In Ethiopia, Open Doors for Foreign Adoptions By JANE GROSS and WILL CONNORS
Published: June 4, 2007ST. PAUL —
Ethiopia was not on Mark and Vera Westrum-Ostrom’s list when they first visited Children’s Home Society & Family Services here to explore an international adoption.
From Ethiopia to Minnesota Ukraine was first, because of their family heritage, until the couple discovered that the adoption system there was chaotic, with inaccurate information about orphans’ health and availability. Vietnam was second, after they saw videos of well-run orphanages. But the wait would be at least a year and a half.Then they learned about Ethiopia’s model centers for orphans, run by American agencies, with an efficient adoption system that made it possible for them to file paperwork on Labor Day and claim 2-year-old Tariku, a boy with almond eyes and a halo of ringlets, at Christmas.
From Addis Ababa, the capital city, they traveled to the countryside to meet the boy’s birth mother, an opportunity rare in international adoption. And at roughly $20,000, the process was affordable compared with other foreign adoptions, and free of the bribes that are common in some countries. It is no wonder, given these advantages, that Ethiopia, a country more often associated by Americans with drought, famine and conflict, has become a hot spot for international adoption.
Even before the actress Angelina Jolie put adoption in Ethiopia on the cover of People magazine in 2005, the number of adoptions there by Americans was growing. The total is still small — 732 children in 2006, out of a total of 20,632 foreign adoptions, but it is a steep increase, up from 82 children adopted in 1997.Ethiopia now ranks 5th among countries for adoption by Americans, up from 16th in 2000. In the same period, the number of American agencies licensed to operate there has grown from one to 22.
The increasing interest in Ethiopia comes at a time when the leading countries for international adoption, China, Guatemala and Russia are, respectively, tightening eligibility requirements, under scrutiny for adoption corruption and closing borders to American agencies.
Ethiopia’s sudden popularity also comes with risks, say government officials there and in America.“I don’t think we’ll be able to handle it,” said Haddush Halefom, an official at the Ministry of Women’s Affairs, which oversees adoption. “We don’t have the capacity to handle all these new agencies, and we have to monitor the quality, not just the quantity.” Capping the number of agencies is one solution. And that is what some international adoption officials in the United States are now urging the Ethiopian government to do.
Of concern is the ability of agencies to handle the rising demand, which may have contributed to a recent mix-up involving two families sent home with the wrong children by Christian World Adoption, an established agency, although relatively new to Ethiopia. That case prompted inquiries by the State Department and the nonprofit Joint Council on International Children’s Services in Virginia, a child welfare and advocacy organization, and the adoption agency itself, said Thomas DiFilipo, president of the joint council. Officials at Christian World Adoption did not reply to e-mail messages or telephone calls. But Mr. DiFilipo said the agency was reviewing its procedures and has hired immigration lawyers to resolve the mix-up.The consensus, Mr. DiFilipo said, is that the mix-up was “an honest mistake.” But, he added, “This could be the byproduct of a staff handling 35 placements when they’re used to handling 20.”
Children’s Home Society & Family Services, founded in 1889, began working in Ethiopia in 2004. The agency completed about 300 adoptions in its first three years in Ethiopia, and expects to complete that many in 2007 alone. Along with Wide Horizons For Children in Waltham, Mass., the society is credited with helping Ethiopia create a model for international adoption. Ethiopia, with a population of 76 million, has an estimated 5 million children who have lost one or both parents, according to aid organizations. Many African nations have outlawed or impeded the adoption of their children by foreigners. Ethiopia has welcomed American and European families who are willing to provide homes for children who have lost both parents to AIDS, malaria, tuberculosis or starvation, or who come from families too destitute to feed and clothe them. (The adoption process includes routine screening for HIV infection.)
Two elements distinguish Ethiopia’s adoption system, according to dozens of experts. One is the existence of transitional homes for orphans, in the countryside and in the capital, with services and staffing that are rare in the developing world — paid for by American agencies.
Not long ago, Sandra Iverson, a nurse practitioner from the University of Minnesota’s international adoption health clinic, the first of its kind in the United States, was invited to visit the Children’s Home Society’s Ethiopian centers. She arrived with a neonatal otoscope, to diagnose ear infections; the Red Book, the bible of pediatrics; and scarce antibiotics. She left confident that Ethiopia’s orphans enjoyed unusual care. “You don’t hear crying babies,” Ms. Iverson said. “They are picked up immediately.”
The other signature of the Ethiopian system is that adopting families are encouraged to meet birth families and visit the villages where the children were raised, a cutting-edge practice in adoptions. Some agencies provide DVDs or photographs that document the children’s past.Russ and Ann Couwenhoven, in Ham Lake, Minn., recently showed one such video to 6-year-old Tariku, one of three children they have adopted from Ethiopia. The boy seemed proud of the beautifully painted house he had lived in, they said, and the uncle who had sheltered him for as long as he could. Linda Zwicky brought 2-year-old Amale home five days before the Memorial Day weekend, with a letter from the child’s grandmother that described holding the motherless infant at her breast even though she had no milk.
Sometimes such vividness is too much. Melanie Danke and her husband, of Minneapolis, adopted 6-year-old twins and a 3-year-old, all siblings. One of the twins “would work herself up until she was inconsolable” looking at photos of the aunt and grandmother who raised her, Ms. Danke said. So she has tucked the photos away for now.
David Pilgrim, vice president of adoption services at the Children’s Home Society, said the agency spends $2 million a year on its Ethiopian facilities.At the main transitional home, on the outskirts of Addis Ababa, a staff of 170 care for about 120 children, ensuring that the children have consistent contact with adults, which experts say mitigates the most damaging psychological effects of institutionalization. During a reporter’s recent visit, the two terra-cotta buildings where the children live, usually for no more than a few months, were spotless, with staff members scurrying to pick up toys and food spills as they hit the floor.The transitional home has a primary school, open also to local students, where the children begin learning English. There is a medical clinic with two full-time doctors and 10 nurses. Down the road is a guest house for adoptive parents, who also can stay in a sleek hotel.
The children also enjoy the services of a “laugh therapist,” Belachu Girma.“These kids come here and are very depressed at first, all with their heads down and not talking,” Mr. Girma said. “I come in and try to help them relax.” There was laughter also at the nearby guest house, more of the nervous kind, as American parents waited to take their children back to St. Paul from the Horn of Africa.
Araminta and Jason Montague, from Atlanta, who picked up 17-month-old Natan last week, compared their experience in Ethiopia to an earlier adoption of a girl from China (where Americans adopted 6,493 children in 2006). “Our daughter was in an orphanage with about 300 children and she was very dehydrated,” Ms. Montague said. “We were never told her origins. Her sheet just said ‘Status: Abandoned.’ ”
Some parents anguished, as did Karla Suomala of Decorah, Iowa, when she arrived in Addis Ababa to adopt 5-year-old Dawit and his 21-month-old sister Meheret. “It’s hard to know what the right thing is to do,” Ms. Suomala said. “Should we just give all the money we’re spending on this to the children’s mother?” Ms. Suomala and her husband, David Vasquez, had already spent time with her.“It was obvious the birth mother loved her children,” Mr. Vasquez said. “She said to us, ‘Thank you for sharing my burden.’ ”
Alessandro Conticini, the head of child protection at Unicef Ethiopia, is one of many who believe that international adoption is a good thing but must be “part of a larger strategy” that focuses on keeping children in their families or communities, with the help of humanitarian organizations.
Indeed, the Ethiopian government has taken the unusual step of requiring foreign agencies to provide social services and document the results. As a result, agencies like Children’s Home Society and Wide Horizons have built schools and medical facilities — including one for HIV-infected children. But Mr. Conticini, of Unicef, worries about the mushrooming number of private adoption companies that “are not properly regulated by the government” because two different ministries are involved and working at cross purposes.
At the State Department, visa applications for children adopted from Ethiopia are getting extra attention, said Catherine M. Barry, deputy assistant secretary for overseas citizens services. “We will very quickly see if patterns are emerging,” she said, “and we will intervene in a timely fashion with anyone doing less than quality work.”
While the governments collaborate to protect a delicate adoption system from the perils of growth, adoptive families arrive each week in Addis Ababa to ease their children into new lives. Last week, these included Mr. Vasquez and Ms. Suomala. While she had no trouble escorting Meheret from the orphanage, Dawit refused to budge, so Mr. Vasquez carried him toward the gate. There, the child grabbed the bars and would not let go. Mr. Vasquez considered prying his hands loose and thought better of it. Instead he told Dawit that it was O.K. to cry.
Jane Gross reported from St. Paul, and Will Connors from Addis Ababa.
I'm no writer, I assure you. Just a woman with a few things on her mind. A mom that makes mistakes, a wife that loves her husband more than words can say and a woman constantly seeing God in the everyday.
Monday, June 04, 2007
Friday, June 01, 2007
Offer!
We got an offer on the house, we got an offer on the house! And it's a GOOD offer. By good I mean we won't be paying anything. We won't be walking away with anything either, but that can be expected for only living in the house for 2 years. What this means is that I'm one step closer to staying with my babes and helping people reach their full physical fitness potential! I love life, I love God, I love everything (but will miss my house). Please, oh please don't let it fall through! Anyway, hope you all have as good as a weekend as I'm going to have!
Zachary
This one won't be near as long because people think I'm lying or exaggerating when I talk about Zach. I just wanted to include a few more pictures and talk about the amazing man who gave me those two beautiful kiddos.
Zach is truly all the things I've written about and more. I couldn't have picked a better husband and I'm just so lucky to be traveling this life with him. I was telling my friend, Shannon, that as a mom I'm always hoping my kids will go above and beyond anything I've accomplished. Be smarter, more athletic, better parents, etc. The one thing I'm not sure they can surpass, though I hope they can meet, is their choice in a life partner. If they find anyone they love half as much as I love their dad, they'll be happily married individuals.
Tonight my betrothed is taking me to an early birthday date. We will go out to eat and to a movie and I'm so excited. It almost feels like when we were first dating! I picked out my clothes (still not too revealing, a girl's got to make the guy work a bit!) and am thinking about little else all day. I love that I still get that way with him. Except for this time we get to come back to a house with two beautiful humans that are a product of our love together, what a blessing! Oh, and we also get to drink legally now which is pretty cool.
So here is to my husband of almost five years. May we always be the best couple we know! Love you hons.
And I also added a picture of all the Frank Klipsch the III's. What you can't see in this picture is the night before. The night before we were celebrating our Papa's awesome honor (an honorary doctorate from St. Ambrose University for being the most kind, generous person this Quad City community has ever seen, well that's what I say, they call it "Public Service"). Anyway, it was on that night when the wine was flowing freely that I commented, and I quote, "We might be the best looking, funniest, smartest, most humble people with the best hearts here." Though I can't speak for myself with the last two, I think we did come close to the rest at least that particular night. Look at that picture and try to disagree with me. :)
Dailah
It's kind of tough to write about Dailah. There's something about being a mom to a little girl. I can't put my finger on it quite yet, but once I find the words I'll be sure to write about it. Anyway, whatever it is, I wouldn't mind having more of it.
Though I've always wanted a little mini-me, it has been brought to my attention Dailah looks like her dad. After much reflection I must admit there are some stark similarities even the most narcissitic of moms couldn't deny. Last night when I was giving Dailah and Trysten a bath, I noticed she had her daddy's darker complexion. This means she will have that beautiful bronzed tone from just being outside for a few minutes. (Needless to say, this also means Trysten will be burned to a crisp in the same short time span, sorry Tman!) She also has his amazing eyes with beautiful long lashes. She has his terrific, perfectly plump, naturally pink lips. She has his build (that is to say, lots of junk in the trunk) and I'm told Zach used to move his hands and feet all the time as she does. She also (thankfully) has his chin that doesn't dip down when she smiles. She also has his sleep schedule. Stay up late, sleep in. Coax me to going to sleep but just try to wake me before I'm ready. They'll take a nap if there's nothing better to do and even then, if they remember while sleeping that they're missing out on life, they'll wake up ready to go.
But she does resemble me a bit anyway. She has all of my thick hair that tangles easily and needs coaxed to come out of knots. She loves laughing and loves her brother. She also has the Dawson nose, thankfully it looks more like my sister's and mom's and less like mine. But I also think she might have my chubby cheeks which I still maintain is much cuter and kissable on her than me! I'll be interested to see who she's more like in personality as she continues to fine tune it.
But so far so she is truly such a delight. Quick to smile and laugh. Never cries, unless she's tired or hungry. She's started to finally do some army crawling. She LOVES standing up and holding on to things and thinks she's the most hilarious person in the world when she does it. Her little body shakes and shutters as she tries to balance and laugh at the same time. She laughs hysterically at dogs and loves Terre's little chihuahua because she can put almost her whole mouth over his entire face. She loves to eat. She'll truly eat anything and never turns away a good Cheerio or teething biscuit. Loves ice cream so much she'll eat it while her mouth becomes numb and she no longer feels when she's eating it until it hits her toungue. She is amazing, beautiful, hilarious and a joy to behold. Just check out the pictures and see for yourself!
Trysten
Last night the kiddos and I treked off to Target to do some much needed grocery shopping and present buying. Since June is a big month for us as far as birthdays and anniversarys go, we had a lot to do. I love going to Target with my kids. Trysten and I share the popcorn combo, talk about our days, what toys he wants, etc. Dailah laughs at everything. Wiggles her hands and feet and grabs at Trysten's hair or my belt. So last night I got an urge to write about each of them in my blog.
I'm afraid Trysten is a lot like me. We've been told we look a lot alike. He has my wide face, smaller stature and my smile. He has my wider nose and my runny nose. He has my freckles and complexion (please God, without the acne!) He has my speed and athletic prowess (okay, he gets that from both sides). We have the same sleep schedule, which is to say, sleep as much as you can whenever you can. We go to bed early and wake up early, take a nap if we can get it. He loves talking (particularly on the phone as of late) and cries at movies.
But he has his daddy's sense of humor and thirst for rough housing. He enjoys his daddy's favorite pastimes like farting and peeing outside. He has his daddy's beautiful eyelashes, thank goodness. He also has the Klipsch legs that go together from hip to knee and then flare out as if having a ball between the calves. Though quite weird, it's amusing to see him and Papa Frank standing next to each other with those very distinct legs!
But above all, what I'm most proud of, he is just a good kid. He is so caring, so thoughtful, so loving. He is kind to people, shares well and his spirit is just so good. Of course he has his bad days and bad moments but he is so genuine and passionate in everything he does. It's truly a sight to behold.
As a purely baby booking mention, he can write all of our names and spell many words by sounding them out. He has also learned to do a handstand and really does it pretty well. He also enjoys sommersaulting and his teachers tell me he is the best colorer in the class. He enjoys counting to 50 (and getting $ from our friend, Dan for doing so!) He also enjoys collecting mommy and daddy's leftover coins and putting them in his Spiderman billfold. Once he has enough, he likes to buy something when we go grocery shopping. Something with only his money that he can put on the counter, have the person ring it up and then handover his money. He loves any figurine that has the potential to kill "bad guys". He sleeps in the lower bunk with a blanket draped over because he gets scared to see the green light blink on the smoke detector. He also likes "Mr. Crab" to sit outside his bedroom to scare off the bad guys. He enjoys helping me clean and especially do laundry.
You saw the soccer pictures but here is another where, it has been argued, I'm holding my look alike and Zach's holding his.
Soccer
So my favorite 4-year-old just finished his first season of soccer. It had its highs and lows but overall we were very proud of him.
I would be lying if I didn't admit that I wanted him to be "that kid". "That kid" that parents were exclaiming, "Test that kid for steroids!" Or even, "Check that kid's birth certificate." Is it too much to ask for something like, "Is that David Beckham's kid?" Alas, we got none of that. Though I do like to think he gave the other parents a good laugh when he would sporadically sit down to help the landscapers pull weeds. He was often found chatting with the ladies or helping an unfortunate soul who fell down. Though my child is not going to win any "best hustle" for his season perhaps he'll win "Mr. Congeniality".
The prize for best stunt pulled by a player has to go to the little girl who decided mid-game that she just HAD to write an entry in her journal. She came to the sidelines and when asked by her daddy what she was doing she stated simply, "Writing in my journal, daddy!"
With that said, I was happy to find even if my son does not have my soccer skills YET, I was still one proud mama. As you'll see by the pictures, he is WAY too cute not to love regardless. The pictures go from a) him actually trying to b) what he was seen doing often: squatting and forcing the coach to encourage him to chase after the ball. Or c) showing his true character and shaking his coach's hand for a season well done.
