in business. Tried to sleep it away, sing it away, read it away. But it is not going away.

Then today, I found this (From Jen Hatmaker's blog -- but Blogger won't let me link it):

God doesn't promise us a clean middle part of the story. He never said we wouldn't encounter antagonists and drama and surprise twists and heartbreak. We weren't assured a G-rated plot where good feelings are peddled and no one dies or leaves or fails or waits. God promised things like healing and restoration and redemption. Which implies there will be injuries and broken relationships and losses. When he speaks of beauty from ashes, he seems to know there will be actual ashes to resurrect beauty from.

If you are confused right now, if your story isn't going the way you thought, or if you're tangled up in the messy middle where hope is deferred, dear reader, it could just be that God isn't done yet. Your story is not finished. Every hero and heroine must wade through the conflict to get to the end, and you can trust God because he is good. If you have nothing else to cling to, remember this: God is good. He loves goodness and justice. He heals and redeems. He is on the side of love and beauty. He is for you. He is never against you. You may be against you, other people may be against you, but God is not against you.

It is okay to be confused; I'm afraid that is our lot as finite creatures dealing with an infinite God. Some of God's best heroes were confused in their subplots. But I can see a light that is coming for the heart that holds on. Because God is good and he is for goodness.

And I am hanging onto it for all I'm worth, because it's all I can do right now.

I am still hurting. I still feel like a fraud making small talk with my husband when I really want to hit him. I still don't understand why.

But somehow I have to hang onto the fact that God is good. Even when I don't feel it, even when I don't see it, even when I almost don't believe it. God is good. God is GOOD.

No More Tiptoeing

Last night we had it out. And it was not pretty.

I think the best word for it would be frustrating.

I tried to listen, mostly. I tried to draw out of him why he seems open to adopting and then pulls back hard and retreats behind a wall of change-the-subject. I also tried to get him to pinpoint what really makes him feel like this can't work.

So he did.

I have to say, if I saw it the way he did I would never entertain the idea of adopting. In fact, just remembering what he had to say has left me feeling depressed. And let's not forget, I'm the worst-case-scenario person in the relationship. I felt like I was looking at this with a pretty realistic set of glasses.

The money is always a problem. In this particular instance, I think we probably could pull together the money to get a child home. It's the aftercare that would be problematic. Our insurance is very good (and I know this because our old insurance was very bad), but a child with a chronic medical need would increase our expenses. No question about that. Then there's that extra year of preschool, increased activities for 4 instead of 3, more food and clothing.

Time is another factor. Three kids take up a lot of time. Four would take up still more. He feels like we're just getting our mojo back now and we shouldn't wreck it by adding another child.

It's a noble thing (his words, not mine) but maybe not something we are supposed to do. Why us? Plenty of people we know have lots more money than we do and they don't adopt. True. I know lots of Christians who are good at being rich. I do not want to be one of those people. I don't want to be someone who realizes there's a problem and turns away without doing anything. And I'm not sure as Christians we have the luxury of seeing the problem and doing nothing. And I am not about being noble. In the end, it's not a noble act, it's a child. A child who has to be parented. A real child, who isn't going to send me a Hallmark card to thank me for rescuing him. Nor do I expect him to...he deserves parents just like everyone else.

If someone left a baby on our doorstep, we wouldn't hesitate to do the right thing.

Q & A

Tim and I are cautiously discussing adoption again...tiptoeing around it, actually. Or at least, I feel like I'm tiptoeing. See, I'm not really what you'd call a fly-by-the-seat-of-your-pants kind of gal. I'm a planner, to the point of neurosis. So there are, understandably, some issues with adoption that I have trouble with. Like, letting an agency match me with a child.

Kind of basic, that one.

So for me, for my comfort level, I would prefer to look at kids on agency lists and find one whose face or situation "speaks" to me. In theory, I can get behind any child. In practice, I need to feel something for a child before I can commit.

So in the spirit of looking for a child that generates that spark in me, I have been looking at agency listed kids from a couple different places. About a week ago, I found a little boy with Thalassemia. Although he is darling, I initially said "no way -- blood disorders are too scary." But he kept creeping back into my thoughts. So I started researching thalassemia and it began to seem not so scary after all. In fact, it might seem almost doable. No surgery to contend with, no concerns about contagious diseases, no speech therapy (probably). Just monthly transfusions and meds for chelation and a yearly visit to a thalassemia center (there's one about 5 hours away by car). This was seeming like less of a big thing. At least to me.

So last night I casually mentioned him to my husband. Kind of like, "How would you feel about adopting a little boy with thalassemia?" We talked a little about what that was, what the treatment looked like, etc. and just as I was feeling a tad hopeful, he says "I don't think we're up to it."

"Thalassemia?" I said. "Well, maybe you're right -- but it did seem less scary than I expected and --"

"No, adoption. I'm not sure we're really up for adoption."

