So, we have been determined lately to try and distract ourselves from the ever-present sense of waiting. Fortunately we have a son who works at the movie theater and he can get us free passes. (Thanks Ty). In the past, we would be lucky if we saw maybe one or two movies in a year. I’ve seen two in the last week. And they couldn’t possibly be anymore diverse. I went with my 18 year old son to see the new Batman movie; The Dark Knight. (Which completely lived up to the hype…Awesome!) And then I went to see Mamma Mia with my bride. (Toe tapping, dancing in the aisles, sing along with ABBA tunes goodness! Whew!)
Talk about great distractions and even greater extremes. Although I’m still deciding on which was scarier…Heath Ledger’s terrifying portrayal of the Joker, or Pierce Brosnan attempting to sing in Mamma Mia.
Deliberate distractions are helpful during the wait. And today means another day closer.
-Rob
Thursday, July 31, 2008
Friday, July 25, 2008
I like this...a lot.
"Hope is
Folding paper cranes
Even when your hands get cramped
And your eyes tired,
Working past blisters and paper cuts,
Simply because something in you
Insists on
Opening its wings."
(Origami Emotion by Elizabeth Barrette)
-Rob
Tuesday, July 22, 2008
Don't push!
Christel was in labor with our first child for about 18 hours. After about 15 of those hours everything in her (instinct, reflex… I don’t know, I’m not an expert in these matters) wanted to start pushing. At that point the doctor said “No, don’t push; you need to resist the urge to push. You’re not ready yet.” It was at that point I saw a side of my wife I never knew existed. I thought she was either going to jump out the window or rip the beating heart out of the doctor’s chest like you would see in an old kung fu movie. I don’t remember exactly what happened next, but I happened to be standing between her and the doctor and I think I still have a scar on my chest.
During the past few months, our wait to bring Honour home has felt like those last few hours of labor. (Actually Christel says it’s been more difficult). The “contractions” of anticipation began intensifying in early June. We’ve basically been pushing since then, with the understanding that we may get “the call” any day. Then last week we were told that it will actually be a few more months. In essence… we have to stop pushing.
Easier said then done. Meanwhile, I’m seeing that familiar kung fu look in Christel’s eyes again, so I’m keeping a safe distance and sleeping with one eye open.
-Rob
During the past few months, our wait to bring Honour home has felt like those last few hours of labor. (Actually Christel says it’s been more difficult). The “contractions” of anticipation began intensifying in early June. We’ve basically been pushing since then, with the understanding that we may get “the call” any day. Then last week we were told that it will actually be a few more months. In essence… we have to stop pushing.
Easier said then done. Meanwhile, I’m seeing that familiar kung fu look in Christel’s eyes again, so I’m keeping a safe distance and sleeping with one eye open.
-RobMonday, July 21, 2008
Princes, princesses and a dog...
A few nights ago, we were sitting around the dinner table and I said, “We are a Tribe of princes and princesses.” To which Jasmine quickly added “And one big hairy dog!”
Tip…if you have a lot of children and a small house and want to add a dog…get a small one. We did not. We have a VERY large one. A 100 pound Great Pyrenees that is still growing. Her name is Lola (Not named after Barry Manilow’s showgirl from Copacabana, but from the classic Kinks song, because she walks like a woman and barks like a man…).
In looking at baby/toddler carriers for Honour, we are now considering just ordering a saddle for Lola and some cowgirl boots with spurs for Honour. Transportation and entertainment all in one package!
Lola
Ty attempting to measure Lola for her saddle. (kidding.)
Tip…if you have a lot of children and a small house and want to add a dog…get a small one. We did not. We have a VERY large one. A 100 pound Great Pyrenees that is still growing. Her name is Lola (Not named after Barry Manilow’s showgirl from Copacabana, but from the classic Kinks song, because she walks like a woman and barks like a man…).
In looking at baby/toddler carriers for Honour, we are now considering just ordering a saddle for Lola and some cowgirl boots with spurs for Honour. Transportation and entertainment all in one package!
Lola
Ty attempting to measure Lola for her saddle. (kidding.)Tuesday, July 15, 2008
Getting closer...
