A college friend alerted me to news of the death of her infant niece and nephew recently. Her brother and sister-in-law were awaiting placement of these sweet wee ones from Africa. A dysentery-type disease spread through their orphanage and village, taking these precious lives and numerous others.
The story has rattled the mister and me.
Is it because our hearts feel so connected to the realities--heartache and hope--of adoption? Is it because of the senseless nature of the deaths? Is it because we should be and can be doing so much more to ease suffering and poverty in this world? Is it because when I see these littles I see my own sweet girl--dark-skin beauties so deserving of hugs and kisses and cuddles?
The answer is yes and more.
Can I beg you to read this mother's post about this event and her babies? (Click here.) It is not only filled with grief, but also with comfort and calling . . . everything a healthy, hopeful perspective affords. And be sure to click on her own link to a page dedicated to explaining the challenges this orphanage faces in terms of clean water, toilets, and beds. It all seems so fixable to our first-world minds, but requires people with creative problem-solving, people who will extend beyond their comfort zones, and people who will open up their wallets.
If you have any information about how to help this orphanage tackle its clean water issue or know of any organizations who'd join forces with the Lotz's agency to save lives, please comment on my post below or on the links provided in the paragraphs above.
Tuesday, October 29, 2013
Wednesday, October 23, 2013
The Most Unusual Week of My Life
After a rough few months of challenging call schedules, the hubs had 10 days off work. TEN. We've been thinking about and planning for these cluster of free days for weeks . . . almost like daydreaming of winning the lottery. What are we going to do with 10 days? Just imagine the possibilities.
The actual 10 days went something like this:
Day 1: Whoo-hoo the Texas State Fair. Although I've lived here for six years, I still had never attended the biggest fair in the country and right in my own backyard. (That's right, Dallas. I just called you my backyard.) Y'all, the fair is fantastic and unlike any fair. (For my Tennessee friends, this fair makes the Williamson County fair look like peanuts in both size and quality.) Please know I'm not bragging. It's more like shock. I've truly, really, honestly, never ever seen a fair so big and nice. I walked around dazed for a bit when we first got there. (Oh, and we got there by train. Anna Zane adored riding the trains across the metroplex.)
The next two hours found us cheering and gawking and smiling as our adorable daughter enjoyed ride after ride. The kid is a daredevil of epic proportions. And we totally acted the part of doting parents, not minding the money pouring out of our pockets to purchase tickets for these insanely expensive rides. It was so worth everypenny dollar because she enjoyed every second of every ride.
When we finally cut off the gravy train for rides, the adults scoped out the desired fair food, which did not disappoint. We ended the day with the animal barns. In the feeding/petting barn, I nearly went psycho when I realized Anna already used up her allotted feed for the animals and was remedying this problem by fighting with a goat over the next turn in the feed bucket. She was absolutely going to take feed from his trough to put back in her cup. Child, please.
Day 2: I honestly do not remember much. Chores and a few outside projects were completed. Oh, I did shop that morning at one store who sent me a birthday coupon.
Day 3: Happy anniversary to us. Happy anniversary to us. Happy anniversarrrrryyyy. We celebrated six years of wonderful with dinner and a movie. Perfect.
Day 4: All packed up and headed to Wimberley, Texas. The Youree Three on a road trip. Our last road trip to Galveston found Bryan driving in torrential rain for hours. Unfortunately, the trip to Wimberely pretty much went the same. While we are thankful for any rain, it stinks Bryan has to drive in it both times we've tried to vacate and relax.
Day 5: "Waa Waa Wimberley" is what I was going to title a blog post about our Wimberley trip. But I've decided to contain my negativity and wrath and only post this little portion: Don't visit Wimberley. Don't get me wrong. The place we stayed--Red Corral Ranch--is delightful, quaint, fun, and had very friendly staff. It was the bright spot of our trip. But the town "square" had less than stellar shops. We also felt less than welcomed. I wasn't sure if the unfriendliness came from the fact we were taking a two-year-old into the stores or if it was because we were taking a black two-year-old. Either way, it was not a happy reception. We will not be going back.
