Let Tomorrow Be Tomorrow

The surgeon walked out in his blue scrubs, mask still hanging around his neck, and found us awaiting word that the surgery was over.  The stitching, repairing, and testing was complete, and he offered  reassurance.  But, as we tend to do, we pressed.
What is the prognosis? How long is recovery? How much pain? Worst case scenario? When is the next surgery? Infection likely? Limitations for her?
We must ask, advocate and prepare. But must we be consumed by tomorrow, even in this?
Our news was mixed. Good news? No overnight stay as planned. Bad news? Her little body just doesn’t function as it should and the medical marathon continues.  More tests, appointments, and surgeries.

So I had a choice. Start spinning around the tomorrows, or celebrate today’s victory.   

I think God is a fan of today, designing each with intention. I think He wants us to engage ourselves in each 24 hours, fully in, gathering the day’s manna, and listening for His voice. He’s been whisper shouting that my whole life. But I still tend to reach for tomorrow, longing for it and worrying over it. And adoption kicked it up a notch, or three.

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I spent most of our adoption journey tomorrow-ing. 
Application approved.  What is the projected wait?How much longer until referral?
Why must we wait?  We are ready.  Our child is waiting. 
Will the funds be there?
How is our girl? Are the nannies kind and meeting her medical needs?
Are we prepared? Have the right medical supplies? Can we handle this? 
I have her, but she’s terrified/shut down/angry. When will this pass?
I’m in China, but longing for home. How many more days?
Will we survive the dreaded flight?
How soon can we see a doctor?
My heart just isn’t attaching, my feelings not where I want them to be.  How long until I bond?
He clings to me, not letting go. How long will this last?
She doesn’t sleep. Is this our new forever?
What hard news will I hear at the next appointment? Next surgery?
When can I go back for another child?

These are natural, essential to the process, questions. But, I spent too much of the adoption ride tomorrow-ing. And tomorrow-goggles block out today. They diverted my attention from the day I stood in and the people I stood beside.

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Our adoption adventure has been wild and precious, with the days falling like dominoes. Some sweet, some hard, and most in-between. I wanted faster movement between milestones, but I’m glad they weren’t mine to control. Because I am living now in awe of the Story Weaver, humbled by how the manna arrived daily at our feet, at every bend in the journey, right on time. The miracles are many. Three times, the referral arrived. The PA, LOA, and TA all came. The funds came. We clutched our babies on Gotcha Days, flew home and got needed medical care. The attachment came, as did the sleep. We walked into hospitals and back out. Not at all easy, but right. Sadly, I often failed to celebrate the longed for milestones because I was already scratching out tomorrow strategies.    

 

Maybe I missed celebrating PA because I was already making a home study task list.
Maybe I missed baking cookies with the daughters at my feet, because I thought only of the daughter in China.
Maybe I missed soaking up more of China because I was focused on getting home.
Maybe I missed snuggling with my boy and his bottle because I was determined to normalize us all.
Maybe I missed fun on doctor’s appointment free days, because I was mentally at the next appointment.
Maybe I missed out on being my kids’ right now mommy. 
Maybe I missed out on being a right now wife. 
Maybe I missed out on right now life. 

And the whole time, He whispered “today”. I think there were times when He wanted me to rest. Wanted me to celebrate. Wanted me to be present with my within reach people. Wanted me to trust Him with tomorrow. Wanted me to scoop the day’s bounty.

Read the rest over at No Hands But Ours. 

Permission to Ramble

I’ve grown too efficient. My life is so full, so bullet listed, and so scheduled that I’ve forgotten how to ramble. I’ve lost the knack for lingering long in conversation. My overfilled calendar and productivity addiction have limited me to directly to the point communication. Being long winded, and fully open, seems a luxury.

I don’t email anymore. I text. It’s faster. An actual phone call? Forget about it. I’ll get off task. I pursue efficiency. Unless a favorite author pens a blog post, I tend to only read short and catchy posts or numbered tips. For social media, I prefer the photos and concise descriptions of Instagram. It’s 2015 after all. I’m a mom with 100 tasks to attend to.

Isn’t that the direction we’ve moved? Our thoughts whittled down for quick consumption. We share brief updates, then we scroll on by and read 100 other friend’s summarized social media highlights.
We’ve made an exchange. More friendships, but less time to deepen them. Our networks have exploded, but our time to dip beneath the surface diminished.

