i don't know. it was a strange week- a week of newness and loss- and sameness- and reality and avoidance of reality. a week that was busy and a week where i didn't give enough time to the pause. i didn't make time to stop and think- i just kind of went. now it's saturday i just got back from kampala and i have about 3 hours until i need to leave and go back to kampala. so i'm trying to sit still and be here. now.
on monday we had visitors for lunch- a group of doctors here to do short term missions work. we told "our story" why we are here, what we are trying to do, and how it's going. it's always interesting to hear yourself- what comes out- how you box yourselves. it made me realize that i need more pause.
on tuesday we had a goodbye dinner for a good friend who was leaving. it was fun- but it was also really sad and it dredges up all the leaving and being left and the lonely and the hard and the transience of life here. it dredges up all the questions (the ones that seemed to have good answers the afternoon before...) why are we here, what are we trying to do, and how is it going anyway?
on wednesday she left with tears and smiles and hugs and promises and boxes and memories.
on wednesday afternoon i distracted myself with the ucu soccer game where i watched as the team doctor, cheered, tried to understand the luganda being spoken around me, and tried desperately to be in my place here, to keep finding my place here, and i steri-striped a bloody eyelid.
on thursday i set up meetings for our home study to move toward our adoption of rose, and i set up a meeting with our lawyer and rose's birth mother who is thankfully back from the village, and confirmed our meeting on friday with a potential school for zoe for next year.
on friday at the meeting with said potential school, i was reminded again of the challenges of having a differently-abled child. i was reminded that life for zoe is hard and life for those who love zoe is hard. i was reminded of the beautiful gift that we've been given this year in ambrosoli- her current school- where i literally feel like i've been given a year "off". after 3 years of homeschooling- this is SUCH a gift. but. with zoe and education and most other things, there are no guarantees- there is not a "track" to get on, there is no sure thing, there is not a 'solution'. there are lots of solutions, lots of trying and meetings and furrowed brows, and 'concern that we can meet her needs' (to which i always want to scream - can anyone meet her needs?- come on people! lets try! - mike told me later that i didn't need to say it, because my face said it for me...oops.) there is lots of opportunity for feeling sorry for ones self, there is lots of opportunity for overwhelm and hopelessness which sends one running back to the dreaded questions - why are we here, what are we trying to do, and how is it going anyway?
of course mike saved the day. we dropped zoe back at school and i had a cosmopolitan and tortilla chips and he reminded me of the number of times that we've sat in those meetings with those blankish looks and wrinkled foreheads, and he asked me what i'd expected? i told him i didn't really have any expectations i just had some wants. i wanted them to smile and tell me that they'd LOVE to have zoe- that they were SURE they could meet her needs, and if not, they would TRY. i told him that it makes me sad and tired and that i NEED more years like this one. i told him that every year we shouldn't have to find a new school. i told him i wanted a track, a more permanent plan, a solution- just one. of course he reminded me that basically that's not what we got. that essentially moutaints are more beautiful than molehills and our life is more filled with mountains. he reminded me that there are many solutions, that God is speaking in this, we just have to listen, and trust and wait.
BUT THOSE THINGS ARE SO HARD! the listening and the trusting and the waiting.
especially for me. especially in the midst of a busy week, with comings and goings and big life things being up in the air- like adoption and education, especially when all the other stuff is also going on- like making dinner and doing homework and learning another language and visiting jaja with her chronic leg ulcer and edema that wont' go, and calling the lab everyday for biopsy results on my friend with possible recurrent lymphoma.
yes the listening and the trusting and the waiting are hard.
especially for all of us.
and really, i have it easy. most of uganda spends their life living in the place of trusting and waiting- for money for school fees and charcoal and rent, and a job, and a ride, and airtime and medical attention.
yesterday bryn had his first sleepover. mike began to teach his first class at ucu. we went for dinner at our ugandan friends house. we got an email from said school saying it was lovely to meet zoe and they hope they'll be able to find a way to have her next year.
life happens. provision happens. solutions? we don't know them always, but they are there- they come. and there are lessons in the listening and the trusting and the waiting. there are lessons in the hard. it's still beautiful. i'm still here- i'm still thankful- i'm enjoying these hours of pause.
