Last night David and I went to a meeting at our homestudy agency, The Cradle, here in Evanston. It's the first step in our homestudy process. Yes, we're on our way! Next I have to fill out an application, and then they will match us with a social worker who will get to know us and find out if we're fit to parent. This part of the process takes 4 - 5 months, apparently. After that, our "dossier" will be sent to our other "placing agency," Wide Horizons for Children, who will send everything to Ethiopia and then we'll start the wait to get placed with a child.
It seems like it's taken us forever to get to this point. I'm just so ready to get moving and feel like we're making progress. And it makes me nervous that so many people are starting to adopt from Ethiopia..I'm afraid something will happen...like they'll start putting age restrictions on their adoptions, or the country will be too overwhelmed to handle all of the adoptions...or something. I have to keep reminding myself that we're not in control, and that if we're supposed to have a child, it will happen one way or another. It's all about trusting God...and it's so hard.
One of my adoption/online friends, Lori, and her husband just got their referral. Check out this referral photo on their blog. Okay, doesn't that picture just make you want to go to Ethiopia and adopt about 10 babies?!
Thursday, December 20, 2007
Tuesday, December 18, 2007
Barack, The Holidays, and Hope
I've been trying to stay a safe distance from the presidential campaign and not get too dogmatic about my love for Barack Obama, because I think ultimately politics is not the solution to what ails us. But my dad, who lives in Iowa where he meets all of the presidential candidates every election and knows the ins-and-outs of all of their policies, keeps asking me why I like Barack Obama. "Oh, I don't know...he's just....cool and refreshing." Such a deep answer, I know, which I'm sure doesn't garner much respect from my father. He's probably just rolling his eyes.
David Brooks, my secret Republican crush, articulates me feelings about Obama in his column in the NY Times today.
I think what it comes down to, for me, is INTEGRITY and SELF KNOWLEDGE. Here's an excerpt from his column:
"Obama is an inner-directed man in a profession filled with insecure outer-directed ones. He was forged by the process of discovering his own identity from the scattered facts of his childhood, a process that is described in finely observed detail in “Dreams From My Father.” Once he completed that process, he has been astonishingly constant.
Like most of the rival campaigns, I’ve been poring over press clippings from Obama’s past, looking for inconsistencies and flip-flops. There are virtually none. The unity speech he gives on the stump today is essentially the same speech that he gave at the Democratic convention in 2004, and it’s the same sort of speech he gave to Illinois legislators and Harvard Law students in the decades before that. He has a core, and was able to maintain his equipoise, for example, even as his campaign stagnated through the summer and fall."
Okay, that's all I'm going to say about politics.
*******
Changing subjects: There's an interesting article in Salon.com today about why the new athiests are ignorant about God. You can read it here.
It's an interview with John Haught, a catholic theologian at Georgetown University. He has some interesting things to say about what athiests don't know about religion, how evolution and theology can be compatible. But what struck me was what he had to say when the interviewer asked him: "Why can't you have hope if you don't believe in God"
Haught says:
"You can have hope. But the question is, can you justify the hope? I don't have any objection to the idea that atheists can be good and morally upright people. But we need a worldview that is capable of justifying the confidence that we place in our minds, in truth, in goodness, in beauty. I argue that an atheistic worldview is not capable of justifying that confidence. Some sort of theological framework can justify our trust in meaning, in goodness, in reason."
Believing Christ is the justification for hope is what I cling to during the holidays. My usual holiday depression has been kept at bay by my crazy schedule, a few days of sunshine, and Sufjan Steven's Christmas CDs. Oh, and the Lexapro probably helps a little, too. But our wonderful church, Old St. Pats, is the true salve. In church on Sunday I was wondering, really, what people do without God. During this advent season, each Sunday they have a member of the church tell his or her story. Last Sunday a woman told about how her husband died in her arms of heart failure, and 6 months later, her infant daughter died of Sudden Infant Death Syndrome. How do you find hope in the midst of that? I'm constantly amazed at the testimony of people who have been through the most horrific things that life brings. Sure, I feel beaten down by every day life. But these stories constantly remind me that there is something to this Christmas story. That if THEY can go through THAT and come out feeling loved by God....then yes, there is hope. Maybe that's what it means to being Christ in the world? Telling our stories of hope.
David Brooks, my secret Republican crush, articulates me feelings about Obama in his column in the NY Times today.
