Thursday, March 07, 2024

A Fire

 Humility is a hard lesson to learn and an easy lesson to forget.

Dad told me today that Grandma Spicer had a plaque in her kitchen with a picture of a fish saying, "If only I had kept my mouth shut."

How many times in my life did I get caught like that fish in my own sin, through opening my mouth when I should have kept it shut.

James 3:6 tells us that the tongue is a fire, a world of iniquity which defiles the body and sets on fire the entire course of our life.

Think about a match in the haymow. Speaking is playing with matches. I should know, because I've spoken hastily and kindled many fires in my life. Those burnt down barns don't get rebuilt by the remorse you feel after realizing what you said. 

Well, I did it again.

I really did try not to say anything, but I was pressured into saying what was wrong, and once that match was struck there was no going back. I said things that were merely frustrations I hadn't worked through yet, things that were completely irrelevant, and things that I just should have kept to myself. 

I repented. I apologized. The incident was completely blown out of proportion and embellished upon. I know God forgave me. Hallelujah for the blood of Jesus!

I'm not welcome back unless I participate in a reconciliation curriculum, submit to leadership, and embrace the mission and vision. I get the impression they would rather just be rid of me. 

I was just complaining. I wasn't trying to insult anyone. I didn't intend to disrespect anyone. I was frustrated. I was working through it. I would have been fine. But I was forced to talk about it.

It's another in a long series of lessons on the same subject. Someday, maybe, I will learn the material. You'll probably know because I stop speaking completely.

Wednesday, January 24, 2024

Kimchi, and Beet Eggs, and Guacamole, oh my!

 This was one of those days that started out easy and ended up really hectic. I only had a few patients on my schedule, and they both needed to be seen later in the day, so I worked on annual education at home while drinking my tea.  

We're doing a Whole30 elimination diet, which means our food choices are limited. I've gotten into a routine, with scrambled eggs for breakfast, avocado and banana for lunch, and sweet potatoes or butternut squash with chicken, fish, or venison for dinner. But we have the annual winter picnic coming up. 

A potluck is a hard place to be on a diet. We knew we had to bring something we could eat, so I said I'd make pickled beet eggs. It should have been done a few days ago so they had time to pickle well, but I forgot. So I dashed into the store for beets this morning. While looking up a pickled beet recipe I found a kimchi recipe that I also wanted to try, so I also got a big head of Napa cabbage. ($19!) Giant had ripe avocados on the clearance rack that I couldn't resist, so I got 7 avocados for $2.15 to make guac with.

As sometimes happens, I was asked to see an extra patient and then another extra patient. It would have still been an easy day if they were all on my schedule to start with, but I wound up crisscrossing the county a little due to the change in plans. By the time I finished seeing patients, it was time to cook dinner.

Mike came home to find me multi-tasking. I had chicken and potatoes in the oven. The Instant Pot had just finished hard boiling the eggs. I microwaved a cup of tea from my morning pot, but it was getting cold. I was slicing an onion to put in with the beet eggs. He asked me what I was doing, and I got a little prickly. (In retrospect, I must say it would have been a good time to raise a hallelujah.) I couldn't get the can opener to work, and Mike stepped in, without taking offense at my tone, and opened cans, made the brine, and peeled the avocados, even though what he had intended to do was take a shower after his run. 

Sometimes I'm pretty nearsighted. What amazing bounty we have! Food, a nice kitchen to cook it in, and work, and a husband.  I'll make the kimchi tomorrow. Tonight, I'm going to remember to be grateful.

Monday, January 22, 2024

About the title

 Fate, felicity, or fluke?

It's GRACE.

In my atheist days when I first started this blog, I devised what I thought was a very clever title questioning why things happen. Is it destiny? luck? mere chance? It very accurately reflected my world view. Another belief that I fostered was that you make your own luck. 

