From Dante

"But whatsoever of the holy kingdom
Was in the power of memory to treasure
Will be my theme until the song is ended."


--Dante, Divine Comedy

New adoption blog here. Website coming soon...

So I haven't posted for a month and I look on my "stat counter" today and see that you're still checking in. Sorry to have disappointed you every time you've click onto my blog for the past month only to see the same, old post staring you in the face.

I can make excuses and tell you that I've been busy (I have).

Or I can tell you the truth and say that I haven't been in the mood to blog. Blogging takes energy. And a certain amount of inspiration. And when you know there are a handful of people who are loyal followers, you sometimes feel obligated to post regularly. It's a big responsibility. Okay, it's not that big of a deal, but some times I don't want the pressure of having to come up with something half-way intelligent to say. That's what I do at work all day -- try to come up with witty, smart things to say about financial products. Ugh.

But here's some news: I've started a new blog that will be dedicated to our adoption. You can find it here.

We're also putting up a Website that will give you even more info about the adoption with a link for donations. I may try to link the blog and the website, if I can figure out how to do that!

I'm finding out how technologically challenged I am.

Oh well.
Enjoy the new blog. I'll try to start posting more often. Stay tuned for the new website...

On being Pro-life and Pro-Obama

Okay, I promised I wouldn't talk about politics. But I just can't help myself. I found this fascinating article on the Huffington Post written by Frank Schaeffer (son of Francis Schaeffer).

Frank and his father were leaders in the original pro-life movement. Now Frank is a supporter of Obama and in this article answers the question "How can you be pro-life and pro-Obama?

He writes:

"The Republican leadership is not pro-life. They are simply against abortion for reasons of political expediency. They are also for torture and military aggression. And they chose a literal executioner for president; a former governor who has more blood on his hands than any other modern American governor; Mr. Texas-sized, Capital Punishment-with-no-mercy-no-pardons hang em' high himself.

The Republicans have contributed to climate change by coddling oil companies and car companies and ducking the hard environmental and energy policy questions for thirty years. They have literally sold our country to the highest polluting bidders from the Saudis to the Chinese. Therefore the Republicans have literally risked the ability of our planet to sustain all human life born and unborn. So much for human life values.

Who will help us to become a nation that values life -- abortion rhetoric aside? Obama."

On politics

I haven't written too much about politics lately. Most of you know I support Obama and will vote for him in November. But I don't want to talk to you about it, because some of you may be voting differently and we could go round and round about our different views and that will make me grumpy.

The introduction of Sarah Palin into the race has stirred up strong feelings in me along with everyone else, it seems. Sure, she's well spoken and I like the fact that she decided to keep her downs syndrome baby. But I also despise her views on the environment and animal rights. Some Evangelical Christians seem to think she's the best thing since sliced bread. I don't. (And while I'm a Christian I don't really consider myself "evangelical". But that's a whole other discussion).

But what bothers me more than Sarah Palin and her oil-drilling, moose-hunting, wolf-killing ways is that every election year I feel that politics separates me from friends and family.

I don't like it. It makes me uncomfortable. So I tend to keep quiet about my feelings and beliefs and when one of my friends says something like "So, what do ya think about that Sarah Palin?" I make a generic comment like, "well, she seems spunky!" Then I start talking about the weather. I don't want to talk to you about it. I'm not going to try to convince you that my views are better than your views.

However you vote in November, I will still be your friend. Because what connects us is usually something that transcends politics.

Whenever I get stirred up about this political race and the fact that my candidate may not win in November, I have to remember that if we put our hope in politics, we will always be disappointed.

I read Daily Kos, the progressive, liberal political blog, and then I hop on over to Greg Boyd or Scot McNight's blog (read his post, "Voting for President? 2 -- posted on September 5) to regain my perspective.

Whoever wins in November, life will go on. I will continue to work toward the kingdom of God by loving those around me and trying to heal what's broken in this world in some small way.

What does it mean to be "blessed?"

My online acquaintance Lori Rooney has a wonderful post that details her experience with infertility and then adoption. While Ted and Lori are much further along in their adoption journey (now parents of the beautiful Abe!), and while no two of our stories are exactly alike, the experience she writes about is very familiar to me.

I did get married at 40, so at some point during my 30s it occured to me that I may never have children. Somewhere along the way I mourned that a little, while still clinging to a tiny hope that I would be one of those women who had no problem getting pregnant over 40. It was not to be....so while I mourned (and mourn), I'm not sure I feel it quite as acutely as women in their early 30s who thought they still had plenty of time, who thought they SHOULD be able to get pregnant with no problem. Who still have tons of friends around them conceiving babies with little effort.

My grief has had a little bit more time to sink in and I've had more time to process it. But it's still there and rears it's ugly head, especially now that I'm 44 and that door will be slammed shut for good in a few short years (if it isn't already).

Lori writes about her experience with comments like "It's too bad you can't have your OWN baby." Hence, the title of her blog "Our own Rooney." Their adopted son is their "own" baby.

But for people who are infertile or have a child through adoption, there's a constant bombardment of comments from people who aren't out to hurt, but do so anyway, mostly out of ignorance.

This is true of so many things. The pain in one's life is unique, and even friends can say something that pushes a button, set something off inside of you. They don't mean to. They just don't know any better. They don't know your experience. They can't understand what a simple statement feels like to the person experiencing a certain kind of pain that is so far from their own experience.

I went through this when my mother died. People say the stupidest things. But I learned to forgive because I realized that they can't really understand unless they've been through it.

