my map

Where you come from is gone, 

where you thought you were going to never was there,

and where you are is no good unless you can get away from it.

In yourself, right now is all the place you've got.

--Flannery O'Connor

I find myself again in that obscure place, approaching a major intersection of life, walking down one road that will soon diverge into another, preparing myself to part ways from those on this current path with me, reflective of past roads I've traveled before this one, all the while trying to make out the hazy horizon before me. It is familiar territory, a situation I sometimes wish I didn't know so intimately.

But I do. Hellos and goodbyes are deeply engrained in my story. Change is something that often feels more familiar to me than consistency and sameness, and I struggle between conflicting desires for both. I love a good adventure, newness, seeing new landscapes and meeting new people. And yet I hate this part of it...the gearing up to say goodbye, the wanting to detach from community as I watch people grow closer together while I prepare to part. For me, being "here and now" is difficult when so many preparations must be made for the future, when I feel like I have one foot in and one foot out.

As I drive around northern California, I look at the land, the hills that grow greener each day with the spring rain. I take note of my favorite stretches of I-80, my favorite bends of Hwy 29, and the daily drives that make me say I will miss this. As I drove to meet a dear friend for lunch in San Francisco several weeks ago, I took a photo of my favorite part of the drive, the hilly section of highway between Fairfield and Vallejo, right around American Canyon, where the pavement digs into the landscape and the view begins to open itself up to the bay.

And then there is that stretch between our home and Sacramento, where the hills subside into flat farmland. Vineyards become orchards and hills become plains, the cool marine air turns drier and warmer. I know this stretch of the road well, the part that's paved with memories of picking up and dropping off visitors at the Sacramento airport, especially during the long, hot summer of Chris's deployment. It is the route I drove to take our dossier to Sacramento, the day I put the final touches on the paperwork that would lead us to our son. It is also the stretch of road I drive to go to Dixon for therapy each week, a time when my thoughts and emotions are raw and accessible as I pass fields of sunflowers and corn, walnut orchards, and pegboards of trees meticulously planted and preened.

This is my map, the part of the earth where I have been planted, nourished, and pruned over the past three years. Parts of who I am reside in this land. Segments of my story will forever be tied to this place and the thought of leaving it feels as painful as losing an intimate part of myself. Fragments of my heart will be left here, just as they were in the many other places I have lived, and so I suppose it's no wonder that I can feel this way. Fractioned, pieced apart, a little less than whole.

My journey to this part of the country began nearly ten years ago. I have traveled and resided in all four time zones of the United States, one at a time, and this long and gradual trek of cross-country self-discovery will end here, the final destination, the opposite coast from where I came, which is ironically where I have felt most at home, most like myself. The West is full of open spaces and drier air, room to breathe and blossom into my own person. I have needed this space, and now, a decade later, I prepare myself to return, to venture back home, a far different woman than I was when I left.

So for now, I am soaking up the moments left with the people I love and the landscape I love. I want each day to celebrate with all of my senses the journey God has led me on over the past decade. This era is quickly coming to a close. Everything is about to change.

Here before me now...my map, of a place and therefore of myself, and much that can never be said adds to its reality...just as much of its reality is based on my own shadows, my own inventions.

Over the years I have taught myself, and have been taught, to be a stranger. A stranger usually has the normal five senses, perhaps especially so, ready to protect and nourish him.

--MFK Fisher, Map of Another Town

Acceptance

is a hard thing to attain.

takes months or years of struggling to find.

is an ongoing process...just when I think I've arrived at a place of acceptance, I often find that I have to start back at the beginning and go through the grief process all over again.

is the key to living a life of peace, grace, love, and kindness.

is easier said than done.

is at the heart of embracing who I am, both the lovely and ugly parts.

is at the heart of embracing who others are, both the lovely and ugly parts.

goes hand in hand with gratitude and humility.

is mutually exclusive with denial.

comes with experience and maturity.

is often the result of running out of options, resources, and control...of beating my head against the wall so hard and long that I'm finally sick of the headache.

feels scary...until I let go and allow myself to gently settle into it.

helps me love myself, God, and others.

keeps me from comparing myself to others.

eludes me a lot of the time, but I am very thankful when I feel like I can wrap my mind and heart around it.

sometimes disguises itself as weakness, yet is a force more powerful than we often understand.

honors boundaries and limitations.

thrives in the present tense.

is super-natural.

is where I want to be.

ultimatum

Freedom from myself will be the sweetest rest I've ever known.  --Chris Rice

I tend to give myself ultimatums. I do it in my head without even realizing I'm doing it, though lately I've become more aware of the ridiculousness.