on monday we had visitors for lunch- a group of doctors here to do short term missions work. we told "our story" why we are here, what we are trying to do, and how it's going. it's always interesting to hear yourself- what comes out- how you box yourselves. it made me realize that i need more pause.
on tuesday we had a goodbye dinner for a good friend who was leaving. it was fun- but it was also really sad and it dredges up all the leaving and being left and the lonely and the hard and the transience of life here. it dredges up all the questions (the ones that seemed to have good answers the afternoon before...) why are we here, what are we trying to do, and how is it going anyway?
on wednesday she left with tears and smiles and hugs and promises and boxes and memories.
on wednesday afternoon i distracted myself with the ucu soccer game where i watched as the team doctor, cheered, tried to understand the luganda being spoken around me, and tried desperately to be in my place here, to keep finding my place here, and i steri-striped a bloody eyelid.
on thursday i set up meetings for our home study to move toward our adoption of rose, and i set up a meeting with our lawyer and rose's birth mother who is thankfully back from the village, and confirmed our meeting on friday with a potential school for zoe for next year.
on friday at the meeting with said potential school, i was reminded again of the challenges of having a differently-abled child. i was reminded that life for zoe is hard and life for those who love zoe is hard. i was reminded of the beautiful gift that we've been given this year in ambrosoli- her current school- where i literally feel like i've been given a year "off". after 3 years of homeschooling- this is SUCH a gift. but. with zoe and education and most other things, there are no guarantees- there is not a "track" to get on, there is no sure thing, there is not a 'solution'. there are lots of solutions, lots of trying and meetings and furrowed brows, and 'concern that we can meet her needs' (to which i always want to scream - can anyone meet her needs?- come on people! lets try! - mike told me later that i didn't need to say it, because my face said it for me...oops.) there is lots of opportunity for feeling sorry for ones self, there is lots of opportunity for overwhelm and hopelessness which sends one running back to the dreaded questions - why are we here, what are we trying to do, and how is it going anyway?
of course mike saved the day. we dropped zoe back at school and i had a cosmopolitan and tortilla chips and he reminded me of the number of times that we've sat in those meetings with those blankish looks and wrinkled foreheads, and he asked me what i'd expected? i told him i didn't really have any expectations i just had some wants. i wanted them to smile and tell me that they'd LOVE to have zoe- that they were SURE they could meet her needs, and if not, they would TRY. i told him that it makes me sad and tired and that i NEED more years like this one. i told him that every year we shouldn't have to find a new school. i told him i wanted a track, a more permanent plan, a solution- just one. of course he reminded me that basically that's not what we got. that essentially moutaints are more beautiful than molehills and our life is more filled with mountains. he reminded me that there are many solutions, that God is speaking in this, we just have to listen, and trust and wait.
BUT THOSE THINGS ARE SO HARD! the listening and the trusting and the waiting.
especially for me. especially in the midst of a busy week, with comings and goings and big life things being up in the air- like adoption and education, especially when all the other stuff is also going on- like making dinner and doing homework and learning another language and visiting jaja with her chronic leg ulcer and edema that wont' go, and calling the lab everyday for biopsy results on my friend with possible recurrent lymphoma.
yes the listening and the trusting and the waiting are hard.
especially for all of us.
and really, i have it easy. most of uganda spends their life living in the place of trusting and waiting- for money for school fees and charcoal and rent, and a job, and a ride, and airtime and medical attention.
yesterday bryn had his first sleepover. mike began to teach his first class at ucu. we went for dinner at our ugandan friends house. we got an email from said school saying it was lovely to meet zoe and they hope they'll be able to find a way to have her next year.
life happens. provision happens. solutions? we don't know them always, but they are there- they come. and there are lessons in the listening and the trusting and the waiting. there are lessons in the hard. it's still beautiful. i'm still here- i'm still thankful- i'm enjoying these hours of pause.
2 comments:
Sometimes, Kris, honey, your posting makes me want to rush to Uganda to just envelope you in my arms and give you the biggest hug. What you are doing is so hard and at the same time so easy. You know this, one day at a time, one day at a time...your pause...is the way.
Love you all!
Audrey
thanks audrey for your words and your hug!
all true! and you are always welcome! hope to see you this summer!
xoxo
k
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