Anna's highlight of this trip--and ours too--was the hot tub at our cabin. As you can imagine, this is the perfect swimming pool for a wee one. The first go she had on her arm floatie, but quickly figured out she could touch bottom in the deepest part. During the next swim the next morning, she was sans floatie, pushing off the side and "swimming" to the other side. She's a fish!
Day 6: As the colder temperatures peeked in and out these last two weeks, it became very apparent that little cutie was lacking in the warm clothes department. So we squeezed in a trip to an outlet mall on our way home. Thankfully, we found some good deals and garb, but it was rushed and frenzied. Little Anna was sick of it quick and tired and hungry.
When we got home, we repacked to leave for Arkansas the next day. Yes, a quick sale of my mother's house meant a last minute estate sale was in order. Such a feat seems daunting enough, but add back-to-back traveling and the unavoidable emotions of seeing your parents' belongings sorted through and sold . . . you get the picture.
Day 7: I work in Dallas proofreading a magazine. When I'm finished, we leave for the Arkansas trip, which goes smooth and easy. Whew.
That evening, well, was a different story. The Youree Three slept in one super king-sized bed. You think that wouldn't be a problem, right? Ever slept with a toddler? She spent the first part of the night attached to my person, waking up every little bit to say "Mommy." I kept moving her back to the middle of the bed. And maybe just maybe, the last time I moved her, I may or may not have moved her closer to her father. Funny. When he woke up in the morning, he mentioned that in the middle of the night, she started cuddling with him, and he couldn't get any sleep. Coincidence, don't you think?
Day 8: Yard sale. It went really well even without prices on everything. In some aspects, it was weird watching strangers take off with your parents' belongings, but at the same time, it was comforting. This may sound a bit sappy, but it's nice to know your family's items can be of use to someone, that others will use it or repurpose it into something of worth to them.
Day 9: The traveling home day. One hour or so into our trip, Anna vomits all.over.her.car.seat.and.herself. ALL OVER. Cleaning. Stripping. Washing. Windows down. Air freshener. Pepto. Dramamine. Pretzels. Ginger ale. Help me, Jesus. (Apparently, it was a sudden case of car sickness. I am so thrilled to report the "episode" only happened once. However, now I am scared stiff to take her on another car trip.)
Day 10: Hahahahahahahahaha (crazy laugh). What a great vacation. I feel so rested.
The actual 10 days went something like this:
Day 1: Whoo-hoo the Texas State Fair. Although I've lived here for six years, I still had never attended the biggest fair in the country and right in my own backyard. (That's right, Dallas. I just called you my backyard.) Y'all, the fair is fantastic and unlike any fair. (For my Tennessee friends, this fair makes the Williamson County fair look like peanuts in both size and quality.) Please know I'm not bragging. It's more like shock. I've truly, really, honestly, never ever seen a fair so big and nice. I walked around dazed for a bit when we first got there. (Oh, and we got there by train. Anna Zane adored riding the trains across the metroplex.)
The next two hours found us cheering and gawking and smiling as our adorable daughter enjoyed ride after ride. The kid is a daredevil of epic proportions. And we totally acted the part of doting parents, not minding the money pouring out of our pockets to purchase tickets for these insanely expensive rides. It was so worth every
When we finally cut off the gravy train for rides, the adults scoped out the desired fair food, which did not disappoint. We ended the day with the animal barns. In the feeding/petting barn, I nearly went psycho when I realized Anna already used up her allotted feed for the animals and was remedying this problem by fighting with a goat over the next turn in the feed bucket. She was absolutely going to take feed from his trough to put back in her cup. Child, please.
Day 2: I honestly do not remember much. Chores and a few outside projects were completed. Oh, I did shop that morning at one store who sent me a birthday coupon.
Day 3: Happy anniversary to us. Happy anniversary to us. Happy anniversarrrrryyyy. We celebrated six years of wonderful with dinner and a movie. Perfect.