For instance, if it's been a long time since I've been able to post a blog, I say to myself, "Well, I haven't posted in a while. I'm such an inconsistent blogger. I should just cancel my blog. Either that, or I need to commit to writing at least four times a week."

Or take Facebook, for instance. I can't tell you how many times I've said in my head, "Facebook is lame. I'm gonna cancel my account FOREVER!" While I know that breaks here and there are beneficial, I also know that FB is a part of our culture today and I don't want to be that extreme about it.

Sometimes these extremes also translate to exercise. For instance, a few weeks ago I started waking up at 5:15 to go to the gym before Chris left for work. It gave me some alone time with God before the day got crazy, and gave my mind some endorphins to run on for the rest of the day. It was a great routine, and I said to myself, "Wow, this is great, I'll get in better shape and feel more positive about life now. I'm always going to do this!"But I've already stopped waking up at o'dark thirty. After a couple weeks I realized that the early morning routine made me crash around 4pm, which made me worthless to the girls and Chris in the evening, the time they usually need me to show up most.

As I become more aware of all the rules I make for myself in my head, I realize that it's just another attempt by my inner Eve to gain control of my world--to figure life out on my own. If I can cling to things that I always or never do, then there is predictability in my life and something that I can feel proud about.

The longer I live, the more leery I am of the words ALWAYS and NEVER. The rules in my head are lame and they are a major time-suck. I really know how to wear myself out! As I start to identify and expel some of my rules, I'm kind of overwhelmed by how much extra space there is inside of me for listening, resting, and just being. My days open themselves up to new and exciting possibilities when I'm not trying to cram them into my narrow and prescribed idea of how everything must play out.

It's kind of funny how things converge. I read this today, which is so in-line with what I've been thinking about lately...

"Stop trying to work things out before their times have come. Accept the limitations of living one day at a time. When something comes to your attention, ask Me whether or not it is part of today's agenda. If it isn't, release it into My care and go on about today's duties. When you follow this practice, there will be a beautiful simplicity about your life: a time for everything, and everything in its time." --Jesus Calling.

Yep, that pretty much sums it up. Living outside of God's agenda makes me frazzled and tired. I want this type of simplicity in my life. I want this single-mindedness, this wholeness. It flies in the face of everything our culture tells us, it completely demolishes the rules and ultimatums I've made for myself. It requires that I be still and LISTEN. It requires that I trust my gut and hear what my mind and body are telling me.

What ultimatums do you give yourself? Can you relate to these internal shenanigans?

PHEW!

Man, God is so good. He has answered our prayers and given us clarity in the aftermath of a stressful few weeks!

As you could probably tell by my last post, I was feeling a touch of despair over the idea of having to move and redo our home study before we were able to bring Ren home. I was pretty tearful on Thursday as I considered the possibility of being delayed so long. After our discussion with Tiffany on Thursday morning, Chris and I felt pretty resolved that we needed to buy more time here. We felt that God was closing the door on the option to move to VA before we get Ren, but we still needed Him to open the door for us to remain in our house past June 30th--the date our tenants were meant to move in. So, Chris sent off an email, asking them if they could move in a bit later than planned.

I sat in the bathtub on Thursday night, soaking away my angst and exhaustion, and Chris came in and said that he'd heard back from our tenants about the situation...