To sum the season:
Soccer jersey $18
Soccer cleats, ball, new socks, shinguards $50
Seeing my son shake his coach's hand Priceless
Tuesday, May 29, 2007
Random Rumblings
So WHEN is our house going to sell? We keep having these “really good signs” from people who come look through it. They will call for more information, get our hopes up then we don’t hear from them. Or, like the people on Saturday, go through it talking about where they will put their furniture, tell our Realtor they’ll think about it over the weekend and then not call us! (Okay, so it’s only just after the holiday weekend, but still!) Oh how I long to sell the house. It is ironic though, because if Zach wouldn’t have gotten the job that offers us a house, I would NEVER want to sell my house. It’s so beautiful and perfect. Which is why I will never understand why others don’t fall head over heels with it like I do every time I walk in!
I made it. I am now without an appendix AND a gall bladder. Had my gall bladder removed last Wednesday. Apparently the whole procedure only took 11 minutes. Ever the competitor, I asked if that was the record breaker. Much to my dismay, the record stands at 9 minutes. When I follow up with the surgeon on Thursday I will ask why he slacked off on us. I did everything right, the blame lies with him and those slow hands. Alas, he did a wonderful job and though I am still quite sore, I am on the mend. I don’t feel very well today but that could be due to: a) lack of sleep, b) onset of a cold, c) abdomen sensitivity or d) I AM AT WORK. All signs point to (e) all of the above with d) being one of the MAIN reasons.
On a lighter note, went to Chicago this weekend. Though it was a bit rough and in hindsight it might have been better had I just went up Sunday, it was an altogether good time. I’m reminded of all of my blessings after an especially great conversation with my sister-in-law, Kait that lasted until the wee hours of the Monday morn.
Also went to a Cubbies game yesterday. Though the Cubs lost and I got uncomfortable, I saw my aforementioned friend, Derek. It was quite random but it made my soul feel good so we’ll count it as a win according to Tesi.
Went to the Chicago Klipsch’s church on Sunday. It was an awesome sermon and I’m blessed for having heard it. At one point the guy leading worship said he encounters God everyday in the form of his 9-mth-old son. He said it’s awesome to look at his son and just see the unconditional love staring back. He said he thinks that God sometimes says to him, “See, that’s how I love you.” I love the image of God looking at me the way my kids look at me. Their unconditional love is truly a refreshing and rewarding experience.
My goal for this week is to be consciously less negative about the things in my life that are a constant source of my pain (whether physical, emotional, spiritual or what have you). Obviously I’m starting now…at the end of this blog, or rather, after the first two paragraphs of this blog! I’ve always been the kind to try to see God in the every day. The beautiful sun, the much needed hug, etc. But I’ve been riddled with such pessimism lately I haven’t liked looking myself in the mirror. So today is a new day. And as my husband would say, nothing can kill your soul unless you let it. So I say “On guard!” to you who try to steal my soul, I am no longer laying down without a fight.
Oh, and bring on news of adoption! Yeehaw baby doggies!
I made it. I am now without an appendix AND a gall bladder. Had my gall bladder removed last Wednesday. Apparently the whole procedure only took 11 minutes. Ever the competitor, I asked if that was the record breaker. Much to my dismay, the record stands at 9 minutes. When I follow up with the surgeon on Thursday I will ask why he slacked off on us. I did everything right, the blame lies with him and those slow hands. Alas, he did a wonderful job and though I am still quite sore, I am on the mend. I don’t feel very well today but that could be due to: a) lack of sleep, b) onset of a cold, c) abdomen sensitivity or d) I AM AT WORK. All signs point to (e) all of the above with d) being one of the MAIN reasons.
On a lighter note, went to Chicago this weekend. Though it was a bit rough and in hindsight it might have been better had I just went up Sunday, it was an altogether good time. I’m reminded of all of my blessings after an especially great conversation with my sister-in-law, Kait that lasted until the wee hours of the Monday morn.
Also went to a Cubbies game yesterday. Though the Cubs lost and I got uncomfortable, I saw my aforementioned friend, Derek. It was quite random but it made my soul feel good so we’ll count it as a win according to Tesi.
Went to the Chicago Klipsch’s church on Sunday. It was an awesome sermon and I’m blessed for having heard it. At one point the guy leading worship said he encounters God everyday in the form of his 9-mth-old son. He said it’s awesome to look at his son and just see the unconditional love staring back. He said he thinks that God sometimes says to him, “See, that’s how I love you.” I love the image of God looking at me the way my kids look at me. Their unconditional love is truly a refreshing and rewarding experience.
My goal for this week is to be consciously less negative about the things in my life that are a constant source of my pain (whether physical, emotional, spiritual or what have you). Obviously I’m starting now…at the end of this blog, or rather, after the first two paragraphs of this blog! I’ve always been the kind to try to see God in the every day. The beautiful sun, the much needed hug, etc. But I’ve been riddled with such pessimism lately I haven’t liked looking myself in the mirror. So today is a new day. And as my husband would say, nothing can kill your soul unless you let it. So I say “On guard!” to you who try to steal my soul, I am no longer laying down without a fight.
Oh, and bring on news of adoption! Yeehaw baby doggies!
Tuesday, May 22, 2007
Amazing Grace
It’s a really hard position to be in, that of adoption. As the days and weeks creep by I realize that we are moving ever so close to seeing our kids. Though we are still in the very early stages of adoption, the power of my prayers affect me in ways I wasn’t altogether expecting. Every night I pray with the kids the prayer my family said at night together. “Now I lay me…” at the end we always ad lib a little bit. I remember when we were younger praying for our neighbors' dog, Toby, who had died a couple days before. Toby was in our prayers for quite a few months as well. So I always get excited to see who/what Trysten has on his mind when it comes to bedtime prayers. They can truly range anywhere from “My new Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle,” to “People who are cold outside.”
We talk a lot about the adoption in our house. I don’t want the whole thing to blindside anyone and the fact of the matter is, we’re all really excited. But it still surprised me two nights ago when Trysten said, “God, please watch over my brother in Ethiopia, tell him I love him.” I had to hug him so he couldn’t see me cry. I too have found myself praying for that. Since we will probably be adopting at least one child of toddler/preschool age, there is a very good chance he/she is already born. So praying for him/her is not an altogether premature prayer.
But as I was praying last night the magnitude of it all hit me. When I pray for God to watch over my newest children, I’m actually, in essence, praying for something horrific to happen to him/her. Though I also pray for his/her biological family, I have no idea if that means I am praying for them to ascend into heaven when they die or if I’m praying for them to make the impossibly devastating decision to give their child up for a better life. I have no qualms about saying the best-case scenario for our little ones is that they grow up with both of their parents. Happy and healthy, loved and cared for. Unfortunately it’s just not possible sometimes and I will be forever grateful for the sacrifice his/her family is making. A sacrifice I know I’m not strong enough to make. I will forever love and be entwined with people half a world away for blessing my life while simultaneously destroying at least part of theirs. I will forever mourn for them, the devastating scenario that played out in order for us to be a family.
It reminds me of when a friend of mine had his little girl in the PICU at UIHC. The little girl was not doing well and needed a heart transplant. I was pregnant with Trysten at the time and never handled seeing kids in that situation very well anyway, let alone when I was all hormonal. My friend said something that shocked and affected me to my core, “I don’t know how I got here…my prayers have turned into begging for a new heart for my little girl. What that means is I’m actually begging for another 15-month-old child to lose their life so they can give my girl hers.” His little girl ended up dying a few months later. Though I hope I’m never in his exact position, I find myself recognizing his impassioned pleas. To me, mine resemble asking God to save and protect my children too.
In all reality, my children whether they grew in my belly or heart, are His children. So asking Him to watch over my future kids is really about watching over their transition from earthly parents. I truly hope they will grow to realize we are all the kids of a much larger force than our own parents. That though my kids might have different biological parents, we all originated from the same Creator who knit us in the womb the same way. The beauty of this adoption is that my kids will be able to witness firsthand that though they have differences, their very essence stems from the same place. And that is a truly beautiful thing.
This Sunday at church a friend of ours sang, “Amazing Grace.” He’s a blues singer and holds a special place in my heart. When he was singing the words, I was deeply affected by what he was saying. We’ve all heard those words a million times. For the most part I find the old hymns, unless taken on by new arrangements, don’t call to my spirituality the way newer ones do. But this old song hit me on Sunday. Perhaps it was just the place I’m in with regards to everything. But man is His grace good? The fact that I am with a man who feels the same passion to expand our family this way is amazing. To have the kids that I do who not only accept that we are going to be adding to our family in a unique way, but are excited about it and pray for it, it doesn’t get any better. So perhaps instead of praying just for my children who may or may not have been born thousands of miles away, I can just pray for His grace. Because His grace is such a beautiful, powerful thing.
Amazing Grace, how sweet the sound
That saved a wretch like me.
I once was lost, but now am found.
Was blind, but now I see…
T’was Grace that taught
My heart to fear
And Grace my fear relieved.
How precious did that Grace appear
The hour I first believed.
Through many dangers, toils and snares
We have already come.
T’was Grace that brought us safe thus far
And Grace will bring us home.
We talk a lot about the adoption in our house. I don’t want the whole thing to blindside anyone and the fact of the matter is, we’re all really excited. But it still surprised me two nights ago when Trysten said, “God, please watch over my brother in Ethiopia, tell him I love him.” I had to hug him so he couldn’t see me cry. I too have found myself praying for that. Since we will probably be adopting at least one child of toddler/preschool age, there is a very good chance he/she is already born. So praying for him/her is not an altogether premature prayer.
But as I was praying last night the magnitude of it all hit me. When I pray for God to watch over my newest children, I’m actually, in essence, praying for something horrific to happen to him/her. Though I also pray for his/her biological family, I have no idea if that means I am praying for them to ascend into heaven when they die or if I’m praying for them to make the impossibly devastating decision to give their child up for a better life. I have no qualms about saying the best-case scenario for our little ones is that they grow up with both of their parents. Happy and healthy, loved and cared for. Unfortunately it’s just not possible sometimes and I will be forever grateful for the sacrifice his/her family is making. A sacrifice I know I’m not strong enough to make. I will forever love and be entwined with people half a world away for blessing my life while simultaneously destroying at least part of theirs. I will forever mourn for them, the devastating scenario that played out in order for us to be a family.
It reminds me of when a friend of mine had his little girl in the PICU at UIHC. The little girl was not doing well and needed a heart transplant. I was pregnant with Trysten at the time and never handled seeing kids in that situation very well anyway, let alone when I was all hormonal. My friend said something that shocked and affected me to my core, “I don’t know how I got here…my prayers have turned into begging for a new heart for my little girl. What that means is I’m actually begging for another 15-month-old child to lose their life so they can give my girl hers.” His little girl ended up dying a few months later. Though I hope I’m never in his exact position, I find myself recognizing his impassioned pleas. To me, mine resemble asking God to save and protect my children too.
In all reality, my children whether they grew in my belly or heart, are His children. So asking Him to watch over my future kids is really about watching over their transition from earthly parents. I truly hope they will grow to realize we are all the kids of a much larger force than our own parents. That though my kids might have different biological parents, we all originated from the same Creator who knit us in the womb the same way. The beauty of this adoption is that my kids will be able to witness firsthand that though they have differences, their very essence stems from the same place. And that is a truly beautiful thing.
This Sunday at church a friend of ours sang, “Amazing Grace.” He’s a blues singer and holds a special place in my heart. When he was singing the words, I was deeply affected by what he was saying. We’ve all heard those words a million times. For the most part I find the old hymns, unless taken on by new arrangements, don’t call to my spirituality the way newer ones do. But this old song hit me on Sunday. Perhaps it was just the place I’m in with regards to everything. But man is His grace good? The fact that I am with a man who feels the same passion to expand our family this way is amazing. To have the kids that I do who not only accept that we are going to be adding to our family in a unique way, but are excited about it and pray for it, it doesn’t get any better. So perhaps instead of praying just for my children who may or may not have been born thousands of miles away, I can just pray for His grace. Because His grace is such a beautiful, powerful thing.
Amazing Grace, how sweet the sound
That saved a wretch like me.
I once was lost, but now am found.
Was blind, but now I see…
T’was Grace that taught
My heart to fear
And Grace my fear relieved.
How precious did that Grace appear
The hour I first believed.
Through many dangers, toils and snares
We have already come.
T’was Grace that brought us safe thus far
And Grace will bring us home.
Friday, May 18, 2007
Unofficially Accepted
So we are unofficially accepted! Basically what that means is, pending any repulsive criminal past (which doesn’t exist for me and by all intents and purposes SHOULDN’T exist for my betrothed) we are well on our way to bringing home our newest Klipschs. Woohoo!
The letter couldn’t have come at a better time. It was a REALLY rough week at work and seeing that all our hard work at being good people might mean we’re on our way to expanding our family blessed my soul to the innermost spot. I really can’t tell you what it did for me without it sounding at least somewhat Shakespearian. So take my word for it that it saved a part of me from being lost to the depths forever.
On a lighter note, we have obviously been talking about what kind of child/ren we would be open to accepting. As far as we can tell we literally go down a checklist and check things that we would accept in a child (i.e. parasites, scabies, etc) and not accept (whatever that might be). I’d be lying if I didn’t feel even partially bad about that. We are looking at possibly asking for siblings/twins (I just realized I mentioned that rather major revelation in an ambiguous spot so I apologize…on the other side of that, I’ll get to see who really reads this thing!) so from here on out I’ll refer to the children we’re bringing home. ANYWAY, what I started out saying is that with regard to my biological children, I would/ would have accepted absolutely anything they came with. So a part of me feels guilty about NOT checking any spots. I realize it’s about what we can handle and what we wouldn’t want to expose our present children to, but still…doesn’t every child deserve to be loved and can’t even the children with the largest health issues enrich a parent’s life to the utmost? This is all really premature for me to be thinking about, but it still weighs on my mind and my heart.
I don’t know what it says about me but I’m already having problems sleeping. I often wake up and realize I’ve been dreaming of things to do with the adoption. I am one sad cookie. I think I’ve always been good at both looking forward to the future and embracing the present. For instance, I look forward to when Dailah can tell me her stories as her big brother does now but I love that right now she smiles without limits and cries only when she’s tired or hungry. I guess a big part of me wonders what our next kids will be like. It’s easier when you’re pregnant. This is your conception date and this is your due date. You can find out the sex if you so desire. You know they will come out weighing anywhere from (hopefully) 6lbs to 12lbs thus will more than likely fit into the 0-3 month outfits for at least a few days.
It’s not like that with adoption. I have the day we officially sent in the application (5/11) but there is absolutely nothing else I can fill in. We can’t be so specific to say we want a 5mth old and a 3 yr old. Perhaps we could, but then we might be waiting a loooooooooong time for our children. So it’s just an interesting dynamic, one I’m obviously not accustomed to or, judging by how I’ve been acting, prepared to handle.
Anyway, enough rambling. I just want to give our children an idea what I was thinking at this stage. So next step is to get a date for our PAC (pre-adoption classes). Right now that’s looking at Mid July, August or September. They will invite us to one of those when they get all of our paperwork back from the various areas we’ve lived. Though I’m hoping for July, I’m preparing for September.
So thanks for checking in. Hope everyone has a splendid weekend.
The letter couldn’t have come at a better time. It was a REALLY rough week at work and seeing that all our hard work at being good people might mean we’re on our way to expanding our family blessed my soul to the innermost spot. I really can’t tell you what it did for me without it sounding at least somewhat Shakespearian. So take my word for it that it saved a part of me from being lost to the depths forever.
On a lighter note, we have obviously been talking about what kind of child/ren we would be open to accepting. As far as we can tell we literally go down a checklist and check things that we would accept in a child (i.e. parasites, scabies, etc) and not accept (whatever that might be). I’d be lying if I didn’t feel even partially bad about that. We are looking at possibly asking for siblings/twins (I just realized I mentioned that rather major revelation in an ambiguous spot so I apologize…on the other side of that, I’ll get to see who really reads this thing!) so from here on out I’ll refer to the children we’re bringing home. ANYWAY, what I started out saying is that with regard to my biological children, I would/ would have accepted absolutely anything they came with. So a part of me feels guilty about NOT checking any spots. I realize it’s about what we can handle and what we wouldn’t want to expose our present children to, but still…doesn’t every child deserve to be loved and can’t even the children with the largest health issues enrich a parent’s life to the utmost? This is all really premature for me to be thinking about, but it still weighs on my mind and my heart.
I don’t know what it says about me but I’m already having problems sleeping. I often wake up and realize I’ve been dreaming of things to do with the adoption. I am one sad cookie. I think I’ve always been good at both looking forward to the future and embracing the present. For instance, I look forward to when Dailah can tell me her stories as her big brother does now but I love that right now she smiles without limits and cries only when she’s tired or hungry. I guess a big part of me wonders what our next kids will be like. It’s easier when you’re pregnant. This is your conception date and this is your due date. You can find out the sex if you so desire. You know they will come out weighing anywhere from (hopefully) 6lbs to 12lbs thus will more than likely fit into the 0-3 month outfits for at least a few days.