We find people we connect with, that we could learn from, but our schedules are so full that we plan a dinner together six weeks from Tuesday, after 7:30 PM. When we finally sit knee to knee, again, we have time only for highlights.
But that’s not who I am. Not who I want to be.

Back in the day, I lingered. I had space for a good ramble.

.........................................................................

I remember the steady stream of my Mamaw’s stories of farms and kids, mischief and sons. She rarely stopped talking, rambling on whether we were in the room or not. I loved it, learned from it, and miss it.
I remember afternoon rainstorms when my family would sit on our covered porch. I can’t remember the conversations, but I’m guessing we rambled a bit to the cadence of roof tapping raindrops.
I remember nights of lying on a trampoline with my best friend. Our teenage eyes on the constellations, we chatted unedited about dreams, fears, and boys.

I remember relationships. Sweet moments when those I loved didn’t feel the need to make long stories short. 

 .........................................................................

 

There is a time for being concise. In business, classrooms, or group meetings, intentional words are important. Other times, rambling has beauty to it. It’s a rare art, fading away along with sitting on benches and iced lemonade sipped on porch swings.

I think there is more to blame than rushed living. I think rambling now takes bravery. Since we mostly exchange buffed and polished tidbits, we’ve gotten in the habit of fine tuning what we share. You’ll rarely read a FB status of mine that doesn’t have the word “edited” by the date. I keep it tidy.

Sharing unedited, not yet composed thoughts, is a gamble. I risk bothering, and burdening, busy friends with my in-process thinking. Further, my rambles expose my less impressive side. The selfish, unrefined, weak, judgmental, and needy one.

So I wonder:

Does he have time to listen?

Will she be annoyed by my tangents?

Can he handle my messy thoughts?

“I’ve spent most of my life and most of my friendships holding my breath and hoping that when people get close enough they won’t leave, and fearing that it’s a matter of time before they figure me out and go.” ― Shauna Niequist, Bittersweet

True community leaves space for unrushed, imperfect exchanges. It assures, “I value you, and want to live out this messy, beautiful life together.” Authentic friendship makes sense of life together. It’s raw, flawed, and untidy. It spurs me on, refuses to let me be anything but true, and doesn’t hesitate to challenge my selfishness, judgments, pride, or lacking faith.

Read the rest, and get rambling permission, over at Ungrind Webzine. 

20 Things 2014 Taught Me

My word for 2014 was abundance, and boy was it all kinds of abundant.  Our car veered off the comfort zone highway this year, and took an exit ramp toward all things new.

I want to hold on to every last minute of 2014 because it changed my heart, my plans, my home and my people.   It was the hardest gift I've ever received. 

I chose "abundance" at the end of 2013, because we were fresh off the plane from China, followed immediately by an emergency hospital stay for our daughter that included a zillion tests and hard news from a handful of specialists.  I was feeling blessed by my long awaited new family, but heavily weighted.  I felt overwhelmed with four kids, terrified of the medical needs we faced, and chained down by financial burdens.   I saw my free time, Disney vacations, beach trips and easy grocery runs slipping through my fingers.  My eyes were focused on the subtractions from my life, and I knew I needed to switch to some mental addition to train my eyes to see the abundance. 

I did that addition, and learned some things about abundance this year.

1.  To receive.  We had an army of friends and family caring for us, and I tried to talk every single one out of it.  I was so bent on not being a burden that I tried to keep people from giving blessings they wanted to give.   In the end, I accepted that the weight couldn't be carried alone. Some friends gave me a "Mary to Martha Nudge", and I learned to receive. 

2. To enjoy big family life.  It's a fat mix of fun, mess, refinement, and serious lack of privacy.  

3.  To love God's crazy timing.  In the busiest season of my life, I was given the opportunity to write with, and learn from, the amazing folks at No Hands But Ours and Ungrind Webzine.   In a time that was all about caring for little people, the creative in me was tended to.  It was scary and such a gift. 

 4.  To write bravely.  I've always loved to string together words, but never had the guts to fully call myself an author. It feels like I spent the year naked on the Internet, and it messed with my confidence, solidified my thoughts, connected me with new friends, and forced me to pray over my motives.  It made me squirm, but opened a door I never gave myself the freedom to approach. 

