Low

I am having another day where I just feel un-moored. Like a boat set adrift. I go through periods like this and I wonder -- what is it about my psychological makeup that predisposes me to sensations like this? I would so like to feel grounded, connected all the time.

It's not exactly depression. In fact, it's definitely not depression. It's just a feeling of ...of I don't know what. Emptiness? That doesn't quite describe it. Drifty-aimless-lack-of-purpose-shaky-oddness. With a dash of I've-lost-my-mojo thrown in for fun and a big spoonful of Nerves just to keep it all interesting.

If this were 100 years ago, I'd just say I had the vapors and go lie down.

And yet, lying down would feel like purgatory. Bleah. What IS it with me? It's not like I have nothing to do. Could it be the let down after the big project I just finished? I mean, as hard a slog as that was, it did give me tremendous focus for about 3 weeks. Focus and a big caffeine hangover.  Now it's gone and there is kind of a vacuum there.  And the change to daylight savings time always makes my brain wonky. So there we have it: a wonky vacuum.

And I wake up praying, "God, I'm such a failure. I have no big job for You, no huge purpose other than to feed my kids and keep my house clean and teach my little Sunday school class. And how often do I fail at those small tasks? A lot. I'm so sorry...so, so sorry."

And so it goes.

How do I just be? How can I just be in Him?  I have always struggled with this. Grace, as a concept, has always been more graspable as an abstract than in practice for me. Always I am looking for the bar, the target, the list of to-dos. I am a master list-executor, with my little pencils and my checkmarks. Show me the little ticky-boxy things and I am all over it. But this isn't a to-do. It's a be. And being is something harder to wrap my head around. The security, the rest, the peace-thing. It's deep.  You know, deeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep. And I am kind of shallow right now.

Part of my shallow, my lack of "be" right now is that everything frustrates me. Nothing is quite right, everything feels slightly skewed, and I am the only one who can see that the picture is tilted. The only one who hears the wrong notes. And here's what they're telling me -- "there should be MORE here." Something is MISSING. And that does seem to be something about DOING, rather than BEING. And it's certainly not something about having, because more stuff is totally not the answer.

What, God? What am I missing here?

Random Thots

Sometimes in the evening, my brain starts percolating and I have expansive, world-conquering ideas for the following day. I am going to organize, exercise, make firm decisions, shepherd my children with calm fortitude, paint something, clean a lot, and generally emerge as a beacon of strength and git 'er done-ness.

Then I wake up the next morning and all I can do is crawl into a large cup of coffee.

Why? Why does all this resolve, this determination, hit me when there are only 2 hours left in my day? Why doesn't productivity strike at 8 a.m.? Or, heck, 10 a.m.? I could work with 10 a.m.. I could get something done with 10 a.m..

Last night I was bubbling over with plans and ideas and thoughts, today my brain is groping around in a foggy, uncoordinated fashion -- the blind man in the dark room looking for the black cat that isn't there. Out on the edges of my consciousness those late-night thoughts are swirling like some sort of nebula that I can see, but I can't quite pull the details from it -- it's just a pretty swoosh of color and light and little sparkly planet thingies.

Sigh.

Off I go toward my completely half-baked day.

Farm Fresh

The Egg Man is coming.

Hmmm...that sounds a little weird. But the truth is, I get excited when the Egg Man comes because he brings me these:

Thank you to the BBC for the use of this photo. I am not actually in the habit of photographing my eggs, so I had to borrow a pic. But mine look just like this, promise.

Eggs, straight from the farm, straight from some lovely hens that run around outside as God intended, leading happy chicken lives.

 

For a long time now I have felt like the way we do food in this country is a little off. For instance, why is it that I live in a part of the country that is so thick with farms you can't throw a rock without hitting one, yet most of my food is coming from hundreds, if not thousands, of miles away?  Even in my urban paradise (about 1/2 a million people, give or take) I can still drive 15 minutes in 3 directions and hit a farm. The fourth direction would take me about 30 minutes before I hit farmland; maybe less. Yet try to track down a local source for, say, grass-fed beef, and you will meet a brick wall.

 

Imagine how happy I was when I found a farmer in my state who delivers to my city every 3 weeks. From him I get my lovely eggs, but also I can get cheese from grass-fed cows, grass-fed beef and lamb, and pastured broilers -- chickens who have been truly free-range, eating all the grasses and bugs and whatever else makes a chicken sublimely happy.