Huh. Really?

He mentioned that I am sometimes maxed out with the 3 we have. And this is a valid point. But it's the only point he really made --that I occasionally get overloaded with our current children. He didn't mention that I occasionally get overloaded with work, with extended-family obligations, with volunteer tasks at church...I just occasionally get overloaded. True dat.

So I thought it would be useful to give myself a little Q & A, to work through the arguments a bit and see if I'm as deluded as my husband seems to think.

Q: Don't you occasionally get maxed out with 3 kids? Won't a 4th put you over the top?

A: Yes and I don't know. I suspect that almost anything could put me over the top, depending on the day, my level of PMS, how much sleep I've gotten and so on. But consider this: when we had just 2 kids, I occasionally got maxed out. Now with 3 I sometimes get overwhelmed. I think I would almost certainly be overwhelmed with 4, but not every single day. It's a learning curve, and while the learning is happening, things might get a little hairy.

Q: What about the kids' schedules? You complain a lot about them. Won't a 4th child make that even harder?

A: Now this is a valid concern. Kids' activities make me nuts. Part of my overwhelmedness this fall has been adjusting to their increased activities, which have to be sanwiched around school and church. Also we've had weekly allergy shots, and will have until about June of next year. That's a further complicating factor. Having a child who requires a transfusion once a month (which takes the better part of a day to complete) could make things even more complicated. But, it is only one day a month, which right now is less demanding than weekly allergy shots. I'm not really sure about additional activities. That's always going to be a problem for me, no matter how many kids we have. Probably I'm going to have to let go of some expectations in that area in order to manage it without losing my marbles. This might be a good place to mention that I always feel overwhelmed in the fall when we go back to school, so if I said something along the lines of "I can't take it anymore" there is just the teensiest possibility that I might have been overreacting. Maybe.

Q: Do you think you might be minimizing the impact a 4th child might have?

A: Hmmmm. I don't know. I'm usually a worst-case-scenario person. I am very very good at imagining all the possible permutations of a situation and pinpointing the exact spot where our future becomes an untenable misery. So I have considered RAD, undiagnosed special needs, minor attachment issues, language issues, toileting issues, rearranged room situtations for existing kids, impact on finances, including insufficient health benefits, school issues related to absences for transfusions, sleep deprivation and attendant insanity, jet lag, gastrointestinal illness while in Ch*na, plane crashes, mugging prior to making orphanage donation, older children rejecting adopted child, excessive whining, increased furniture needs, feasability of 4 kids sharing bathroom with one sink, ability to get 4th child into preschool of choice, approximate increase in weekly laundry, possible need for psychological counseling due to abandonment issues...

Really I could just keep going here, but I think you get the picture. I'm pretty sure I've thought of it all at least once.

Q: Don't you worry about the money?

A: See previous answer. However, I do worry more than a little about the actual money for the adoption itself. I know we have half of what we need, and no, I am not sure how we're going to come up with the other half. Can I just say, "God will provide?"

Q: That's your answer?

A: Yep.

Q: What's your biggest fear?

A: That I'm not a good enough mother to pull this off. But also, that fear will stop me from doing something really good. That in the end I will chicken out. It is a big, scary step on almost any level you care to examine.

Q: How will you address that?

A: For the mothering part, I'm relying on grace to cover my screw ups (thank you , Jesus!). For the rest of it, I think I could do it if I knew my husband was beside me, willing to step out in faith with me on this.

Q: Seriously, one more kid?

A: I think I have it in me to raise one more. I have thought a lot about this in particular, since I am over the f-word now and not, as they say, any spring chicken. How fair would it be to take in a child when I would be 81 when this child hits 40? All I can say to that is, I'll be 80 when Maggie hits 40, so in for a penny, in for a pound. And when I'm gone, he'll have a brother and two sisters to grieve with. He'll never be alone again.

I've thought also about what it would mean to go thru preschool again, and the first day of kindergarten, and learning to ride a bike, and soccer games and little league. And really, I think it would be okay. More than okay -- kind of nice. Let the record reflect, though, that I think one more is probably my limit.


Q: What did you think of the Mentalist season premiere?

A: They totally ruined all they achieved in the brilliant season finale last year. So disappointing. Apparently they've got 12 year olds writing their scripts now, 'cause that was a total playground "psych!" moment.

Q: Totally.


A: I'd like to say, too, that normally I prefer to throw money at problems. I haven't ever had a big desire to go to Haiti or Africa, but I feel for the people there and am happy to contribute to the various projects our church has sponsored for those countries -- mosquito nets, goats, cement floors, wells, education initiatives, eye exams, etc. I like knowing I helped build a well in Haiti that is providing clean water to some people I will probably never meet, but who needed it very badly. But for some reason, this time money doesn't seem to cut it. I feel like I may need to extend myself in a different way, to risk a lot more than the energy required to write a check. And that scares me, too.