Well, there's a phrase that has been pushing my buttons lately. I've heard a handful of people say it, and both times it was from people who have several biological children and it was said in the context of those said children. The phrase is (drum roll....):

"I just feel so blessed!"

Okay, I understand that there's nothing wrong with that phrase in and of itself. I'm glad they feel blessed. They should feel blessed. But when that's said to someone who's struggling with infertility, and struggling to come up with the money for adoption, it feels like a poke in a fresh wound with a parring knife.

What I FEEL when I hear that phrase is: "I'm blessed because I have children. That means that you're not blessed. I have a gift that God hasn't given you. So na-na-na-na-na. I guess you're doing something wrong that God hasn't given you this gift."

Now, I KNOW that isn't the intention of the people making this comment. In fact, I think if I ever told them how I feel when they say that they would be mortified. These aren't the kinds of friends who are out to gloat or hurt me. But through the filter of my pain, that's what I hear: Gloating.

It's also made me really start wondering what it means to be "blessed." I haven't really figured it all out yet. There are times when I feel blessed, and times when I don't. When it comes to the child issue, I don't feel "blessed." But I think there's something wrong with a theology that defines "being blessed" as having lots of children. Or a big house and lots of money, for that matter.

What does it mean to you to be "blessed?" I'm curious. I feel like I need help figuring this out.

It seems to me, too that it's all very relative. You can feel blessed compared to one person (I feel blessed that I have good health, when I think about my two friends who have died of breast cancer), but I don't feel blessed when I think of my friends who got pregnant easily after age 40.

So I know I"m thinking about this all wrong -- my obsession with "comparing" myself is all out of whack.

Is God "blessing" me? What does that mean? Could I be "blessed" with an internal transformation and humility because of what I'm going through? If so, that's not something other people automatically see, so maybe to them I don't seem as "blessed" as I would if I had a couple of kids running around.

I just think we need to be more careful when we throw around that term, because some blessings are obvious. Others are hidden in the midst of what seems like a huge struggle or in the midst of pain.

God's blessings are complicated, mysterious, seemingly random but they're probably not, and unexpected.

So when someone says "I feel so blessed," I will be happy for them, and then realize that blessings come in all shapes and sizes and the blessings I have may not be so obvious.....

Old Friends

My college roommate Nancy came to visit this weekend. I hadn't seen her in 17 years. She was driving through Chicago on her way to take her oldest son to college in Michigan. They crashed at our place Saturday night and we took them on a quick tour of our lovely city. First we drove down to Millennium Park, then to Intelligentsia Coffee, and then we picked up a Giordono's pizza.

Nancy and I were roommates my Junior year when she was a Sophomore. I didn't know her before we were roommates. I was a Residence Assistant in my dorm that year (a really bad one, because I let the girls in my unit listen to ROCK MUSIC, which wasn't allowed in our small Christian college), and she was a transfer student. We hit it off and I remember that year filled with lots of laughter, listening to Keith Green on my 8-track tape player, talking about boys, and eating lots of pizza and ice cream from Mom and Pops restaurant across the street from our dorm. She's one of these very self-possessed, confident people who I admire. I remember her telling me that I should grow my hair longer (I had a hideous short and permed hairdo), and so I did, because she seemed really more with it than I was and I trusted her opinion. I also remember her wearing flowered jeans..which I thought were so cool. She talked a lot about this guy named Kent who she met at the college she had transfered from. It's the guy she eventually married, leaving school early the next year to tie the knot. I was a little nervous for her because she left school before she graduated just to marry a guy who, in my opinion, she barely knew. But I also admired her moxie for taking the risk. I guess it paid off -- they've been married for 20 years.

We kept in touch the first few years after college. I visited her in St. Paul Minnesota, and then in California. She and Kent eventually moved to a small town in Minnesota and had 6 children. I moved to Chicago and we lost touch for a long time. Then, a few years ago, I got a call early one morning. It was Nancy.

"God just told me to call you," she said.

I was glad he did.

So we've been emailing for a while and then got to see each other this weekend. One of the good things about getting older is that you get to have friends who have known you for years and years. Friends you have a history with. Who knew you way back when.

Nancy is still the Nancy I remember. Beautiful, confident, funny and smart. Plus, she now has six wonderful kids -- all of whom she home schools! We're kindred spirits when it comes to books. We've read many of the same books and share favorite authors like Kathleen Norris, Marilynn Robinson, and Anne Lammot.

It's interesting where our lives have taken us. I doubt either of us could have imagined in 1985 where we would be today. She didn't want children -- now she has six. I never could have imagined I'd be a writer living in a big city -- and I've lived here for almost 20 years. We both have much better haircuts now and have our pizza and ice cream binges under control (well, except for this weekend with the Giordonos!). We're a little weathered by the struggles of life, but better for it, I think. We live very different lives, but we're still connected by the bonds that were forged 23 years ago in a dingy cinder-block dorm room eating pizza and laughing together and dreaming about the future.

Nancy and me in California, 1991. The tot in the stroller is now going to college.


Nancy and me, Chicago 2008.


Nancy and her two oldest boys.

A Sunday walk by the lake

If you haven't figured it out by now, I love taking walks. It gives me time and space to think, and it's a nice workout. David would prefer that I run with him. I think that's his biggest disappointment in our marriage -- that I turned out not to be a running buddy. Oh well.

Here are photos from today's walk by the Lake on a perfect Chicago day.