Last Friday we heard great news from our adoption agency that we received final approval from the Ministry of Justice in Vietnam! We have one more step to go, which is travel approval (TA) from the People’s Committee in her province. Once they set a date for the “Giving and Receiving Ceremony” where Honour “officially” becomes our child, we will then receive “the call” to come to Vietnam. We were told that this can take anywhere from a few days to a few more months. Do we even need to say that we are REALLY hoping for the “few days” time frame?
We were also told that at some point this week, we will be receiving some pictures and even a video recently taken of Honour. So we are spending WAY too much time checking our email and waiting for the phone to ring.
Right before the birth of our two oldest children, Christel would enter into a “nesting mode”. She went crazy all of a sudden…cleaning, painting, moving furniture around, etc. It was a sign that it was going to happen VERY soon. Well, she just entered nesting mode about a week ago. So I think we’re almost there.
-Rob
We were also told that at some point this week, we will be receiving some pictures and even a video recently taken of Honour. So we are spending WAY too much time checking our email and waiting for the phone to ring.
Right before the birth of our two oldest children, Christel would enter into a “nesting mode”. She went crazy all of a sudden…cleaning, painting, moving furniture around, etc. It was a sign that it was going to happen VERY soon. Well, she just entered nesting mode about a week ago. So I think we’re almost there.
-Rob
Monday, July 14, 2008
What if...
Last January I had Honour’s name tattooed onto my arm along with the names of all of my kids. When a friend found out that I was going to add Honour’s name they expressed their concern by asking, “What if something happens and you aren’t able to bring her home?” Knowing how unstable and precarious the adoption process had become in Vietnam recently…it was a legitimate question. Adding even more legitimacy was the knowledge of how permanent a tattoo is. What if???
After pondering the question for about 5 seconds, my answer was simple…”How would that change anything”? She’s our daughter. It’s too late. She’s already been carved into my heart. The tattoo just represents something that has already happened to me. She’s already left her mark, just like each of my other children has.”
There will be times in our lives when a child is not physically with us anymore. They may go off to college or leave home to start lives of their own. We may even experience the heartbreaking loss of a child through death. Or as in the case with Honour, she may be far away, on the other side of the world still waiting for us. Proximity never changes the fact that they still belong to us. They are still our children. We are marked for life.
This “marking” is even a beautiful reflection of the extravagant love of God, who speaks through His prophet Isaiah and promises “I will never forget you. Behold, I have engraved, (indelibly imprinted; tattooed) a picture of you on the palm of each of My hands.” (Isaiah 43:15-16 amplified version)
So yes…tattoos are permanent.
So are children.
So is family.
So is belonging.
My tattoo goes a lot deeper than my skin. Love seems to do that to you.
Our "Tribe"
After pondering the question for about 5 seconds, my answer was simple…”How would that change anything”? She’s our daughter. It’s too late. She’s already been carved into my heart. The tattoo just represents something that has already happened to me. She’s already left her mark, just like each of my other children has.”
There will be times in our lives when a child is not physically with us anymore. They may go off to college or leave home to start lives of their own. We may even experience the heartbreaking loss of a child through death. Or as in the case with Honour, she may be far away, on the other side of the world still waiting for us. Proximity never changes the fact that they still belong to us. They are still our children. We are marked for life.
This “marking” is even a beautiful reflection of the extravagant love of God, who speaks through His prophet Isaiah and promises “I will never forget you. Behold, I have engraved, (indelibly imprinted; tattooed) a picture of you on the palm of each of My hands.” (Isaiah 43:15-16 amplified version)
So yes…tattoos are permanent.
So are children.
So is family.
So is belonging.
My tattoo goes a lot deeper than my skin. Love seems to do that to you.
Our "Tribe"-Rob
Friday, July 11, 2008
An ax called hope...
Because of the world I work in (combatting child slavery and exploitation), I daily find myself buried in some of the darkest stories on the planet. I live in the constant tension of hope and despair. I have to choose hope daily. Easier said than done.
If I have learned anything from working in the field of human rights, it’s that hope is not passive. It is deliberate and active. Rebecca Solnit writes in her book, Hope in the Dark; “Hope is not like a lottery ticket you can sit on the sofa and clutch, feeling lucky. Hope is an ax you break down doors with in an emergency; because hope should shove you out the door… Hope calls for action; action is impossible without hope.”
