Ethiopia or bust

Months ago I promised a post about Ethiopian adoption. So here it is. It took me so long to write this because I've been obsessed with adoption blogs, websites, etc., trying to figure out what "we're supposed" to do about adoption (i.e. what God is calling us to do). I had alway thought we'd just hop on a plane and fly over to China and adopt a daughter or two. I loved the idea of my kids having Chinese cousins in LiJen and Ellie. But alas, with China's new rules, we're too old. (I guess that's better than being too fat or having a "face deformity", which would also disqualify us). We're also disqualified because we have histories of depression. So China isn't a possibility. I was dreaming of my niece, LiJen, (who's in college studying Social Work and who wants to work for an adoption agency), flying to China with us to pick up our child. It would have been a poignant story, eh?

I'm also going through all of these thoughts about having a biological child. Okay, I realize I'm about 15 years too late. Of course. That's the story of my life. And it's probably human nature that we want something when we can't have it. But for some reason I've been reading / hearing things lately that make me feel like I"m missing out on something. Like a few days ago when a friend said "Giving birth was a profound spiritual experience." Oh...I guess one that I'll never have. Bummer. Or an article I read last week about a woman who described giving birth to her son as like "A life passing through me," and having her daughter was like "A piece of me broke off and created another life." Wow. Sounds cools. I guess I won't get that experience, either.

Getting closer to adoption makes you think about all of these things. I've always wanted to adopt. But I always thought I would have a biological child as well.

Then there's the complicated process of getting a child through adoption. My idea of "just hopping on a plane" to get a child is so naive. There's paperwork, tons and tons of it. Then it's all the decisions -- What country? Which agency? Older kids, younger kids? Sibling groups? Now or in a year? All of these things to decide. It's truly overwhelming.

Then there's my aversion to the "pack" mentality. I don't really want to do what everyone else is doing. More and more people are going to Ethiopia to adopt babies. Now I'm freaking out because I've heard that they might tighten the rules just like China....and so we have to move FAST in order to get our kids before 1) they're all taken or 2) Ethiopia decides we're not qualified to raise one of their orphans. Crazy mind games, I know. In reality, I've heard there are more than 2 million AIDs orphans in Ethiopia. Last year 751 Americans adopted Ethiopian kids. I'm sure this year it will be even more, but geesh....it's still a drop in the bucket. There are still millions of kids who need homes.

I know David and I have more than enough love to give a child. I know there are children out there who need homes. Now, I'll just have to trust God to bring us the child we're meant to have.

So this blog might soon turn into an adoption blog. Stay tuned.

Great America

Eight years ago this month I went to the airport to meet a refugee family from Kosovo who had travelled from a refugee camp in Macedonia. They got off the plane with only one duffle bag that held all of the possessions they managed to grab from their home before the Serbs came with guns to force them out. The four little girls (ages 6 months - 8 years) were covered in red blisters from having scabbies. They were all so thin. My friends and I didn't think the baby would make it to the parking lot. Apparently they had eaten only bread and tomatoes in the refugee camp.

For the next year I sponsored them, raising money for rent and food, helping them find jobs, gathering donated clothes, taking them to the public health clinic for immunization shots and to take care of the scabbies, helping them apply for Social Security cards, teaching them how to ride the train, shop in a grocery store, and basically how to live in an American big city.  Needless to say, it was intense. They were extremely appreciative, but also depressed and dependent. I saw another side of America -- one of red tape, paperwork, complicated forms, passive-agressive beaurocrats, isolation. A land of plenty but also of processed food, city apartments with no yard for the kids to play in, and bad inner-city schools.

I often thought maybe they'd be better off back in Kosovo. But then I remembered that at least here no one is driving them out of their home with a semi-automatic weapon (with the exception of one neighborhood where they lived that the police called the "Juneway Jungle."

I never knew if I was doing too much for them, or too little. But in time I found my boundaries, and they found their way. In the process they basically made me a part of their family.

They've made some bad decisions, which was hard for me to watch, but in each case they seemed to bounce back and get it together. Now the oldest daughter will be a Junior in High School. Dad has a good, solid job. Mom is working in a hotel -- difficult work, but she has friends who are co-workers. And she likes to contribute to the family finances. Each time I visit they offer me tea, Turkish coffee, and on special occassions, what they call "pita," which is sort-of like Greek spinach pie.  They know it's my favorite.