I think what it comes down to, for me, is INTEGRITY and SELF KNOWLEDGE. Here's an excerpt from his column:
"Obama is an inner-directed man in a profession filled with insecure outer-directed ones. He was forged by the process of discovering his own identity from the scattered facts of his childhood, a process that is described in finely observed detail in “Dreams From My Father.” Once he completed that process, he has been astonishingly constant.
Like most of the rival campaigns, I’ve been poring over press clippings from Obama’s past, looking for inconsistencies and flip-flops. There are virtually none. The unity speech he gives on the stump today is essentially the same speech that he gave at the Democratic convention in 2004, and it’s the same sort of speech he gave to Illinois legislators and Harvard Law students in the decades before that. He has a core, and was able to maintain his equipoise, for example, even as his campaign stagnated through the summer and fall."
Okay, that's all I'm going to say about politics.
*******
Changing subjects: There's an interesting article in Salon.com today about why the new athiests are ignorant about God. You can read it here.
It's an interview with John Haught, a catholic theologian at Georgetown University. He has some interesting things to say about what athiests don't know about religion, how evolution and theology can be compatible. But what struck me was what he had to say when the interviewer asked him: "Why can't you have hope if you don't believe in God"
Haught says:
"You can have hope. But the question is, can you justify the hope? I don't have any objection to the idea that atheists can be good and morally upright people. But we need a worldview that is capable of justifying the confidence that we place in our minds, in truth, in goodness, in beauty. I argue that an atheistic worldview is not capable of justifying that confidence. Some sort of theological framework can justify our trust in meaning, in goodness, in reason."
Believing Christ is the justification for hope is what I cling to during the holidays. My usual holiday depression has been kept at bay by my crazy schedule, a few days of sunshine, and Sufjan Steven's Christmas CDs. Oh, and the Lexapro probably helps a little, too. But our wonderful church, Old St. Pats, is the true salve. In church on Sunday I was wondering, really, what people do without God. During this advent season, each Sunday they have a member of the church tell his or her story. Last Sunday a woman told about how her husband died in her arms of heart failure, and 6 months later, her infant daughter died of Sudden Infant Death Syndrome. How do you find hope in the midst of that? I'm constantly amazed at the testimony of people who have been through the most horrific things that life brings. Sure, I feel beaten down by every day life. But these stories constantly remind me that there is something to this Christmas story. That if THEY can go through THAT and come out feeling loved by God....then yes, there is hope. Maybe that's what it means to being Christ in the world? Telling our stories of hope.
Thursday, December 13, 2007
Happy Santa Lucia Day
For the past few weeks I've been donning a white gown and putting a glittery wreath on my head to celebrate Santa Lucia with the Chicago Nordic Choir. Every time I do this, I feel a bit foolish. I remember attending a Santa Lucia festival at my grandmother's Swedish Covenant Church a long time ago. The "Lucia" wears a crown of candles, and her young, virginal court follows behind her in a processional to celebrate the saint.
Now that I'm a member of the Nordic Choir, I've just been going along with this tradition, not really knowing what it means. Something about "light" and of course a saint named "Lucia". But a few nights ago we sang a Lucia concert at a Lutheran church in Evanston and one of the church members read the story of Lucia. Finally, I understood the meaning of the candles, white robes and red sashes we wear around our waists.
Here's the Lucia story:
"The origins of the Santa Lucia tradition are not in Scandinavia, but in Syracuse on the island of Sicily around 304 A.D. According to the Sicilian legend, Lucia's mother, a wealthy lady, had been miraculously cured of an illness at the sepulcher of Saint Agatha in Catania. Lucia, a Christian, persuaded her mother in thankfulness to distribute her wealth to the poor. So, by candlelight, the mother and daughter went about the city secretly ministering to the poor of Syracuse.
Unfortunately, this was during the last great persecution of Christians in the reign of the Emperor Diocletian. The pagan young man, to whom Lucia was engaged, took a dim view of this distributing of her dowry, and denounced her to the prefect, Pascasius, who ordered that she be seized and tortured. Miraculously, when neither boiling oil nor burning pitch had the power to hurt her, she was blinded and slain with a sword. Her martyrdom is recorded in ancient sources and in an inscription found in Syracuse.
