I've moved around my entire life, across states and continents, and this kind of nomadic lifestyle has gotten in my blood, my bones. I suppose it has impacted every part of me--including blogging! Silly, i know, but that's the only reason I can attribute to the number of blogs I've had over the years and this consistent need to pack up and start over as the seasons change.
The seasons have changed in our lives. Our nomadic lifestyle has come to a halt, as it seems probable that we'll be in Virginia for the long haul. Ren has been home for nearly a year now, and we find ourselves settling in to a new rhythm and a new journey.
I started this blog as a way to document our adoption journey, and now that Ren is home, I find that new dreams and thoughts and ventures lie before us. I need a new place for all of this. A clean slate. And, so, here it is. I'm hoping, like our move to Virginia, that this one will be the last...
http://libbykurz.com/
Thanks for reading.
Wednesday, June 26, 2013
Tuesday, June 4, 2013
weeknight musings.
It's funny how music can take you back, isn't it?
I'm listening to the soundtrack of The Curious Case of Benjamin Button. It became my soundtrack during the cold and quiet winter of 2009. We lived in Salt Lake City that year. Chris was busy, working like a dog every day during his fellowship. He came home exhausted. Many of his nights were spent writing ophthalmology research articles. Tess was on the cusp of turning two years old and it was just her--she was my one and only. I had just started working on my MFA and this music was the constant backdrop to quiet afternoons spent at my computer while Tess napped. I still remember the scene, looking out my desk window at the snow falling and slowly accumulating on the ground.
It's funny how things change, isn't it?
Now I'm here in Virginia. My three children are upstairs sleeping. Chris is finished with his training and is in a steady job in private practice. His hours are better, and in so many ways, all those countless hours and years of hard work have finally started to pay off. There were many times when he doubted they ever would. Tonight I sit on our screened in porch. It's a cool night and spring is quickly yielding to summer. The trees have exploded and we are surrounded by green, by life, light, and fullness. There are still some afternoons when Ren naps that I sit at my computer, but the scene outside my window is not snow and my soundtrack has changed. I still haven't finished my MFA, almost five years and counting. But here I am right now, enjoying the memories and how music makes them so tangible.
It's funny how much we remember, isn't it?
I started seeing a therapist here in VA several months ago and it's largely been a journey of remembrance. It's astonished me how much our minds and hearts can hold without realizing it. When given the opportunity though, the memories come flooding back, little pockets of them start to come out of hiding and I have begun to realize how mysteriously tied together they all are. Seemingly random associations between past and present suddenly become an intricately woven web of memories, stories, and sensations. And somehow, this intricate web forms the woman I am today. It is intertwined with my blood and bones, with each cell of my body.
It's funny how mysterious we are, isn't it?
Sometimes I think of how little we really know about one another. I mean, how little we really know about ourselves! It's a constant journey to find out who we really are in life, let alone other people. We never reach the end of the source. As much as we know of one another--even the closest people in our lives--we know so little! How do other people experience life? How do they see things? What little thoughts run through their mind on an idle Thursday morning as they drive to work? We all have so much to learn from one another. I have often struggled with the belief that the way I experience life is somehow different or flawed from other people. Maybe it's different, but I'm learning that it's different for everyone, not just me. We are all so different and flawed, and yet, at the end of the day, we are all so common. The really important things that link us together are the same. Our need for hope and community. Our desire to be known and understood. Our desire to love and be loved, our unquenchable need for God.
I'm listening to the soundtrack of The Curious Case of Benjamin Button. It became my soundtrack during the cold and quiet winter of 2009. We lived in Salt Lake City that year. Chris was busy, working like a dog every day during his fellowship. He came home exhausted. Many of his nights were spent writing ophthalmology research articles. Tess was on the cusp of turning two years old and it was just her--she was my one and only. I had just started working on my MFA and this music was the constant backdrop to quiet afternoons spent at my computer while Tess napped. I still remember the scene, looking out my desk window at the snow falling and slowly accumulating on the ground.
It's funny how things change, isn't it?
Now I'm here in Virginia. My three children are upstairs sleeping. Chris is finished with his training and is in a steady job in private practice. His hours are better, and in so many ways, all those countless hours and years of hard work have finally started to pay off. There were many times when he doubted they ever would. Tonight I sit on our screened in porch. It's a cool night and spring is quickly yielding to summer. The trees have exploded and we are surrounded by green, by life, light, and fullness. There are still some afternoons when Ren naps that I sit at my computer, but the scene outside my window is not snow and my soundtrack has changed. I still haven't finished my MFA, almost five years and counting. But here I am right now, enjoying the memories and how music makes them so tangible.
It's funny how much we remember, isn't it?
I started seeing a therapist here in VA several months ago and it's largely been a journey of remembrance. It's astonished me how much our minds and hearts can hold without realizing it. When given the opportunity though, the memories come flooding back, little pockets of them start to come out of hiding and I have begun to realize how mysteriously tied together they all are. Seemingly random associations between past and present suddenly become an intricately woven web of memories, stories, and sensations. And somehow, this intricate web forms the woman I am today. It is intertwined with my blood and bones, with each cell of my body.
It's funny how mysterious we are, isn't it?
Sometimes I think of how little we really know about one another. I mean, how little we really know about ourselves! It's a constant journey to find out who we really are in life, let alone other people. We never reach the end of the source. As much as we know of one another--even the closest people in our lives--we know so little! How do other people experience life? How do they see things? What little thoughts run through their mind on an idle Thursday morning as they drive to work? We all have so much to learn from one another. I have often struggled with the belief that the way I experience life is somehow different or flawed from other people. Maybe it's different, but I'm learning that it's different for everyone, not just me. We are all so different and flawed, and yet, at the end of the day, we are all so common. The really important things that link us together are the same. Our need for hope and community. Our desire to be known and understood. Our desire to love and be loved, our unquenchable need for God.
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