It’s not like that with adoption. I have the day we officially sent in the application (5/11) but there is absolutely nothing else I can fill in. We can’t be so specific to say we want a 5mth old and a 3 yr old. Perhaps we could, but then we might be waiting a loooooooooong time for our children. So it’s just an interesting dynamic, one I’m obviously not accustomed to or, judging by how I’ve been acting, prepared to handle.
Anyway, enough rambling. I just want to give our children an idea what I was thinking at this stage. So next step is to get a date for our PAC (pre-adoption classes). Right now that’s looking at Mid July, August or September. They will invite us to one of those when they get all of our paperwork back from the various areas we’ve lived. Though I’m hoping for July, I’m preparing for September.
So thanks for checking in. Hope everyone has a splendid weekend.
Wednesday, May 16, 2007
Books!
While waiting to hear if our application is approved, I’ve been doing some reading. For those who know me, know this is not in itself an extraordinary event. However, the rate in which I’ve been going through books is absolutely astounding! On the forum I frequent one mom wrote a list of books that are recommended reading for adoptive parents. Here is the list:
I’m Chocolate, You’re Vanilla
My Father’s Daughter
Why Are All the Black Kids Sitting Together in the Cafeteria?
Black Baby, White Hands
The Language of Blood (presently reading)
Outsiders Within
Beyond Good Intentions
Weaving a Family: Untangling Race (on hold at the library)
Love in the Driest Season
Toddler Adoption: The Weavers Craft
Does Anybody Else Look Like Me? A Parents Guide to Raising Multiracial Children (on hold at the library)
These books range from memoirs to PhD material. The bold ones are ones already read (keep in mind I just got the list in late April and each one contains at least 200 pages). To say I’m excited would be an understatement.
Another funny bit that happened because of the adoption; Trysten had his preschool physical last Friday. Our doctor was talking about when Trysten was going to go to kindergarten, etc. As Trysten sat putting puzzles together, the doc and I were just watching in amazement how he was doing. I’m not just saying this; my kid is a genius!
Trysten has really taken a liking to reading. He’s constantly wanting to be read to and constantly wanting to spell words. He does recognize a few fairly common words already, and can write his name with ease. So it came as no surprise to me when he saw the physical forms for the adoption and said, “Look mom, it says Ethiopia!” Doctor Miller had just been saying it’s quite remarkable that a kid his age is recognizing words and I tried downplaying it (being the obvious humble person I am) by saying, “Well yes, he does, but they are common words.” He then said, “Since when is ‘Ethiopia’ a common word?” In my moment of motherly pride, I didn’t want to admit that we had MANY coffee table books about Ethiopia sprawled throughout our house.
Either way, I’m so proud to have both my kids! And even more excited to bring more in whom, I’m sure, will be equally as genius, loving, hilarious, beautiful and bright!
I’m Chocolate, You’re Vanilla
My Father’s Daughter
Why Are All the Black Kids Sitting Together in the Cafeteria?
Black Baby, White Hands
The Language of Blood (presently reading)
Outsiders Within
Beyond Good Intentions
Weaving a Family: Untangling Race (on hold at the library)
Love in the Driest Season
Toddler Adoption: The Weavers Craft
Does Anybody Else Look Like Me? A Parents Guide to Raising Multiracial Children (on hold at the library)
These books range from memoirs to PhD material. The bold ones are ones already read (keep in mind I just got the list in late April and each one contains at least 200 pages). To say I’m excited would be an understatement.
Another funny bit that happened because of the adoption; Trysten had his preschool physical last Friday. Our doctor was talking about when Trysten was going to go to kindergarten, etc. As Trysten sat putting puzzles together, the doc and I were just watching in amazement how he was doing. I’m not just saying this; my kid is a genius!
Trysten has really taken a liking to reading. He’s constantly wanting to be read to and constantly wanting to spell words. He does recognize a few fairly common words already, and can write his name with ease. So it came as no surprise to me when he saw the physical forms for the adoption and said, “Look mom, it says Ethiopia!” Doctor Miller had just been saying it’s quite remarkable that a kid his age is recognizing words and I tried downplaying it (being the obvious humble person I am) by saying, “Well yes, he does, but they are common words.” He then said, “Since when is ‘Ethiopia’ a common word?” In my moment of motherly pride, I didn’t want to admit that we had MANY coffee table books about Ethiopia sprawled throughout our house.
Either way, I’m so proud to have both my kids! And even more excited to bring more in whom, I’m sure, will be equally as genius, loving, hilarious, beautiful and bright!
Friday, May 11, 2007
Application Sent!
I just put the application in the mail! Though that doesn't seem like a huge step, it took just about 4 weeks to complete with all the paperwork, notary, etc. I had it all copied in case something happens to it and we have to do it all over again! Anyway, I hope to have the application approved by mid-week next week. Then we can start on the homestudy and classwork. Will update everyone when it's approved. Have a great weekend and Mother's Day!
Thursday, May 10, 2007
Happy Mother's Day
I realize I wasn’t going to write anything more until we turned in our application, but then I started thinking about moms and had to write something as I realized I did an ode to dads previously but not moms. That’s crazy!
I find myself these days talking a lot like my mom. Trysten was following me out the door today and he started singing, “Let’s go tally ho, I say let’s go tally ho.” As most people know, I tend to make up songs, words, etc. It’s a fun game I do and I’ve been impressed with my son’s ability as well. But when I heard him sing that song I remember singing when I was young, I was struck by how much like my mom I am. I definitely still see differences between us. But I’ve heard we look alike, we sound alike, we laugh alike, and we sneeze alike. We’re both outgoing people and no one is ever surprised if we enter a room as a stranger and leave with four new friends. We have lots of love to give to both young and old and we both have little patience when technological items aren’t working with us. We laugh and cry at the drop of a hat. It’s pretty amazing, really, how alike we are.
But even if we weren’t so much alike, I think there will always be a part of me who would at least try to be. She is the most amazing mom EVER. My childhood memories of her are so wonderful. In those memories she’s always laughing, always singing, always smiling. She was a working mom but made sure to make us dinner every night (including most weekends). Zach is forever impressed with that fact, as my siblings and I were involved with four sports (at least) throughout our lives. She made us a priority and I will always love her for that. She (with my dad) nurtured us into the amazing people (if I do say so myself) we are today. We are an extremely tight knit family because of her leadership in our family. I’m finding it hard to express just how wonderful, beautiful, hilarious, caring and loving she is in just one little blog. Suffice it to say I truly hope I can be half the mom she is to my kids.
Then there’s my other mom, Ms. Terre Klipsch. Tkladynred or “ruby” as some might call her. To her I will forever be grateful for not only giving birth to the most amazing husband in the world, but also for being there for me in a way not seen in most mother-in-laws. Anyone who has ever had a meaningful conversation with one of the “original” Klipschs knows they are bright, hilarious, confident, loving, and did I say hilarious? There is literally not a day that goes by that I don’t wonder how Frank and Terre were able to create these four amazing humans I get to call my brothers and sisters. In Zach I see Terre’s humor, love of animals, intelligence, beautiful eyes (though to be fair, Frank helped in that one too) and a heart that will go out to anyone and everyone. She too has had a hand in raising me to be a better woman, wife, mother and pet owner. She is absolutely amazing and I thank God that He provided me with a husband that came with the whole wonderful family.
I’d be remiss not to mention my sister (in-law), Leslie. What an amazing woman. She has blessed me with two nephews now. Oliver and Elihu are beautiful beyond belief. Her patience, love, beauty and kindness are something I both admire and aspire to be. Through the five years we’ve been sisters, I’ve watched her go from a beautiful, strong single woman, to a beautiful strong married woman to an even more beautiful, even stronger mom. With her mom, grandma and aunts as guidance, she grew up knowing what it felt like to have an amazing connection with women and I will be forever grateful to them for teaching her how to love unconditionally.
And then there are the mothers I constantly seek guidance from. Other moms who had huge parts in creating this Tesi that lives and breathes today: Grandma Matthias, Grandma Dawson, Kathy Dawson, Barb Matthias, Glenda Klass, Diane Matthias, Susan Matthias, Anne Lohmeier and Debbie Taylor. Happy Mother’s Day to you all, I love you and thank you for providing me with this life I have done nothing to deserve.
I find myself these days talking a lot like my mom. Trysten was following me out the door today and he started singing, “Let’s go tally ho, I say let’s go tally ho.” As most people know, I tend to make up songs, words, etc. It’s a fun game I do and I’ve been impressed with my son’s ability as well. But when I heard him sing that song I remember singing when I was young, I was struck by how much like my mom I am. I definitely still see differences between us. But I’ve heard we look alike, we sound alike, we laugh alike, and we sneeze alike. We’re both outgoing people and no one is ever surprised if we enter a room as a stranger and leave with four new friends. We have lots of love to give to both young and old and we both have little patience when technological items aren’t working with us. We laugh and cry at the drop of a hat. It’s pretty amazing, really, how alike we are.
But even if we weren’t so much alike, I think there will always be a part of me who would at least try to be. She is the most amazing mom EVER. My childhood memories of her are so wonderful. In those memories she’s always laughing, always singing, always smiling. She was a working mom but made sure to make us dinner every night (including most weekends). Zach is forever impressed with that fact, as my siblings and I were involved with four sports (at least) throughout our lives. She made us a priority and I will always love her for that. She (with my dad) nurtured us into the amazing people (if I do say so myself) we are today. We are an extremely tight knit family because of her leadership in our family. I’m finding it hard to express just how wonderful, beautiful, hilarious, caring and loving she is in just one little blog. Suffice it to say I truly hope I can be half the mom she is to my kids.
Then there’s my other mom, Ms. Terre Klipsch. Tkladynred or “ruby” as some might call her. To her I will forever be grateful for not only giving birth to the most amazing husband in the world, but also for being there for me in a way not seen in most mother-in-laws. Anyone who has ever had a meaningful conversation with one of the “original” Klipschs knows they are bright, hilarious, confident, loving, and did I say hilarious? There is literally not a day that goes by that I don’t wonder how Frank and Terre were able to create these four amazing humans I get to call my brothers and sisters. In Zach I see Terre’s humor, love of animals, intelligence, beautiful eyes (though to be fair, Frank helped in that one too) and a heart that will go out to anyone and everyone. She too has had a hand in raising me to be a better woman, wife, mother and pet owner. She is absolutely amazing and I thank God that He provided me with a husband that came with the whole wonderful family.
I’d be remiss not to mention my sister (in-law), Leslie. What an amazing woman. She has blessed me with two nephews now. Oliver and Elihu are beautiful beyond belief. Her patience, love, beauty and kindness are something I both admire and aspire to be. Through the five years we’ve been sisters, I’ve watched her go from a beautiful, strong single woman, to a beautiful strong married woman to an even more beautiful, even stronger mom. With her mom, grandma and aunts as guidance, she grew up knowing what it felt like to have an amazing connection with women and I will be forever grateful to them for teaching her how to love unconditionally.
And then there are the mothers I constantly seek guidance from. Other moms who had huge parts in creating this Tesi that lives and breathes today: Grandma Matthias, Grandma Dawson, Kathy Dawson, Barb Matthias, Glenda Klass, Diane Matthias, Susan Matthias, Anne Lohmeier and Debbie Taylor. Happy Mother’s Day to you all, I love you and thank you for providing me with this life I have done nothing to deserve.
Tuesday, May 08, 2007
No Words
Well, we finally have all three referrences sent and filed away. Our referrences were asked to send them straight to the adoption agency and I asked for a copy for us (not only for our records and baby book, but also to send to the agency in case they misplaced the originals!). I must say we have the most amazing friends in the world. I have read two of them so far and have cried while reading both of them. It's such an honor to have friends like those! I can't believe our blessings!
So this means we are just waiting for our physicals to get done! Dailah's and mine are tomorrow but I'm also hoping Zachary can squeeze his in too. Trysten needs his full preschool one so that is scheduled for Friday. After that, we just have to take a family picture and then send it along! My goal is to have the application mailed by Monday. I'm just too excited!
On Saturday we met with my sister-in-law, Leslie's aunt, Joan. Joan adopted from Ethiopia about four years ago. Stephen is such a beautiful boy! He was adopted around the age of 2 and is now six. It was awesome to hear Joan's experience and see Stephen and Trysten playing. Gave a glimpse of a potential near future for us! I can't get over how wonderful all of Leslie's family is. We took a break from adoption talk and Joan, being the gracious host she is says, "Leslie told me you like pie Tesi, would you like a piece." And proceeded to cut into a freshly baked pie that tasted a bit like heaven with crust. So with that said, I'm looking forward to meeting more and more people who have adopted before us, especially if they are as nice as Joan (and wouldn't hurt if they were good bakers too!)
A lot going on in our lives anyway! Tomorrow is Zach's last day at the Scouts. He's really going to miss working with the people there. He starts at camp on Thursday already! Our house at camp is under construction. Jerry, our contractor, is a true blessing in himself. Can't get over our good fortune having him work on it! Then found out this morning the reason for my abdomen pain is because my gall bladder is not working! This means surgery for me on the 23rd. On top of that, selling our house! WOW....what a transitional time for us!
Zach had to work last night so I was with the kiddos by myself. I truly can't remember the last time I went to bed and didn't reflect on my life and want to pinch myself. I have the most amazing husband in the entire world. He is so loving, kind, hilarious, beautiful beyond belief and such a fantastic daddy. Then my two kids. Where do I begin? Thinking about the future...picturing us adding to our family. Whatever our new child/ren bring us, I know we will be blessed to have them. This adoption is not about giving a child a loving home in which he/she deserves (though I certainly hope that is one result). It's about expanding our blessings too. God is good!
Anyway, thanks for checking in. Hopefully next post will be the announcement that we have sent in our application and are awaiting homestudy dates! Love to all.
So this means we are just waiting for our physicals to get done! Dailah's and mine are tomorrow but I'm also hoping Zachary can squeeze his in too. Trysten needs his full preschool one so that is scheduled for Friday. After that, we just have to take a family picture and then send it along! My goal is to have the application mailed by Monday. I'm just too excited!
On Saturday we met with my sister-in-law, Leslie's aunt, Joan. Joan adopted from Ethiopia about four years ago. Stephen is such a beautiful boy! He was adopted around the age of 2 and is now six. It was awesome to hear Joan's experience and see Stephen and Trysten playing. Gave a glimpse of a potential near future for us! I can't get over how wonderful all of Leslie's family is. We took a break from adoption talk and Joan, being the gracious host she is says, "Leslie told me you like pie Tesi, would you like a piece." And proceeded to cut into a freshly baked pie that tasted a bit like heaven with crust. So with that said, I'm looking forward to meeting more and more people who have adopted before us, especially if they are as nice as Joan (and wouldn't hurt if they were good bakers too!)
A lot going on in our lives anyway! Tomorrow is Zach's last day at the Scouts. He's really going to miss working with the people there. He starts at camp on Thursday already! Our house at camp is under construction. Jerry, our contractor, is a true blessing in himself. Can't get over our good fortune having him work on it! Then found out this morning the reason for my abdomen pain is because my gall bladder is not working! This means surgery for me on the 23rd. On top of that, selling our house! WOW....what a transitional time for us!
Zach had to work last night so I was with the kiddos by myself. I truly can't remember the last time I went to bed and didn't reflect on my life and want to pinch myself. I have the most amazing husband in the entire world. He is so loving, kind, hilarious, beautiful beyond belief and such a fantastic daddy. Then my two kids. Where do I begin? Thinking about the future...picturing us adding to our family. Whatever our new child/ren bring us, I know we will be blessed to have them. This adoption is not about giving a child a loving home in which he/she deserves (though I certainly hope that is one result). It's about expanding our blessings too. God is good!
Anyway, thanks for checking in. Hopefully next post will be the announcement that we have sent in our application and are awaiting homestudy dates! Love to all.
Thursday, May 03, 2007
Quick Link
For those of you wanting to know what our agency's care center looks like (or pictures of Ethiopia) below is a link from one of my forum friends. She traveled to pick up her little one and made the pictures available for us all. It was awhile ago and they've since built a new lodging house for when we travel to pick up our newest Klipsch but if you're bored and want to see some pretty amazing pictures and adorable Ethiopian kids....this place is for you!
http://www.kodakgallery.com/remde/main/ethiopia_trip
We're still just waiting on our references to finish their letters and our physicals to be completely done. I'm optimistically thinking we'll have the application sent in by May 10th. Keep your fingers crossed!
http://www.kodakgallery.com/remde/main/ethiopia_trip
We're still just waiting on our references to finish their letters and our physicals to be completely done. I'm optimistically thinking we'll have the application sent in by May 10th. Keep your fingers crossed!