I was visiting them earlier this summer and Florije, the oldest daughter, mentioned that she wanted to go to Great America, an amusment park north of Chicago. They girls had never been to an amusement park. Suddenly, I had a great idea for their birthday presents this year. My women's small group contributed money, and we bought the whole family tickets to Great America.


A few weeks ago, on a Monday, David and I took them to the park. It was a perfect Chicago day -- in the 80's, sunny, low humidity. The older girls kept talking about the rollercoasters. So David and I told them to pick which one they wanted to go on. They picked the "American Eagle", a big, creaky wooden monstrosity that made my stomach flip just looking at it on the map. We waited in line for 45 minutes. Finally, we got on the rollercoaster train, pulled down the bar that would keep us on our seats, and away we went. Okay, I haven't been on a rollercoaster for a while, and discovered that what made them so exciting when I was 20 is exactly the thing I don't like now: The feeling of flying off the track, of being bounced around on the track until my neck hurt, of the feeling of my stomach jumping into my chest. Yikes. In the middle of the ride I thought, "Never again!"

Well, the girls had similar feelings. As soon as we got off, Florije said, "I don't want to do that again!" Which turned out to be a good thing because we spent the rest of the day riding on smaller rides with short lines. They had a blast. And I just kept thinking how good it was to see them smile.

The Theology of Farming

I read an encouraging article in the New York Times today. "Of Church and Steak: Farming for the Soul" reports more and more Christians are paying attention to how our food is made, and how the animals we eat are treated. The article profiles one farmer, Scott Lively, an evangelical Christian who raises his animals humanely and is the largest organic meat processor in the country, Dakota Farms. He sells a lot of his meat to Hasidic Jews, who eat Kosher meat -- meaning the animals have to be raised and slaughtered according to Hasidic laws (which means humanely).

Here's an excerpt:
"Mr. Lively adheres to a diet he believes Jesus followed. Like Mr. Wiesenfeld, he says the Bible prescribes that he use organic methods to respect the earth, treat his workers decently and treat the cattle that enter his slaughterhouse as humanely as possible.

“We learn everything from the Old Testament,” Mr. Lively said, “from keeping kosher to responsible capitalism.”

Humane, sustainable practices like Mr. Lively’s are articles of faith for many Americans concerned with the way food gets from farm to plate. But they are even more deeply held matters of faith for a growing number of farmers and religious groups. In the past few years protecting the environment has emerged as a religious issue. Now, something similar is taking place in the way people of faith view their daily bread."

Oh, and I was surprised to discover the article mentions my friend, Hope Egan's book: "Holy Cow! Does God Care What We Eat?"

So if you prefer not to become a vegetarian and forgo meat altogether, you might try eating Kosher meat. At least you'll know the animals have been treated humanely. I agree with many interviewed in the article -- it's a spiritual and moral issue.

Who said memoir was dead?

A few years ago I started writing a memoir. I wrote a few chapters and thought they were decent, and so I put together a book proposal and took the proposal, along with a few of the chapters, to a writing conference. I tentatively gave it to a couple of acquisitions editors I know. One of the editors, before even reading the proposal, was very blunt. "Wow, memoir is on its way out. Unless you have a unique voice like Anne Lamott, it's really tough to get something published." Well, I knew I wasn't like Anne Lamott...so that pretty much quelched the inkling of confidence I had.

Needless to say I was discouraged. I put the manuscript away and haven't touched it since. I lost steam and any excitement I had for it -- I guess I get discouraged easily.

And I keep looking for signs that the memoir as a genre is dead. Low and behold, about 3 years after my editor friend was ready to give the last rites to memoir -- I see more and more on the bookstore shelves. I love memoirs. I always have -- even way back when they were called "autobiographies." That's why I wanted to write one: because I've always heard that you should write what you like to read.

I recently read two spiritual memoirs that I loved. One is a recommendation by, who else, Anne Lamott. I read in a magazine somewhere, in one of those columns that asks famous people what they're reading, that Lamott was reading a book called "Take This Bread" by Sara Miles. So I ran out and bought it.

It is, as the title suggests, all about food. She's a liberal, a journalist, activist and a lesbian. Okay, not your typical candidate for being drawn to Christianity. But one day she stumbles into an Episcopal church and is invited to take communion. Her life is instantly changed.