How or when this legend and tradition came to Värmland, Sweden, no one knows. With the coming of Christianity to Sweden shortly after 1000 A.D., missionaries and priests may have told the story to inspire new converts. Another possibility is that sailors from Sweden may have been captivated by the popular candlelight festival of Santa Lucia in Italy and brought the tradition back with them. A newer theory, requiring more research is that St. Birgitta (1303-1373), during her stay in Rome (1349-1373) in her effort to get papal approval of the Bridgittine Order for women, probably wrote home to Sweden telling of the Lucia legend which was widely known in Italy. As Lucia Day comes at the darkest time of year, the candies of the ministering Santa Lucia portend and witness to the True Light-the birth of the Lord Jesus Christ. On the morning of the thirteenth of December, the strains of "Santa Lucia" are heard everywhere in Sweden as the white-robed maiden comes out of the night with her burning crown of candies dispelling the darkness. In honor of her martyrdom, It has long been the custom to donate money on Lucia Day to institutions working for the blind."
Now, when I wear the white robe and carry a candle, I will know that I am a witness to the True Light, Jesus Christ.
Monday, December 03, 2007
Thankful
It's often hard for me to be thankful. I'm a cup half-empty kind of gal, as my husband often reminds me. I pine for things I don't have, while overlooking all of the great things in my life. Someone once suggested writing something you're thankful for everyday. Maybe I should do that, just to remind me that, okay, I have it pretty darn good.
I'm reading a memoir my sister and niece both suggested -- "Glass Castle" by Jeannette Walls. I bought it two days ago and am almost finished. It's good. Anyway, it's the story of life with parents who are irresponsible, selfish, and basically unfit to parent. Neither of them can hold down a job, and the four children end up fending for themselves, to the point of digging through the school garbage to find the remains of other kids lunches to eat. Their shack of a house has no running water and they can rarely afford electricity. Once Jeannette becomes an adult and becomes a successful reporter in New York City, the one thing she's most thankful for is a hot bath and being clean everyday.
So what am I thankful for? After reading this book, I'm thankful for a warm house, money to pay my electric bill, a hot shower everyday, parents who worked hard to provide for me.
I'm also thankful for a loving husband who makes me dinner and cleans the kitchen (among other things), good friends, a cute cat curled up next to my computer, siblings who are fun to be around, my 10 nephews and 3 nieces who have made being childless a little easier, my dad who taught me to love to read -- and encouraged me to write, and the Sufjan Steven's Christmas CDs.
Most of all I'm thankful for the hope that Christmas brings.
Here are a few photos from our Thanksgiving in Iowa.
Siblings who actually like each other.
Niece Ellie likes to cook. For the record, my waist was never this small.
David teaching my youngest nephews how to play "Casino". He's such a good influence.
The little boys adore their older cousin Alex.
There were 23 of us all together. We were only missing 2 nephews and a spouse. This i s a typical scene when we're all together -- some watching football, some getting ready to go somewhere (to the mall? To the coffee shop?), and basically just hanging out. I'm thankful I get to hang out with this gang.
I'm reading a memoir my sister and niece both suggested -- "Glass Castle" by Jeannette Walls. I bought it two days ago and am almost finished. It's good. Anyway, it's the story of life with parents who are irresponsible, selfish, and basically unfit to parent. Neither of them can hold down a job, and the four children end up fending for themselves, to the point of digging through the school garbage to find the remains of other kids lunches to eat. Their shack of a house has no running water and they can rarely afford electricity. Once Jeannette becomes an adult and becomes a successful reporter in New York City, the one thing she's most thankful for is a hot bath and being clean everyday.
So what am I thankful for? After reading this book, I'm thankful for a warm house, money to pay my electric bill, a hot shower everyday, parents who worked hard to provide for me.
I'm also thankful for a loving husband who makes me dinner and cleans the kitchen (among other things), good friends, a cute cat curled up next to my computer, siblings who are fun to be around, my 10 nephews and 3 nieces who have made being childless a little easier, my dad who taught me to love to read -- and encouraged me to write, and the Sufjan Steven's Christmas CDs.
Most of all I'm thankful for the hope that Christmas brings.
Here are a few photos from our Thanksgiving in Iowa.
Siblings who actually like each other.
Niece Ellie likes to cook. For the record, my waist was never this small.
David teaching my youngest nephews how to play "Casino". He's such a good influence.
The little boys adore their older cousin Alex.
There were 23 of us all together. We were only missing 2 nephews and a spouse. This i s a typical scene when we're all together -- some watching football, some getting ready to go somewhere (to the mall? To the coffee shop?), and basically just hanging out. I'm thankful I get to hang out with this gang.