Tuesday, May 01, 2007
Where God Leads...
So one of the main questions we get about adoption is, “isn’t that expensive”? I find this so fascinating because there are very few things in this life that people feel free enough to ask that question. We tend to view anything dealing with money/financials as extremely personal, something to keep close to the chest. People don’t ask it for other things that might be expensive AND dangerous, thus needing to point out major drawbacks of the deal (i.e. isn’t doing crack expensive?) Adoption, in short, is VERY expensive. In fact, I’m sure it’s one of the main reasons that deter people from taking the big leap and actually adopting, which is ultimately really depressing.
It comes down to a few things for Zach and myself. One, we truly feel led by God (as noticed in previous post) and thus believe where He is leading, He will provide. Now, even though we believe this, it doesn’t mean we’re just going to sit by, fill out the paperwork and expect a check to literally drop out of the sky. We know we have to work hard and come up with alternative ways of making that money appear. It is amazing though, because if there was one thing that has been a common thread throughout my and Zach’s marriage, it has been that He has provided. Not even necessarily financially, those most definitely that way too. Thus, even though we are feeling quite nervous and stressed about the financial aspects of adoption, we truly hope we will be able to see God’s love in abundance continue to happen.
Secondly, it occurred to me when Zach and I were talking about it all once, that we didn’t think twice about buying new cars or buying our new homes. I mean, we went out, did all the research, etc, but we ended up buying those things without too much thought (looking back perhaps it would have been wise to put in a bit more reflection). So the fact that we could buy something that is really so trivial but would possibly NOT adopt for that same reason seemed silly to us. Truth: we could buy a fairly nice, new vehicle with what we’re going to pay for the adoption. Truth: we are getting a CHILD who was left orphaned by things out of his/her control by that same amount of money. The expense, as noticed, seems well worth it!
Third, I truly believe so many people in this world fall victim to wanting to live in the world of riches (Zach and I have felt this as well). You want the big house, the two nice cars, great jobs, dinners out, extravagant vacations, etc. Now, I’m not saying those who all of that are heathens by any means, I’m merely saying Zach and I have come to find out the hard way that that life is not going to make you happy in and of itself. A life outside of worldly possessions and inside a life of God, family and friends is an altogether better, more comfy place to be. We KNOW how hard it’s going to be financially before/during/after the adoption but we also know our family is ready to take on that “burden” if it means giving a child a warm and loving home.
So with all that said, we have ideas on how exactly we’re going to do it. I have a feeling it will test our creativity like it hasn’t been tested in a long time! We know for sure once we sell our house, I’ll stay working at Estes for a while and save my entire salary and use it towards the adoption. I’m also interested in getting anyone and everyone who might want to come, to come out to Camp once we live out there and celebrate a traditional Ethiopian meal with us. I also really want to offer quilt blocks to anyone who might be interested in hopes that we would get enough takers that my fabulous mother-in-law could quilt it all together so we can send it on to our child as soon as we know who it is!
These are just a few ideas. We’ve heard some great ones through the awesome place that is the online forum for our adoption agency. It’s just amazing how He provides. By an unbelievably generous gift from a certain couple of our family members, we will be able to take the next step in the adoption paperwork. Because God is leading us, He too led them and I can’t thank either of them enough. What a beautiful, beautiful love! Thanks for checking in.
It comes down to a few things for Zach and myself. One, we truly feel led by God (as noticed in previous post) and thus believe where He is leading, He will provide. Now, even though we believe this, it doesn’t mean we’re just going to sit by, fill out the paperwork and expect a check to literally drop out of the sky. We know we have to work hard and come up with alternative ways of making that money appear. It is amazing though, because if there was one thing that has been a common thread throughout my and Zach’s marriage, it has been that He has provided. Not even necessarily financially, those most definitely that way too. Thus, even though we are feeling quite nervous and stressed about the financial aspects of adoption, we truly hope we will be able to see God’s love in abundance continue to happen.
Secondly, it occurred to me when Zach and I were talking about it all once, that we didn’t think twice about buying new cars or buying our new homes. I mean, we went out, did all the research, etc, but we ended up buying those things without too much thought (looking back perhaps it would have been wise to put in a bit more reflection). So the fact that we could buy something that is really so trivial but would possibly NOT adopt for that same reason seemed silly to us. Truth: we could buy a fairly nice, new vehicle with what we’re going to pay for the adoption. Truth: we are getting a CHILD who was left orphaned by things out of his/her control by that same amount of money. The expense, as noticed, seems well worth it!
Third, I truly believe so many people in this world fall victim to wanting to live in the world of riches (Zach and I have felt this as well). You want the big house, the two nice cars, great jobs, dinners out, extravagant vacations, etc. Now, I’m not saying those who all of that are heathens by any means, I’m merely saying Zach and I have come to find out the hard way that that life is not going to make you happy in and of itself. A life outside of worldly possessions and inside a life of God, family and friends is an altogether better, more comfy place to be. We KNOW how hard it’s going to be financially before/during/after the adoption but we also know our family is ready to take on that “burden” if it means giving a child a warm and loving home.
So with all that said, we have ideas on how exactly we’re going to do it. I have a feeling it will test our creativity like it hasn’t been tested in a long time! We know for sure once we sell our house, I’ll stay working at Estes for a while and save my entire salary and use it towards the adoption. I’m also interested in getting anyone and everyone who might want to come, to come out to Camp once we live out there and celebrate a traditional Ethiopian meal with us. I also really want to offer quilt blocks to anyone who might be interested in hopes that we would get enough takers that my fabulous mother-in-law could quilt it all together so we can send it on to our child as soon as we know who it is!
These are just a few ideas. We’ve heard some great ones through the awesome place that is the online forum for our adoption agency. It’s just amazing how He provides. By an unbelievably generous gift from a certain couple of our family members, we will be able to take the next step in the adoption paperwork. Because God is leading us, He too led them and I can’t thank either of them enough. What a beautiful, beautiful love! Thanks for checking in.
Monday, April 30, 2007
The Process
So after my last blog I’ve gotten such overwhelmingly positive feedback I must make a public statement showing my gratitude. So thank you, to everyone, who has shown such awesome support for our new journey! With that great response, came a lot of questions about the adoption process so I thought this blog I could devote to sharing with you the general process. As always, I’ll keep you up to date with where we are!
As said in the last blog, we have officially registered with our agency, CHSFS. Because we live in Iowa, they are able to be both our local agency and our international agency. I chose this because there would be a seamless handoff from one to the other and will hopefully minimize any confusions, etc. So once our registration was accepted, they sent us our official application packet. This packet is about 30 pages long and includes mostly questions about us. It also has many places for our signatures so they can retrieve all of our personal and public records. On top of that, we need physicals from our physician for all and three personal references. Our references, Dan and Becky Asleson, Greg and Emily Ball and Cheryl Goodwin, are writing what I’m sure are beautiful letters on why we would be good parents to another child/more children. So once all of that is completed, we send it in, with our first payment. (Note: we are now just waiting for all of our physicals and references and then we’ll be done)
After our application is accepted, we will go through an adoption course. This course is based out of St. Paul but as I understand we’ll be able to take it online as well. Anyway, they will go over such topics as transracial and transcultural adoption, adopting siblings, other siblings in the house, etc. After this course, we will have homework that will become part of our homestudy.
After the course, we enter into our homestudy (or adoption study). This includes 2-3 visits with a social worker. One of which will be in her office in Cedar Rapids and at least one other will be in our home. The basic reason for these is to get an in-depth look at our childhood, marriage, parenting skills, etc. The one in our house will be so she can look at all the childproofing measures we’ve taken, etc. At the end of the homestudy, the social worker will write a recommendation as to how good we will be as well as how many children we are qualified to take at that point. This does not mean how many we will be given, but she will give the max number we are allowed to ask for. (Note: we have to wait for our homestudy until we are in the new camp house).
While the homestudy is taking place, we can begin to get some of our paperwork ready for what is called the dossier. The dossier is a HUGE packet of information that will eventually be translated and sent to Ethiopia. So we will be busy getting fingerprinted and getting lots of government paperwork signed and translated. Apparently this is a long and tedious process but can take anywhere from a couple days to a couple months depending on how hard you want to work. (For those who know me, you know there is a good chance I’ll be working to get the record time in dossier submission). J After the dossier paperwork is in working order and we have an approved homestudy, we send it on to our agency that approves it and sends it on to Ethiopia. Once Ethiopia officially accepts it, we are officially waiting for a referral.
A referral is basically at least one picture and all the background information possible on your child. They tell you to expect anywhere from 4-9 months for a referral. Because at this time we are thinking of a toddler in between Trysten and Dailah or a young sibling group, it appears referrals come a bit faster as those are the ones who are least likely to be requested. Once our referral comes in, we have one week to consult with our doctor as well as a doctor who specializes in international adoption to make sure that the health history looks great. We can accept or decline the referral anytime within that week.
Once the referral is accepted, we are officially waiting for a travel date which they say takes anywhere from 8-12 weeks. What is going on in the meantime is basically all of our paperwork going through the Ethiopian courts again, but this time referring to this particular child.
Once we get our travel date, we’re off! We stay in Ethiopia for about a week. During that time, we are allowed to either stay in a hotel or in the care center’s lodging (which we will do because it’s free and from what we’ve heard/seen, beautiful!) Our child will be ours as soon as we hit the soil so we can keep them in our room with us or gradually work into bringing them to stay with us over the week (which they recommend with toddlers). At some point in that week, we are invited to travel south to meet any birth relatives of our child. This may include one or both of the parents but more than likely it is the grandparents, aunt and uncles, etc. It will also include a going away party at the care center for our little one the last night we’re there.
Once home, the child is ours in the States as well, we just have to sign an official paper for Iowa once we get here!
So we’re really excited. I’m having problems cooperating with the slow nature of the process and being so reliant on others. I tend to appreciate control with these kinds of matters! Anyway, I’ll let you know once we send in our application since that will be the next step. We appreciate all of your thoughts and prayers throughout this! Thanks for checking in.
As said in the last blog, we have officially registered with our agency, CHSFS. Because we live in Iowa, they are able to be both our local agency and our international agency. I chose this because there would be a seamless handoff from one to the other and will hopefully minimize any confusions, etc. So once our registration was accepted, they sent us our official application packet. This packet is about 30 pages long and includes mostly questions about us. It also has many places for our signatures so they can retrieve all of our personal and public records. On top of that, we need physicals from our physician for all and three personal references. Our references, Dan and Becky Asleson, Greg and Emily Ball and Cheryl Goodwin, are writing what I’m sure are beautiful letters on why we would be good parents to another child/more children. So once all of that is completed, we send it in, with our first payment. (Note: we are now just waiting for all of our physicals and references and then we’ll be done)
After our application is accepted, we will go through an adoption course. This course is based out of St. Paul but as I understand we’ll be able to take it online as well. Anyway, they will go over such topics as transracial and transcultural adoption, adopting siblings, other siblings in the house, etc. After this course, we will have homework that will become part of our homestudy.
After the course, we enter into our homestudy (or adoption study). This includes 2-3 visits with a social worker. One of which will be in her office in Cedar Rapids and at least one other will be in our home. The basic reason for these is to get an in-depth look at our childhood, marriage, parenting skills, etc. The one in our house will be so she can look at all the childproofing measures we’ve taken, etc. At the end of the homestudy, the social worker will write a recommendation as to how good we will be as well as how many children we are qualified to take at that point. This does not mean how many we will be given, but she will give the max number we are allowed to ask for. (Note: we have to wait for our homestudy until we are in the new camp house).
While the homestudy is taking place, we can begin to get some of our paperwork ready for what is called the dossier. The dossier is a HUGE packet of information that will eventually be translated and sent to Ethiopia. So we will be busy getting fingerprinted and getting lots of government paperwork signed and translated. Apparently this is a long and tedious process but can take anywhere from a couple days to a couple months depending on how hard you want to work. (For those who know me, you know there is a good chance I’ll be working to get the record time in dossier submission). J After the dossier paperwork is in working order and we have an approved homestudy, we send it on to our agency that approves it and sends it on to Ethiopia. Once Ethiopia officially accepts it, we are officially waiting for a referral.
A referral is basically at least one picture and all the background information possible on your child. They tell you to expect anywhere from 4-9 months for a referral. Because at this time we are thinking of a toddler in between Trysten and Dailah or a young sibling group, it appears referrals come a bit faster as those are the ones who are least likely to be requested. Once our referral comes in, we have one week to consult with our doctor as well as a doctor who specializes in international adoption to make sure that the health history looks great. We can accept or decline the referral anytime within that week.
Once the referral is accepted, we are officially waiting for a travel date which they say takes anywhere from 8-12 weeks. What is going on in the meantime is basically all of our paperwork going through the Ethiopian courts again, but this time referring to this particular child.
Once we get our travel date, we’re off! We stay in Ethiopia for about a week. During that time, we are allowed to either stay in a hotel or in the care center’s lodging (which we will do because it’s free and from what we’ve heard/seen, beautiful!) Our child will be ours as soon as we hit the soil so we can keep them in our room with us or gradually work into bringing them to stay with us over the week (which they recommend with toddlers). At some point in that week, we are invited to travel south to meet any birth relatives of our child. This may include one or both of the parents but more than likely it is the grandparents, aunt and uncles, etc. It will also include a going away party at the care center for our little one the last night we’re there.
Once home, the child is ours in the States as well, we just have to sign an official paper for Iowa once we get here!
So we’re really excited. I’m having problems cooperating with the slow nature of the process and being so reliant on others. I tend to appreciate control with these kinds of matters! Anyway, I’ll let you know once we send in our application since that will be the next step. We appreciate all of your thoughts and prayers throughout this! Thanks for checking in.
Wednesday, April 18, 2007
A Journey of the Heart
So it’s “semi”-official. Zach, myself, Trysten and Dailah have decided to follow God’s lead and adopt. I turned in the registration today to what appears to be a wonderful adoption agency (AA) called Children’s Home Society and Family Services (CHSFS). So I am devoting this blog to share with you why we (myself specifically) chose this route of parenting, though I truly believe it is a personal decision, I am happy to share the news and offer our very personal reasoning.
About Zach and my third date we were in the local bookstore when we talked about parenting. At this point we were very smitten with each other so it was more a “feeling out” conversation, but there were hints that we were each looking at the other as a possible father/mother to our future children. When the topic came up I specifically remember telling him I’ve always felt a heart for adoption. Imagine my surprise when he said he too felt like it was something he wanted to look into, whether or not he had biological children.
Fast forward to May 30th, 2005. As noted in previous blogs, I was 10 weeks pregnant with what would be our second child. That night in the hospital, alone, an angel visited me. Though I don’t typically buy into those sorts of things, or rather, I didn’t until then, I saw her (I say “her”, though I can’t tell if that’s because she was anatomically a girl or more like she felt like I was familiar with her spirit, familiar in the very girl sense of the word). Anyway, when I asked her if she was taking my baby, she said “yes”. When I asked her (again, I don’t remember actually asking her, we were just looking at each other and having a very real conversation without moving our lips) if she was there to take me, she said “ not yet”. It’s taken me a few years (could it really have been that long) of playing that scene out over and over again. Of picturing her face and the calmness she created by being there. But after years of reflecting and searching my very own definition of spirituality, I’ve come to realize she didn’t take me with her because God is not done using me yet.
Which leads me to our present circumstance. For the last two years I too have fought with God. I’ve lost sight of Him, ignored the things He’s called me to do sometimes, and listened whole-heartedly other times. He’s brought my family into the most amazing life presently. After we had Dailah, both Zach and I said we were already ready for another child. Even after saying that, a huge part of me knew I meant something entirely different than what most people think of when I say, “having another child”. See, I’ve always been a very empathetic person. If I see a person crying on the street, it’s typically a matter of minutes until my tear ducts are poring over. If I see a child hurting, or read about it in the newspaper, I don’t just “feel bad” for them. I literally FEEL bad. I put myself there. I am the one being beaten, raped, what have you and want to do anything in my power to take that hurt from a stranger I will undoubtedly never know. So all of this makes sense why God led me to a specific passage in the Bible repeatedly over the last two years since we’ve seriously considered adopting. “Lord, you know the hopes of the helpless. Surely you will listen to their cries and comfort them. You bring justice to the orphans and the oppressed, so people can no longer terrify them.” (Ps 10.17-18) And perhaps even more specifically, “And that’s the way it was with us before Christ came. We were slaves (orphans) to the spiritual powers of the world. But when the right time came, God sent his Son, born of a woman, subject to the law. God sent him to buy freedom for us who were slaves (orphans) to the law, so that he could ADOPT us as his very own children. And because you Gentiles have become his children, God has sent the Spirit of his Son into your hearts, and now you can call God your dear Father. Now you are no longer a slave (orphan) but God’s own child. And since you are his child, everything he has belongs to you.” (Gal 4 3-7).