After her conversion, she takes Jesus literally when he says "If you love me, feed my sheep." She starts a food pantry at the Episcopal church, and eventually dozens of other food pantries around San Franscisco.

When I was younger, communion in the Baptist church was just an after thought. A ritual that was tacked onto a service once a month. Grape juice in little plastic thimble-sized cups and Saltines broken into little pieces. As I've experience communion in different churches and traditions throughout my adult life, it's become central to my worship experience. When my friends and I tried to start a little church a while back, we started a communion tradition where we would walk up to the communion table and say "I bring ______ to the table." Often, for me it would be "I bring anxiety to the table" or "I bring sadness to the table." The minister would break off a hunk of break (not a mere Saltine) then say, "Because of this bread, you can have peace and joy. Because if Christ's blood, you have new life."

This ritual was meant to remind us of the continual transforming power of Christ. Now, as David and I go to Old Saint Pats, we have communion every Sunday. We walk up the marble-floored aisle and hold out our hands as the priest says, "the body of Christ" or "The blood of Christ". Amen.

"Take this Bread" reminded me once again, of the centrality of communion to the Christian life....a constant and tangible reminder of our changed lives and the power of Christ in our lives.

"Easter Everywhere" by Darcey Steinke was waiting for me at Barnes and Noble the other day. It was a surprise from my husband. He called me and said "Hey, stop by the Barnes and Noble, I'm having them hold a book for you there." He wouldn't tell me what it was. But when I stopped to pick it up and read the back cover, I was once again grateful for a husband who "gets me."

I took the book home and read it in one day. I just have to say, it's one of the best spiritual memoirs I've read in a long time, and her voice is NOTHING LIKE ANNE LAMOTT! Take that, my editor friend. Memoir is not dead, and you don't have to be like Ann Lamott to publish one.

Anyway, Steinke grew up as the daughter of a Lutheran minister. But as she becomes an adult, she abandons the church. She moves to NYC and publishes novels, she's beautiful, successful and seems to have everything, but she feels empty. So she tentatively starts exploring the faith of her childhood. But this time she attempts to find out what it really means, which looks much different than the shallow faith she inherited from her minister father. She realizes that her looks, success, etc., will not fill her. She quotes Simone Weil: "One has only the choice between God and idolatry. If one denies God...one is worshiping some things of this world in the belief that one sees them only as such, but in fact, though unknown to oneself imagining the attributes of Divinity in them."

If you're looking to read books that have neat, tidy conversion stories that leave no unanswered questions, then you shouldn't buy these books. But if you're okay with conversions that are on-going, are more about questions than answers, but show how Christ meets someone where they are....you might like these books as much as I did.

Now I'm going to go work on my memoir.

On Marriage

I often wake up around 3:00 or 4:00 a.m. It's a bummer because then I can't get back to sleep because 1) David's breathing (okay, I'm easily distracted), 2) Or the cat is taking up 3/4 of the bed and I can't move my legs, or 3) I start thinking about my lack of work, having too much work, or the state of my filing cabinet, or a million other things. So often I'll get out of bed, eat a banana, pull a book off the bookshelf, and lie down on the couch. Then of course, the cat appears and wants to recline on my chest, making it hard to read. But the other night I managed to read a few pages from a Henri Nouwen reader titled "Seeds of Hope." Here are his thoughts on marriage, which I really like:

"Marriage is not a lifelong attraction of two individuals to each other, but a call for two people to witness together God's love. The basis of marriage is not mutual affection, or feelings, or emotions and passions that we associate with love, but a vocation, a being elected to build together a house for God in this world, to be like the two cherubs whose outstretched wings sheltered the Ark of the Covenant and created a space where Yahweh could be present. Marriage is a relationship in which a man and a woman protect and nurture the inner sanctum within and between them and witness to that by the way in which they love each other...

The real mystery of marriage is not that husband and wife love each other so much that they can find God in each other's lives, but that God loves them so much that they can discover each other more and more as living reminders of God's presence. They are brought together, indeed, as two prayerful hands extended toward God and forming in this way a home for God in this world."

You're right

I don't really want to be like Dooce. She's weird. But you have to admit she has an adorable child. Thank you all for your comments and affirmation. I now feel motivated and encouraged to keep blogging. As my friend Jackie told me in an email "You weren't having an identity crisis until you went to the LAME conference!"

