advent

this time between thanksgiving and christmas is my favorite time of the year. this is the time of advent. the time of anticipation. of waiting with eagerness. of expectation. the birth of Jesus. the intersection of the divine and humanity. the promise fulfilled. the answer given. the bridge between. the way forward. the hope. ultimate Love. this entering and the 30 years that followed, are summed up to me, as Grace.

this time is covered in a lot of stuff that has nothing to do with Grace, but has become linked and loved. things like snow, and little white lights, and candles and evergreens and cold outsides and warm insides and cookies with sprinkles and kindness. things like music and short days and eggnog.  all those outer symbols and traditions and expectations, are wrapped up in this season, and i actually like that.

but it makes it hard to be in the middle of africa during christmas time.  right now, the rainy season is ending. everything is lush and vibrant and it's about to get very hot and dry, just in time for christmas. i'm trying. we've put up the lights and made snowflakes and cozy spaces and are listening to handel's messiah - but it kind of feels fake. yet being here, with out the external things, is perhaps that much more real.

i've been doing a lot of internal work this year. work that involves listening to feelings and tending to them inside myself, instead of relying on others (or sparkly tank tops from target), to feel better. internal work like pausing and reflecting before speaking, or texting, or email sending. internal work like staying with hard feelings instead of running away from them or blaming others for them. internal work like being enough for myself, turning inward and finding strength from God- not the external things that seem to call like sirens - promising to meet my internal needs better than i can. but they don't. what they do, is reinforce that i'm not enough, that i'm dependent on someone or something or some place to be okay.

there is such relief in beginning to see that it's the external things that are fake. to begin to find in caring for myself with God's help, that i am stronger and more able. that life is more manageable, less chaotic, and more peaceful for everyone when i'm not grappling outside of myself. when i'm not leaking out everywhere in search of something to contain me.

maybe i'm worse at this then other people. maybe i'm learning at 44 what others learned when they were 14 or 4. but i am here. better late then never. i am without the christmas symbols i love, with out the familiar traditions, but i am learning, and this blossoming begonia and african sun are pointing me back to the center. to the core, that doesn't need leafless trees and icicles for the miracle to be true. maybe from here i can see it all more clearly.  that with this baby, came the Spirit. and with this indwelling Spirit came safety and strength and stillness. and the invitation to turn in and find wholeness. and Grace.

be thankful for you

there is a nunnery up the hill from me. once in a while when i'm walking the dog, i can hear them, singing. tonight from my open window, they are singing the halleluiah chorus from handel's messiah. it's. so. beautiful. it's a little gift.

this week is thanksgiving and the little things are worth noticing. like the abbey music. like the light pulling out the colors- of the bougainvillea, the sky, a mango tree. but today i want to be thankful for me, in my life. i don't do this very often and i bet you don't either. i'm really quite good at being annoyed with myself, frustrated and impatient with myself, tired of myself and  giving up on myself. and i'm pretty bad at appreciating myself- so i'm writing this for the most- of- the- times, when i forget that i'm okay.  i'm just going to look at today- this day- what i did and didn't do- and i bet if you do this, you will find that actually you are okay too. maybe you can be thankful for you too.

i got up at 6 (after only 6 hours of sleep) made breakfast for 5 people, packed lunches and snacks for 4 people, got 4 people to get themselves dressed, brushed, book-bagged, shoed and in the car, and put dinner in the slow-cooker. 

i remembered to mobile money to someone for transport to clinic; contacted the hospital where he'd stayed to get the receipts, so he can bring them to court tomorrow am- to try and get payment from the guy who hit him with his car. orchestrated how all this would happen with the police man from his slum.

spent time meeting with God, reading the bible and in prayer. meditated on forgiveness. prayed for help with forgiveness.

took a shower, got dressed. emailed work about our weeks schedule. sent mike a good morning message (as he's 8 hours behind). made a todo list. reviewed our community questionnaire for work. finished reading a book on development and community health. discussed with team changing our strategy. took a call about patient with a brain tumor. made several follow up calls about the mobile money, transport and receipt collection- half in broken luganda. ate lunch. researched successful development stories. went to bank where there was no money. photo copied the receipts. spoke with mike on the phone. picked up the kids at school. straightened out the after school sports/ clubs dilemma. when home. gave 4 people snacks. more phone calls about the receipts. replied to messages from employee about forgotten charger left at house.