 

5.  To listen to podcasts.  My laundry folding and dinner making will never be the same.  Love 'em. 

6.  To make time for creativity and beauty. To find it valuable.  Essential even.  I didn't have time for it, but I sat my to do list down more in 2014 to do some scripture doodling/journaling, placing flowers in vases,  big girl coloring, writing, trying new recipes and playing with yarn. 

7.  To embrace change and move forward with my blogging dreams.  Changes are coming for La Dolce Vita.  I am dreaming, carving out time, reconsidering how much of my kids I want to post, praying and setting some goals, plus hoping for an artistic, techie soul to do a super cheap blog redesign.    My dream is to be used by God to inspire and encourage mommas and make some change for orphans. 

8.  To let big sisters be big sisters even in hard moments.  They can take it.

 

9.  To accept that I don't have what it takes to be God of My Children.

10.    To handle the truth that little boys touch EVERYTHING.  For the love.  Little boys touch everything, even hearts. 

 

11. To not spend so much time anxious about the next doctor’s appointment that I miss our appointment-less today.

12.  To fight for family preservation through Love Without Boundary's Unity initiative. 

13.  To be less "Strung Out on Perfectionism" than I once was.  "My spirit isn’t gentle when I’m wound so tightly that my family could never please me. My spirit isn’t quiet when I care more about being embarrassed by kid behavior than I do about guiding hearts."  

14.  To put people before productivity.  Many times over the last year, I almost said no to time spent with friends because productivity at home seemed more important.  But I need friendships more than I need checks on to do lists. 

15.  To eat more Lay's potato chips.  They are little mood lighteners. 

16.  To appreciate that God keeps right on stretching, no matter how bent out of shape I already am.  I'd like to think He'd give me a pass, but He doesn't.  He's given me another vision for something that I can't possibly make happen.  I'd need more guts, lots of technological ability and a better ability to communicate.  I'd bring nothing to the table.  That's how I know it's probably God.  Gulp.

 17.  To give my kids more grace than I sometimes feel like giving.

18.   To listen because God's Calling.  I have often missed it because I was too busy adopting. 

19.   To appreciate cups of tea.  Black, green, white, chamomile.  No discrimination here.  Shout out to "sleepy time" tea as well. 

 

20.  To laugh more.  More giggles.  More chuckles.  More laughter for me and them. 

I'm pretty grateful, 2014.  I'll forever treasure your messy beauty.



I'm linked up over at Chatting at the Sky. 

 

 

Alive: Hemingway Style (Tending to the Writer in Me, Day 3 of 31)

This business of being a writer is ultimately about asking yourself,
"How ALIVE am I willing to be?" ~Anne Lamott

For three weeks, I've been walking through my days as a 40 year old.  In my mind, my mom was always forty, even when she wasn't.  It was the official age of adulthood.  So here I am, more officially an adult,  with four of my unknown allotment of decades already lived.  It's a milestone kind of year, bringing  reflection on steps taken and expectation for the messy beautiful steps to come.  

I'm grateful in advance for those steps yet taken, stories yet written. Grateful that I've got a chance to see each 24 hours as a hope filled portion given me.  Each sunrise a new chance to move toward those things that bring LIFE to my family and me. 

Writing has always been one of my life grantors.  A journal and sharpened pencil invite creativity, hope, clarification, the giving of an offering, connection, gratitude, opportunity.  It's offering up a generous portion of myself, and mining for connections with readers.  It's being stretched, solidifying opinions, exploring questions and sharing faith.   Pen to paper, I feel spilled out and used up, all the best fully awake sensations. 

Written words allow me to pounce in rain puddles with my preschooler in his rubber boots, and then live it again, tapping keys on my keyboard, really noticing the beauty in the memory.  It's taking a deeper look at life, and seeing the days as stories. 

I really like that ALIVE feeling, and am finally learning to go for more of it.  The completely and fully all the way kind of going for it.  At my truest self, I am a storyteller, and  I've got a thousand little stories to tell.  It's about time to start tending to the writer in me, the fully awake, forty year old one.   

Ernest Hemingway offered a "how to" for this alive kind of living: 

"Try to learn to breathe deeply, really to taste food when you eat, and when you sleep really to sleep. Try as much as possible to be wholly alive with all your might, and when you laugh, laugh like hell. And when you get angry, get good and angry. Try to be alive. You will be dead soon enough.”

Yes, Ernest, yes. 


*This is post number 3 in my 31 day series: Tending to the Writer in Me". 

