I Had Them, I Held Them, and I'm Grateful for Groucho Marx Glasses

i had the sweetest dream last night.  

i was walking home down a city street that felt like it belonged in boston even though i haven't lived there in 8 years.  it was evening so the city was quiet, hushed.  the sky had just stopped pouring and the air carried a crisp, freshness that comes with washing the day away.  the street lights were a soft yellow and the wet pavement reflected back their warmth.  i made it to the top of a hill where new cement met old cobblestone and paused to catch my breath.  that incline was a familiar one to me, in this dream of mine, and wasn't usually guilty of making me winded.  but last night it was a harder climb.  i was holding something.  i was holding my son.  i was holding him tight to my chest, both of my arms wrapped around him, and we were talking.  full sentence how was your day how is your heart how are you kind of talking.  and i was listening with all of my senses and we were just walking.  

then the oddest thing happened.  i don't recall transferring him into the arms of someone else, i don't recall walking back to where i began and beginning again, but all of a sudden there i was walking up the same hill, pausing in the same spot,  turning at the same corner, taking the same journey home... with my daughter.

i made that journey four times in my dream last night.  i held each of my children .  i asked them how they were and really listened to their answers.  i kissed their faces on the soft piece of real estate that is the space where their cheeks meet the outer corners of their eyes.  

i held them.  i had them.

today there is a phantom pain from their absence.  all at the same time i am heartbroken and grateful, mourning the time that i have lost and eagerly awaiting the time that is to come.  i am trying to focus on the gratitude part... so here we go.

today i am thankful for:

an in-country director who knew i would have wanted to see the twins open their birthday presents.
and camera phones.
and groucho marx glasses.

capitol records for continuously playing a video about the raining season to a crowd of 25,000 people at their annual street party in downtown nashville last week.

facebook for allowing me to stalk the photos of people who took trips to sierra leone when the twins were babies and captured moments holding them.  (baby gerald)

(baby deen)

looking through other people's trip pictures from sierra leone and spotting mo's sweet face in the upper left corner

this gorgeous profile (mamie on left)

i am grateful, i am grateful, i am grateful.  this is my new motto.  please don't let me forget it.

Too Much of a Good Thing

it's no secret that not everyone has been supportive of our decision to adopt.  some because they don't agree with it.  some because they were caught off guard by it.  some because they don't understand it.

i have been told that i should take my facebook page down and stop advertising that i am adopting "72" orphans.  i have had people tell me to my face that i am crazy.  i've had people talk behind my back about my life being over.  and you know what?  this isn't entirely disturbing to me.  because my life is over.  my old life.  the one that was full of words like "me" and "i want" and "now" and that was missing much more beautiful words like "we" and "they" and "my children".  the life that i wasn't supposed to be living anymore has given way to the life that i am supposed to live from here on out.  i couldn't be happier about it.  if i could have a funeral for my old life i would.  i'd invite ex boyfriends and old insecurities and said naysayers (and probably some of my personal worst dressed list moments) and i'd tell them sayonara and i'd obviously hire destiny's child to perform because it would be hilarious and awesome and everybody would be so jealous that beyonce was at my old life's funeral...  i digress.

i have been told some discouraging things.  and then yesterday something great happened.  my sweet, dear, incredible friend meesa wrote this over at 365 days of country music.  

go on.  read it.  please.  then come back so we can finish this conversation.  go on.  i'll wait.

adopting too many orphans is a good thing - by 365 days of country music

oh hey!  it's you.  welcome back.  are you still crying from how sweet she is?  you could be reading this post in 3 weeks and i bet i'll still be teary eyed...

first of all, let me say how absolutely invaluable it is to my well being in this process to have someone on the "outside" of this adoption world truly understand how my heart is designed.  she knows me.  and she knows how to say things much more eloquently than i have wanted to in a few choice situations.  thank you thank you thank you, meesa.  

secondly, it is of importance to note that i don't harbor unwarranted anger over people not understanding.  i have certainly had my blood boiling moments but, heck, i didn't understand this once upon a time.  i didn't understand that we are designed to take care of one another.  maybe a person has to see it firsthand.  maybe the need has to be underneath our feet and in our lungs and peeling back our eyelids before we can no longer ignore it.  and now that i've seen it i can't ignore it.  simple as that.

thirdly (it's a word if i want it to be one), i realize that not everyone is cut from the same cloth.  some people have the courage to work with children with cancer, some people have the patience to work with adults with alzheimer's, some people run marathons pushing kids in wheelchairs, some people plan fundraisers... everybody's got their something.  and this kind of passion distribution makes the world go round.  well, passion distribution and the sun's gravitational pull. 

and last (i wanted to say 'fourthly' but i'm pretty sure i used up all of your grammatical lenience with 'thirdly'), i want you to know that i am sorry.  i am sorry that, at least once in your life, someone will be mediocrely excited about your dream.  i'm sorry that, at least once in your life, someone will warn you against it.  i'm sorry that, at least once in your life, someone just won't understand.  i'm sure that i've been that person to someone.  i'm sure that you've been that person to someone.  and i know we can all do better than that.  after all, this is someone's dream we're talking about here.  and dreams are fragile things to be handled with care.

when a woman shares the news that she is pregnant i, barring any sort of terrible circumstance, certainly hope no one tells her that she is crazy.  i hope that people's responses are filled with things like "congratulations!" and "i'm so excited for you!" and that those responses are followed by joyful inquiries about arrival dates and preparations.  i hope that people are able to step inside of her dream and celebrate with her for a moment.

so, this is my dream.  these are my kids.  i am their mom.  josh is their dad.  a house in tennessee will be their home.  i will try my best to give them the life that they deserve.  i will fail.  i will succeed.  i will celebrate.  and my sweet friend meesa will jump up and down and cheer and revel in it with me.  for this, i am grateful.

thank you, suss.  143 6678.  you know.

365 days of country music