Sunday, November 18, 2007
Beloved
"All I want to say to you is 'You are the Beloved,' and all I hope is that you can hear these words as spoken to you with all the tenderness and force that love can hold. My only desire is to make these words reverberate in every corner of your being, 'You are the Beloved." -- Henri Nouwen
This weekend David and I went on a retreat from 38 others from Old St. Pats. We stayed at a Catholic seminary and were drenched in God's love all weekend. It was an amazing experience. I don't think I can even articulate what the weekend was like, except to say that it was filled with stories of God working in the lives of his Beloved, and it gave me hope. Hope that even when our lives are broken, we are Beloved. Even in the midst of tragedy or just the mundane tedium of life, we can live abundantly.
I went to the retreat feeling defeated, tired, sad, and depressed. I left feeling hopeful and refreshed.
There were lots of cool statues.
And there were crosses everywhere.
Even on the doorknobs. I wanted to steal one of these doorknobs but didn't think it would be appropriate seeing that we were on a spiritual retreat.
Here's David being contemplative.
At the end of the weekend we were given these crosses to wear.
To remind us that we are loved very much by Him.
This weekend David and I went on a retreat from 38 others from Old St. Pats. We stayed at a Catholic seminary and were drenched in God's love all weekend. It was an amazing experience. I don't think I can even articulate what the weekend was like, except to say that it was filled with stories of God working in the lives of his Beloved, and it gave me hope. Hope that even when our lives are broken, we are Beloved. Even in the midst of tragedy or just the mundane tedium of life, we can live abundantly.
I went to the retreat feeling defeated, tired, sad, and depressed. I left feeling hopeful and refreshed.
There were lots of cool statues.
And there were crosses everywhere.
Even on the doorknobs. I wanted to steal one of these doorknobs but didn't think it would be appropriate seeing that we were on a spiritual retreat.
Here's David being contemplative.
At the end of the weekend we were given these crosses to wear.
To remind us that we are loved very much by Him.
Tuesday, November 13, 2007
Adoption update
We have "Part A" of the adoption application finished. It mostly consisted of reading documents and signing our names to prove the we read them. Now we're waiting for money to drop from heaven because we have to pay the first adoption agency fee when we send in "Part A"...money which we don't have right now. But at least we have the application finished! That's a start and it feels good. It will sit on my desk until we can scrap together the money.
From reading blogs and other adoption related articles online, I don't think we're alone in wondering how the heck we're going to pay for this adoption. Many PAPs (prospective adoptive parents) start the process with a leap of faith. So here we are, leaping. I've been researching adoption grants...I'm going to apply for them all and see what happens. For some reason I'm skeptical we will qualify for any of these grants. I tend to have this "I never win anything!" mentality, and I feel like there are probably so many other PAPs out there who are applying for the same grants and who are much more needy than we are. But we're both writers and so I figure we can at least plead our case fairly well on paper.
I'm also praying daily for more freelance work...
I've been thinking a lot lately about this decision and all of the questions we'll have to face from friends, family, acquaintances as we go through this process. The first one I've had to answer already is "Why Ethiopia? Why not adopt domestically?" The simple answer is, 1) We feel drawn to Ethiopian adoption for humanitarian reasons. 2) We feel more comfortable with the International adoption process (which is much different than the domestic process), 3) we meet the qualifications for Ethiopia.
Do we feel "called" to adopt from Ethiopia? I don't know. I DO know we feel called to adopt, period. And for whatever reason we feel Ethiopia is the right decision for us right now.
I've also been thinking a lot about what it means to have a multi-racial family. Will our family and friends look at us differently? Will unknown prejudices come to the surface? Will they love our child even though she is black? Black....there, I said it. It's a loaded word in our society. Sure, I have nieces from China. But being "black" in America carries its own burden. I've even asked myself if it's fair to bring an Ethiopian child into American society. Are we going to pile burdens on her that she wouldn't have had to deal with in Ethiopia?
More and more, I'm realizing that adoption is complicated. Sure, we will provide a child with a loving home and parents and an education they probably wouldn't have gotten in Ethiopia. But the cost is high. Taking a child from her culture, her people, her heritage. I still think its the right thing to do. Otherwise these AIDS orphans will languish in an orphanage, and maybe end up on the street. But there is a loss whenever a child is adopted.
An article written by a Korean adoptee in today's NY Times says it well. You can read it here.
Here in Chicago, and Evanston (the suburb just north of the city), we frequently see racially mixed families. White parents with black children, white husband with black wife and mixed children. We will fit right in. And we are starting to get to know other families who have adopted from Ethiopia. Here in Chicago these families get together once a month for social activities. I'm looking forward to being a part of that group. We will work hard to help our child stay connected to Ethiopia and other Ethiopian kids.