Because of these specific Bible passages (and many more, ask me and I’ll point you to at least 50) I believe those who have a heart for adoption are being called to do so. Throughout the Bible, God has a special place for orphans, so too have I. Throughout the last months; I have felt God calling me (sometimes forcing me) to pursue adoption even more wholeheartedly. To not let my own hesitancies stand in the way of what He knows is my path, why He kept me when He took my baby. This, I believe is one of those reasons.
Those of you who know us, know that Zach and I could easily have 20 children and not think a thing about it. We’ve been blessed in life to have two amazing children. I’ve been blessed to carry them in my own physical womb and feel their first kicks, watch them as they breastfeed and turn into their own personalities. Just as God placed them in my womb, He too has placed a child in the womb of my heart. I feel this child there as sure as I did Trysten and Dailah. And it brings many of the same emotions. Excitement, anticipation, reluctance, fear, happiness, etc. But oh the joy! The joy of following what has been asked of me and adopting a child just as God has adopted us. If only I can give the child half the life God has given me, I have done my job.
After much prayer, research, and consideration we have decided to adopt internationally from Ethiopia. The reasons for which are too numerous to name but here are a few reasons.
--There are 4.5 MILLION orphans in Africa. Most of these children were left orphaned because their parents have died of the AIDS epidemic, war or famine. These kids have felt loved the entire time they resided in their mommy’s belly, and it is BECAUSE they love these children that the mom’s (or other related person should their parents have died) hand over their children…to give them a better life.
--This adoption program is the most efficiently ran program we have encountered. This country truly loves and cares for these babies and knows the best way to get them the love and care they need is to get them to families who will do that; as quickly and painlessly as possible.
--I truly believe God has bound my heart to Ethiopia. Leslie’s aunt has adopted a very wonderful little boy from there. Every time I see anything about Africa, I get such a personal attachment to it. As if I know the country already.
--This particular orphanage is run by believers as well. Though this wasn’t a huge determining factor, it makes me believe this kids are being cared for with the love and tenderness of a Christian family.
Those are just a few reasons, I could go on. But I want to get to heaven and be able to say, “God, I treated your creation with the love and affection I feel towards you, our Creator.” I take to heart James 1:27, “Religion that God the Father accepts as pure and faultless is this: to look after orphans and widows in their distress to keep them from being polluted by the world.”
I wanted to share with you, our family, friends, fellow adoptive parents, anyone in cyberspace, our latest great news. That hopefully one day in the near future we will bring home the newest Klipsch. Whom I’m sure will share our love of life, stories, food, laughter, hugs, kisses and seeing God in the every day. Thanks so much for your continued prayers, blessings and positive thoughts. We hope to be able to count on them in the very near future. I will leave you with the passage that plaques my thoughts whenever I doubt this decision. James 4:17, “Anyone, then, who knows the good he ought to do and doesn’t do it, sins.” Love to all! Zach, Tesi, Trysten, Dailah and Stotle (he agrees with all of the above too) Klipsch
About Zach and my third date we were in the local bookstore when we talked about parenting. At this point we were very smitten with each other so it was more a “feeling out” conversation, but there were hints that we were each looking at the other as a possible father/mother to our future children. When the topic came up I specifically remember telling him I’ve always felt a heart for adoption. Imagine my surprise when he said he too felt like it was something he wanted to look into, whether or not he had biological children.
Fast forward to May 30th, 2005. As noted in previous blogs, I was 10 weeks pregnant with what would be our second child. That night in the hospital, alone, an angel visited me. Though I don’t typically buy into those sorts of things, or rather, I didn’t until then, I saw her (I say “her”, though I can’t tell if that’s because she was anatomically a girl or more like she felt like I was familiar with her spirit, familiar in the very girl sense of the word). Anyway, when I asked her if she was taking my baby, she said “yes”. When I asked her (again, I don’t remember actually asking her, we were just looking at each other and having a very real conversation without moving our lips) if she was there to take me, she said “ not yet”. It’s taken me a few years (could it really have been that long) of playing that scene out over and over again. Of picturing her face and the calmness she created by being there. But after years of reflecting and searching my very own definition of spirituality, I’ve come to realize she didn’t take me with her because God is not done using me yet.
Which leads me to our present circumstance. For the last two years I too have fought with God. I’ve lost sight of Him, ignored the things He’s called me to do sometimes, and listened whole-heartedly other times. He’s brought my family into the most amazing life presently. After we had Dailah, both Zach and I said we were already ready for another child. Even after saying that, a huge part of me knew I meant something entirely different than what most people think of when I say, “having another child”. See, I’ve always been a very empathetic person. If I see a person crying on the street, it’s typically a matter of minutes until my tear ducts are poring over. If I see a child hurting, or read about it in the newspaper, I don’t just “feel bad” for them. I literally FEEL bad. I put myself there. I am the one being beaten, raped, what have you and want to do anything in my power to take that hurt from a stranger I will undoubtedly never know. So all of this makes sense why God led me to a specific passage in the Bible repeatedly over the last two years since we’ve seriously considered adopting. “Lord, you know the hopes of the helpless. Surely you will listen to their cries and comfort them. You bring justice to the orphans and the oppressed, so people can no longer terrify them.” (Ps 10.17-18) And perhaps even more specifically, “And that’s the way it was with us before Christ came. We were slaves (orphans) to the spiritual powers of the world. But when the right time came, God sent his Son, born of a woman, subject to the law. God sent him to buy freedom for us who were slaves (orphans) to the law, so that he could ADOPT us as his very own children. And because you Gentiles have become his children, God has sent the Spirit of his Son into your hearts, and now you can call God your dear Father. Now you are no longer a slave (orphan) but God’s own child. And since you are his child, everything he has belongs to you.” (Gal 4 3-7).
Because of these specific Bible passages (and many more, ask me and I’ll point you to at least 50) I believe those who have a heart for adoption are being called to do so. Throughout the Bible, God has a special place for orphans, so too have I. Throughout the last months; I have felt God calling me (sometimes forcing me) to pursue adoption even more wholeheartedly. To not let my own hesitancies stand in the way of what He knows is my path, why He kept me when He took my baby. This, I believe is one of those reasons.
Those of you who know us, know that Zach and I could easily have 20 children and not think a thing about it. We’ve been blessed in life to have two amazing children. I’ve been blessed to carry them in my own physical womb and feel their first kicks, watch them as they breastfeed and turn into their own personalities. Just as God placed them in my womb, He too has placed a child in the womb of my heart. I feel this child there as sure as I did Trysten and Dailah. And it brings many of the same emotions. Excitement, anticipation, reluctance, fear, happiness, etc. But oh the joy! The joy of following what has been asked of me and adopting a child just as God has adopted us. If only I can give the child half the life God has given me, I have done my job.
After much prayer, research, and consideration we have decided to adopt internationally from Ethiopia. The reasons for which are too numerous to name but here are a few reasons.
--There are 4.5 MILLION orphans in Africa. Most of these children were left orphaned because their parents have died of the AIDS epidemic, war or famine. These kids have felt loved the entire time they resided in their mommy’s belly, and it is BECAUSE they love these children that the mom’s (or other related person should their parents have died) hand over their children…to give them a better life.
--This adoption program is the most efficiently ran program we have encountered. This country truly loves and cares for these babies and knows the best way to get them the love and care they need is to get them to families who will do that; as quickly and painlessly as possible.
--I truly believe God has bound my heart to Ethiopia. Leslie’s aunt has adopted a very wonderful little boy from there. Every time I see anything about Africa, I get such a personal attachment to it. As if I know the country already.
--This particular orphanage is run by believers as well. Though this wasn’t a huge determining factor, it makes me believe this kids are being cared for with the love and tenderness of a Christian family.
Those are just a few reasons, I could go on. But I want to get to heaven and be able to say, “God, I treated your creation with the love and affection I feel towards you, our Creator.” I take to heart James 1:27, “Religion that God the Father accepts as pure and faultless is this: to look after orphans and widows in their distress to keep them from being polluted by the world.”
I wanted to share with you, our family, friends, fellow adoptive parents, anyone in cyberspace, our latest great news. That hopefully one day in the near future we will bring home the newest Klipsch. Whom I’m sure will share our love of life, stories, food, laughter, hugs, kisses and seeing God in the every day. Thanks so much for your continued prayers, blessings and positive thoughts. We hope to be able to count on them in the very near future. I will leave you with the passage that plaques my thoughts whenever I doubt this decision. James 4:17, “Anyone, then, who knows the good he ought to do and doesn’t do it, sins.” Love to all! Zach, Tesi, Trysten, Dailah and Stotle (he agrees with all of the above too) Klipsch
Monday, April 16, 2007
Hope
8 months, 22 days and 12 hours ago I was made a mommy for the second time. Dailah Leagh was officially born, early but beautiful as anything. It took me awhile to get past the excitement of pink, adorable outfits to get ready to submit my first blog since she came to us. But alas, here I am. In an ode to my youngest, I must admit I am happier than I’ve ever been because of the life God has given me.
So I was motivated to write a blog this morning because last night was my night with Dailah. What that generally means is should she wake up in the middle of the night, it is my turn to go give her a pacifier or what have you. This also means I get to “sleep in” until Trysten/Dailah wake up. Because my husband is an amazing, devoted, present father, we share these duties equally. Well last night Miss Dailah (or “my b-b-baby girl” as Trysten and I call her) decided to wake up and cry for a good portion of an hour until I finally gave in and gave her a bottle. It was no big deal really, but I was still frustrated seeings after the weekend we had I needed all the sleep I could muster.
And then….I woke up to her coos and giggles. Walked into her room and saw her big smile. Her good morning consisted of a laugh, a smile and kicking her feet and hands in a wave everyone else should try emulating. I tell you, just when I think my kids couldn’t upset me more they go and do that. They smile, or run over and say I love you. They pucker their faces or tell me they want to marry me. So I was thinking of all of my life’s blessings when I went to the TV today to see the Virginia Tech nightmare. At least 31 students dead, another 30 injured from a guy who decided to take out his anger, frustration, whatever, on a bunch of innocent children. These same children (as well as the gunmen, one would assume) once woke up the way my innocent Dailah did. With a smile and a laugh for whoever found them first. To think their young lives were cut short because of something like this pains my innermost being.
My friend, Kathryn, just asked me if I ever think about how depressing it is to bring kids into a world that is capable of so much violence, and ugliness. So much hatred and oppression. I told her of course I think about it. But I also rely so heavily on my faith that if something that horrific was to happen, I know my kids would be with their Creator. In a place where there are no guns, no wayward teenagers or misled human bombs. I know in the midst of it all, once having lost my kids, there would be little comfort in that fact. But when it came time for me to leave this earth, seeing my kids in all their glory, living with our God, well, it would be a mighty beautiful thing.
Besides, I also know that despite the overwhelming sense of ugliness this world has to offer. Despite how often my heart breaks at the tragedies against children of all races, histories, nationalities….I know we were created by the One who knows us better than anyone else. I also know that in the midst of the ugliness, He creates goodness. Some delights so profound you can’t help but witness Him here on earth. Today, for me, it was my little girl’s smile, my little boy’s morning hug and the kiss from my husband.
In the midst of all this suffering, our only choice is to find the beautiful in the every day and to find the hope in the One who created it.
So I was motivated to write a blog this morning because last night was my night with Dailah. What that generally means is should she wake up in the middle of the night, it is my turn to go give her a pacifier or what have you. This also means I get to “sleep in” until Trysten/Dailah wake up. Because my husband is an amazing, devoted, present father, we share these duties equally. Well last night Miss Dailah (or “my b-b-baby girl” as Trysten and I call her) decided to wake up and cry for a good portion of an hour until I finally gave in and gave her a bottle. It was no big deal really, but I was still frustrated seeings after the weekend we had I needed all the sleep I could muster.
And then….I woke up to her coos and giggles. Walked into her room and saw her big smile. Her good morning consisted of a laugh, a smile and kicking her feet and hands in a wave everyone else should try emulating. I tell you, just when I think my kids couldn’t upset me more they go and do that. They smile, or run over and say I love you. They pucker their faces or tell me they want to marry me. So I was thinking of all of my life’s blessings when I went to the TV today to see the Virginia Tech nightmare. At least 31 students dead, another 30 injured from a guy who decided to take out his anger, frustration, whatever, on a bunch of innocent children. These same children (as well as the gunmen, one would assume) once woke up the way my innocent Dailah did. With a smile and a laugh for whoever found them first. To think their young lives were cut short because of something like this pains my innermost being.
My friend, Kathryn, just asked me if I ever think about how depressing it is to bring kids into a world that is capable of so much violence, and ugliness. So much hatred and oppression. I told her of course I think about it. But I also rely so heavily on my faith that if something that horrific was to happen, I know my kids would be with their Creator. In a place where there are no guns, no wayward teenagers or misled human bombs. I know in the midst of it all, once having lost my kids, there would be little comfort in that fact. But when it came time for me to leave this earth, seeing my kids in all their glory, living with our God, well, it would be a mighty beautiful thing.
Besides, I also know that despite the overwhelming sense of ugliness this world has to offer. Despite how often my heart breaks at the tragedies against children of all races, histories, nationalities….I know we were created by the One who knows us better than anyone else. I also know that in the midst of the ugliness, He creates goodness. Some delights so profound you can’t help but witness Him here on earth. Today, for me, it was my little girl’s smile, my little boy’s morning hug and the kiss from my husband.
In the midst of all this suffering, our only choice is to find the beautiful in the every day and to find the hope in the One who created it.
Thursday, June 29, 2006
I Miss My Little Man
I miss my little man. When my mom had originally said she wanted to take my 3-½ yr old for a week every summer (she’s a high school counselor and gets most of summer off) I thought it sounded like a great idea. This year especially I was looking forward to it so that my husband and I could get some much needed couple time before we become a family of four.
Sunday was great, we only made one comment on how we are usually entertained by him before bed and we’re going to have to come up with something else for the next week. By Monday night we had figured it out and were having fun. I, of course, called at least twice a day to say good morning and good night but Trysten was obviously having too much fun because for the most part he refused to talk to me.
Wednesday night was what we had envisioned the week to look like; we went to a farewell party for Zach’s boss and then went to a bar with two other couples and a singleton. It was admittedly a lot of fun but I was saddened while driving home when I realized I wouldn’t get to look in on a blissfully sleeping little boy when I arrived back home.
I called him today (Thursday) more than a couple times and he’s had a lot to say each time. I think it’s safe to say we are officially missing each other immensely and I’m not only counting the days now but also the hours. It’s not that I don’t love the alone time with my husband; in fact, when we’re hanging out together it makes it incredibly easier to survive without my son. However, it’s times away from the both of them that I reflect on just what I miss about the boy.
In the morning the only thing waking me up now is a kicking baby who wants fed, I no longer hear the pounding on the door of my Trysten Zachary. I miss his first smile when I come in to get him and the hug he so willingly shares when I’m too tired to move. I miss his reenactments of Power Rangers when I open the door after taking a shower and I miss the way he plays with his hair while he drinks his first morning’s glass of apple juice. I miss his giggle when I let the puppies in and the way he yells, “No, Stotle!” whenever our obese lab tries to sneak a few Lucky Charms. The “Bye mommy, have a good day, I wuv you,” is considerably better than the silence I leave before work without Trysten.
I drive by his daycare now and resist the very powerful urge to pull in and see if some other kid will come running to me the way Trysten does; arms stretched out ready for a hug while he runs the 40 paces to me. I miss hearing every detail about his day and trying to decide which ones were just figments of his miraculous imagination and which ones are really part of his every day life. Getting home and having him help me water the flowers; sitting on the counter while I cook; negotiating every bite for dinner; twirling his hair while drinking his milk. “Two more minutes mommy,” as he bats his long eyelashes knowing full well I’ve never been able to resist him or his daddy when they do that.
But I really miss bedtime; I really, really miss bedtime. Giving him a bath and watching his whole body prune-icize. The way he delights in the water and the bubbles and the toys is sheer joy to watch. Getting him out and snuggling with him in his towel. The smell of his lotion makes me remember him as a baby; I catch my self sneaking sniffs periodically throughout the rest of the night. Lying down with him in his bed as we read Harry Potter (okay, I read and he lays on my belly pretending to listen). Hearing his voice as he prays to His maker to watch over him, his baby, his mommy and daddy and his poopers (puppies). And then when he turns to me and plays with my hair. He giggles when it goes in my eyes and will stay there playing with it as long as I let him. Admittedly it’s hard to turn away so bedtime can last quite long when I’m feeling like I need the extra attention. But then to turn around as I walk out of his room and hear, “I wuv you mommy!” as he turns in bed and pulls the covers under his chin. I even miss the devious tricks plays by calling us up after that to go to the bathroom or wipe his nose.
