Red Light, Green Light

We are celebrating this week.  Nearly six months to the day after we began the adoption process, we officially received a L.I.D., or logged in date!   That means that our dossier was received and logged into the system in Ch*na, so we are officially eligible to receive a match any day!  YAY!  Also, that was pretty much supersonic speed for completing a dossier for this country.  I wasn’t expecting the gift of LID until the end of June. Again, YAAAAAY!

However…..

Remember playing red light-green light as a kid?  Remember how you had to just stand there, perfectly still, until the person calling it would shout, “green light!”?  And sometimes even faster again, shout, “red light”?  Do you remember ever being frozen mid-step, with your leg quaking from the effort of trying not to fall over or move, lest you be OUT?  We’re playing the grown up version.

Red light—Fill out this paperwork.

Green light—It’s approved.

Red light—Move on to filling out the next paperwork.

Green light—Congratulations!  You’re done with paperwork!

Red light—Wait 6-8 months to hear back about your child. 

Yes, I said SIX to EIGHT months, or more, until we find out who our daughter is.  At least, that’s what we’ve been told.  Yes, it’s the don’t-hold-your-breath kind of wait.  Yet, I am HOLDING MY BREATH!  I am so ready to find out who she is.  I am so excited to know who God has chosen as my boys’ baby sister that I can’t help but stand here on quaking legs. 

I think I’m gonna have to let it go a little.  I mean, eventually, I’ll get tired.  Eventually I’ll run out of oxygen holding my breath.  I don't want to look like this by the time we get there: 

This week though, this week I’m doing it, I’m jumping up and down, taking deep breaths, shaking it out, and getting ready for our marathon wait.  Green light, bring it!

Shut the Just Up

Before you ask, no, my title didn’t have a bad run in with auto-correct.  I would also like to say that I’m aware of the fact that I’m going to irritate a few people.  I’m ok with that.  I would like to spend some time with the word “just” today.  Just to be clear, I am not talking about the justice kind of just, I’m asking you to stay with me, for just a minute. 

“Just” has lost meaning in our language.  Look up the adverb “just” and you’ll find the following: precisely; merely; certainly; possibly.  Simple, right?  Wrong.  Those definitions seem to have such innocuous implications, but, have you ever noticed that just rarely precedes anything great? 

There is the event minimalizing Just.  “We love each other, we just can’t stay married.”  Well, if that’s all. Yikes!

There’s the bad-news-trying-not-to hurt-your-feelings Just.  It sometimes sounds like this, “I like you but I just want to be friends.” Oh, barf.  You mean you just want to rip my heart out?

There is the false self-deprecating Just that usually aims to suck praise out of you.  It might start nice:  “Oh, I didn’t do much!”  But then this happens, “I just went to the farm, picked some strawberries, brought them home, cleaned them, sorted them, cut them, took 3 hours to make a crust and baked you a pie.”  Well.  Thanks.  This one is closely related to the Pinterest Perfect Just that aims to be insanely over the top and impeccable, wearing itself thin, then puts on a smile and says it was all just so easy.

There’s the entitled Just.  “I just want a perfect body, a big house, no mortgage, a spouse who understands me perfectly and takes all my crap, a vacation to an exotic location, to have kids without any of the hard work, and a picket fence.”  Ha!  Go see the Genie.

There’s the Thinspiration Just.  “Who me?  No, I have 5% body fat because I just eat right and exercise.”  Hmmm…you mean you starve/take insane supplements/hired a personal trainer/run 50 miles a week and had multiple plastic surgeries?  Thanks, Hollywood.

There is the Perfect Parent Just.  This one is tricky because it can look like a good friend, a nice mom at the park, or Aunt Betty.  You'll know it when it says, “Oh, your kid is a [insert insanely frustrating stage or trait]?  Have you tried just [infuriatingly obvious or incredibly difficult idea]?”  Better than that though, is the “We just did X, Y and Z, and little Boo Boo was a perfect sleeper/eater/student.”  I hate to break it to you parents, but often our children succeed in spite of use, not because of us, so quit it with the high and mighty thing!  Boo Boo might be a perfect toddler, and a nightmare teenager.  And Aunt Betty, if you knew half the stuff your sweet little Joey did in college, you'd keel over right now.

There is the denial-of-power Just.  This one is for my spiritual friends, so I apologize if this is irrelevant to you.  I have heard more praying folks begin with “Lord, we just come before you...”  Really?  You are going before the God that you believe to be ALMIGHTY, and you’re just there?  Or how about, “We just pray for a miracle.”  This one leaves me speechless.  Just a miracle.  That’s all.  No biggie.  NO!  Nuh-uh.  I don’t get that one. 

I know, I’m up here on my soapbox and I’ve probably abused Just in every way listed.  The thing is, the word “just” was not meant to replace “um.”  It’s an adverb, meant to modify an action word.  It’s meant to look like this:

Just fill it up to the line. (precisely/ merely)

You look just beautiful.  (certainly; possibly)

All of the Justs above didn’t need a just in them at all.  Try listening, thinking before speaking, and having some compassion.  Don’t use it as your scapegoat, your filler, your way to make things a little more comfortable, or your excuse to brag and be congratulated.  It’s JUST wrong.  Shut the just up, and say what you really mean.