I was so proud of myself for figuring it all out, and people around me congratulated me too. I have to ask myself what kind of twisted individual gets all happy about such a depressing concept. That's who we are without Jesus. 

Atheism and agnosticism are fatalism and denial. They are schemes to convince yourself that you are free from the Power of the universe. They are false freedom. I had grown up in a very controlled environment. I followed the rules imposed by my family, my dad, my school, my college, the church, very well most of the time. I was under the illusion that I was escaping those rules and finding freedom, but I had created for myself a much more confining cage.

Fate? Sure, God knows what is going to happen before it happens. But He is not a puppet master. He does give us free will to choose.

Luck? No such thing, but God loves to bless us with His amazing grace. 

Chance? God planned our salvation from the beginning of the world. He always knew that we would reject Him by sinning, and He knew that Jesus would bear our sin on the cross to give us the opportunity for redemption. 

GRACE- when God freely gives us what we don't deserve in the form of salvation and blessings. 

I'm so glad I was wrong.

Tuesday, January 09, 2024

Flexible Instruction Day

We were blessed by a beautiful snowstorm on Saturday, when we could stay home and look at it snowing and not go anywhere. Now it is Tuesday, and we have another winter weather event. I don't work today, so I was looking forward to spending the day reading and writing. 

Here's where the 'flexible' part comes in. The school system, in all its wisdom, chose to have a flexible instruction day. This means that the children stay home and do assignments on their Chromebooks and get credit for a full day of school.  This means that the parents are responsible for making sure the children do their assignments at home. Let's add and subtract mixed numbers! Actually, the instructions said "Evaluate". Does that mean solve? My evaluation is that I am a strong supporter of the metric system and decimals! My feelings on the subject become stronger every time I have to do fractions homework. 

Flexible.

Patient.

Adaptable.

My day was flexible in other ways. I started working out again last week. Today was supposed to be leg day. My HIIT video is 15 minutes. Instead of doing the video, I shoveled snow for 47 minutes. The goal is to be burning and breathless. I achieved both. 

It's hard for me to be flexible sometimes. I have an idea of what I want to do, when and how I want to do it. I need to learn to ask for instruction, wait, and pay attention. It turns out that doing my work in life is much more difficult than fractions. Finding a common denominator is important. Complex fractions are simple compared to complex relationships or complex decisions. I need to simplify. It should be the simplest thing in the world to trust my Creator and Savior to show me the way, but sometimes I'm too impatient and find out I'm not even looking at the same page as my Teacher. I need to be more flexible.

Jesus gave us some wonderful examples of flexibility. In Luke 8:43, Jesus is in the middle of talking to Jairus, a ruler of the synagogue, about his sick daughter, when He is interrupted by someone touching Him. It is the woman with a bleeding disorder for 12 years, who has spent all her money on doctors and is no better. She touched Jesus and was healed. She was ceremonially unclean, and she interrupted this conversation with an important and powerful man. Jesus didn't get annoyed. He said, "Daughter be of good comfort, go in peace." What a great example for me to follow!

I should practice saying that with a smile when I get interrupted. No worries. Happy to help. God bless you. 

Flexible.

Saturday, December 30, 2023

God is in the details

 We all took the week off for the holidays. We have been enjoying relaxing time together. We took a day trip to Rebuck and Hegins, PA to see some Young family history sites. I slept in until 9:00 yesterday. That was really nice, especially since we've been staying up later than usual.

Today we took the dogs up on the mountain for a nice off leash walk. About 100 yards off the road, Duchess yelped and acted very strangely. From a distance I could see that she had something, and wondered if she had gotten a small animal. Adane ran ahead to see. She had set off a trap. We were grateful to see that she wasn't hurt.

We turned around, put everyone back in the truck, and drove to a more heavily traveled trail to avoid any more traps. What a blessing from God that the puppy didn't get her foot or leg caught in the trap and sustain a serious injury! We had a nice walk at the second spot, where Duchess ran circles around us and waded in the creek.