I realize it’s a blessing to have parents (and sister) who want to take my son for a week and spoil him beyond belief. It’s good for them both to see each other so much. It’s even good for Zach and I to remind us of why we first fell in love and learn to appreciate that and hold on to that throughout the rest of the year. But I do miss my little man and I can’t help but be a bit jealous of my family who has seen him every day this week.
So pray for my state of mind for the next fifty hours of my life. And pray that I might remember how much I even miss when he calls me into the bathroom to help him wipe his butt upon his return.
Sunday was great, we only made one comment on how we are usually entertained by him before bed and we’re going to have to come up with something else for the next week. By Monday night we had figured it out and were having fun. I, of course, called at least twice a day to say good morning and good night but Trysten was obviously having too much fun because for the most part he refused to talk to me.
Wednesday night was what we had envisioned the week to look like; we went to a farewell party for Zach’s boss and then went to a bar with two other couples and a singleton. It was admittedly a lot of fun but I was saddened while driving home when I realized I wouldn’t get to look in on a blissfully sleeping little boy when I arrived back home.
I called him today (Thursday) more than a couple times and he’s had a lot to say each time. I think it’s safe to say we are officially missing each other immensely and I’m not only counting the days now but also the hours. It’s not that I don’t love the alone time with my husband; in fact, when we’re hanging out together it makes it incredibly easier to survive without my son. However, it’s times away from the both of them that I reflect on just what I miss about the boy.
In the morning the only thing waking me up now is a kicking baby who wants fed, I no longer hear the pounding on the door of my Trysten Zachary. I miss his first smile when I come in to get him and the hug he so willingly shares when I’m too tired to move. I miss his reenactments of Power Rangers when I open the door after taking a shower and I miss the way he plays with his hair while he drinks his first morning’s glass of apple juice. I miss his giggle when I let the puppies in and the way he yells, “No, Stotle!” whenever our obese lab tries to sneak a few Lucky Charms. The “Bye mommy, have a good day, I wuv you,” is considerably better than the silence I leave before work without Trysten.
I drive by his daycare now and resist the very powerful urge to pull in and see if some other kid will come running to me the way Trysten does; arms stretched out ready for a hug while he runs the 40 paces to me. I miss hearing every detail about his day and trying to decide which ones were just figments of his miraculous imagination and which ones are really part of his every day life. Getting home and having him help me water the flowers; sitting on the counter while I cook; negotiating every bite for dinner; twirling his hair while drinking his milk. “Two more minutes mommy,” as he bats his long eyelashes knowing full well I’ve never been able to resist him or his daddy when they do that.
But I really miss bedtime; I really, really miss bedtime. Giving him a bath and watching his whole body prune-icize. The way he delights in the water and the bubbles and the toys is sheer joy to watch. Getting him out and snuggling with him in his towel. The smell of his lotion makes me remember him as a baby; I catch my self sneaking sniffs periodically throughout the rest of the night. Lying down with him in his bed as we read Harry Potter (okay, I read and he lays on my belly pretending to listen). Hearing his voice as he prays to His maker to watch over him, his baby, his mommy and daddy and his poopers (puppies). And then when he turns to me and plays with my hair. He giggles when it goes in my eyes and will stay there playing with it as long as I let him. Admittedly it’s hard to turn away so bedtime can last quite long when I’m feeling like I need the extra attention. But then to turn around as I walk out of his room and hear, “I wuv you mommy!” as he turns in bed and pulls the covers under his chin. I even miss the devious tricks plays by calling us up after that to go to the bathroom or wipe his nose.
I realize it’s a blessing to have parents (and sister) who want to take my son for a week and spoil him beyond belief. It’s good for them both to see each other so much. It’s even good for Zach and I to remind us of why we first fell in love and learn to appreciate that and hold on to that throughout the rest of the year. But I do miss my little man and I can’t help but be a bit jealous of my family who has seen him every day this week.
So pray for my state of mind for the next fifty hours of my life. And pray that I might remember how much I even miss when he calls me into the bathroom to help him wipe his butt upon his return.
Thursday, June 15, 2006
The Only Thing To Fear...
I have a fear, a fear I haven’t admitted to a lot of people, but a huge fear nonetheless. I fear that I will die without any warning or notice and without time to tell the people I love how I feel about them. Perhaps it’s irrational, perhaps in another lifetime I was left by a loved one without knowing how they felt. I do know there are a few examples from this lifetime in which people have passed without me ever telling them how I feel.
My ex-boyfriend’s dad died of a heart attack my freshman year of college. After dating the boy for the better part of 3 years, Jon had become my second dad and I loved him very dearly. He was smart, loving, hilarious and full of energy. I have a vivid mental picture from one of my high school basketball games (when I wasn’t even dating his son) of him in the front row yelling, “Go Tesi” at the top of his lungs and then standing and clapping whenever I didn’t screw up. I remember his favorite song was Faith Hill’s “This Kiss” and he held off smoking in the garage whenever I was around because it made my eyes turn red. At his funeral one of their best family friends came up to me and said, “Jon always said he thought of you as his daughter and if he could’ve chosen one it would’ve been you.” (He had two sons, no daughters). Though her words gave me comfort, I prayed so intensely that God was on the other side telling Jon, “She always said if she were to have a second dad, she would’ve wanted it to be you.” I never told him, we got along so well I comfort myself in believing he just had to have known how much I loved him and still think about him all the time.
My senior year of college I called my mom’s office (she was one of my high school’s counselors). The secretary then told me she was in another woman’s office comforting her because her son had just died in a car accident. It just so happened I graduated with her son and considered him a good guy, a friend. I broke down and decided it best not to attend classes that day. Matt was the guy in high school who was a friend of everybody. My “position” in high school was an interesting one but Matt never cared much about that and always showed me the greatest amount of support and respect even when people from his “group” disagreed. He not only accepted my stance against partaking in things he and his friends did, he respected it and told me so on more than one occasion. The day before he died he and some friends were in Iowa City and they stopped by my house. He got to meet my son for the first time and we were able to “catch up” in the twenty or so minutes they hung around. I walked in the house and lamented on how great of a guy he had always been. Unfortunately the lamenting stayed only between my husband and myself, because he was taken from this world not 12 hours later.
So this morning I woke up early and got ready before Trysten woke up so that we could spend some extra quality time before we went to work and daycare. Sure enough, we had a lot of fun. His favorite game is to say something like, “I really like this cereal, but you know what I like more than this cereal?” He waits for me to ask, “What?” And with the biggest smile you’ve ever seen, he claims, “You”. So we played this adorable game the good portion of the morning and when it was time for me to head off to work I gave him a hug and he told me to “share good with my friends” and sent me off. As I was maneuvering (everything is a maneuver when you’re 7 months pregnant, in a skirt, trying to get into a Honda Civic) into the car Zach yells at me, “Tesi wait.” Trysten came out, obviously crying. He came up to me and said, “I sad cuz you left and I didn’t say I wuv you.” I truly was thisclose to shrugging off work for the day and staying with my child who shares my sometimes-irrational fear.
I have to believe it’s at least a small fear in all of us. That even from a small age we innately want “to love and be loved in return”. The ability to love is the greatest blessing God has given us and I am considerably luckier than most that I have had an abundance of love to give and given to me in my life. My husband and I don’t leave each other without a kiss and an “I love you”. My mom and I have long since said it to one another and I’ve slowly coaxed it out of my dad and sister when we’re parting ways as well (I fear I have a long way to go for my little brother). It comes extremely naturally to all the Klipschs, more often than not it’s a competition on who can prove their love more or say the words first. But I hope my family, friends and acquaintances realize those words are more than words to me, that not only do I truly love them, but respect, admire and appreciate them. If I die tomorrow I don’t want them to just remember how I said those words so often but how I made them feel them all the time.
This blog is dedicated not only to my enormous family: blood, extended, in-laws and the like, but also to my friends both old and new, to teachers and mentors and everyone in between. To God, that He reminds me of the people who need to hear what I think of them the most. And that He continuously shows me his love, as his has for all my years. And to everyone out there who might share in this little fear of mine. Go spread a little love people.
My ex-boyfriend’s dad died of a heart attack my freshman year of college. After dating the boy for the better part of 3 years, Jon had become my second dad and I loved him very dearly. He was smart, loving, hilarious and full of energy. I have a vivid mental picture from one of my high school basketball games (when I wasn’t even dating his son) of him in the front row yelling, “Go Tesi” at the top of his lungs and then standing and clapping whenever I didn’t screw up. I remember his favorite song was Faith Hill’s “This Kiss” and he held off smoking in the garage whenever I was around because it made my eyes turn red. At his funeral one of their best family friends came up to me and said, “Jon always said he thought of you as his daughter and if he could’ve chosen one it would’ve been you.” (He had two sons, no daughters). Though her words gave me comfort, I prayed so intensely that God was on the other side telling Jon, “She always said if she were to have a second dad, she would’ve wanted it to be you.” I never told him, we got along so well I comfort myself in believing he just had to have known how much I loved him and still think about him all the time.
My senior year of college I called my mom’s office (she was one of my high school’s counselors). The secretary then told me she was in another woman’s office comforting her because her son had just died in a car accident. It just so happened I graduated with her son and considered him a good guy, a friend. I broke down and decided it best not to attend classes that day. Matt was the guy in high school who was a friend of everybody. My “position” in high school was an interesting one but Matt never cared much about that and always showed me the greatest amount of support and respect even when people from his “group” disagreed. He not only accepted my stance against partaking in things he and his friends did, he respected it and told me so on more than one occasion. The day before he died he and some friends were in Iowa City and they stopped by my house. He got to meet my son for the first time and we were able to “catch up” in the twenty or so minutes they hung around. I walked in the house and lamented on how great of a guy he had always been. Unfortunately the lamenting stayed only between my husband and myself, because he was taken from this world not 12 hours later.
So this morning I woke up early and got ready before Trysten woke up so that we could spend some extra quality time before we went to work and daycare. Sure enough, we had a lot of fun. His favorite game is to say something like, “I really like this cereal, but you know what I like more than this cereal?” He waits for me to ask, “What?” And with the biggest smile you’ve ever seen, he claims, “You”. So we played this adorable game the good portion of the morning and when it was time for me to head off to work I gave him a hug and he told me to “share good with my friends” and sent me off. As I was maneuvering (everything is a maneuver when you’re 7 months pregnant, in a skirt, trying to get into a Honda Civic) into the car Zach yells at me, “Tesi wait.” Trysten came out, obviously crying. He came up to me and said, “I sad cuz you left and I didn’t say I wuv you.” I truly was thisclose to shrugging off work for the day and staying with my child who shares my sometimes-irrational fear.
I have to believe it’s at least a small fear in all of us. That even from a small age we innately want “to love and be loved in return”. The ability to love is the greatest blessing God has given us and I am considerably luckier than most that I have had an abundance of love to give and given to me in my life. My husband and I don’t leave each other without a kiss and an “I love you”. My mom and I have long since said it to one another and I’ve slowly coaxed it out of my dad and sister when we’re parting ways as well (I fear I have a long way to go for my little brother). It comes extremely naturally to all the Klipschs, more often than not it’s a competition on who can prove their love more or say the words first. But I hope my family, friends and acquaintances realize those words are more than words to me, that not only do I truly love them, but respect, admire and appreciate them. If I die tomorrow I don’t want them to just remember how I said those words so often but how I made them feel them all the time.
This blog is dedicated not only to my enormous family: blood, extended, in-laws and the like, but also to my friends both old and new, to teachers and mentors and everyone in between. To God, that He reminds me of the people who need to hear what I think of them the most. And that He continuously shows me his love, as his has for all my years. And to everyone out there who might share in this little fear of mine. Go spread a little love people.
Friday, January 20, 2006
Jesus, Are You There?
“The way school needs teachers, the way Kathie Lee needed Regis, that’s the way I need Jesus”.
I’m sure there’d be many-a religious scholars who would have problems with me describing the way I need Jesus like Kanye West so poignantly does in his song “Jesus Walks”, but I’m not afraid. See, it took me a long time to not only admit to myself how much I need Jesus, but also to everyone else. I still find myself wishing for that song to come on the radio so I can point at it and say, “oh man, so true, so true” rather than just come right out and say, “You know what man, I love Jesus and I need Him”.
I don’t think I’m alone in this hesitancy. Ask someone if they’re Christian and there’s a good chance there will be a hesitation and then a long explanation that ends somewhere between yes and no but never sticking to an exact answer. I often do that when someone asks me a spiritual question or asks me to quote a place in the Bible. I fumble around for what would seem to be the right answer like a baby trying to nurse for the first time. It’s not a pretty sight and I fear I tend to distract people from the message, the true message I’m trying to get out. “I don’t have the answers, all I know is the man is a good man and He loves me and I love Him”.
I’m not your typical Jesus lover at first glance. I curse more than I like to admit (though I blame that entirely on my husband), I yell at the dogs too much, I once in awhile make fun of someone else to make myself feel better and I’m definitely not the kind of wife or mother the Bible says you should be. Most my prayers end in me apologizing for being so sleepy and saying something like, “But you know me right? Just listen to my heart and do that please”. I get fidgety when I have to pray aloud, and I am lucky to read passages from the Bible three times a week. I listen to music that my dad so lovingly refers to as “F-this, F-that crap” (as noticed by my two Kanye West references I’m sure). I don’t have a fish bumper sticker, I wear my cross necklace once in awhile, and I have no t-shirts that reference Jesus, God, church, missionary trips or the like, the closest I have is an Oprah shirt and perhaps that counts for some people.
But I do love Jesus and I need Him more than I need anything else. I have a “spiritual journey” just like the next gal, but mine I like to keep a bit private. I still wrestle with my spirituality and sometimes my own wants and needs are the Cael Sandersons and sometimes God’s are, it just depends. It took me a long time to relinquish my control, isn’t that what we’re brought up to want? The American dream, the money, the power, the title, everything. Interestingly enough it’s exactly what God asks you to give up and let Him take control over. It’s just a tough thing to rewire, your whole thought process. Even if you were brought up in a good Christian home like I was, I was also brought up in an intelligent home, one that taught you to think for yourself. It’s only natural that I would want proof and not go on faith alone.
But faith and His grace is what has given me all the amazing things I have now, it definitely hasn’t been my smarts or my beauty (both of which I like to think if ever there was a person that could get by on those alone, it could be me). Only recently have I learned He gives and He takes away with such force and resilience the only thing we humans can do is bow down and worship it. He has given me a beautiful child and taken one away, yet He gives again! He has given me an amazing husband, a beautiful house, a job that makes me happy a good portion of the time, yet has not blessed us with the best health. Ironically the closer I get in my walk with Him, the more I realize it is the taking away that brings me closer to Him. I can for an instant think I am the reason for all the goodness in my life, but it’s in moments of sadness that I realize none of it is about me. In moments of quiet (or loud) desperation I realize it has nothing to do with me.
A couple days ago my husband had to work late so I was home alone with my pneumonia-ridden son. He had been diagnosed a couple days before that but it had seemed to be getting progressively worse. He fell asleep okay but an hour later woke up screaming. I ran upstairs and got him, which usually stops the screaming, but he continued on for the next 10 minutes or so. I started crying and carrying on just like him until he asked, “Mommy, why are you crying”? It took me forever to admit, “Because I’m scared”. This wasn’t a good thing to say as his answer to that was “I’m scared too” and more screams and crying from the both of us. I hugged him and started praying, “God please don’t take him, please heal him, make him feel better, do SOMETHING! Anything, God please.” (Note this was the first time in a long time that I realized this prayer would not end with me sleeping, so I was a bit rusty). But I couldn’t help it I was scared. I was scared I would go in to the doctor thinking he was fine and they would tell me he had cancer or some other life-threatening disease that I was not ready to handle with my angel of a three-year-old. I called my much more grounded husband and we met at the ER. Of course, it was still just pneumonia.
I reflected while watching him with Zach on the hospital bed that I am so out of control in almost every situation I’m in. I may feel in control sometimes, because thank God He gives me the illusion to keep me sane, to keep me happy; but He’s in control whether I like it or not. As tough as that is for me to admit even now, I know it and I love that about Him. He gives me a life much better than I could ever create trying to go at it alone. This is why I love Him, why I need Him and why I shouldn’t be afraid of saying all of that.