The Brokenhearted

Today, the last of our dossier will leave for our agency.  We are done, the paperwork is complete.  We’ll wait for the email to tell us that we are DTC (dossier to China), and for our LID (logged in date), and then we are officially waiting to hear who and where our daughter is!  It is a day I’ve been looking forward to for months….

But…it is also an unexpectedly hard day. 

Less than a month after his bride departed, this morning, my grandfather passed away quietly at age 94.  His life motto was, “Never give up, never ever give up,” and he never did.  His heart however, did not agree.  The doctors explained that it seems that he was having a long, slow heart attack since my grandmother passed away last month.    He died, quite literally, of a broken heart. 

He told me a few weeks ago, “In old age, we become caricatures of the people we used to be.”  I laughed and told him that he was a character, not a caricature.  You see, the artist in him saw the young man he used to be, and the exaggerations that age had made.  But what I saw was different.  What I saw for the last several weeks was a man who finally knew, without hesitation, how much his wife did for him, and along with that, how much he loved her.  I saw a great grandfather beam with pride at little boys making a muddy mess of his home.  I saw him in a restaurant with four generations around a table, saying, “This is the happiest day of my life.”  I saw a proud man who wanted to take great care that someone would remember that he came to this country, not only penniless, but $300 in debt for the trip.  I also got to hear the things he had pent up in his heart—the “I love you” and “I’m proud of you,” and “you’re amazing” that he no longer kept to himself.  He lavished praise and care with every conversation, even as I heard how tired he was.   For that, I am grateful. 

I am also grateful for one last lesson, and a new motto.  Each time I would call, he had a list of things that he had done that day.  I think the list was his way of staying focused on each day so that the greater things wouldn’t overwhelm him.  I don’t know that it’s about accomplishing things, but there is definite value in finding a way to focus on only what needs to be done today.  He also had a list of things he was looking forward to—our visit this summer, starting a new painting, getting the air conditioning fixed in his car.  There is value in looking forward also, in having joyful anticipation.  With that, I’m fashioning a new motto for our family…a sort of tribute of its own. 

Never give up, never ever give up hope. 

Even with regret, even in lonely places, even after decades, even when things don’t make sense, even when your very heart is breaking, there is always hope.  Hope of beautiful days, hope of healing, hope for reconciliation, hope of the “best day of your life” at ninety-four.  Never give it up.  Ever.

Wide Load

Picture rolling down the highway, cruise control set to however many miles over the speed limit, your favorite song turned up (and you KNOW you’re singing along), and up ahead you see the dreaded MERGE sign.  Worse yet, you’re coming up on one of those idiotic trucks with a huge load and flashing light escorts.  Nothing to be done but to hit the brakes, turn the tunes down, and creep along at a mind numbing 30 miles an hour.  Sometimes that’s just way it is.

My last post was April 14^th.  My grandmother passed away on April 15^th, and lately I have been too overwhelmed to write.  She spend 90 years making things beautiful in a very quiet way.  She taught me to hunt for agates, be kind to animals, go to bed early, and that the best raspberry is the one fresh off the bush.

Some of my grandmother's precious painted goose eggs.

There was a whirlwind car trip many hundreds of miles to northern Minnesota to comfort and help my nearly 95 year old grandfather.  Part of the jumbled preparation for this quick trip involved going in nearly a week EARLY for our I800a fingerprinting!  (More on this later).

 I hope I look this good at 94!

There was the achingly beautiful sight of watching my boys enjoy Lake Superior every bit as much as I did as a kid. 

Skipping rocks in the crystal clear water.

Incredible sunset our last evening together.

There was the gathering of family that had never happened before—4 generations!

No, I'm not a giant, it's a weird picture, but one of the few, so I love it.

And there was the reality of grief that didn't hit me until later.   I was cranky and tired, unloading the haphazardly tossed couple of coats my grandfather insisted I take home with me, and it hit me.  They smelled like her; like paint, and soap, and Nivea.  You can’t deny grief.  You can bottle it up, cover it up, push it off, but it will still come for you.  I think this is one of many reasons that Jesus said, “I have told you all this so that you may have peace in me. Here on earth you will have many trials and sorrows. But take heart, because I have overcome the world” (John 16:33).  Peace of mind, peace in our innermost being, isn't that what we’re all after?

And while I was distracted by my grief, the page turned.  We got our last piece of dossier paperwork!  It was approved in record time (less than 30 days), and I immediately had it notarized, County Clerk certified and Secretary of State verified.  It’s currently in New York at the Chinese Consulate.  Amazing!  We will hopefully have everything to our agency next week, and be DTC (dossier to China) by the end of the month!  

Sometimes life hits a WIDE LOAD, and you've gotta slow down, merge, or go around, but it keeps on goin'.  And if you have hit "like" or sent a message, or just told me you read this, thank you; you help me enjoy the ride.