Now I'm simmering a beautiful venison stew. Bread dough is rising next to the warm oven. I started by cubing venison steak, tossing it in flour with salt and pepper, and searing it in the Le Creuset. I put in fish sauce, soy sauce, ketchup, and beef broth for umami and complexity. Then I added onions, garlic, celery, carrots, and potatoes. The gravy will cook down and thicken in the oven. Mike likes it that way.

It's a peaceful, grateful kind of day.

Friday, December 22, 2023

Ring the Bells!

Ring the bells!

Joy to the world!

Hark! the herald angels sing! Glory to the newborn King!

I hear a lot of people asking when it's okay to listen to Christmas music. I agree that it's just fine to listen all year if you like, but I don't choose to. I listen to worship music constantly. I drive a lot for work, and I have 4 local Christian music radio stations programmed on the car radio. That way I can switch if someone starts talking. The music encourages me, reminds me of what's important, recharges me, and often pulls me out of a negative mental spiral. If I can't sleep, I have a Christian music stream on my phone to play softly and lull me back to sleep.

So, when my favorite radio stations start playing Christmas music after Thanksgiving, I'm not completely happy. Holly Jolly Christmas and Rudolph the Red-nosed Reindeer don't have any power over my mood. For the first 3 weeks of December, though, I can usually find a station playing something I like. The last few days before Christmas though, it gets harder.

Yesterday I had a rough day. Things were busy. Lots of people needed me for lots of things. I wasn't getting my alone time, and I felt like I was under a lot of pressure. I behaved badly. I raised my voice, stormed around, cried a lot, even threw a few things. To be honest, I had a 5 year old tantrum. 

So today I was really happy to go to work. I get drive time to myself, and I even had a short day. Our old dog Maya hasn't been doing very well, and she's been riding along with me. I finished all my patient visits and charting, finished my Christmas errands, went to the butcher and got bones for the dogs. I stopped by the lake to look for birds and give the dog a walk.

As I turned the car toward home, a song came on the radio: Ring the Bells. Suddenly, I wanted to raise my arms and shout, 

"Yes! Ring the Bells! RING THE BELLS!" 

Christmas may have started with Jesus' first breath in the manger in Bethlehem, but the story really begins when Jesus took his first breath after the crucifixion and rose from the tomb. That was the breath that changed everything. That breath changed the world. So ring the bells, because the world has been given joy. Jesus gave us redemption, a gift that we should never stop celebrating.

I may be kind of Grinchy about some of the Christmas hoopla. I confess that I wrapped my family's presents in that brown paper that comes in the big Chewy box with the dog food. I still haven't made the gingerbread houses. I didn't put a wreath on the door. But Jesus is in my heart, God calls me His own, the Holy Spirit speaks to me. What priceless treasures I have because of Christmas.

Let's play some Christmas music, and ring the bells to celebrate!

Tuesday, December 12, 2023

Praise Break!




 I've been looking back over the things I wrote on this blog between 2006 and 2013. Two things have struck me about my writing:

1. I don't feel like I can still write like I used to.

I think it was because I practiced, which reminds me that I just need to start writing again.

2. I was lost and I was proud of it.

The answer to the 2nd point lies in the resounding grace and mercy of God's redemption. It is amazing that God called me back from that place of floundering, irreverent doubt. There is a post where I used lower case "g" for God and upper case "F" for fate. I was thumbing my nose at religion, flaunting my rebellion. I quoted from philosophy and the Tao de Ching and Richard Dawkins. I got a tattoo on my forearm to celebrate myself. It is a man with a walking stick, standing on a path under a waterfall. To me it represented how I had found my own way. I embodied what Paul wrote to Timothy about below.