*You can also follow along with other 31 Day bloggers.   

Root Growth

 

But time has gradually inscribed on my heart that winter, with all its surface bleakness,  

is for the vegetative world a time of intense creativity.   

While barren to the human eye,

trees in winter experience their greatest root growth. 

Their life force reached out, plunged deep

roots into the sustaining soil.

So it is with us as well.

~Wendy Wright

 

Something assures me that God is being intensely creative with our family too. 

 Calling us to look deeply and love well.  

 

With our faith plunging deep, teaching us to be sustained even in our weakness.

 

Showing us what fragility looks like and how much its presence changes us.

 

What journeying together really requires.  

Each learning to hold the hand of another, giving up the desire to follow our own plans.

 

Pushing us to keep walking on an ever unknown, ever winding path. 

 Gradually  releasing the pull of the comfortable life.  

More awake, magnifying the power of a single moment 



and calling us to linger within it together.

Seeing the beauty of His plan unfolded, and how to be intentional with the gifts given us.

 

Feeling the cold and hard, but also released by the beauty emerging from it.

Hard things have their many hidden rewards.  

So, we release our family again and again,



drinking deeply from this wild and precious life. 

10 Things I Learned in June

1.  22 seconds can make all the difference. This boy. 
 

 

2.  Sometimes impromptu parties in a box are just what a girl needs. 
I learned to sometimes just show up.  Fussy advance plans aren't always needed. 

3.  If these are wrong, I don't want to be right.

4.  I realized that I prefer Instagram over FB, but am way too addicted.  Really just want to set the phone and the iPad down and be present with my family.

 

5.  Strangers are generous.  Thanks to Love Without Boundaries, our daughter, Evie, has an army of people praying for her and cheering her on.  We've been blown away this month with emails from big hearted people who love her.  Our first adoption donation was from a generous person we've never met who loves our girl.  All kinds of incredible. We'll be making a book for Evelyn of all the emails, messages and comments so she'll know that she never ever fought alone. 

 

6.  Sharing a root beer on the porch swing with daddy goes along way.

 

7.  I've been shown how creativity blossoms on lazy, plan-less days.

 

8.  I see now that instead of telling people, "If you need help let me know", I should just come up with a way to help and ask for permission.

 

9.  I've been reminded that I love to write, and have missed it. 

 

10.  Like it or not, God prefers to have us living well out of our comfort zones.

 

 

Connecting with Chatting at the Sky

For Sale Sign Lessons & Some Driveway Praying

Showings, showings, and then more showings. 

 For a year, a sign stood in our yard. 

For that year, we left every.single.weekend for a showing. 

Once, twice, three times in a weekend. 

Weekdays?  Free game as well.  We could get a call at any time telling us that someone wanted to see the house...in an hour. 

 

As a result, our love to host selves hosted less.  I had to say no to lots of potentially messy art projects and lots of potentially messy play.  Always in the back of mind I was planning for scheduled showings and potential showings. 

 

We straightened, we cleaned, we polished and then we vacuumed away our footprints.  Then, we loaded the littles in the car, and proceeded to do lots of driving around, looking for free things to do.  :)  Last but not least, we returned home, usually to find them still there, so we lurked down the street until they drove away.

 

One week later, we'd get feedback that the families loved our house, but hated our property. 

 

Fun times.  

 

Like all seasons in our lives though, God had lessons to teach. 

It took me some time, and I resisted at all cost, but I learned a few things...

 

 

~Anything in your life that you want can become an idol.

 

~It is easy to spend much time wanting, and less time valuing what is already had.

 

~The frustrations of parents are often unfairly taken out on littles.

 

~Distraction makes for poor parenting.

 

~A three story home with multiple rooms, bathrooms, sinks with clean running water and a garage that won't sell is a first world problem. 

 

~God cares about the details of your life, but cares most about the state of your heart. 

 

~We are not in control. 

 

~Kids don't care about perfection.  Our less than ideal yard was usually filled with kids collecting rocks and sticks and our extra steep driveway provided all kinds of rolling fun. 

 

 

Then, one day after lessons had been learned, the offer came. 

Two in fact.  A friend had suggested that I lay my hands on our driveway and pray that our steep driveway would not be an obstacle. 

So, one Saturday as we left for showings, I stepped onto the driveway and prayed with my hand on concrete.  Two offers came that day. 

