This past Saturday, Dave and I went to a fundraiser put on by a neighboring county’s arts council. They do this annually. It is called Pasta and Pottery and with the price of admission, you get a piece of pottery, appetizers, a pasta dinner and an auction. We have always wanted to go. Scratch that. I have always wanted to go. It has never worked out before. Dave in his kindness and generosity squeezed it in for me this year. I say squeezed because he was out of town Friday into Saturday and awoke at 3:ooam this morning to go to his photography convention. To add to it, he slid off the road on the way home from his trip yesterday and while his car was fine and drivable (just stuck) and he was fine, he could have requested a scrapping of the evening. I offered. The evening was okay. I thought this was my speed but not so much. Our pottery pieces were beautiful, the dinner was delicious and the items being auctioned were lovely but it was packed and we knew no one and I suppose small talk social gatherings just aren’t my thing. Dave and I split off for a bit and when I found him, he was squatting down next to the evening’s entertainment chatting.
Flash back 9 years. Dave and I found eachother online, but quickly moved to “in real life” dating. Our first date was perfect from beginning to end. Hollywood could not have written a better day. He took me canoeing. He packed a wonderful picnic lunch with all of my favorites – strawberries, shrimp, salad, and his roasted pork. We leisurely paddled for a few hours and landed in the heart of a quaint riverside town near us. I thought the day was over. It would have been perfect as it was. But he had made a thermos of mocha lattes and pulled them out of his vehicle and we drank them and ate more strawberries in a park next to the river. The next thing that happened is almost movie like. A gentleman on a bicycle rode up and sat on a bench near us and yet across the park. Out of the blue, he pulled out a flute and started playing songs like Always and Forever and Color My World. We saw him in the park one other time. We often wondered about him. We asked around in town about the gentleman on the bike with the flute. We lost him. We wanted to hire him for our wedding but no luck. That perfect day laid the foundation for our beautiful friendship.
Last night at the fundraiser, there was a flute player – our flute player. We know his name. We told him our story.
He was at the beginning of the first chapter of our life together and it has come full circle as we embark on the next chapter.
It has been an eternity since I have posted here. Even the format of wordpress has changed. Reading my words is sort of strange. I am not sure why I left this friend behind. I would like to reconnect and I might. I blog in another spot about the adoption process I am in the midst of. I find myself being slightly less transparent and I am not sure why. Not sure what people do when they walk away from their blog and then come back. Do I catch up with what has been going on? Do I pretend like I never left? Can one ever really go home? Like everyone’s journey, the past year has been a series of ups and downs. Serious, superficial, good, bad, weak, strong. I won’t try to retell the past year – it may come up in posts.
For now we wait. We wait for our child who we have never seen who is on his own painful journey across the world. We have been waiting 30 weeks for a face and a name and a story all while continuing our own story. Unless God tells us otherwise, our baby is in Ethiopia. In the next week or month or two we will get a call – a call that changes our lives and the lives of people far far away. It is pretty intense. We have spent much time in preparation – reading, taking video seminars, absorbing all we can from our community on attachment and transracial adoption, on nurturing and parenting.
That is where I am right now and yet that is not the only place I am right now. But I stand here with my toe in the water – hoping to grow and nurture this place that is very special to me again.
I have been MIA. Incubating, hibernating- just being. Winter has kind of thrown me into a contemplative mode and while much of what I contemplated I share, as I got deeper I didn’t really want to peel away all of the layers that were unprocessed or at least underprocessed.
My wonderful husband painted our living room for me in its entirety Friday even removing molding and socket/outlet covers. This was a true act of love as he despises paint but the color makes me feel so warm and happy. I had a hunch it would.
I have begun participating in an evening women’s bible study called For Women Only written by Shaunti Feldhahn and have thrown myself bodily into it. The first week was on a man’s need for respect. It was truly an eye opening week and gave me insight into why I struggle at times in my marriage and why perhaps I am greatly responsible for the demise of my first marriage. OUCH!
There has emerged within me a peace – truth be told, the peace that passes all understanding. Some major life shifters/shakers have washed over us lately and I am still standing with the peace and knowledge that regardless of anything – God will be with me. I even have started going back to Sunday school. We are studying a book by Jim Cymbala of the Brooklyn Tabernacle.