"For the time will come when people will not tolerate sound doctrine and accurate instruction [that challenges them with God’s truth]; but wanting to have their ears tickled [with something pleasing], they will accumulate for themselves [many] teachers [one after another, chosen] to satisfy their own desires and to support the errors they hold,"  II Timothy 4:3 Amplified Bible

The truth that I refused to see was clear to others. Gil, who was a Buddhist, told me that I would find my way back to faith again. Carol openly scoffed at my claim to be an atheist. Others, secure in their own doubt and defiance of God, congratulated me on my "free thinking" and wanted to hear how I had arrived at these conclusions. Between the lines of my writing, in numerous emotional posts, it is clear that I was missing something. I wrote so many posts about how unhappy I was, then apologized and blamed it on my infertility, or my period, or something else.

Today, I was walking the dogs in the snow on the mountain, and spending some time with God. I'm learning something really powerful about quiet time with God. I don't always know what to say when I'm praying. I used to come to God with a formula. Follow the pattern set forth in the Disciple's Prayer (commonly called the Lord's Prayer). Or I would come to God with a list of everything I wanted. I think that God is happy to hear from me, and I'm not saying there is any right or wrong way to pray. But today, and many times, when there is something on my mind, I needed to start with praise. 

This week we read Psalm 148. The Psalmist makes a list- mountains, hills, fruit trees, cedars, wild animals, cattle, small creatures, flying birds, and many more. He simply exhorts everything and everyone that exists to praise the Lord. Praise the Lord. What a good place to start when you're not sure what to say!

So that's what I did. 

"Praise the Lord, you snow-covered hemlock trees! Praise the Lord, you blackberry bushes hanging over the trail! Praise the Lord, beautiful bright blue sky!" 

That praise entered my soul, and suddenly I knew what the rest of my prayer was. 

"God, I trust you." 

I remembered my list, my parents who are sick, loved ones who need to be saved, my 11 year old who got written up for standing on the chair and running out of the room Friday, my questions about how to best serve God. 

"God, I trust you with my list. I know you're going to do what's best." 

My heart was filled with peace.

Our praise is so powerful! Praise truly opens the gates of heaven.

Thursday, December 07, 2023

Return from Exile

(Originally written June 22, 2017) 


God has called me back to his side after ten years of running from him! He has filled me with such peace and blessing as I learn to know him again.

I had started online dating for all the wrong reasons in February. A few weeks ago I accidentally went on a date with a Christian man. He listened to me recount the basic events of the last fifteen years and asked, "when you went to Florida and Oregon, what were you running from?" Then he told me I should read the story of how Elijah had God's strength to stand up to Ahab and the false prophets but ran away when Jezebel threatened him. God didn't let him escape though. He went with him and called him back with a still small voice. I couldn't get that out of my head.

After our date, I kept thinking about him and his question. I was impressed by his Christian character and I really liked him, but more than that God was moving in my heart. I called my old pastor's wife Tina for counsel, and she wisely said, "Ask God to show himself to you, and he will." As we finished our conversation it started to storm outside with thunder and lightning and heavy rain. I was reminded of Psalm 18, my favorite, where David asks for deliverance from his enemies and God descend on the clouds to defend him, embodied by storm. I ran through the drenching rain to get my Bible from the car so I could read that Psalm. I was just finishing copying favorite phrases on a notepad and thanking God for speaking to me so clearly when the phone rang.

Mom was on the phone telling me that Dad couldn't walk and they were taking him to the emergency room. I was working at the hospital that night, so I spent every spare minute checking on Dad. He was being treated for Lyme disease and improving overnight. I slipped Mom my notes on Psalm 18 as I rushed into work, and later was able to share my joyful news with both my parents, who have prayed faithfully and trusted God to redeem me these many years. In the midst of illness we praised Him and wept together.

A few days later I was reading Elie Wiesel's memoirs. He recounted being deported to Buchenwald in 1944 and watching the slaughter of most of his family and friends. He writes:

"God accompanies his children into exile.... He will never be absent. Present at the Creation, God forms part of it.... No space is devoid of God. Good is everywhere, even in suffering, and at the very heart of punishment.... What happens to us touches God."