 

Here's what I love about the Egg Man:

• He re-uses my egg cartons. That makes me over the moon happy. Fresh food and less waste.
• My eggs are naturally higher in Omega-3s because the hens eat grass. Fresher and healthier food -- double bonus.
• I am supporting a local farm -- an actual person -- instead of the Industrial Food Conglomerate. I know my farmer is using humane, sustainable methods on a diversified farm. No chemically enhanced mono-cultures here.
• I have a short supply line between my food producer and me, which means a smaller carbon footprint.

Is it a perfect system? Not quite. It's still cheaper for me to buy grass-finished organic beef from Costco that's been trucked in from Oregon and Montana than it is to buy from my local producers -- about $3 per pound less, which is considerable and frustrating. But I am taking my litte victories where I can get them. My fresher, healthier eggs cost the same as organic eggs at Costco which are trucked in from somewhere in Texas (and that is a BIG carbon footprint, kids), and they are actually cheaper than organic, free range eggs at Target by a nice margin. Love that.

So I get yummy food, and I get to feel really virtuous at the same time. Can I get a  Woot?

New Year

Once again, I greeted the new year with a wicked cold. This is because I always get run down over Christmas and by the time New Year's rolls around, I have no immune function left and may as well just lie down with a sign that says "Viruses: Free Lodging!" Fortunately, the kids went back to school before (literally, 4 hours before) the bug hit and I was able to sniffle, and shiver, and moan all by myself. And if you've ever been sick while still having a small child to take care of, you know that this is a huge plus.

I'm better today, but the headache, the sniffles and the lack of energy are still hanging out around the edges, so I'm taking it easy. What I really should have done, though, is take it easier during the build-up to Christmas and avoid this whole shebang in the first place.

This year, I felt more than ever that something's gotta give. The pace of Christmas, the chaos, the constant messages from print and visual media to BUY BUY BUY! made me feel like my head was going to explode. There was such a lack of balance, such a skewed feeling to the whole month, I never felt like I could really catch my breath before the next wave threatened to pull me under. I felt a mild revulsion all month, particularly toward all the advertising aimed at getting me to spend more. I mean really, those Lexus commercials were downright repulsive -- the whole "What a poor schmuck you are if your loved ones don't get you a luxury automobile" vibe made my stomach hurt.

We always get the Sunday paper for the coupons, but the December Sundays were nothing but ads screaming "BEST DEALS EVER!" Every. Dang. Week. And then the badgering from family - "What do you want for Christmas? What do you want? What do you want, want WANT?"

You know what I want?

Nothing.

Really? Nothing? Well then, what do you need? Do you have a need? Is there anything you NEED?"

Nope.

Honestly, our income is such that we are a) never short of food, and b) able to meet our medical expenses, and c) able to keep sheets on the beds and shoes on our feet and gas in the car. We're good, thanks.

Can I tell you that I am tired of supplying ideas for people so they can get me the obligatory gifts? Does that make me a Scrooge? It's not that I don't appreciate it, but it no longer feels like anyone is trying to really suss out my personality and select something that will either delight me or make my life easier in ways heretofore unsuspected. It feels like we buy each other gifts because we have to. Because the starter pistol went off on Black Friday and we're all scrambling forward in a race not of our own making, that we call "the holidays" but which are really just a thinly disguised mass hysteria sponsored by retailers desperate to save their bottom lines (or maybe just their bottoms).

Gifts that are truly meaningful aren't purchased to fulfill some sort of quota. You know what I mean -- you get three gifts for Bill, you have to buy three for Jen. Or you spend $50 on Anna, you have to spend the same on Tyler. We all do this. It's the fair thing to do, after all. But don't you then find yourself buying more for someone because you overspent on someone else? Don't you find yourself buying gifts for the sake of buying gifts, not because the people you're giving them to either need or even particularly want them?

You know what I'm talking about. It's the same reason Christmas cards have devolved into a 4X8 picture of your kids slipped into an envelope and sent out with an exhausted gasp on December 23rd. We send them because we feel like we have to, not because we're trying to keep in contact with people we care about.

I don't want to do things at Christmas anymore because I feel like I have to do them. I no longer want to sacrifice the things I do want to do to complete the things I "have" to do (like wrapping presents -- can I get an amen?).

I want to give at Christmas -- really give -- in a way that impacts people who don't have my resources. We have done some of this in the past -- wells and floors and desks for Haiti -- but we can do more. We should do more. We have to do more.

The finish line for this crazy orgy of spending is a manger. A manger with a poor baby, born to an unwed mother in a dirty stable, visited by poor shepherds who stank of sheep. A baby who would grow up to hang out with the lowest elements of society and like it. A baby who fed people, and healed people, and forgave people.

All I'm saying is this: next year, I'm starting at the finish line.

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.