Sunday, 14 February 2010
My Google reader overfloweth with amazing posts from incredible writers, artists, comediennes, poets, thinkers and generally brilliant, lovely people. I don’t want to hoard it all for myself, so here are the exceptional posts among all the great ones that made me laugh, cry or catch my breath recently.
(Each quote is just a small excerpt. Click on the link to read the entire post.)
“Sitting with my baby/near seven year old in my lap bawling her eyes out, I blessed every single sleepless night my adoptions caused me–every moment I had to do something scary that I thought I couldn’t handle, the deep disappointment that I could not carry a pregnancy to term. Every rejected piece of paperwork. In that moment, I needed each cursed adoption trial to show up for my daughter. I had learned that sometimes there are no words, no false reassurances that can make something better. Sometimes, when our children are in pain, all we can do is hold them, love them, and help them own this particular chapter of their life story.”
“I am honored, honored, that many other adoptive families ask me what to do when the honeymoon phase is over. It motivates me to continue to peel away the layers of attachment disorders. It’s why I am not giving Etienne meds for sleeping or allowing him to destruct little things because they could become big. I don’t want a band aid. I want a whole child. It is so cool to be able to pray with other moms that are hiding in their pantries, wondering what to do to make their new kiddo get it. But I am a long, long way from knowing how to fix a broken heart.”
“I am so disheartened that children in Haiti continue to suffer, and even more disheartened that children continue to suffer based on well-intended policies taken too far at the expense of those they intend to protect. If UNICEF is going to police adoption, then they should also police the conditions that children are living in. They should be working on reunification, and if that doesn’t work, on a swift permanency plan. They should be locating the papers needed to move kids into permanent families, instead of setting up kids to be lifetime orphans. And if their policies are clearly leading to child neglect, they should be ashamed.”
“And I could berate Trenton for not checking the map better, but the children are learning love for us, learning God who is love from us. So I press my palm into his when he chokes, “I’m so sorry, Emily.”“It’s okay,” I say. And it feels better than a thousand angry words. We’ve come here for the mountains, for the smell of unadulterated Christmas in the spruce and pine, for the crisp of snow beneath shoe but it all melts away in Aiden’s tears and he senses our fear. And fear gives birth to faith, for it recognizes the end of humanity and desperation for the divine.”
When I say that I am strong, I mean this: I have been broken in a thousand pieces. I have been fused back together by grace.
When I say that I am treasure, it is because I am loved deeply. Completely. Unceasingly.
In the eight years that I have been married, I have said things I should not have said, done things I should not have done. I’ve ripped him with barbed sarcasm; I’ve let anger win over love.
But also, I have stayed in this thing all the way. I have sat cross-legged on the living room floor until we worked it out. I learned how to cook fish in a hot skillet because it’s his favorite.
“You name your failures in your mind. They name you their leader. You stare each other down. And they win the staring contest.
You think of Emily Dickinson, those words of hers you’ve repeated to yourself over dishes, how “Forever–is composed of nows,” how “…Months dissolve into further Months– / And Years–exhale in Years–” and you marvel at the truth of those words, this movement of life, these new lines around your eyes.”
It’s not really an apology
this catalog of blunders
nor a pitch for forgiveness
I just wanted you to know
that human beings are curious
that imperfect days
a love so big
it feels like I swallowed