Today I thank God that he went with me into my self-imposed exile. I suffered the consequences of my own willful choices, but God did not punish me. He protected me. He stayed with me, and He waited for me. What undeserved Grace!

Sunday, December 03, 2023

Emptiness

I've been asking myself some questions. 

Did I really believe in God as a child? 

Why did I really stop believing in God? 

Why?

I did a lot of philosophizing and ruminating about that on this blog years ago. I suggested reasons like inadequacies in my childhood, challenges of philosophy like the deity of Jesus, questions about origins, and general doubts about the ability of God to make my life better.

I think those answers were excuses.

You see, I was living my life, trying to fill my basic emptiness. For many years, I thought a man would fill that emptiness. After getting married, it didn't go away. I was sure a baby would fill the emptiness. When I finally adopted a baby after many years of infertility, I suffered the worst bout of depression I ever experienced. I had a job with personal meaning to me, but that didn't fill the void. I even gave alcohol and marijuana a try, but those were the worst popular failures. I kept talking about how happy I was, but it was superficial and impermanent. Between the periods of happiness were periods of depression, anxiety, and misery. I lacked contentment and joy.

There is a saying that every human has a God-shaped hole. Human love, money, power, sex, intoxication, family, career, and success cannot fill that space. Half-hearted following after God will not provide satisfaction either.

Question 1- Did I really believe in God as a child? I did, but with an impersonal, untested faith that I did not nurture enough. My faith was superficial, and did not reach deep into my soul. 

Question 2- see answer to question 1. 

What has changed now?

When I invited God back into my life, I made a commitment to prioritize God over everything else. I make time daily to talk to God in prayer and listen to him speak by reading the Bible. I am part of a church where I receive teaching, inspiration, fellowship, and encouragement. I still have a long way to go, but at least now I'm on the right path. I know now that God is the One who provides the fulfillment I always longed for. I have a job, a husband, and a son, but my first Source is Jesus.

Are you trying to find meaning in life?

Try Jesus.

"I am come that they may have life and have it more abundantly." John 10:10

Saturday, December 02, 2023

New Beginnings

 Today is the first day of the rest of your life. 


I haven't written here in a very long time, but I want to start again. The reason I want to write again is to share how my life has changed. I want it to be clear that what is before this is different from what comes after. If you have read my posts you know that I was an independent, feminist agnostic, proud to leave behind my Christian upbringing. 6 years ago God changed all that with one question from the man I was going to marry.  "What were you running from?" That question prompted a lot of soul searching and openness that resulted in giving my life to Jesus in the middle of a thunderstorm.


 If anyone is in Christ he is a new creature. The old has passed away. The new has come! II Corinthians 5:17

Wednesday, January 02, 2013

My Sick Day in Ethiopia

All the Americans at the guest house have been going to bed at 6 or 7pm, as soon as we finish dinner, look at our photos from the day, and send our emails. Then we wake up at 2am, which is mid afternoon in Colorado and Oregon. We drift like wraiths through the silent nighttime guest house, (when in Gulele the muezzins have stopped calling, the dogs have stopped barking, even the roosters are taking a little rest,) down the stairs to check email, then back up again. We eat granola bars and trail mix, take Benadryl, turn on a white noise app, don an eye mask, and pretend to sleep. I huddle under what feels like 20 pounds of necessary blankets, sliding my nose and ears under from time to time to warm them up. I watch for the street lamp outside my north window to flicker off, and check my east window for for the first dusky beams of morning light. I am glad when I hear the call to prayer start, for soon it will be morning.

When the light comes, I turn on the space heater and crouch on the floor next to it with my diaper bag and clothes for the day. My shower has only ever shown the faintest hint of warmth, so I bathe with baby wipes warmed on the heater. One warm afternoon I go so far as to wash my hair in the sink. I'm not naturally a smelly person, and the threshold for body odor in general is much higher in Africa, so I get away with it.