So I'm swearing off reading certain other blogs, because I have this habit of observing other people's lives. Maybe it's the writer in me -- I've always been an observer. For a writer, that's a good thing. But the downside is I observe, and then compare. It's the comparison that drags me down into the pit of envy. I feel I never measure up -- or my life never measures up. So I'm reading, observing, comparing instead of leading my own life! It's sick, really. And duh, maybe I'd be more content with my own life if I were actually living it.

So, from now on I'm going to stop comparing (i'm sure easier said than done), and focus on the life I've been given. As my new favorite writer Wendel Berry writes, "but you mustn't wish for another life. You mustn't want to be somebody else. What must do is this: "Rejoice evermore. Pray without ceasing. In every thing give thanks."

I am still thinking about how to change this blog, especially knowing how difficult it is to comment. I want this blog to be a discussion, not just a monologue, which is why I value your comments. So switching the blog to a different blog hosting service might be the answer. Or maybe there's a way to adjust Blogger to make commenting easier and I haven't figured it out yet.

I'm going through an identity crisis

I don't know who I am anymore. As a blogger, anyway. To be honest, I just started this blog on a whim, without much thought. Well, my only thought was, "Let's just give it a try and see what happens." Since then, I have a loyal following of about, oh, 2 people. And one is my husband.

Well, on a whim (See, I can be spontaneous), I attended the BlogHer conference here in Chicago last weekend. As of last Friday, I didn't even know what BlogHer was...but then I was reading someone else's blog and she mentioned it and I thought, "why not?" So Saturday morning I skipped my Weight Watchers meeting and drove down to Navy Pier to sit through workshops and meet other women bloggers only to find out the my blog is TOTALLY LAME! I had no idea. I've been introduced to this whole new Blog world that includes blogs that are better than mine, like Dooce and Sweet / Salty and magpie-girl and Fully Operational Battle Station

Okay, now I won't have any readers because you'll all be busy reading these other, BETTER BLOGS.

The conference left me a little embarrassed. So I decided that either I start taking this blog more seriously, or just keep limping along with David as my only reader (in which case I can just start talking to him more which means there's no reason to have a blog whatsoever.)

Here's what I learned at the conference:

1. Mommy Blogs are rampant. But they're becoming passe. Which is good because I'm not a mommy (yet).
2. People actually make money blogging. I guess you can advertise on your blog, get hired to write for corporate blogs, etc. The really popular blogs like Dooce get thousands of hits a day, so they're attractive to advertisers. Therefore, I would need to start getting more than 10 hits a day to earn money advertising on my blog.
3. To get lots of hits, you have to keep feeding your blog with new entries...like every day. You can't be lazy like me and just update when you feel like it.
4. To be taken seriously as a blogger, you need a unique design. Not a Blogger template (like this one).
5. You need to "brand" yourself. Which is part of the reason I'm having an identity crisis. What is my "brand"? Who am I? I'm not a Mommy Blogger. I'm not a Political Blogger. I'm not a 20-something hipster that writes irreverent posts filled with four-letter words and sexual escapades (like Dooce). So WHO AM I?
6. Being at the conference made me feel like I was in Junior High, wanting to be invited to the party with all of the cool, popular kids.
7. The really good blogs include great photography. I need to buy a camera. Any suggestions?
8. I need to decide what the purpose of my blog is. To make money? (To be honest, I don't really care about that, although it would be nice.) To keep in touch with friends and family? (In that case, staying small is okay.) To have a place to be heard? To have a voice to the "outside world?" I need to do some soul-searching.

The last workshop I attended was lead by Jen Lemen and Magpie-Girl and the title of the workshop was "Small is Beautiful." Most of the attendees had small readerships and they were claiming they didn't want to get any bigger. They wanted a small, loyal readership and a space where they could bare their souls. They said getting any bigger would force them to compromise, to change their voice, to become obsessed with the stat counter (the thing that keeps track of how many readers you have). I liked the vibe of that workshop. It seemed authentic and geniune, and it wasn't all about making money or being famous or whatever. I felt less pressure, like maybe I didn't have to figure out how to get thousands of readers a day. Maybe I want to keep this blog small and intimate, and keep my voice authentic.

All of this to tell you to stay tuned for possible changes to the blog. I think it's time to go to the next level, even if I'm never a Dooce.