Now, “I ain’t here to argue about His facial features, not here to convert atheists into believers”. I’m just trying to say I need Jesus and I’m going to try to be more and more like Him everyday. And next time someone asks me if I’m a Christian, I won’t just take off my shirt and show them my tattoo of a cross, I’ll keep my shirt on and say something like, “Why yes, yes I am and it comes highly recommended.”
I’m sure there’d be many-a religious scholars who would have problems with me describing the way I need Jesus like Kanye West so poignantly does in his song “Jesus Walks”, but I’m not afraid. See, it took me a long time to not only admit to myself how much I need Jesus, but also to everyone else. I still find myself wishing for that song to come on the radio so I can point at it and say, “oh man, so true, so true” rather than just come right out and say, “You know what man, I love Jesus and I need Him”.
I don’t think I’m alone in this hesitancy. Ask someone if they’re Christian and there’s a good chance there will be a hesitation and then a long explanation that ends somewhere between yes and no but never sticking to an exact answer. I often do that when someone asks me a spiritual question or asks me to quote a place in the Bible. I fumble around for what would seem to be the right answer like a baby trying to nurse for the first time. It’s not a pretty sight and I fear I tend to distract people from the message, the true message I’m trying to get out. “I don’t have the answers, all I know is the man is a good man and He loves me and I love Him”.
I’m not your typical Jesus lover at first glance. I curse more than I like to admit (though I blame that entirely on my husband), I yell at the dogs too much, I once in awhile make fun of someone else to make myself feel better and I’m definitely not the kind of wife or mother the Bible says you should be. Most my prayers end in me apologizing for being so sleepy and saying something like, “But you know me right? Just listen to my heart and do that please”. I get fidgety when I have to pray aloud, and I am lucky to read passages from the Bible three times a week. I listen to music that my dad so lovingly refers to as “F-this, F-that crap” (as noticed by my two Kanye West references I’m sure). I don’t have a fish bumper sticker, I wear my cross necklace once in awhile, and I have no t-shirts that reference Jesus, God, church, missionary trips or the like, the closest I have is an Oprah shirt and perhaps that counts for some people.
But I do love Jesus and I need Him more than I need anything else. I have a “spiritual journey” just like the next gal, but mine I like to keep a bit private. I still wrestle with my spirituality and sometimes my own wants and needs are the Cael Sandersons and sometimes God’s are, it just depends. It took me a long time to relinquish my control, isn’t that what we’re brought up to want? The American dream, the money, the power, the title, everything. Interestingly enough it’s exactly what God asks you to give up and let Him take control over. It’s just a tough thing to rewire, your whole thought process. Even if you were brought up in a good Christian home like I was, I was also brought up in an intelligent home, one that taught you to think for yourself. It’s only natural that I would want proof and not go on faith alone.
But faith and His grace is what has given me all the amazing things I have now, it definitely hasn’t been my smarts or my beauty (both of which I like to think if ever there was a person that could get by on those alone, it could be me). Only recently have I learned He gives and He takes away with such force and resilience the only thing we humans can do is bow down and worship it. He has given me a beautiful child and taken one away, yet He gives again! He has given me an amazing husband, a beautiful house, a job that makes me happy a good portion of the time, yet has not blessed us with the best health. Ironically the closer I get in my walk with Him, the more I realize it is the taking away that brings me closer to Him. I can for an instant think I am the reason for all the goodness in my life, but it’s in moments of sadness that I realize none of it is about me. In moments of quiet (or loud) desperation I realize it has nothing to do with me.
A couple days ago my husband had to work late so I was home alone with my pneumonia-ridden son. He had been diagnosed a couple days before that but it had seemed to be getting progressively worse. He fell asleep okay but an hour later woke up screaming. I ran upstairs and got him, which usually stops the screaming, but he continued on for the next 10 minutes or so. I started crying and carrying on just like him until he asked, “Mommy, why are you crying”? It took me forever to admit, “Because I’m scared”. This wasn’t a good thing to say as his answer to that was “I’m scared too” and more screams and crying from the both of us. I hugged him and started praying, “God please don’t take him, please heal him, make him feel better, do SOMETHING! Anything, God please.” (Note this was the first time in a long time that I realized this prayer would not end with me sleeping, so I was a bit rusty). But I couldn’t help it I was scared. I was scared I would go in to the doctor thinking he was fine and they would tell me he had cancer or some other life-threatening disease that I was not ready to handle with my angel of a three-year-old. I called my much more grounded husband and we met at the ER. Of course, it was still just pneumonia.
I reflected while watching him with Zach on the hospital bed that I am so out of control in almost every situation I’m in. I may feel in control sometimes, because thank God He gives me the illusion to keep me sane, to keep me happy; but He’s in control whether I like it or not. As tough as that is for me to admit even now, I know it and I love that about Him. He gives me a life much better than I could ever create trying to go at it alone. This is why I love Him, why I need Him and why I shouldn’t be afraid of saying all of that.
Now, “I ain’t here to argue about His facial features, not here to convert atheists into believers”. I’m just trying to say I need Jesus and I’m going to try to be more and more like Him everyday. And next time someone asks me if I’m a Christian, I won’t just take off my shirt and show them my tattoo of a cross, I’ll keep my shirt on and say something like, “Why yes, yes I am and it comes highly recommended.”
Wednesday, December 07, 2005
Ode to Marital Strife
After one of Zach and my heated “discussions” I was laying in bed trying to remember why it started in the first place. I’m sure every married person can relate to my inquiry. The story goes something like:
Woman: “I cooked, cleaned up, fed and watered the animals, put our kids to bed while the lazy bum I married sits on the couch.”
Man: “Ahhh had a tough day at work today. Feels so good to be home and relaxing. What’s on TV?”
As seen in the example, only one of the parties is aware of the impending discussion. I’m pretty sure our discussion last night started that way and had begun to end that way until my betrothed came to bed to give me hugs and kisses (our way of saying sorry without having to hurt our pride and actually say it).
Zach and I made an agreement not to go to bed angry at each other. This pact makes sense as you never know if you’ll get another moment together in this life so why have the last one be of silence and anger? But this night was different. I was tired, the discussion was going nowhere and I just wanted to go to bed. I went to bed with our words still lingering where I left them in the living room with my husband, and I sat awake. I never do actually fall asleep angry, I’m pretty sure God just won’t allow it because He knows it will hold awful repercussions for me when I awake well rested and over the squabble.
I’m also pretty sure good portions of our discussions are for no good reason. Sure, it starts with something that bothers us but always ends the same way. I think sometimes we argue just to talk to each other. After 3+ years of marriage we get sick of talking about the same things, asking the same questions. Work, check, kid, check, weather, check. The topics are all the same with few possible variations and it gets tiring; especially considering our first date (and many thereafter) we did little else but sit in bookstores and talk for hours about everything. Picking each other’s brains. Going on wild excursions to find books with the most interesting titles or renting each other’s favorite books in order to understand each other a bit more.
See, I fell in love with Zach for what was on his innards, as we like to call them. Don’t get me wrong, his outards are quite nice indeed and I have always enjoyed viewing those as well, but his innards are what hooked me. I didn’t marry him because I could foresee future stimulating conversations of burp rags, toddler poo and dogs that just refuse to potty train. So it makes sense that we get downtrodden at those mundane discussions. This is not to say our son’s BM schedule is not altogether an interesting subject, as it’s a great segway for my husband to discuss how it compares to his own BM schedule which is ultimately one of his favorite subjects. However, I can tell we want more because of how we get almost excited to argue with each other. Trying to prove our higher-than-normal-intelligence and trying to make points that will win the other one over.
We love looking at older couples that lean on each other as they walk the 5 paces to the restaurant. While seated they gaze out the window lost in many decades of being together. Not having to talk because they’ve pretty much said it all. Zach and I look forward to being that couple, we really do. But there’s such a huge part of me that hopes after 60ish years together we realize there’s still good discussions in Presidents or nuclear disarmament. I hope we can still tote our walkers into bookstores to find the craziest titles and discuss our favorite books.
The thought that our marriage will easily be summed up in a few sentences over dinner scares me. It’s not necessarily a bad thing I understand that. I know grandparents who are just the most precious people, couples I look up to, and don’t say much. I just don’t want that from us. I truly hope the first place our grandkids look when they can’t find us is some obscure park, saying movie lines and seeing if the other’s memory is good enough to recall which movie it comes from. I hope we’re as good of storytellers as we are now. That by the time we’re in our nineties, the story that started out as “Zach meets Tesi”, turns into a thirty minute story, mostly made up of course, of what we were wearing and how he smelled. I hope there’s still so much of the twenty year old I married that I still get a kick out of the crazy things he does like his big childlike grin when he plants a fart smelled ‘round the world. That I still wake up, look at the long eyelashes, the two moles and the large 6’2” frame curled up in the fetal position and smile, overjoyed at the memory of a lifetime spent together and a lifetime yet to come.
Woman: “I cooked, cleaned up, fed and watered the animals, put our kids to bed while the lazy bum I married sits on the couch.”
Man: “Ahhh had a tough day at work today. Feels so good to be home and relaxing. What’s on TV?”
As seen in the example, only one of the parties is aware of the impending discussion. I’m pretty sure our discussion last night started that way and had begun to end that way until my betrothed came to bed to give me hugs and kisses (our way of saying sorry without having to hurt our pride and actually say it).
Zach and I made an agreement not to go to bed angry at each other. This pact makes sense as you never know if you’ll get another moment together in this life so why have the last one be of silence and anger? But this night was different. I was tired, the discussion was going nowhere and I just wanted to go to bed. I went to bed with our words still lingering where I left them in the living room with my husband, and I sat awake. I never do actually fall asleep angry, I’m pretty sure God just won’t allow it because He knows it will hold awful repercussions for me when I awake well rested and over the squabble.
I’m also pretty sure good portions of our discussions are for no good reason. Sure, it starts with something that bothers us but always ends the same way. I think sometimes we argue just to talk to each other. After 3+ years of marriage we get sick of talking about the same things, asking the same questions. Work, check, kid, check, weather, check. The topics are all the same with few possible variations and it gets tiring; especially considering our first date (and many thereafter) we did little else but sit in bookstores and talk for hours about everything. Picking each other’s brains. Going on wild excursions to find books with the most interesting titles or renting each other’s favorite books in order to understand each other a bit more.
See, I fell in love with Zach for what was on his innards, as we like to call them. Don’t get me wrong, his outards are quite nice indeed and I have always enjoyed viewing those as well, but his innards are what hooked me. I didn’t marry him because I could foresee future stimulating conversations of burp rags, toddler poo and dogs that just refuse to potty train. So it makes sense that we get downtrodden at those mundane discussions. This is not to say our son’s BM schedule is not altogether an interesting subject, as it’s a great segway for my husband to discuss how it compares to his own BM schedule which is ultimately one of his favorite subjects. However, I can tell we want more because of how we get almost excited to argue with each other. Trying to prove our higher-than-normal-intelligence and trying to make points that will win the other one over.
We love looking at older couples that lean on each other as they walk the 5 paces to the restaurant. While seated they gaze out the window lost in many decades of being together. Not having to talk because they’ve pretty much said it all. Zach and I look forward to being that couple, we really do. But there’s such a huge part of me that hopes after 60ish years together we realize there’s still good discussions in Presidents or nuclear disarmament. I hope we can still tote our walkers into bookstores to find the craziest titles and discuss our favorite books.
The thought that our marriage will easily be summed up in a few sentences over dinner scares me. It’s not necessarily a bad thing I understand that. I know grandparents who are just the most precious people, couples I look up to, and don’t say much. I just don’t want that from us. I truly hope the first place our grandkids look when they can’t find us is some obscure park, saying movie lines and seeing if the other’s memory is good enough to recall which movie it comes from. I hope we’re as good of storytellers as we are now. That by the time we’re in our nineties, the story that started out as “Zach meets Tesi”, turns into a thirty minute story, mostly made up of course, of what we were wearing and how he smelled. I hope there’s still so much of the twenty year old I married that I still get a kick out of the crazy things he does like his big childlike grin when he plants a fart smelled ‘round the world. That I still wake up, look at the long eyelashes, the two moles and the large 6’2” frame curled up in the fetal position and smile, overjoyed at the memory of a lifetime spent together and a lifetime yet to come.
Friday, November 18, 2005
Roses
“To get there we run, we walk, we fly; because with my family we know where home is, so instead of sending flowers, we the roses.”
While driving home from St. Louis last weekend, I heard the song “Roses” from Kanye West’s new CD. He’s rapping/singing (whatever you’d like to call it) about when his grandmother was in the hospital. All of his aunts and family members had come to the hospital and were waiting to hear if grandma was going to make it. It brought up a discussion Zach and I had on our way to St. Louis about family.
I was raised believing I was going to be an “active” member in both my immediate and extended families. I knew from very early on that if my cousins were playing a game within an hour (give or take) of us, we would be there. I knew I’d be at all the weddings, funerals, births, just all around big moments in their lives. I grew up loving that they were there for me and I was there for them. I honestly believe this is what has led to such an awesome relationship with all my aunts, uncles and cousins.
This past weekend we had found out that Zach’s grandmother’s health was failing. She lived in St. Louis and I decided immediately it would be good to go. Zach only had a few hesitations but we obviously ended up going. On the way there we discussed the differences between our families. All my family (including grandmas and most cousins, etc) have been there every time I’ve needed them or wanted them. My state track meets, my graduations, my wedding, the birth of my son, my miscarriage, my new house. All events; happy, sad or indifferent have been shared with my family. That is in stark contrast to Zach’s family who was just not raised that way. When deciding our wedding details I wanted all of my cousins to be involved. He wanted representation from his side (with good reason) but struggled remembering his cousin’s names. There have many instances like those and it’s completely baffling to me.
After watching Zach’s grandma die it has become more obvious that we really, truly, only get one life here on earth. Thinking back to all those moments when I’ve been the happiest, I realize there is one equation that just works, family, friends, and love too big to fit into one room. So why not make every effort to get my fill of that every day I’m given on earth? It’s so very easy to get wrapped up in our own lives. To skip an event a couple hours away because the house just needs to be cleaned. We find ourselves making excuses why we couldn’t be there for someone who truly needed us because it would be too much work to do it. But I’ve seen the reaction on my loved ones face when I make the extra effort to prove my love for them. I drove 8 hours to go to my cousin’s bachelorette party only to turn around and head back a few hours later. That night she related to me just how much it meant to have me there. Grandma was pretty out of it when we went to see her in the hospital last weekend but when I told her I was there, she looked at me and held my hand for just a few moments. I saw her reaction when Zach said hello as well, it meant something to her and to us, to be there when she breathed her last. Let’s be honest everyone needs proof that they're loved sometimes, how do you put a price on prooving that to them? It’s definitely worth more than a tank of gas or “time spent with my family”. Granted, I believe we all need down time, time with just me, Zach and Trysten. But I also know it’s much easier to show them that I love them because I get the opportunity every day. I don’t get that opportunity with my sister in Virginia or my in-laws in Chicago. It just means I need to work extra hard so they don’t just know I love them, but can feel it, can literally reach out and touch it.
I assure you, I am most definitely not on a soapbox. I love Zach’s family so much it’s ridiculous (aunts, uncles, cousins, grandparents). I see that they do have as close of a relationship as possible being far apart and never having had those moments of making every effort to see each other. I’m not saying my way is better than Zach’s or anything of the sort. I just know it’s what I want from my children. I want them to expect they’ll drive the 4 hours to Chicago if my in-laws have another baby. I want them to know there is literally no distance too far if someone needs them or if they need me. I need them to understand life is not necessarily about the every day. Life is sometimes about the miracles. Witnessing every aspect of life and relate it not just to yourself but also to the people around you. Live life’s biggest moments with the ones you love. Be there for the laughs and the tears. Be an active member of the family and community. I have no idea who sent me flowers on my biggest days, but I can tell you all 420 people who attended our wedding. Save money I’ll tell my kids, instead of sending flowers, be the roses.
While driving home from St. Louis last weekend, I heard the song “Roses” from Kanye West’s new CD. He’s rapping/singing (whatever you’d like to call it) about when his grandmother was in the hospital. All of his aunts and family members had come to the hospital and were waiting to hear if grandma was going to make it. It brought up a discussion Zach and I had on our way to St. Louis about family.
I was raised believing I was going to be an “active” member in both my immediate and extended families. I knew from very early on that if my cousins were playing a game within an hour (give or take) of us, we would be there. I knew I’d be at all the weddings, funerals, births, just all around big moments in their lives. I grew up loving that they were there for me and I was there for them. I honestly believe this is what has led to such an awesome relationship with all my aunts, uncles and cousins.