Today is my court date. When I wake at 2:30 I feel too tired and cold to sneak downstairs, so I get out my iPod and listen to classic jazz, drifting in and out of sleep. Dianna Reeves crooning "In a Sentimental Mood" punctuated by a dream that I'm stuck inside a children's play tunnel. When the light comes, I decide to put on yesterday's clothes and wait to wash and change until before court in case the baby has another poopy blowout. About halfway to the bathroom I realize that I'm sick. I've caught the baby's cold.  No big deal. I'll feel better once I get moving. I make a cup of hot water in the microwave and log on to gmail. I email jc that I feel "lousy".

When I get back upstairs, exhausted and gasping for air, I desperately dive under the covers fully clothed. I count my panicky respirations: 40. Pulse is only about 100, not so bad.  Nail beds are a shade of lavender. Capillary refill slow. I don't have enough red blood cells to walk up a little hill in Addis, forget dealing with mucus in my airways. I pile my pillows in a stack and prop myself up as best I can to promote airflow. It's 6:30am. I contemplate going downstairs and leaving a note for someone to check on me, but realize that would feel like riding up Pete's Mountain Road. I abandon the idea. Hopefully someone will come when I don't show up for breakfast.

I'm dozing again when I hear a knock on the door. I want to shout "come in" but it comes out more like a whimper. It's my housemate. She offers Advil cold medicine, which I take. Reaching for my water bottle on the bedside leaves me breathless again. Soon there is a very timid knock; it takes three invitations before the cook shyly opens the door and asks if I would like chai. Yes, please. She returns with the receptionist with tea and homemade doughnuts. It takes a long time, but I sit up and drink and eat.

By the time the driver arrives to say hello and check on me, since I'm skipping the morning foster home visit, I can laugh at his jokes without gasping. The Sudafed is working. My nailbeds start pinking up and I can sit up in bed. I ask to have my bedroom and balcony doors left open so I don't feel so bored and isolated. I can see Tunisia street with the blue and white taxis and minibuses waiting on the corner, laden donkeys plodding by, the breeze stirring the trees. I even see my first road biker in Addis, which causes me to exclaim out loud. He's dressed in red Lycra from head to toe, out of the saddle, straining up the grade. Time passes as I watched, and soon I found that when the wind blew the door shut I felt well enough to get up and reopen it.

I decided the momentous occasion warranted a bath after all, especially since I had spent the entire morning lying about. There was no stopper for the tub, but I managed to coax some lukewarm water out of the handheld faucet and enjoyed a suds and a good rinse. Then I donned the cotton salwar kameez, beige with turqouise accents, and matching head scarf. I went downstairs and read quietly on the sofa until it was time to go.

Though the nights get chilly in Addis at over 8,000 feet, the mid afternoon sun still feels pretty warm, downright hot through the car windshield. I chatted with the driver about the sights during the 30 minute drive to the courthouse. There is no shortage of things to look at. There are shops, street sellers, a complete range of hotels and dwellings and pedestrians, not to mention the traffic itself. We parked directly in front of the unassuming low-rise court building. We had to wait a bit, so I settled comfortably on a low curb and watched. Then the door was unlocked and the driver went in with me, laughing at my expense as my breathing quickened more with each of the 4 flights of steps; maybe 5, I was too out of breath to count. We sat in the nondescript waiting room for 20-30 minutes as people trickled in, and I discussed with the driver the similarities and differences between Ethiopia and Kenya, Addis and Nairobi.

Then the court aide came in and called our orphanage. I followed her into a small inner room and handed her my passport, which she gave to the judge. The judge proceeded to ask me the 10 or so standard questions, culminated by,

" Do you understand that this is irrevocable?"

"Yes!"

She shuffled papers a brief moment longer, looked up at me with a smile, and said,

"Mamush is yours."