Q: What does this all mean?

A: I'm not really sure. I just don't want to do it alone.

In Which I am Seriously Hitting the Wall

So frustrated this week.

Kids' activities have me reeling. I need an algorithm to keep their schedules straight. Sheer volume of papers they bring home from school is probably the main reason we are losing the rainforest. I am so stressed, I can't keep it together emotionally. By that, I mean that I am yelling a lot.

Massively over-committed on the work front -- two off-site assignments, a workshop and Sunday School teaching have me feeling panicky and not a little short of breath.

Very very frustrated by the lack of purpose we seem to have. I don't think God put me on this earth to make sure my kids get to gymnastics and football practices. I accept that I am here to make sure they get their allergy shots and make it to the dentist. Tuesdays in particular make me feel like there has to be more to life than this.

And I know that there is, but I am losing sight of it in the midst of all the havoc. I know that I am a person who needs a lot of empty. I need big chunks of unscheduled time or I start to feel fractured.

Fractured, you know, is another word for broken. I'm broken right now.

We were exploring the idea of adopting and right now I feel assailed by messages saying, "yes, you need to do this," and other messages saying "you can't do it -- look at you, you're crumbling as it is." Which one is right? Neither Tim nor I is usually willing to grab the bull by the horns, to take a stand. We both want the other one to shoulder the responsibility, and therefore the blame, for major decisions. This is what happens when no one wants to be the grown up.

I feel positively pummeled.

God, where are you in all of this? 'Cause I gotta say, I'm feeling rather lonely and adrift. Is that my fault? Probably. I can't seem to pray lately. My mind shuts down - totally on purpose - and I can't tell You what I want to. That I want to adopt but I'm scared. That I need Tim to be fully participatory in this or I can't do it. That a nice, extremely bright, neon sign saying "Walk This Way" would really help me right now. That I am tired of driving our spiritual life. That I am afraid my skills as a mom, which are sorely lacking sometimes, are seriously failing the kids I have, let alone any other kid we may take on. That I am lousy at flying blind. That I can't see the forest for the trees -- the bigger picture almost always eludes me, and when I do catch a glimpse of it it's usually a worst-case scenario. That I so desperately need your grace, and I just can't seem to feel it right now. That I am badly in need of a redeemer -- to redeem all my mistakes as a parent, as a wife, as a human being. That I have felt like I am in limbo for about 4 months now, just hanging in and hanging on, but with no sense of any greater purpose or direction.

And if we adopt, what then? What if I still feel this way -- rudderless and blown all over by our schedule? What if we don't adopt and I keep feeling this way? 'Cause it really stinks, this feeling.

"God, you are my God, and I will ever praise you. I will seek you in the morning, I will learn to walk in your ways. Step by step you lead me, and I will follow you all of my days."

Breathe in. Breathe out.

Amen.

The Answer to the Question, Part Deux

"All things work together for the good of those that love God." Romans 8:28

Out of bad, good can come.

We can see it as good, even while we grieve the bad thing that made it possible. It doesn't diminish the grief, but it does offer a glimmer of hope.

I am still grieving a little boy I didn't really know. Does that sound silly? I know I felt a bit dumb, shedding tears for a child that was never really mine. That I'd never held, or spoken to, or even seen in 3 dimensions.

But at the same time I have been dealing with my sadness, I have continued to be assaulted on all sides by adoption. I can't watch tv without adoption stories creeping into the screenplays. I can't go to church without hearing a message about stepping out in faith, trusting God totally, following even when it doesn't seem to make a ton on sense. Adoption themes have cropped up in more scenarios than I can count. They just don't stop, and I think just maybe God is trying to get my attention a bit.

What astonishes me is that my husband, who has been with me in many of these scenarios, doesn't also see the adoption thread running through everything. However, we sat down last night and I was finally able to unburden myself to him, to really share what's been on my heart, what's been waking me up at night for the last 6 weeks or so. To explain to him how everywhere I turn I feel like I'm seeing big signposts that seem to point toward adoption.

But I also told him I can't do this on my own. This is too big, affects too many people, for me to drag everyone into it on my say so. We have to be a unified front here. We both have to believe that this is God's will for us. Unilateral action here is a recipe for disaster. So, if we're going to be a team, said he, then we need to find out more information. Can you (meaning me) see if there's an informational meeting we can go to, or a person we can meet with that can lay all this out for us so we can get a sense of whether we can proceed?

Well, yes I can.

It doesn't mean we'll adopt. But it means were going to approach it as a team. I feel so much more relaxed going toward this together than I did alone. I don't know where we'll end up, but at least we'll end up there as a couple.

I Know the Answer to this Question

Why, God? Seriously, why?