This past weekend we had found out that Zach’s grandmother’s health was failing. She lived in St. Louis and I decided immediately it would be good to go. Zach only had a few hesitations but we obviously ended up going. On the way there we discussed the differences between our families. All my family (including grandmas and most cousins, etc) have been there every time I’ve needed them or wanted them. My state track meets, my graduations, my wedding, the birth of my son, my miscarriage, my new house. All events; happy, sad or indifferent have been shared with my family. That is in stark contrast to Zach’s family who was just not raised that way. When deciding our wedding details I wanted all of my cousins to be involved. He wanted representation from his side (with good reason) but struggled remembering his cousin’s names. There have many instances like those and it’s completely baffling to me.
After watching Zach’s grandma die it has become more obvious that we really, truly, only get one life here on earth. Thinking back to all those moments when I’ve been the happiest, I realize there is one equation that just works, family, friends, and love too big to fit into one room. So why not make every effort to get my fill of that every day I’m given on earth? It’s so very easy to get wrapped up in our own lives. To skip an event a couple hours away because the house just needs to be cleaned. We find ourselves making excuses why we couldn’t be there for someone who truly needed us because it would be too much work to do it. But I’ve seen the reaction on my loved ones face when I make the extra effort to prove my love for them. I drove 8 hours to go to my cousin’s bachelorette party only to turn around and head back a few hours later. That night she related to me just how much it meant to have me there. Grandma was pretty out of it when we went to see her in the hospital last weekend but when I told her I was there, she looked at me and held my hand for just a few moments. I saw her reaction when Zach said hello as well, it meant something to her and to us, to be there when she breathed her last. Let’s be honest everyone needs proof that they're loved sometimes, how do you put a price on prooving that to them? It’s definitely worth more than a tank of gas or “time spent with my family”. Granted, I believe we all need down time, time with just me, Zach and Trysten. But I also know it’s much easier to show them that I love them because I get the opportunity every day. I don’t get that opportunity with my sister in Virginia or my in-laws in Chicago. It just means I need to work extra hard so they don’t just know I love them, but can feel it, can literally reach out and touch it.
I assure you, I am most definitely not on a soapbox. I love Zach’s family so much it’s ridiculous (aunts, uncles, cousins, grandparents). I see that they do have as close of a relationship as possible being far apart and never having had those moments of making every effort to see each other. I’m not saying my way is better than Zach’s or anything of the sort. I just know it’s what I want from my children. I want them to expect they’ll drive the 4 hours to Chicago if my in-laws have another baby. I want them to know there is literally no distance too far if someone needs them or if they need me. I need them to understand life is not necessarily about the every day. Life is sometimes about the miracles. Witnessing every aspect of life and relate it not just to yourself but also to the people around you. Live life’s biggest moments with the ones you love. Be there for the laughs and the tears. Be an active member of the family and community. I have no idea who sent me flowers on my biggest days, but I can tell you all 420 people who attended our wedding. Save money I’ll tell my kids, instead of sending flowers, be the roses.
Monday, November 14, 2005
"You Know What I Mean?"
I like to think that I pretty much know everything about myself so I was pretty surprised to find that is not exactly the case. This weekend while spending some quality time with my favorite husband, he pointed out that I tend to finish my comments with, “You know what I mean?” or some variation of it. This surprised me not only because I fancy myself an eloquent speaker (thus making it impossible someone wouldn’t know what I mean) but also because one of the main reasons I fell in love with Zach in the first place was because he always seemed to “know what I mean”.
In true Tesi form, I pondered over this revelation for quite some time. In true Zach form, any time thereafter I said it; he would point it out revealing just how much I say it. After much thoughtful consideration I’ve come up with the hypothesis that I say it because I have went through most of my life being misunderstood. My earliest memories of endless misunderstanding frustrations were in Junior High. My mom and sister were both big into romance novels so I dabbled in them as well. My mom and I have always been told we’re very much alike so I figured I would find as much satisfaction as she apparently did. Of course I found them altogether boring and pointless and was frustrated at the differences between us. I needed to find a deeper meaning in the books I read. I could read a few here and there if there was nothing better to read or do, but for the most part my thirst for mental stimulation in books went unsatisfied until my dad gave me my first copy of “The Fountainhead” by Ayn Rand one Christmas in high school. I read through it quite quickly and have since revisited the book many times. Every time I read it, it takes on a whole new meaning. It stands out as being the first “text” that understood me. It stands out also as the first moment I realized my dad and I were a lot more alike than I had ever given either of us credit for.
In high school I pretty much hung out with the female “jocks”. We had an immense amount of fun every time we hung out but there was still a sense of not belonging. We were all so different in personalities that sometimes it felt like talking to a brick wall. I would try to scratch the surface of issues and get to the real heart of our teenage angst, only to find it was too dark of a place for them to visit with me. I searched for meaning all by myself and would sometimes find a night hanging out with them too exhausting, too lonely. The women who I hung out with all the time still looked at me funny when I tried to go on one of my philosophical diatribes and it was so extremely frustrating. I obviously stayed in those relationships anyway (and still find much joy in them) because every once in awhile they’d respond “yes” to my $1000 question.
It wasn’t until my freshman year of college that I met my match; I found the male version of myself in a guy by the name of Derek. The first night we hung out we immediately started talking about things never even covered with my high school friends. We stayed up all hours of the night discussing things like divorce, spirituality, what it meant to be “crazy” in a place like Vermillion, South Dakota. My idiosyncrasies became commonplace in our relationship and it was such an awesome, relieving place to be. Of course I had my moments of uncertainty, having someone understand you so well after years of not feeling that was very alarming, very tough in a lot of instances when all I wanted to be was my crazy self. I missed the anonymity that came with people not understanding me and giving up hope that they ever would. But in the end I found comfort, and still do, in the friendship that was my first of knowing each other without history. Of never having to say, “You know what I mean” because I just knew he did. Of saying anything without the fear of being laughed at or getting another set of eyes rolling away from me. That understanding transferred us both back to Iowa City and to a life I never thought possible.
That’s where I met Zach. My relationship with Zach became different than that of Derek and myself because in moments when Zach didn’t understand me, he worked to do so. Unlike Derek who never seemed to have those moments in the first place, or my high school friends who gave up and changed the subject; Zach would challenge me to dig deeper and explain where my crazy theories originated. If we ended up still on different pages, he chalked it up to my cleverness and loved me more intensely. We were so much alike yet different enough to keep things interesting. Our passion for philosophy extended to the wee hours of the morning and ended with lots of professions of love and a few near-breakup moments. We were constantly parched for each other’s thoughts and went to bed giddy at the thought of hearing each other’s versions of the latest chapter in The Republic. I taught him the beauty of the literary world and he taught me the liberation of feeling comfort in my own skin. I taught him to hear Eddie Veder’s words and he taught me the uniqueness of Outkast’s sound. In our 4 years of loving each other there have been definite moments of not understanding. His look that says, “You’re freakin crazy” is never too far from his face yet I know a large part of him understands the craziness. He understands what I mean when I say, “Burski babies”, he understands why I cry every time I’m at a wedding or a funeral. He even understands why I randomly use words from the 80s and why I sing along to songs even when I don’t know the words.
So I ask myself why I would say, “You know what I mean” to a man who sincerely does. Why would I say that to my husband who was the first man to either know what I mean or at the very least be interested at my working, thinking brain? I think it’s because I’m so scared of losing that. Of being the family member that everyone talks about behind his/her back. “Did you hear what Tesi said today? Wow, she’s freakin crazy!” I want to feel a little bit of certainty in this uncertain world and that’s what Zach has always provided for me. It’s a beautiful thing being understood by someone who is not going to tease you for having random thoughts after being awake for 24 hours straight but yet is not too afraid to call you out on your moments of ridiculousness. Even through the transformation of self I’ve had since meeting Zach, I still find comfort in him knowing who I am and what I’m thinking. Still find great joy in hearing him say, “That’s an interesting question” or “You’re so smart”. I’ve realized even though in my younger years I held onto my identity of not being understood, it’s an altogether better place to have a partner with you in this crazy thing we call life.
In true Tesi form, I pondered over this revelation for quite some time. In true Zach form, any time thereafter I said it; he would point it out revealing just how much I say it. After much thoughtful consideration I’ve come up with the hypothesis that I say it because I have went through most of my life being misunderstood. My earliest memories of endless misunderstanding frustrations were in Junior High. My mom and sister were both big into romance novels so I dabbled in them as well. My mom and I have always been told we’re very much alike so I figured I would find as much satisfaction as she apparently did. Of course I found them altogether boring and pointless and was frustrated at the differences between us. I needed to find a deeper meaning in the books I read. I could read a few here and there if there was nothing better to read or do, but for the most part my thirst for mental stimulation in books went unsatisfied until my dad gave me my first copy of “The Fountainhead” by Ayn Rand one Christmas in high school. I read through it quite quickly and have since revisited the book many times. Every time I read it, it takes on a whole new meaning. It stands out as being the first “text” that understood me. It stands out also as the first moment I realized my dad and I were a lot more alike than I had ever given either of us credit for.
In high school I pretty much hung out with the female “jocks”. We had an immense amount of fun every time we hung out but there was still a sense of not belonging. We were all so different in personalities that sometimes it felt like talking to a brick wall. I would try to scratch the surface of issues and get to the real heart of our teenage angst, only to find it was too dark of a place for them to visit with me. I searched for meaning all by myself and would sometimes find a night hanging out with them too exhausting, too lonely. The women who I hung out with all the time still looked at me funny when I tried to go on one of my philosophical diatribes and it was so extremely frustrating. I obviously stayed in those relationships anyway (and still find much joy in them) because every once in awhile they’d respond “yes” to my $1000 question.
It wasn’t until my freshman year of college that I met my match; I found the male version of myself in a guy by the name of Derek. The first night we hung out we immediately started talking about things never even covered with my high school friends. We stayed up all hours of the night discussing things like divorce, spirituality, what it meant to be “crazy” in a place like Vermillion, South Dakota. My idiosyncrasies became commonplace in our relationship and it was such an awesome, relieving place to be. Of course I had my moments of uncertainty, having someone understand you so well after years of not feeling that was very alarming, very tough in a lot of instances when all I wanted to be was my crazy self. I missed the anonymity that came with people not understanding me and giving up hope that they ever would. But in the end I found comfort, and still do, in the friendship that was my first of knowing each other without history. Of never having to say, “You know what I mean” because I just knew he did. Of saying anything without the fear of being laughed at or getting another set of eyes rolling away from me. That understanding transferred us both back to Iowa City and to a life I never thought possible.
That’s where I met Zach. My relationship with Zach became different than that of Derek and myself because in moments when Zach didn’t understand me, he worked to do so. Unlike Derek who never seemed to have those moments in the first place, or my high school friends who gave up and changed the subject; Zach would challenge me to dig deeper and explain where my crazy theories originated. If we ended up still on different pages, he chalked it up to my cleverness and loved me more intensely. We were so much alike yet different enough to keep things interesting. Our passion for philosophy extended to the wee hours of the morning and ended with lots of professions of love and a few near-breakup moments. We were constantly parched for each other’s thoughts and went to bed giddy at the thought of hearing each other’s versions of the latest chapter in The Republic. I taught him the beauty of the literary world and he taught me the liberation of feeling comfort in my own skin. I taught him to hear Eddie Veder’s words and he taught me the uniqueness of Outkast’s sound. In our 4 years of loving each other there have been definite moments of not understanding. His look that says, “You’re freakin crazy” is never too far from his face yet I know a large part of him understands the craziness. He understands what I mean when I say, “Burski babies”, he understands why I cry every time I’m at a wedding or a funeral. He even understands why I randomly use words from the 80s and why I sing along to songs even when I don’t know the words.
So I ask myself why I would say, “You know what I mean” to a man who sincerely does. Why would I say that to my husband who was the first man to either know what I mean or at the very least be interested at my working, thinking brain? I think it’s because I’m so scared of losing that. Of being the family member that everyone talks about behind his/her back. “Did you hear what Tesi said today? Wow, she’s freakin crazy!” I want to feel a little bit of certainty in this uncertain world and that’s what Zach has always provided for me. It’s a beautiful thing being understood by someone who is not going to tease you for having random thoughts after being awake for 24 hours straight but yet is not too afraid to call you out on your moments of ridiculousness. Even through the transformation of self I’ve had since meeting Zach, I still find comfort in him knowing who I am and what I’m thinking. Still find great joy in hearing him say, “That’s an interesting question” or “You’re so smart”. I’ve realized even though in my younger years I held onto my identity of not being understood, it’s an altogether better place to have a partner with you in this crazy thing we call life.
Tuesday, November 01, 2005
Ah, the Troops
Last night as I was watching the Halloween parade pour through downtown I was able to swing my hips with the cadence of the bands, point and wave hi to the Nemo float and cover my ears at the fire trucks. I was a kid again lost in the fantasy world that is parades. Clowns perpetually smiling, TV personalities perpetually on air, children perpetually running after candy, so much so they come within centimeters of being run over by floats. It’s a sensory overload for everyone present, and it’s so much fun. It wasn’t until the men and women of the military came through that it made me truly appreciate all the joys and silliness I had felt.
The army came through in their fatigues, saluting the flag that passed before them. The sight gave me goosebumps, it brought a smile to my face and without realizing it, I was applauding. No matter what your political persuasion, I think it would be hard to not respect these people. Whether you believe they truly gave themselves to our armed forces voluntarily or not, the fact remains they deserve our respect. Whether you believe war is something that should never be or not, the people of the armed forces are what make it easy for us to live the life we’ve grown accustomed to.
I have people within my own “circle of trust” that disagree with my political beliefs and I actually appreciate friendly banter about our differences. I appreciate it because it means we’re in a country that not only allows it, but also encourages it! The people that passed my family in the parade were the ones that have agreed to put my life ahead of their own, without even knowing my name. What a powerful gesture. Even if they saw it as the only way out of a life of poverty, they still had a choice. In life, there is always a choice; the options may not be appealing, or ones our society even discusses, but there’s always a choice. So in my mind, these uniformed soldiers chose at one point to protect my freedom and continue to choose on a daily basis.
Looking at the people, and perhaps more specifically the women, of underdeveloped countries makes me respect these soldiers even more. To hear stories of women being able to go outside the house without being completely covered, women owning their own business for the first time, women speaking their minds, women choosing… to know I’ve taken all those things for granted my entire life and to realize all of this was made possible by people in uniform.
Let’s be honest, it’s not about the politicians. They can order people to war but it is the men and women fighting who make it possible for us to do the things we love. It is because of them that people are able to ride around in cars claiming Bush is the next Hitler without the threat of being killed for it. Our freedom is a mighty beautiful thing and for that, I will continue to get goosebumps when I see the soldiers, I will continue to get choked up any time the Star Spangled Banner is played and will continue to support the soldiers, wherever they may be.
So in the spirit of Thanksgiving, I thank the women and men in all varieties of uniform, for giving me a life everyone deserves.
The army came through in their fatigues, saluting the flag that passed before them. The sight gave me goosebumps, it brought a smile to my face and without realizing it, I was applauding. No matter what your political persuasion, I think it would be hard to not respect these people. Whether you believe they truly gave themselves to our armed forces voluntarily or not, the fact remains they deserve our respect. Whether you believe war is something that should never be or not, the people of the armed forces are what make it easy for us to live the life we’ve grown accustomed to.
I have people within my own “circle of trust” that disagree with my political beliefs and I actually appreciate friendly banter about our differences. I appreciate it because it means we’re in a country that not only allows it, but also encourages it! The people that passed my family in the parade were the ones that have agreed to put my life ahead of their own, without even knowing my name. What a powerful gesture. Even if they saw it as the only way out of a life of poverty, they still had a choice. In life, there is always a choice; the options may not be appealing, or ones our society even discusses, but there’s always a choice. So in my mind, these uniformed soldiers chose at one point to protect my freedom and continue to choose on a daily basis.
Looking at the people, and perhaps more specifically the women, of underdeveloped countries makes me respect these soldiers even more. To hear stories of women being able to go outside the house without being completely covered, women owning their own business for the first time, women speaking their minds, women choosing… to know I’ve taken all those things for granted my entire life and to realize all of this was made possible by people in uniform.
Let’s be honest, it’s not about the politicians. They can order people to war but it is the men and women fighting who make it possible for us to do the things we love. It is because of them that people are able to ride around in cars claiming Bush is the next Hitler without the threat of being killed for it. Our freedom is a mighty beautiful thing and for that, I will continue to get goosebumps when I see the soldiers, I will continue to get choked up any time the Star Spangled Banner is played and will continue to support the soldiers, wherever they may be.
So in the spirit of Thanksgiving, I thank the women and men in all varieties of uniform, for giving me a life everyone deserves.
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