My passport was handed back to me and I walked out, beaming, by the waiting room full of people. Tears came to my eyes in the hall, and my shoulders shook with small sobs as we descended the stair.

Then I went to the foster home and held my son for the first time.

rc

Tuesday, January 01, 2013

I am an Independent Woman


I had grandiose plans for how I would spend my free afternoons in Addis. I would have injera and wot at a local restaurant for 20 birr before setting out down Churchill Avenue taking in the Piazza, San Giyorgis Church and Menelik Square: walking all the way down to Le Gare at the south end.  If I was tired or time was running short, I would take a blue taxi back to the guest house, and save the walk on Ras Mekonnen, Sidist Kilo and Arat Kilo for another day.  I would be very frugal, and avoid spending money needlessly on the driver.

My frustration mounted during the first Sunday in Addis as my expectations were dashed one by one, and with them it seemed my autonomy was being brutally snatched from me. When I asked where I could get injera and wot for my first lunch the driver informed me that he would take me to the buffet at the Semien Hotel and wait while I ate.  I already knew that this one meal would use up most of what I had budgeted for food, but there seemed to be no choice.  At least it was less than I would have been charged for the cheeseburger at the guest house, and the wot was delicious.

That afternoon it also became clear that we were not expected to leave the property unescorted at any time.  The life that I had carefully built was falling like a card house. My childhood, teenage, and young adult life was so full of choices made for me by parents, teachers, and pastors representing god. I so deliberately demolished the paradigm, learned to make my own choices and stand by them. I can’t even stay at someone else’s house on vacation without starting to feel smothered.  My own dear jc would rarely dream of even suggesting what I should do.  But it comes down to this. Everything has been decided for me.

snap out of it
I took my cryptic crossword and sat on the tile stoop next to  our 25 square feet of green grass and decided to be happy.  I spotted pigeons very like the elusive band-tailed pigeons of the Florida keys sitting on the light post, a larger version of what reminded me of a magpie  with white bib and wing patches squawking and chasing each other, small grey sparrows with a striking white eyebrow eating crumbs out of the flowerbed, and fork-tailed eagles in soaring play overhead. I refused the gatekeeper's offer of a chair, truthfully asserting that I was comfortable on the stoop, and taking comfort in my decision making.  I watched the daily flow of traffic back and forth down the cobble alley behing the guest house: women in high heels and business attire next to school children in uniform, women in headscarves and traditional dresses, but more in pants.  I took comfort in the normalcy of the scene, and I reminded myself: the purpose of this trip is not my pleasure, but to make the precious boy who cuddles so sweetly into my arms my son. 

And that is what I will do.

rc

first glance


As enthralled as I was upon arrival in Addis, I was well aware that in a few short hours I would see my son for the first time.  I was introduced to the nice couple who had arrived at the guest house the previous evening and would also be meeting their son for the first time.  We ate breakfast, I took a cold shower, and soon the driver arrived and we rode the short half kilometer to the foster home. A toot of the horn and the gatekeeper let us in.  The driver called upstairs to the nannies, shouting the names of our sons. 

We waited with bated breath for moments that seemed ever so long before a woman emerged from the staircase into the courtyard with a boy that I recognized from dozens of photo updates perched on her hip. I approached him cautiously, reached for his hand. “Selam. Andemnedeuch?” I said to this beautiful child.  He is a naturally curious baby, looking around at all the people gathered around, not wanting to miss anything.  This quiet white woman is not very interesting.  After a few moments though, he came to me easily enough, and I took him inside the visiting area to show him the toys I’d brought.  He has two bottom teeth all the way in, and two top teeth breaking through. He’s looking for anything to put in his sore mouth.  I gave him the wooden giraffe and he sucked on its leg.