Strangely enough, I have found it more difficult to choose hope daily in this adoption process. I think it’s because whatever action we can take at this point is not so clearly defined. So much seems to be out of our hands, and yet we are not content to just “sit on the sofa” and wait. We continue to write letters, make phone calls, sign petitions, pray, etc. We are constantly looking for a way in.
I used to think that patience is passive as well. It’s not. Anne Lamott describes hope in her book, Bird by Bird as “a revolutionary patience.” Revolution insinuates action. So even my patience has to be active and deliberate.
So, all that to say…our daughter is on the other side of this seemingly impenetrable door. But I’ve got an ax called hope…and I’m not afraid to use it.
-Rob
If I have learned anything from working in the field of human rights, it’s that hope is not passive. It is deliberate and active. Rebecca Solnit writes in her book, Hope in the Dark; “Hope is not like a lottery ticket you can sit on the sofa and clutch, feeling lucky. Hope is an ax you break down doors with in an emergency; because hope should shove you out the door… Hope calls for action; action is impossible without hope.”
Strangely enough, I have found it more difficult to choose hope daily in this adoption process. I think it’s because whatever action we can take at this point is not so clearly defined. So much seems to be out of our hands, and yet we are not content to just “sit on the sofa” and wait. We continue to write letters, make phone calls, sign petitions, pray, etc. We are constantly looking for a way in.
I used to think that patience is passive as well. It’s not. Anne Lamott describes hope in her book, Bird by Bird as “a revolutionary patience.” Revolution insinuates action. So even my patience has to be active and deliberate.
So, all that to say…our daughter is on the other side of this seemingly impenetrable door. But I’ve got an ax called hope…and I’m not afraid to use it.
-Rob
Tuesday, July 8, 2008
Monday, July 7, 2008
Honour's perspective...
We have been wondering lately what Honour must be thinking during this adoption process. What must things look like from her point of view?
Last year we sent her a little photo album of our family. What does she think of when she opens up her little photo album and looks at our pictures? What do the orphanage workers and her foster mom tell her?
One of the beautiful and difficult responsibilities of a foster mother is to prepare the child for her Mommy and Daddy who are coming for her; to let her know that she will soon be part of a family forever. How has her foster mother explained to her why it’s taking so long? How much can a 3 1/2 year old child really understand of the concept of time? Has the story and hope of a family coming for her become just that... another story? A heart-warming folktale that has just blended in with the fables of giant turtles, dragons, princesses and lotus blossoms? Is the hope and anticipation of the tale coming true for her disappearing with time? Has her little photo album taken its place on a dusty shelf along with other books read too many times?
At the slim chance that she may still be wishing upon a star…we will continue to pray for a happy ending to this fairy tale.
-Rob (member of the Waiting Parents Program : )
Last year we sent her a little photo album of our family. What does she think of when she opens up her little photo album and looks at our pictures? What do the orphanage workers and her foster mom tell her?
One of the beautiful and difficult responsibilities of a foster mother is to prepare the child for her Mommy and Daddy who are coming for her; to let her know that she will soon be part of a family forever. How has her foster mother explained to her why it’s taking so long? How much can a 3 1/2 year old child really understand of the concept of time? Has the story and hope of a family coming for her become just that... another story? A heart-warming folktale that has just blended in with the fables of giant turtles, dragons, princesses and lotus blossoms? Is the hope and anticipation of the tale coming true for her disappearing with time? Has her little photo album taken its place on a dusty shelf along with other books read too many times?
At the slim chance that she may still be wishing upon a star…we will continue to pray for a happy ending to this fairy tale.
-Rob (member of the Waiting Parents Program : )
Saturday, July 5, 2008
Hitting the wall...
"It felt like an elephant had jumped out of a tree onto my shoulders and was making me carry it the rest of the way in.”— Dick Beardsley (marathon runner)
“At around mile 23, I was beginning to feel like the anchor was out.”— George Ringler (Marathon runner)
These are first hand descriptions of what it feels like to hit the infamous “wall” in a marathon. “Hitting the wall” is a phenomenon that most marathon runners experience at about mile 20. You can stand on the sidelines at about the 20 mile mark and actually watch people drop like flies. It happens when your body has used up all its glycogen and then begins to burn fat instead. You basically shut down. Sara Latta describes the experience as follows: “At mile 20, give or take a couple of miles, your pace slows, sometimes considerably. Some runners say that it feels as though their legs had been filled with lead quail shot, …Others can’t feel their feet at all. Thought processes become a little fuzzy… Muscle coordination goes out the window, and self-doubt casts a deep shadow over the soul.”
