karamoja part 1 - (or really the never-ending story of zoe)

from my bathtub this morning, i could look out my window and see a branch of bright pink bougainvillea poking through a group of large green leaves. it seemed to be reaching to me, offering its perfectly bloomed arm as an example of the goodness.  i needed that.

i needed that because the trip to karamoja was so long and bumpy and more tiring than i realized.  i needed that because i came home to my life again, as if i wouldn't have, as if the people left at home would magically know that it was a lot of time in a car, on dirt roads that challenged the word 'road'. that they (being zoe) would know these things and act gently instead of aggressively- tread lightly instead of stamping- speak quietly instead of shouting.  but no, i came home to my life- which these days has some aggression, stamping and shouting.

i came home and instead of being filled with the emotion of what we'd seen and experienced and entered into, instead of processing the extremeness of that trip, i felt the same old crap i always feel- the pure exhaustion of the predictability of the inconsistency of our days.  i felt the dread of that ironic feeling of being stuck in 'ground hog' day- but the ground hog day being the unreliability of how zoe will feel and respond to life. of being trapped in the web of not being able to count on 'arriving'- of never sighing in relief, of never reaching a new plateau, of never reaching 'normal'.

here it was again.  our lives, all of our lives, revolving around her.  another post, revolving around her.  at a time when it really shouldn't be about her- it should be about rose.  it should be about the fusion of two cultures.  it should be anthropologic and sociologic and full of emotion and story and picture- (that will come but i had to say some things first).

soon after walking up, and making everyone breakfast, the crazy began because "why hadn't i shown zoe these pictures before?"  yes, the pictures that i had just downloaded off my camera the night before when she was asleep and didn't know we were home.  after losing my temper- trying to regain my calm, understanding, i'm sure this is so hard for you- voice, and after remember to beg God to please walk with me through this day- i knew i needed to begin that walk, up monkey hill- so i grabbed my sneakers and ran out the door.

it was cool and cloudy and beautiful outside.  i walked fast swinging my water bottle and told God that i was ready to listen but i got to go first because i'm younger- like in cards. i told him that this trip was hard, that no great conclusions had been reached and that i was pretty angry that zoe had such a hard time while we were gone.  angry mostly at Him- because he can take it.  angry because it would have been so nice to come home to her in a good day- and i knew that he could have arranged that. angry because i'm tired of her being the sun and the rest of us being planets that revolve around her at varying distances.   angry because all i wanted to do was shout at her that she's eating all our steaks and ruining everybodies lives- like napoleon dynamites uncle. angry that another thing has to be difficult- and complicated and so far away on such stinky roads. 

i was pretty sure he was getting the picture so i stopped talking.  i decided to listen.  because that is what you do in a relationship- or cards- you take turns.

patience, patience, patience- is what the sea teaches.  (it's what i want to teach you). Patience and faith.  One should lie empty, open, choiceless as a beach- waiting for a gift from the sea.

the situation with rose- it will not be decided quickly.  it will not be resolved in a meeting- it will take patience.
life with zoe requires, demands, screams for patience- it will not be 'resolved' - it will be lived with, grown through.  it will be seasoned with higher amplitude sorrows and joys- deeper valleys and higher mountains- but it will take patience- years and seconds of patience.

so yes, i get it.  i've figured it out- this is the lesson of my life.

keep asking me to walk with you

do i have a choice? i clearly can't do it alone.

i will give you what you need

okay- right- patience and faith.

pray the serenity prayer. 

'grant me the serenity to accept the things i cannot change, the courage to change the things i can, and the wisdom to know the difference.'

but can i find serenity? really? can i accept this that i cannot change? this child with all her challenge? the never-endingness of it?
i thought it was strength i needed, but it's courage.  what can i change?  what should i change?
oh please, give me wisdom. please give me patience, and serentiy and courage and wisdom.  i was beginning to feel like all the characters in the wizard of oz lumped together.

i was almost up the hill when it began to make some sense.  maybe this is another opportunity to be still, in the unresolve of my life, to sit and ask (or beg) each morning, out of the brokenness of my pieces - for these things that life has demanded of me and that do not come naturally to me.  maybe the ambiguity with rose is another friendly reminder from above that my life will not be about simple answers, or quick fixes.  that my season of sprinting was short and sweet and is now over.  that we've moved on to the emotional iron man level.

in my heart, i heard the U2 song 40.

I waited patiently for the Lord
He inclined and heard my cry.
He brought me right out of the pit,
out of my miry clay.
I will sing a new song,
How long to sing this song?

wait patiently.
this is what is asked of me.
what are my options? 
not a lot.
i think i'll be singing it for a very long time- life times.

He set my feet upon a rock,
and made my footsteps heard.
Many will see,
Many will see and fear.
I will sing, sing a new song.
How long to sing this song? 

my feet were climbing up rock- i could hear my footsteps crunch the gravel.  i reached that beautiful view - mist covering the hills, the far off lake to the left,  and i sat breathing in the stillness of the cool morning.
breathing in acceptance. breathing out patience.  breathing in faith. breathing out courage. 
somewhere singing this old song of mine- about once again, trying to wait patiently.