For weeks I have been gathering information on a little boy in China. I have been persistently nudging my husband, sharing my heart with him, patiently pointing out that we do, in fact, have the finances to proceed.

I knew that child's file inside and out. I felt like he was a perfect fit for our family. But I could. not. get. my. husband. to. move.

He wasn't saying no, precisely, just not really saying yes.

And now my little guy is no longer on this list. I think -- I am almost sure -- he has been matched with someone else.

I am MAD at my husband for dragging his feet. For being the eternal stick in the mud. I was ready to fly to China tomorrow, but he just couldn't be bothered to wrap his head around it long enough to really consider the possibilities.

And now my boy is gone. And I am sad.

Really, really sad.

And, yes, the answer to the question is that it just wasn't meant to be. It wasn't God's plan.

But I am still sad.

Thoughtful Thursday

5 things about Me:

1. I used to collect recipes that looked interesting or fun. Now my standard for recipe collection is what percentage of the family will mutiny if I cook it.

2. I do an excellent Sybil Fawlty impersonation. Oddly, there is very little call for this in my everyday life.

3. I am very good at yelling. Especially in traffic. You can check with my kids on this one if you need verification.

4. All those years ago, when I told my algebra teacher that I knew FOR SURE I would not need algebra in my future life? I was right.

5. Being a mom is hands-down the hardest job I have ever done. A room full of surly 17 year olds doing a read-through of Macbeth is a cake walk next to this mom gig.

Choosing

Okay God,

I don't know why you've put Tim through all of this job-related stress over the last 3 years, but I have just about had it. I am tired. I am tired of never seeming to have enough money, of busting my rear trying to minimize grocery expenses while always knowing that the stupid house is on the verge of falling to shreds if we don't get new siding. I am tired of having to pay dental expenses out of pocket because my husband's employers are too cheap to get decent dental insurance for the 400+ people who work for them. I am tired of always feeling guilty when I buy myself new clothes. I am tired of having no margin financially. I am tired to feeling endlessly frustrated by our situation.

I don't want to learn any more lessons. I am satisfied with my character as is. I don't want to be grown, stretched, enlightened, humbled, or chastened.

Why, God? Why us? Why do we have to struggle so when for other people it is so easy? Why, on a day when I was finally feeling like I'd actually accomplished something, did you have to let this additional brick fall from the sky.

"Dear Tim, thank you for your recent interview...however..."

So now we are as stuck as ever. No money, crazy boss, house falling apart, aching hearts because frankly, God, it feels like you aren't noticing us here. We are stretched to the very limit financially, and it feels like you just don't want to see us.

I have a few ideas to fix this.

1) A large financial windfall -- about 25,000 ought to do it -- to cover the new windows and siding.

2) See No. 1

All right, that's really all I've got. But Lord, it would certainly help us sleep better at night. I really thought that this job, This Job, was the one...the one that would make it all okay. We'd be able to relax a little and start saving for some of these huge expenses. I was feeling kind of excited about it, about the possibilities. Especially The Possibility, that you laid on my heart so many years ago but which we've just never been even close to being able to afford.

Do you want me to go back to work? Is that it? I really thought you wanted me home with the kids, but maybe I was wrong about that. I don't know anymore. It seems more and more like we're not going to be able to make it if I don't. I know Tim thinks so sometimes, if only to relieve him of the pressure of being the only breadwinner.

And it is a lot of pressure. And it's hard to live under that kind of stress all the time. It has made our marriage a bit strained sometimes. Not always, but it does make us feel like less of a team.

God, I am going to choose here to believe that you know best. That this dumb job is not the be-all it seemed. I choose to believe that you're not ignoring us. That you have a plan for us and we just aren't seeing the big picture right now.

I choose to keep my eyes on you, but I am freely admitting that they're full of tears.

love,

me

If I Had a Hammer...

I am frayed around the edges today, pulled in 6 different directions, feeling like I am only half getting things done. Committments are fulfilled, but not to perfection and certainly not with good grace. And then, at the end of Day 3 of the Week of Total Craziness, the neighborhood clique strikes again.

My boy went over to see if he could get in on the pick-up baseball game going on in the yard behind ours. The game in which every child in the neighborhood is playing. Even preschoolers. Even 2 year old Lola. The game hadn't quite started, but my boy was told, "no, you can't play."

Why do they do this? I have asked myself this question over and over because it happens a lot and it ONLY happens to my son. The only answer I can come up with is this:

Because they can.

It's some kind of school-age power play, this ability to exclude at will anyone they feel like. And they've decided, by some complicated process of social dynamics, that my son is The One.

And it hurts.

It hurts him. And it hurts me to watch it. I have never seen this kind of consistent exclusion in children. It is so wantonly cruel, so purposefully targeted, so relentlessly evil. And I have to watch him weep when the do it over and over and over.

I hate them.

I wish I were back in 2nd grade. I would so kick their butts.