Disclaimer: I am not a runner. The longest distance I ever ran was about a mile…and I threw up afterwards. And I was only running because I was being chased. So I don’t know anything about running. But I do know what it feels like to hit the wall.
We hit the wall this week regarding the adoption. No more glycogen…we’re running on fat here. (Christel just said that this is a good thing). I’m not sure what, how or why it happened this week. But we are spent. It happened to both of us at the same time. We sat on the porch one evening and just cried. Frustration mixed with exhaustion, and a hope that now looks like an ember instead of a fire. We are seeing it in our kids as well…which really breaks us. Some days are better than others. This was a bad week.
This coming week marks a year since we accepted the referral of Honour from our agency. (2 ½ years since we began this adoption process). I wonder if a year since referral marks the wall? There are several other families from our agency adopting from the same province in Vietnam. Those that are at the year mark, give or take a couple of weeks, seem to be having the very same experience.
Long distance running experts recommend the use of carbohydrate-based "energy" gels for runners to avoid or reduce the effect of "hitting the wall.” Recommended alternatives to gels are solid candy, cookies, other forms of concentrated sugars and caffeine. Too bad they don’t make “energy gels” for our kind of marathon. So instead, we are now significantly increasing our consumption of chocolate and coffee. We are a little more jittery and get the shakes now and then, but hope lives another day. And an ember of hope is still hope.
At a point of dwindling hope in her own life, author Anne Lamott asked her Jesuit friend Father Tom “How are we going to get through this craziness?” Father Tom replied; “Left foot, right foot, left foot, breathe.”
Good advice. That’s how we plan on making it past this wall.
-Rob
“At around mile 23, I was beginning to feel like the anchor was out.”— George Ringler (Marathon runner)
These are first hand descriptions of what it feels like to hit the infamous “wall” in a marathon. “Hitting the wall” is a phenomenon that most marathon runners experience at about mile 20. You can stand on the sidelines at about the 20 mile mark and actually watch people drop like flies. It happens when your body has used up all its glycogen and then begins to burn fat instead. You basically shut down. Sara Latta describes the experience as follows: “At mile 20, give or take a couple of miles, your pace slows, sometimes considerably. Some runners say that it feels as though their legs had been filled with lead quail shot, …Others can’t feel their feet at all. Thought processes become a little fuzzy… Muscle coordination goes out the window, and self-doubt casts a deep shadow over the soul.”
Disclaimer: I am not a runner. The longest distance I ever ran was about a mile…and I threw up afterwards. And I was only running because I was being chased. So I don’t know anything about running. But I do know what it feels like to hit the wall.
We hit the wall this week regarding the adoption. No more glycogen…we’re running on fat here. (Christel just said that this is a good thing). I’m not sure what, how or why it happened this week. But we are spent. It happened to both of us at the same time. We sat on the porch one evening and just cried. Frustration mixed with exhaustion, and a hope that now looks like an ember instead of a fire. We are seeing it in our kids as well…which really breaks us. Some days are better than others. This was a bad week.
This coming week marks a year since we accepted the referral of Honour from our agency. (2 ½ years since we began this adoption process). I wonder if a year since referral marks the wall? There are several other families from our agency adopting from the same province in Vietnam. Those that are at the year mark, give or take a couple of weeks, seem to be having the very same experience.
Long distance running experts recommend the use of carbohydrate-based "energy" gels for runners to avoid or reduce the effect of "hitting the wall.” Recommended alternatives to gels are solid candy, cookies, other forms of concentrated sugars and caffeine. Too bad they don’t make “energy gels” for our kind of marathon. So instead, we are now significantly increasing our consumption of chocolate and coffee. We are a little more jittery and get the shakes now and then, but hope lives another day. And an ember of hope is still hope.