It's a lot to think about. This whole process is overwhelming, exciting, scary, and thought-provoking. When it comes down to it, I feel like there's a little girl who's waiting in Ethiopia for a new family, and we just have to go through this process to bring her home. Please pray for us...and pray for her.
From reading blogs and other adoption related articles online, I don't think we're alone in wondering how the heck we're going to pay for this adoption. Many PAPs (prospective adoptive parents) start the process with a leap of faith. So here we are, leaping. I've been researching adoption grants...I'm going to apply for them all and see what happens. For some reason I'm skeptical we will qualify for any of these grants. I tend to have this "I never win anything!" mentality, and I feel like there are probably so many other PAPs out there who are applying for the same grants and who are much more needy than we are. But we're both writers and so I figure we can at least plead our case fairly well on paper.
I'm also praying daily for more freelance work...
I've been thinking a lot lately about this decision and all of the questions we'll have to face from friends, family, acquaintances as we go through this process. The first one I've had to answer already is "Why Ethiopia? Why not adopt domestically?" The simple answer is, 1) We feel drawn to Ethiopian adoption for humanitarian reasons. 2) We feel more comfortable with the International adoption process (which is much different than the domestic process), 3) we meet the qualifications for Ethiopia.
Do we feel "called" to adopt from Ethiopia? I don't know. I DO know we feel called to adopt, period. And for whatever reason we feel Ethiopia is the right decision for us right now.
I've also been thinking a lot about what it means to have a multi-racial family. Will our family and friends look at us differently? Will unknown prejudices come to the surface? Will they love our child even though she is black? Black....there, I said it. It's a loaded word in our society. Sure, I have nieces from China. But being "black" in America carries its own burden. I've even asked myself if it's fair to bring an Ethiopian child into American society. Are we going to pile burdens on her that she wouldn't have had to deal with in Ethiopia?
More and more, I'm realizing that adoption is complicated. Sure, we will provide a child with a loving home and parents and an education they probably wouldn't have gotten in Ethiopia. But the cost is high. Taking a child from her culture, her people, her heritage. I still think its the right thing to do. Otherwise these AIDS orphans will languish in an orphanage, and maybe end up on the street. But there is a loss whenever a child is adopted.
An article written by a Korean adoptee in today's NY Times says it well. You can read it here.
Here in Chicago, and Evanston (the suburb just north of the city), we frequently see racially mixed families. White parents with black children, white husband with black wife and mixed children. We will fit right in. And we are starting to get to know other families who have adopted from Ethiopia. Here in Chicago these families get together once a month for social activities. I'm looking forward to being a part of that group. We will work hard to help our child stay connected to Ethiopia and other Ethiopian kids.
It's a lot to think about. This whole process is overwhelming, exciting, scary, and thought-provoking. When it comes down to it, I feel like there's a little girl who's waiting in Ethiopia for a new family, and we just have to go through this process to bring her home. Please pray for us...and pray for her.
Thursday, November 08, 2007
No Mo' NoBloPoMo
Since I didn't post yesterday, I've officially failed the NoBloPoMo. Oh well.
Nothing bad has happened to me yet, unless one of my readers decides to sue me or something. I have a new respect for bloggers who post at least once a day, or more. It's not easy. I guess I just don't have enough to say, and it takes a while for the well to fill up. For me it takes longer than a day. I'd rather wait until I have something half-way interesting to say than just try to come up with something (anything) to post.
Since I'm still waiting for inspiration for another post, I'll just share a photo with you today. Sheri, my friend and maid-of-honor was in town for the weekend. We went out for dinner in Little Italy and caught up over wine and homemade pasta. We've known each other since we were 12. Here we are 31 years later....
Nothing bad has happened to me yet, unless one of my readers decides to sue me or something. I have a new respect for bloggers who post at least once a day, or more. It's not easy. I guess I just don't have enough to say, and it takes a while for the well to fill up. For me it takes longer than a day. I'd rather wait until I have something half-way interesting to say than just try to come up with something (anything) to post.
Since I'm still waiting for inspiration for another post, I'll just share a photo with you today. Sheri, my friend and maid-of-honor was in town for the weekend. We went out for dinner in Little Italy and caught up over wine and homemade pasta. We've known each other since we were 12. Here we are 31 years later....
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