Wherever You Are

Dear Birth Mother,

I hope this finds you well.  The weather here is fine.

It’s a beautiful, awful day.

I am thinking of you and the selfless life-changing decision you made.  Of your stated reasons.  And the ones you will never tell.

And what I know is true about us moms.

You are thinking of us today.  Of the promise you trusted in, that someone would love your child with their unique needs.

No matter how fantastic the celebration, you’ll wonder what’s up with us.  I’m getting the recognition for how these guys turned out.

Well.  I need to let you know.

Most days, I am pretty sure that anything good in them is all you.

They are amazing.

They stop people in their tracks.

They move in incredible natural gifts.

They make the issues unavoidable.

Your decision changed your life forever, but if I may say.  It keeps on changing lives. More than I can count. Every day.

Wherever you are, I honor you.

With love.  Fearless.  Like yours.







Riding the Short Bus to Heaven

I’ve resigned myself to the fact that the lessons babies learn in Sunday school are just coming to me in middle age.  I’m 45 years old and may have opened the book on learning to receive God’s love in the way that He expresses it.

This weekend, we got together again with friends from our church in the other city.  3 families.  6 adults. 16 kids. I dreaded it , because I knew it wouldn’t be enough time. Ray, whose house we were at, voiced similar thoughts about getting together making him remember. It was a phenomenal time and place.  The relationships are proof that God is at work and it all really happened.

We went to the church.  Participated in worship in three languages.  And in the quiet of the celebration, I realized it is so prideful of me to worry about being understood. I am so busy wishing for more than what God has given, that I don’t experience the fullness of what He has given.  And that, my friends, is sin.

If I worry about what is not happening or the scarcity of time or the fear of this being the last time we’ll see each other.  Or what you’ll think of our house or kids or the chins I’ve acquired since we last met.  I miss out on the growing more “What-Makes-This-Great” memories.  The thrill that your kids have grown up so beautiful and wishing you ‘Happy 21st  Anniversary’ and how precious and nourishing this time is for my daughters.  And discovering that, when I was attending your son’s birth, my son had, just 4 days earlier, come to the orphanage in China.  The thrill of simply standing in line at Wal-Mart together.  The necessary goodness of sharing late into the night.

Living in the past and the future misses today.  Wanting more than is given leaves me continually hungry without being filled, and continually consuming without ever feasting.  It is a subtle rejection of the manifold richness of abundance of God’s deliberate personal outpouring of love to us.

I don’t merit anything in the Kingdom.  It is all favor.  While I wish for more time and more money and a BLT that will make me lose pounds and inches, I rebelliously overlook the FACT that He has privileged us more than most.

It has taken me longer than the average grade school child.  But now, I know.

Thanks. Again.  Good Friends.



Tribing Up

I was describing a relationship the other day.

“I really love and care about this person and I know they care about me.  But if the apocalypse came and I got to choose who to rebuild civilization with, I wouldn’t pick her for my…”

At this point,  the light came on.  This is what a tribe is.

(And that my imagination is apt to run away with me at any point.  If I am in charge of rebuilding civilization, our problems may be larger than just the apocalypse.)

I absolutely hate catch phrases.

Remember “Paradigm Shift”?  Ick.

I guess that makes me lucky not to work in an office of any size.

I digress.

There’s a difference between loving someone and needing them in your life when you need someone you can trust.  When you need someone whose strengths and weaknesses complement yours.  With whom you can march forward, encouraging and pulling each other towards your respective goals. (If you hear sirens, it’s because the Grammar Police are coming to lock me up.)

Tribe gets used all in a business-y sense.

It wasn’t there first.  It was real life first.

There’s my actual Native American tribe.

My family tribe.

My high school tribe.

My adulthood tribe.  Interesting.

The other day, this took place in a matter of just a couple of minutes.  I realized there is a huge difference in the relationships that I have to have to survive and be safe and create a life worth living, and those I love, but I feel secure in the knowledge they wouldn’t choose me either.

I have a little work to do in maintaining some of these relationships. But now, I have a sense of freedom to work on those without worrying about a thousand acquaintances.

I feel like this is something I should have figured out a long time ago.








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