left with bryn to get football boots, via the slum where i could drop off the receipts. needed to get gas. stuck in traffic, helped him with spelling and sentence structure while in traffic. wondered if / when i will run out of cooking gas. found person in slum to give receipts, went with bryn down to check on patient and leg. attempted to communicate with them about plans for tomorrow's court and next return to clinic. failed to get football boots b/c the used shoe bin didn't have his size. stopped in to check the balance on the modem before skype meeting tomorrow. drove home. walked the dog with jude. got in a fight with random dog walker whose dog attacked mine- ending with me shouting "you are fake!" while walking away and jude saying "mom he's laughing at you." (awesome- like i care?). strongly encouraged zoe to finish her table setting chore. confirmed rose's homework was done. asked someone to feed the dog. got everyone to wash their hands and sit down. replied to message from former patient. ate dinner. evening prayer. got ice cream for rose and bryn, did long division with jude, got zoe in the shower, sent christmas wish list to mike for jude, learned about the 40 new tech inventions by reading a post from a cool friend on fb. quickly reviewed the news and shared with the kids the ending of the northern white rhino- learned from jude that there are both northern and southern white rhinos - with some snow leopard facts thrown in. helped bryn find swim bag, videoed rose doing her version of tae kwando. tucked 4 kids in bed. locked up the house. refilled the water purifier. turned off lights. was handed a freshly fallen out tooth, with the request for money tomorrow (some people do not believe in the tooth fairy). spoke with best friend who lives in california. messaged with employee about plan for tomorrow. replied to request for a loan. lost power intermittently for an hour. read embassy alerts about pope's visit to kampala this week. messaged with my brother. replied to emails. wrote down the expenses for the day. brushed my teeth. put down the mosquito net. started to write.

while i'm sure that was incredibly boring and unhelpful- if you write out your day- you will see that you should be thankful for you.  we. do. a. lot. and that is to be appreciated- if by no one else, by yourself! you are amazing!! look at what you do! and what you don't do.  i only yelled at zoe once! none of my kids hurt each other or cried today. everyone ate three meals. (which is better than yesterday :).  it's the little things.

so today. be amazed by you! be thankful for you! you are keeping things afloat and you probably don't even consider that important. but it is. you are doing your life. even when it's boring and un-exotic, even when you wish you weren't. you are showing up and you matter. we are to love ourselves- it's actually a command- so be thankful for you! and if today felt like a flail- that's fine, because in 6 hours, you get to do it again :)

good night.

broken

what do i do with this? she's 16 now. not 9. has anything really changed? i mean significantly? besides the basics of multiplication and division?

it's been 7 years since i got the phone call to come pick her up from school. not just school but special school. because she was hiding under the desk. because it was all too much. because she was afraid and overwhelmed.

now i got called again. to come and pick her up from school. not just school, but school with a full-time aide. because she was yelling. because it was all too much. because she was afraid and overwhelmed.

i have ptsd. i do. i have trauma around this- around having a child whose past has been so hard and whose future is so unknown- unpredictable. whose life has impacted mine more than i'd imagined. a child whose challenges have more than challenged me- they've demanded years of my life diverted. they've demanded career holds. they've screamed for time and more time, and patience and way more patience, and hope when hope is hard to find. they've taken hours and days and giving things up and doing things i didn't want to do. they've taken normal.

she hides and yells, and in someways i do too, but on the inside. because for me at times, it's all too much. and i'm afraid and overwhelmed.

today there was a new girl at school, visiting to see if she would go there. i'm sure she's lovely and trying and feeling new and out of place. but all zoe could see was another threat. another change. another person to have to navigate with socially. competition. disruption. so she unraveled. she couldn't put herself back together again.

when i got the call to come pick her, i tried to listen to the feelings inside. there were a lot of them. anger and fear and exhaustion and shame, with compassion and love and understanding buried beneath them.  i wanted so badly to clear off the top rubble and get to the good stuff. the stuff i know she needs. the stuff we all need especially after we unravel. and i know for her she was in the same boat- anger, fear exhaustion and shame covered her ability to love and have compassion and understanding for this girl, but also for herself.

that's my job really. to give that to her- to show her, model it for her. the getting out from underneath. the ability to access the good stuff. but how? how on earth can i?

i got in the car and i prayed. i told God that i needed Him to show up NOW. and in a BIG way. i told Him that i had pretty much no strength to dismantle my pile, let alone hers. i reminded Him, in case He'd forgotten, that she is really His child after all. and then i said "help" for about a kilometer until i reached school.

i didn't do a stellar job. i wanted to cry really hard and really badly but i didn't. she came running to me from the front office saying, "there was this new girl....etc". i told her we would talk about it later. she asked if i was mad. i said no. she asked if i was disappointed, and while i know the correct answer is also "no", i was disappointed with a lot of things, so i said "yes".  i watched that sweet child with her slight limp-walk, go grab her enormous book bag and we headed to the car. i prayed some more. something like, "this totally sucks and i'm about to cry and none of what i'm feeling right now feels like You are showing up by the way." as we drove out the guard flagged me down and asked for my exit pass. it was all i could do to turn the car around when i wanted to scream at her, "who cares about the blipping pass! can't you tell my life is about to fall apart again!!!"