Day 4: All packed up and headed to Wimberley, Texas. The Youree Three on a road trip. Our last road trip to Galveston found Bryan driving in torrential rain for hours. Unfortunately, the trip to Wimberely pretty much went the same. While we are thankful for any rain, it stinks Bryan has to drive in it both times we've tried to vacate and relax.
Day 5: "Waa Waa Wimberley" is what I was going to title a blog post about our Wimberley trip. But I've decided to contain my negativity and wrath and only post this little portion: Don't visit Wimberley. Don't get me wrong. The place we stayed--Red Corral Ranch--is delightful, quaint, fun, and had very friendly staff. It was the bright spot of our trip. But the town "square" had less than stellar shops. We also felt less than welcomed. I wasn't sure if the unfriendliness came from the fact we were taking a two-year-old into the stores or if it was because we were taking a black two-year-old. Either way, it was not a happy reception. We will not be going back.
Anna's highlight of this trip--and ours too--was the hot tub at our cabin. As you can imagine, this is the perfect swimming pool for a wee one. The first go she had on her arm floatie, but quickly figured out she could touch bottom in the deepest part. During the next swim the next morning, she was sans floatie, pushing off the side and "swimming" to the other side. She's a fish!
Day 6: As the colder temperatures peeked in and out these last two weeks, it became very apparent that little cutie was lacking in the warm clothes department. So we squeezed in a trip to an outlet mall on our way home. Thankfully, we found some good deals and garb, but it was rushed and frenzied. Little Anna was sick of it quick and tired and hungry.
When we got home, we repacked to leave for Arkansas the next day. Yes, a quick sale of my mother's house meant a last minute estate sale was in order. Such a feat seems daunting enough, but add back-to-back traveling and the unavoidable emotions of seeing your parents' belongings sorted through and sold . . . you get the picture.
Day 7: I work in Dallas proofreading a magazine. When I'm finished, we leave for the Arkansas trip, which goes smooth and easy. Whew.
That evening, well, was a different story. The Youree Three slept in one super king-sized bed. You think that wouldn't be a problem, right? Ever slept with a toddler? She spent the first part of the night attached to my person, waking up every little bit to say "Mommy." I kept moving her back to the middle of the bed. And maybe just maybe, the last time I moved her, I may or may not have moved her closer to her father. Funny. When he woke up in the morning, he mentioned that in the middle of the night, she started cuddling with him, and he couldn't get any sleep. Coincidence, don't you think?
Day 8: Yard sale. It went really well even without prices on everything. In some aspects, it was weird watching strangers take off with your parents' belongings, but at the same time, it was comforting. This may sound a bit sappy, but it's nice to know your family's items can be of use to someone, that others will use it or repurpose it into something of worth to them.
Day 9: The traveling home day. One hour or so into our trip, Anna vomits all.over.her.car.seat.and.herself. ALL OVER. Cleaning. Stripping. Washing. Windows down. Air freshener. Pepto. Dramamine. Pretzels. Ginger ale. Help me, Jesus. (Apparently, it was a sudden case of car sickness. I am so thrilled to report the "episode" only happened once. However, now I am scared stiff to take her on another car trip.)
Day 10: Hahahahahahahahaha (crazy laugh). What a great vacation. I feel so rested.
Thursday, October 10, 2013
Missing My Mom: The One Year
On this day one year ago, my mother died in a house fire. She apparently was cooking chicken when a grease fire started. She was unable to get out of the house. Did she try to fight the fire? Did she fall? Did the fire grow so quickly she had no time? I do not know. I do not know why she barley made it 10 feet from the stove before landing on the ground and then dying of cardiac arrest due to smoke inhalation and congestive heart failure.
In many ways, I am still in shock. I'm still processing this as reality. Only in August did the heavy sadness sink in. When the days grew closer to the one-year mark of our last phone conversation and the date I last saw her, I could hardly believe it . . . as if I sorta expected to be able to call her or see her on my next visit. No one should go a year without talking to her mother. Right? But I have many, many years left of not talking to her.
My mother is dead.