Basically, we have the COOLEST tenants EVER. We initially felt like God totally dropped them in our laps--it was almost too good to be true--the rent would cover our mortgage, they wanted to sign a five year lease and eventually buy the house, their teenage daughter is best friends with our neighbor's daughter across the street, and they are already asking permission to make improvements on our home at their own expense! We thought the goodness ended here...until Thursday...when they said they would be totally willing to go month-to-month at their current home until we are ready for them to move in. This buys us more time in CA, which means we won't have to worry about moving out of our CA home before we get Ren, which means we won't have to worry about doing a whole new home study!!!

God has answered this prayer...not in the way we thought...but the end result is the same.  We feel so grateful and humbled at how He continues to provide, day by day, one piece at a time.

So, we are still praying for our LOC to come, but it doesn't feel like a rush anymore. It should come by mid-April regardless, which would probably have us traveling by mid July sometime, which would still get us to VA by mid August...just in time for Chris to start work and Tess to start kindergarden!  It's gonna be craziness and it definitely won't be the "stable" environment one hopes to bring an adopted child home to, but we will have our boy, and hopefully, where chaos reigns, love will abound all the more!

Thanks for your prayers, text messages, comments, and emails! We have been sleeping much better since Thursday night!

On another note, I am also so grateful that we are going to bring Ren home here instead of VA. It will be such a blessing to be greeted home by our close community of friends in CA, who have become invested in this journey with us and who will understand what it means for us to bring our little guy home...finally!  Details like this mean the world to me.

And, final note, I can hear Chris back in his study practicing his Mandarin. It cracks me up.

the longer the wait, the greater the ache

I ordered some prints of Ren last week. This one came out the best, so now I get to stare at my sweet boy while I work at my desk.

Still no LOC. We continue to pray. Meanwhile, the days tick by, one by one. I finally got in touch with the home study agency in VA and found out what would be entailed in "updating" our home study. As it turns out, update is really just a nice word for REDO. The lady I spoke with talked about getting all of our background checks re-done, our medical appointments re-done, as well as the fees involved in everything.

Chris and I just spoke with Tiffany about the implications of moving before we get Ren and thus having to redo our home study. We are looking at a seven month delay, at least. SEVEN MONTHS, starting this summer, which means we might not get him until this winter. Seven more months that Ren would be living in an orphanage. All the paperwork I've dedicated the past year to doing would be suddenly undone. Essentially, we would be starting from scratch.

I'm not going to lie. The thought of all of that feels crushing. It's like being in the third trimester of pregnancy, only to be told that the clock is winding back to the first trimester (and all of the fatigue, morning sickness, and constipation that comes with it), except you'll still be as big as you are in the third trimester. The worst of both worlds. That's the best analogy I can think of.

So, we are going to do everything we can to stay in CA as long as possible, to ensure that our son is in our arms by this summer. We have emailed our future tenants, asking if they could possibly move in a month or two later than planned. We are praying that's an option for them.

This process never seizes to amaze me. Stressful times...and ample opportunities to place this whole thing back into God's hands...because I try to take it into mine hundreds of times everyday.

The longer the wait...the greater the ache. Lately it's felt unbearable.

Today I'm thankful for the bright spring sunshine, warm temperatures, music, coffee, brownies, and friendship, which always seem to soothe the ache. I was going to make some biscotti today because I knew it'd make me feel better, but I'm too tired. Maybe tomorrow...

In the meantime...reciting this in my head...

"Rest in the Lord, and wait patiently for Him."  --Ps 37:7

So good...and so hard.

open

It was open-window weather this weekend.

humble mug

One of my favorite moments of the day:

It is early afternoon and sunlight pours through the kitchen windows. I open the cupboard above the coffee pot and scan the shelves for a mug.  I have my favorites. Some I prefer for the morning, some for the afternoon. This is one of my top picks for afternoon coffee.

It is an old purchase from Pier One. I bought it about seven years ago, during Chris's and my first year of marriage. It has a big chip on the rim now, a scar from multiple moves and hundreds of loads through the dishwasher. It wears its imperfection. It is plain in comparison to some of the other mugs on the shelf. Still, it is sturdy, it retains heat well, and it holds the perfect amount of coffee. I hope to someday wear my imperfections as well as this humble mug does. I still try to cover mine up.