I guess I am still in awe about how long it took me to find God again especially when He has been waiting here patiently for several years. He has held me and let me rest in Him for the past couple of months. What a blessing.
Anyone recall that Carole King song? As a child of the 70s, I recall listening to it on the flip side of a 45 “show and tell” book/album – you know – the ones that would have the nice little explanatory intro at the beginning “when you hear the bell *ding* turn the page”. The other side of the story album was a tale of a little boy names Pierre who didn’t care – the whole story was about how he didn’t care. Loved it.
This is a totally random post today – I ate chicken soup with rice today at school trying hard to stay on my weight watchers program. I have had a lot of soup this week in an attempt to ward off the evil flu bug infesting my house. First R got it, then my husband started roasting in his sleep last night. Both down for the count. R is back in school today. I am the one who has not fallen yet. Dave and I are due to go to a marriage retreat this weekend and I know satan would love nothing more than for me to get the flu so we have to cancel. Ah well, I am praying it away and drinking plenty of fluids, using that alcohol based hand soap and soup – egg drop, wonton, chicken with rice ala Carole King.
I’ll take anything a la Carole King and I believe given the choice of the soup or the music I would pick her.
My husband had two family members who shared this date as their birthday. They were both incredible people that I am thankful I had the privilege of knowing.
His mother was a dynamic, strong woman whose life was a lesson. She grew up during the depression but lived a rich life. Though life was a challenge she successfully raised 5 sons and chose to follow her dream of becoming a nurse when she was close to 50 years old. What I take from her is acceptance, grace, and the knowledge that it is never too late to start over and pursue a dream. We lost her in the Fall of 2004.
On her 60th birthday, my mother-in-law became a grandmother to a talented and kind young man. He was handsome and outgoing and never met a stranger. He was talented in the arts and was at home on the stage. His life was snuffed out one day shy of his 21st birthday in 2002. He is sorely missed by everyone in the family.
I was lucky enough to have spent time with both of them and their lives touched me, although I almost don’t feel justified in saying that I miss them because people in this world shared such a larger part of their world. I do miss them. I especially miss Dave’s mom.
Happy Birthday, Cathy and Matt.
Peace to you and….
This is a light and easy recipe. I believe I got it from my mom who got it from her Weight Watchers leader.
1 can crushed pineapple in natural juices (not syrup)
1 box angel food cake mix
Mix dry cake mix with crushed pineapple (do NOT follow any of the directions for other ingredients on the angel food cake box)
Bake 25-30 minutes at 350.
Makes a 9×13 cake – 1/12 is 2pts (weight watchers speak) – for a fancier company ready dessert, ice with ff cool whip to add 1 pt per slice.
This is incredible, light and soooo summery tasting – it tastes good the next day having been chilled.
I have recently become reacquainted with one of the most gorgeous songs I believe I have ever heard. It is a song sung by CeCe Winans and if you are the least bit emotional prepare to cry if you ever hear it.
It is called Alabaster Box. The first verse tells of the woman who came to wash Jesus’ feet, but then the chorus comes and the magnitude of what God has done for me through His son and the gifts He continues to give just washes over me.
And I’ve come to pour
My praise on Him-like oil
From Mary’s alabasterbox
Don’t be angry if I wash His feet with my tears
And dry them with my hair
You weren’t there-the night He found me
You did not feel what I felt
When He wrapped His loving arms around me
And you don’t know the cost
Of the oil in my alabaster box
Years I wandered lost – satan telling me that God COULDN’T love a sinner like me. So the highlighted and bolded words above bring such emotion to me because God never gave up on me.
There is a person in my life I would love to impart that love of God to. I cannot make that person see it and I am so worried about the choices they are making. My heart is hurting for them and yet again Satan steps in and tells me that had I found God sooner perhaps this person would not be making such scary decisions or tempting permanent damage. I want to save them the pain. Save them the heartache of trying to do it on their own – not trusting the One who can take all the pain away. and yet God is asking me to cling to Him, rest in Him, call on Him and trust in Him. It is pretty hard to do so soon after relocating Him – but at this point it is all I can do because my beloved friend pulls harder away from Him when I try to use my speak and my language.
No matter what God is still God and I need to let Him be in control.