And when we decided to start the adoption process again, my heart cringed more deeply. I couldn't tell my mother. She doesn't know another grand is on the way.
In these moments of sadness, I also reel from another reality . . . thinking about the day when Anna Zane aches for me, yearns to tell me, wants me to know, but I can't respond because I'm no longer on this planet. It rips a mother's heart. I'll be in heaven, griping Jesus' by the lapels, saying, "My baby needs me. My baby is hurting."
But I suppose He's already responded:
"What father among you, if his son ask for a fish, will instead of a fish give him a serpent; or if he asks for an egg, will give him a scorpion? If you then, who are evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will the heavenly Father give the Holy Spirit to those who ask him!"
Tuesday, October 8, 2013
Marriage Counseling
This weekend I celebrate six years married to my Mister. Yes, I could drone on and on (droning to you, gushing to me) about what a catch I snagged . . . about how he still pursues my heart . . . about how he leads with stability and strength . . . about how these are the most wonderful years . . . about how I love/adore/respect him. But I won't. (Teehee. Sneaky, right?)
In truth, the many, many reasons I cherish him are summed up in this: We attended marriage counseling this year.
(Now before you call the church prayer chain or stage an exorcism, hear the rest of the story.)
Before we married, we went through premarital counseling. Our counselor at the time mentioned the benefit of counseling throughout your marriage. And then a few months into marriage, we sought out a mentor couple to keep us accountable, pray with/for us, and to be friends we could confide in and rely on regarding our marriage. Our marriage mentors suggested attending marriage counseling every five years as a "check-up" or sorts. And then again when I joined a moms' group, I learned several other ladies had utilized marriage counseling for non-crisis "maintenance." So, we committed to one another to attend counseling--at the very least--every five years.
Friends, what a blessing it was . . . it is! We only went four sessions, but benefited greatly from learning how to get out of "ruts" and how to analyze our heart/mind before speaking. It was also encouraging to receive cheerleading from an expert and applaud us for doing something right--ha! Sometimes just a fresh set of eyes helps see elements of your relationship you've never ascertained.
My whole point in writing this post isn't too brag about how we've "got it all together" or to promote how fantastic we are. My point is to hopefully let you know that counseling, of any variety, is not the taboo, hush hush horror so many perceive. Attending counseling is not a sign of failure or weakness but a sign of commitment and loyalty and strength.
Nothing speaks love to me more than seeing my sweetheart passionate about maintaining, preserving, and nurturing our relationship. Marriage counseling? It's the most romantic gesture yet.
Happy anniversary, love.
In truth, the many, many reasons I cherish him are summed up in this: We attended marriage counseling this year.
(Now before you call the church prayer chain or stage an exorcism, hear the rest of the story.)
Before we married, we went through premarital counseling. Our counselor at the time mentioned the benefit of counseling throughout your marriage. And then a few months into marriage, we sought out a mentor couple to keep us accountable, pray with/for us, and to be friends we could confide in and rely on regarding our marriage. Our marriage mentors suggested attending marriage counseling every five years as a "check-up" or sorts. And then again when I joined a moms' group, I learned several other ladies had utilized marriage counseling for non-crisis "maintenance." So, we committed to one another to attend counseling--at the very least--every five years.
Friends, what a blessing it was . . . it is! We only went four sessions, but benefited greatly from learning how to get out of "ruts" and how to analyze our heart/mind before speaking. It was also encouraging to receive cheerleading from an expert and applaud us for doing something right--ha! Sometimes just a fresh set of eyes helps see elements of your relationship you've never ascertained.
My whole point in writing this post isn't too brag about how we've "got it all together" or to promote how fantastic we are. My point is to hopefully let you know that counseling, of any variety, is not the taboo, hush hush horror so many perceive. Attending counseling is not a sign of failure or weakness but a sign of commitment and loyalty and strength.
Nothing speaks love to me more than seeing my sweetheart passionate about maintaining, preserving, and nurturing our relationship. Marriage counseling? It's the most romantic gesture yet.
Happy anniversary, love.
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