Chris came home for lunch today, which was a treat. He had grand-rounds at UC Davis this morning and stopped in on his way back to clinic. We sat at the kitchen table together and talked more about our future, Ren, all the variables that we can't control. After mulling through what-if's and a variety of different scenarios, we always come full circle, right back to where we started, back to this truth: live in the present. One day at a time. Pray. Trust. 

But I am squirming. It is hard for me to know the difference between the things I can control and the things I can't.  It is hard to take action on the things I can and must do to prepare for the future, while still surrendering to those things I can't do to prepare. It's The Serenity Prayer in action. It is walking a tight rope.

I don't like this, I told Chris. I need to do something that will help me stay in the present, I said.  What will help you do that? he asked. Drink coffee, I replied. So here I am, drinking coffee out of my humble mug, finding some release in the writing process. Chris left to go back to work and I am here, I am now, and it is okay.

I called an adoption agency in VA this morning that does home studies. I am trying to prepare for the worst case scenario--worst case being that we won't get our LOC in time to get Ren before the move. It is my worst case scenario, though it occurred to me this morning that it might be God's plan. He knows things about this whole thing that I don't. Maybe it will be best for everyone involved if we don't bring Ren home until we are all settled into our home in VA this fall. I'm cringing inside as I write that. But maybe, just maybe, from a long-term perspective and in the overall grand scheme of things, that would be best. I guess I am willing to consider that.

As poetry-goddess Mary Oliver says:

Also I wanted to be able to love

And we all know how that one goes, don't we?

Slowly

Love is a slow and steady process. Loving Ren might mean we have to wait longer than we thought to get him. It might mean we have to wait an excruciatingly long time. We are his forever family. Forever is slow. Forever is long.

My mind keeps coming back to this today. How to live:

REJOICE ALWAYS
PRAY WITHOUT CEASING
IN EVERYTHING GIVE THANKS
--1 Thessalonians 5.18

Joy+Prayer+Gratitude=Peace

Not an easy equation to master, but this is what I'm shooting for.

What is one of your favorite moments of the day?  What helps you to stay grounded in the present?

hot pink

Please excuse my blog, it has a mood disorder. It can't maintain one template...or one topic of conversation...for very long.

While driving in the car today, I was thinking about how long life is. It takes an entire lifetime for each of our stories to be told. Try as I might, I can't wrap my mind around eternity, and in my minuscule understanding time, a human life seems like forever.  Nothing of significance happens quickly. I suppose we won't understand the full narrative of our lives until after the fact, until we are reading it page by page, perhaps on some cloud in heaven.

This all feels a little daunting to me, which is perhaps why poetry feels like a more inviting place to camp out these days. Poetry...it can tell a story...but typically that story is contained within a moment. One scene. One finite flash in time.

As Dean Young says,

"Poetry is an art of beginnings and endings. You want middles, read novels. You want happy endings, read cookbooks."

In a poem, it's okay to just be where you are in a given moment. There's no concern for how it's all going to turn out in the future or how this one particular scene will drive the plot forward. It's here. It's now. It has no ulterior motive. There's something refreshing to me about that.

Totally off-topic:

I bought these shoes today.

They are fluorescent pink. The photo doesn't come close to capturing just how bright they are. They are loud, impractical, and trendy. As I was in the store today, I was trying to decide if they were totally cute or absolutely atrocious. These shoes are so many things that I've tried not to be for a decent portion of my life...so I bought them. It's time for a change. I'm really not as practical as I try to be anyways.

Another thought today:

The word FERVENT.  You usually hear it in the context of prayer. I have been fervently praying about Ren. I have wondered if it's possible to be fervent and restful at the same time. I want to be like the persistent widow, knocking on God's door until He gives me what I want, and I also want my hands to be open, trusting His plan for us. 

How do the two coexist? 

It's one of those tricky things where the right state of being is smack-dab in the middle of the tension...the least comfortable place to exist. Dang it, why does that seem to be the answer to everything? In the tension. Live in the tension.

Ah, well.  These neon pink shoes make me smile in the midst of it.

What tension are you existing in right now? What makes you smile in the midst of it?