I stood him at the table where he held on, but wobbled.  He can sit by himself most of the time, but plays contentedly through our visits propped on the floor between my legs.  He army crawls after things that look tantalizing, most notably the Christmas tree balls and the brightly colored Croc shoes in a row on a shelf; and he once cries briefly at being denied a Christmas ball to eat.  He laughs and smiles easily at any silliness, or at anyone he knows.  He giggles when swung upside down. He took his bottle from me that first morning, falling asleep while still sucking, nestling into me, his small hand wrapped around my finger, and I feel as content as he looks, cradling his warm body against me.

Monday, December 31, 2012

Transit

I slept badly Thursday night, waking often, and finally rose in the grey predawn to shower and do last minute luggage checks.  I was intensely nauseous, finally succumbing a few times and accepting jc's offer of half an anxiolytic. jc walked me to the streetcar with my suitcase.  I thought we'd missed it until he pointed out that it comes down a different street for the first run of the day.  It was cool but dry, and I was glad I'd worn my long Patagonia fleece and a hat.  I dozed through the Red Line train to the airport. I arrived 15 minutes early, set my alarm, and slept deeply on the airport floor, waking with the alarm to another bout of nausea, mercifully the last.

My Oromo friend soon arrived, looking dashing out of work uniform, with the suitcase of donations for the school in his hometown.  He walked me through check-in, where I found that my bags would have to be rechecked in Frankfurt, but at least there were no baggage fees. Then we had coffee together, and my latte and my stomach decided to make peace.

I boarded the commuter, had a row to myself, and slept all the way to Vancouver.  My layover was just long enough for a snack and a failed attempt to access the internet, and we were off.  10 hours to Germany, and lose half a day. My seatmate was a gentlemanly Somali Ethiopian. We chatted briefly, exchanged lunch items, and spent a pleasant enough flight. I spent an hour pacing and stretching midway through before putting an audiobook of Alice in Wonderland on the headphones and being soothed into a pleasant sleep.

We arrived in Frankfurt to find that we had to take a bus from our landing position on the apron to the terminal.  The overcrowded, SRO bus wove its way through the bowels of the airport for a nauseating lifetime before unceremoniously dumping us in what seemed like a random location.  After several attempts at finding the correct baggage claim, we finally found our bags.  I must have mistakenly exited security only to find that I couldn't recheck my bags until 3 hours before departure, so I had a very long 12 hour layover ahead with 50 pounds of baggage in tow.  After realizing how exhausting it was to lug it all around, I found the nearest bench next to the nearest bathroom to the Ethiopian ticket counter, parked my bags, spread out my fleece coat, covered myself with a scarf, and slept the day away.  Soon it was time to check in.

By the time I got on Ehtiopian airways I had worked out some tricks for sleeping on a plane, was a little less exhausted overall, and the 6 hours flew by pretty quickly. Before I knew it I was in Addis, going down the steps to stand in the long visa line, then the shorter money exchange line, no line for baggage, medium line for customs, with no problems and amid the sea of faces was the foster home driver, holding my name in big black letters on white paper.  He rang the Oromo contacts on his mobile, they took the bag and we were off.

I stepped out of the airport and saw Africa in all its glory in the morning light. Misty hills and a certain quality to the air. I drank in the sights as we drove through town: Africa, still so familiar to me, though I've been away all these years.  Africa has held a special place in my heart since my Kenya trip in 1995, and I'm so glad to be back; but the greatest joy of all is knowing that from Africa I will soon receive the best gift of my life: one of her sons, and mine.

rc

Saturday, December 22, 2012

Solstice Surprise

Our baby photo updates were a day late this week. I waited for them all day Thursday, but they didn't come until Friday. I decided to email our director and ask about any progress on a court date, and his reply was: "WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT? I ALREADY SENT IT!"

Sure enough, waiting in my trash folder was our court date: January 2, 2013. I immediately flew into a tizzy, started shaking uncontrollably, jumped out of bed, and began searching Kayak for a flight. Managed pretty well for the last minute.

I started packing my bags today, and I have a bunch of forms to fill out and notarize on Monday, but I'm finally on my way to meet our baby!

rc