as i returned to the car with my pass, i saw zoe in the passenger seat. she was looking out the window, maybe at me, maybe at the school, with that hard to read expression she has- probably because it matches her own hard to read feelings. she was looking out at the world through those glasses she's worn since age 3. looking out at a world that is way louder, and brighter, and scratchier and more confusing than my world. looking out from a seat of constant rejection, infrequent invitation, and the deep pain that follows that.  looking out from a body that is slightly bent, that doesn't always do what she asks of it, that forgets it has a left side sometimes.  looking out and wondering how to navigate it all, and why she has to be different.

i don't think i'll forget that face. maybe ever. it's blankness spoke so much- if you mix all the colors together you just get brown. and it broke me. it took away the anger. the fear and overwhelm moved aside and i could feel the love- the deep forever love a mom has for her babes. i could feel the compassion for a girl whose bad days make mine look foolish.

when we got home, even with the ugly bits moving over, i was still not fine. shame and fear were hanging around and anger had handed it over to sorrow.  she went upstairs with her kitten, and i came here to sort it out. to remind myself that God is often in the faint whisper, so i should quiet down and listen. then i told myself- all the parts and feelings- that i would listen to everyone- but they needed to soften so we could also hear God.  and this is what i got.

it's really just one bad day, not you life falling apart. there has been a lot of change in 7 years, not just math facts. she is my child, I'm just asking you to love her, not fix her. and by the way kris, you're broken too. My arms are big enough for both of you.

and that's enough for me to feel safe enough that i can find her, and enter in. and sit beside her in a world i don't begin to get, to listen, support and comfort. and then i'll return to those arms- and cry for a while, as i listen to my own grief in this, and all the other parts, and trust that the rubble will clear and from the dust will rise love, compassion and understanding.

i'm going upstairs to find her.

getting to real

i haven't written in a month. again. and i even promised myself that with mike away, i would write every day- like i used to, because it helps my brain communicate with my heart and my heart communicate with God, and that helps me take better care of my family and myself.

but in this season instead of me reaching up to God, He has been reaching down to me and bypassing my need to pull my brain and heart and Him together in writing. in His reaching down, He told me that i have stories and they will come.  and somehow i know that's true.

for my whole life, i thought i was truly passionate about something when i got this antsy, jealous, anxious feeling hearing about other people doing what i wanted to do. a pit in my stomach and a flutter in my heart at the same time. i first remember it happening when i wanted to go to medical school. and sometimes when someone was moving to a place i wanted to live, like san francisco. but it was strongest when people came and talked about international health, i almost turned green.  i so desperately wanted to hear what they were doing and how they got there, while simultaneously wanting to leave the room and instantly start the process of getting  there. then a part of myself (the wiser, truer part) would assure the younger, scared self, that there was no shortage of need for doctors in africa, so could i please sit still and listen, maybe we'd learn something.

it used to happen with hearing about adoption. and writing, for example, the explosion of momastery (although i love that glennon melton) and sometimes in smaller and less life impacting things.  an undercurrent of anxiety, of uneasiness with my life. a fear that somehow i was missing out, or i'd gotten it wrong. or that i was about to miss the boat. and it all has to do with control and fear.

i really don't fear the things i can't control- accidents, illness, political unrest- but i appear to be pretty afraid of the things i do have some control over, my career, where we live, adding more children.  because if something just happens to you, all you can do is deal with it, but if you mess up your own life? you have to deal with it, and the awful reality that you are the one who messed it up! 

but now where is God in that? where is mike in that? it's a lot of "i's". because underneath the fear and control, and fear of the control, this is about identity.

who am i? what am i supposed to do on this giant spinning ball?

last year at this time, i left the place i wanted to live and i left international health, and i returned to my cold new england roots in the winter time- because God reached down and found me.  He found me spinning and tired. He found me worn thin to the bone. He found me doing the things i had pushed ahead to do, but lost to myself. and He loved me enough to call me close to Him and tell me who i am. 

i am His. beloved.

and while for years, i had tried to tuck that under my belt and carry on with my agenda, pushed by fear and feigning control, and fight to find myself, what mattered most was lost in my pocket. i am His. as i am, where ever i am. known. loved. (known and still loved). waited for. searched for. held. amazing. there i was, not where i wanted to be, not doing what i wanted to be doing, but learning to trust that i am enough- even with nothing. and that i am strong, really strong in Him. because when you feel that level of known-ness and loved-ness, the fear goes. it just goes. and when you give up trying so hard to build who you're supposed to be, so you can be happy, you get peace and freedom.  peace that replaces that river of anxiety. and a freedom that is way better than arriving at where you feared you'd never arrive. a freedom to be only who you were made to be- and everything that you were made to be. no more, no less. 

when you break open, you get to real.
and real is what we are all searching for anyway.
 so there are stories, and they are beginning to come.