God spoke and I had learned better how to listen. 

The offer came, we signed a zillion papers and we started to pack. 

We took pictures of every room, then got weepy as we boxed up our lives.

A hard year was ending and a chapter was closing. 

As we packed up, we saw our former lives as new parents in reflection. 

And those reflections were sweet. 

 

The house, that we had so wanted to be rid of,

had actually filled us up to full with blessings, memories and gifts. 

 

Lessons learned. 

 

May I have your attention, please? (Deconstruction)

Honesty time. 

Ugly fact uno:  I like attention.

Ugly fact dos:  My attention is focused in some wrong places. 

 

 

 My heart has shown itself to not be where I'd like it to be,

so some soul searching is in order.  God has been deconstructing me, and as hard as it is, I'm game.  One of His major construction zones is the area of attention. 

 

I haven't written journal like blog posts in some time.  I'm wrestling over authenticity vs. over-sharing.  I'm wrestling with my motives. 

Posts like this and this get me thinking. 

 

  And then there is Facebook. 
Love it,  Hate it. 

 

Love the connection with cousins, ministries, long lost pals and adoption peeps, and double love social media's impact for helping the hurting.  It can raise money, encourage, bring awareness, and stir hearts. 

Hate my addiction to it, and thinking hard about the attention that it brings.  If I scroll through statuses 2-3 times per day, I am giving FB at least 30 minutes of my day.  210 minutes of my week, and the rest of the math makes me want to hide my head in shame.  My desire to stay connected, and dare I say to get a little attention, ain't pretty. 
Writing status's in my head isn't my aim in this life. 

The desire to not miss ANYTHING is uncool. 

 

 

Messy thoughts, eh?  Just needing a social media heart check. 

So, I am on a Christmas FB fast.  How funny...and telling...that I have had to think this silly thing through. 

 

What I know is that I often claim to not have enough time to flip open my Bible or a book.  I know that I have missed moments with my girls. 

Darn you, FB.    You've distracted me away from my life's calling. 

 

Hoping to use my regained 210+ minutes this week to do some reading, focus my heart on Advent, and give full attention to two really cool little people and a hubs who needs me. 

 

Deconstruction.  Bring it on. 

Attention.  Going to try to seek less and give more.  

Learning to Linger

How do you teach a child to see beauty in the small things? 

Through lingering. 

Summer trips to Kentucky include

a day to be idle and blessed at the local monastary. 

There are no attractions. 

No farm animals, flashing lights, tours or trains. 

Simply fields of grass and a statue on a hill. 

We don't rush through or rush home.

Sophia and I first spent a day there two years ago.  

Last year we quietly celebrated Claire's LOA there. 

These fields have become special grounds. 

This year, our mother daughter day included another daughter to love.   

(This daughter was a little less than interested in having her picture taken.  Ahem.)

The fields of grass make us still. 

We go there to linger long. 

To feel small.

To wander and feel the sunshine.

To be both lost and found. 

To learn to linger. 

"Sometimes I need only to stand wherever I am to be blessed."

~Mary Oliver

We Break for Wildflowers

Wildflowers are some serious business in our world right now.  When we hike, we collect bundles of them. When we go to a park, we seek them. When we are driving and we spot them, we sometimes pull over for them.   When we are walking into the zoo, library, or dry cleaner, we detour for wildflowers.  Sometimes there are fields full.  Sometimes it is a single dandelion sprouting through pavement.

It doesn't really make sense to pick them.  More times than not, they wilt long before they make it into a vase.  The endless picking of them makes hikes not quite such good exercise.  Stopping for them makes errands take that much longer. 

Still, we stop.  We pick. 

Daughters' hands give them, and momma's hands accept them with a smile.  A little piece of momentary beauty given. 
God's creativity held in the palm of your hand. 

How much longer will these blossoms bloom? 
How much longer will picking them bring such joy? 
Further, can those of us who have long sense stopped picking bundles, start again?

For this season, we choose to break for wildflowers.  To watch in wonder at the joy they bring.  Though wildflowers are everywhere, they are easy to miss, aren't they?
(Forgive the blur.  Just thought this photo was precious!)

The busyness and drama of the world can keep us from going below the surface of the very moments that we enter.  In my life, I have known truth and beauty and peace to be ever-present companions that I often sit beside, bemoaning their absence.
~Mark Nepo, The Exquisite Risk