At a point of dwindling hope in her own life, author Anne Lamott asked her Jesuit friend Father Tom “How are we going to get through this craziness?” Father Tom replied; “Left foot, right foot, left foot, breathe.”
Good advice. That’s how we plan on making it past this wall.
-Rob
Wednesday, July 2, 2008
It's confession time...
I’ve started listening to country music. And I’m a little freaked out that I’m actually beginning to like it.
I’ve been a rock and roll fan since I saw Elvis at Madison Square Garden with my mom when I was 10 years old. (My Dad didn’t want to go…and after seeing my Mom react to Elvis like a teenage girl, I don’t blame him.) I’ve played in rock bands since junior high school and have been to some amazing concerts…from the Rolling Stones at Giants stadium to front row seats with my son Tyler at a U2 concert last year. I’ve even risked my life by taking my daughter to see Hanson THREE times! All this to say…I like rock and roll.
A few months ago my son turned to a country music station in the car and I found myself getting sucked in to a song about a Dad and his little girl. I got caught up in the story aspect of the song. Then I started to secretly listen to the country station whenever I was alone in the car. (Great traveling music by the way). Country songs tell stories. I think that’s what I like. The songs about dads and their daughters kill me every time. I’m driving down the street in my minivan (yes…a mini van. Only because my kids would never ride in a “short bus.”) and I’m crying my eyes out listening to lyrics like:
“I came to see her daddy for a sit down man to man
It wasn't any secret I’d be asking for her hand
I guess that's why he left me waiting in the living room by myself
with at least a dozen pictures of her sitting on a shelf
She was playing Cinderella
She was riding her first bike
Bouncing on the bed and looking for a pillow fight
Running through the sprinkler with a big popsicle grin
Dancing with her dad, looking up at him
In her eyes I’m Prince Charming
But to him I’m just some fella
riding in and stealing Cinderella”
-Chuck Wicks
I pity the guy who comes to ask me for the hand of any of my daughters. I’ve had years to prepare my “put the fear of God into you” speech.
Anyway…back to the point. I’m afraid that I’m becoming what Donny and Marie Osmond used to sing about… “I’m a little bit country; I’m a little bit rock and roll.” (Did I just quote Donny and Marie??!!!) Somebody save me!!! Call the Rock and Roll intervention team before it’s too late! AAAAAAHHHHhhhhhhh……)
-Rob
I’ve been a rock and roll fan since I saw Elvis at Madison Square Garden with my mom when I was 10 years old. (My Dad didn’t want to go…and after seeing my Mom react to Elvis like a teenage girl, I don’t blame him.) I’ve played in rock bands since junior high school and have been to some amazing concerts…from the Rolling Stones at Giants stadium to front row seats with my son Tyler at a U2 concert last year. I’ve even risked my life by taking my daughter to see Hanson THREE times! All this to say…I like rock and roll.
A few months ago my son turned to a country music station in the car and I found myself getting sucked in to a song about a Dad and his little girl. I got caught up in the story aspect of the song. Then I started to secretly listen to the country station whenever I was alone in the car. (Great traveling music by the way). Country songs tell stories. I think that’s what I like. The songs about dads and their daughters kill me every time. I’m driving down the street in my minivan (yes…a mini van. Only because my kids would never ride in a “short bus.”) and I’m crying my eyes out listening to lyrics like:
“I came to see her daddy for a sit down man to man
It wasn't any secret I’d be asking for her hand
I guess that's why he left me waiting in the living room by myself
with at least a dozen pictures of her sitting on a shelf
She was playing Cinderella
She was riding her first bike
Bouncing on the bed and looking for a pillow fight
Running through the sprinkler with a big popsicle grin
Dancing with her dad, looking up at him
In her eyes I’m Prince Charming
But to him I’m just some fella
riding in and stealing Cinderella”
-Chuck Wicks
I pity the guy who comes to ask me for the hand of any of my daughters. I’ve had years to prepare my “put the fear of God into you” speech.
Anyway…back to the point. I’m afraid that I’m becoming what Donny and Marie Osmond used to sing about… “I’m a little bit country; I’m a little bit rock and roll.” (Did I just quote Donny and Marie??!!!) Somebody save me!!! Call the Rock and Roll intervention team before it’s too late! AAAAAAHHHHhhhhhhh……)
-Rob
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