what is going on

this morning an almond croissant magically appeared on my doorstep in a box from my favorite kampala cafe.  a little gift fallen from heaven.  of course it's the day after i was given the recommendation to go gluten-free to rid myself of migraines. after i'd psyched myself up to embark on that sad breadless path that zoe walks.  the day after i realized that anything is better than a migraine.  well, except not having a divinely provided almond croissant.  i mean how can i turn that down?  gluten-free experiment might need to  start next week. 

last night mike and i decided to use our babysitter time to have a logistics meeting instead of a date night.  not sure that was a good idea.  i mean talking about the budget and our schedule and about meeting with rose's birth mom again on friday, might be best in the distraction of our usual chaos- not during the precious childless hours.  i'm mean maybe lumping all the challenge together is the way to go- keep the alone together time pure.  ooops.

i was kind of awful.  or at least a little bit.  i picked fights, i assumed i was being challenged, i didn't even know why? finally when i was lying in bed wondering what was really going on here- all sorts of stuff came out.  finally when i let my guard down- it wasn't about mixing budget talk and tilapia.

it was about people leaving- for good and for the summer- it was about the loss, and the being left and it was about how much we have to be for each other over here.

i need to process my life out loud (and preferably with a very understanding girlfriend).  talking through problems, or issues, or questions, or decisions is the way i roll- it helps keep the crazy down, it helps tie down the kite strings.  talking through being zoe's mom, and adding rose, and what about the boys, and being a missionary in africa, and how to begin to wrap my mind around my life as a whole, that it might not be lived in short sprints as i've been attempting- that it might be long distance.  that it is long distance- especially with zoe. or maybe it's less like long distance and more like running repetitive 300 yard sprints- over and over again.

in high school i ran track.  i'll be honest.  i did this because it seemed the easiest way to "letter".  to get that jacket that only came with a sewn on symbol of what extracurricular activity you did well.  turns out i could sprint- so i did. the 40, 50, 100, 200, and 300 yard races, depending on if it were winter or spring.   the three hundred yard was the killer for me- it was a straight out sprint that went on and on. it was painful.  maybe that is like life with special kids.  so you have to build in breaks.  you have to learn to stop and drink a lot of water (or something) before you go on to the next one.

so living wholly and balanced and patiently remains the challenging theme of my life.  talking logistics somehow shines the light on this.  i was feeling unbalanced and confused and made up of disjointed parts.  i was missing people who are far away and who are about to be far away. i was feeling the absence and the void and the extra demands that living culturally isolated puts on our relationship.

late at night under that mosquito net, i figured this out.  it became less confusing and complicated and really very simple.  i like my friends. i miss them when they are away. they help bring wholeness and balance to my life.  they remind me of patience, they model kindness and love.  they tell me that even though i feel like i'm in the same spot all the time, i'm actually moving in a spiral- slowly going up- slowly evolving- i just circle back to the same spot and don't see the motion.  

so we didn't make the perfect schedule or resolve the budget, but i felt thankful for the people in my life, and for mike who gets me, knows me and likes me anyway.  especially thankful for the grace that helps us  be for each other all the things we need to be here.

the giving circle

i'm sitting her on the porch feeling again - so blessed.

last night- we had our 'giving circle' meeting.  this is a near monthly event- a gathering of interesting, intelligent women who care about the world and making a difference, who've decided to get together at someones home- to eat and drink and talk and share and hear about a cause, about a group, an organization or a person, making a difference.  and then we all give to that cause- so that we can make a difference too.  last night we ate home-made pate, and bread with goat cheese and onion jam and bacon and arugala, and tea cakes with elderberry and lime.  last night felt fancy and homey and funky and full of love, and i was 'the cause'.  i got to tell all about uganda- about what we're hoping to do- about what we want to do there- and people got excited and i did too.

it was so good to be reminded of my larger community- of the passion that so many people have for helping- of how people want to connect - of how much love and care there is- how it can be harnessed and utilized and powerful.  i left feeling full.  of good food and wine and conversation and encouragement and support and, hope.  because if in every neighborhood there was a 'giving circle' the world would change.  i know this.

today i had the added blessing of having 7 kids with me for the afternoon.  this was fantastic.  i had my godson luke and three of my friends kids and my three.  and it was great- partially because they are all great kids- but also because there is strength in numbers and i switch gears.  this is why i think i'm actually meant to have more than three kids.  i do better with more- i handle things better with a little more chaos.  it breaks me- and then i give it up.  i become more patient- i become, even, kinder.

i also realized that i must be out of my flippin' mind to try decreasing zoe's medications in the midst of the greatest change in our lives.  take her dog away and move her around all summer- landing in africa- and choose now to go down on her meds?  crazy!!  so i've resumed the normal doses, and i've reminded myself that too much change at once- is not a good experiment. 

tonight i have book club at my house.  i haven't even bought the book, but i can't wait to see these women- to sit on the screened porch and be inspired and again, thankful.

it will be hard to leave these people.  all of them.  their goodness, their laughter, their beauty.  but, the world is much smaller these days- and i will know they are here and with me- watching and following along- supporting.  and we all look up at that same moon.

le bien, le mal

the good, the bad.  i'm trying.  i'm trying not to feel sorry for myself. trying to look on the bright side. so much of life is just how we break it down, how we paint it, half full, half empty.  i'm looking at zoe and the world around her- zoe and other 11 year olds.  which is almost always a big mistake.

this part is so hard for me, maybe only for me- hopefully only for me.  it's hard that she is never invited- never asked, that she's no ones number one.  that i need to instigate, plan, invite or organize.  that other girls call each other, meet each other and go for ice cream or bagels or gum.  that they have sleepovers.  that they are expanding there horizons- becoming independent- formulating themselves apart from their parents- creating their worlds together- as peers- as friends- with unity and commonality.  that they go to 'friday night skate' and begin the drama of boy meets girl.

and there's my girl- alone.  sometimes they stop by- which is good, and kind and nice and she loves.  but it's painful too.  the difference. the sideways looks between them.  the obvious difference in how they talk to her.  and her over-talking, nervous, trying, awkward, not following.  you know these kids from your own childhood- they didn't fit in- you didn't really want to be around them- because it was awkward for you too- you didn't invite them over- you were nice and polite but you were not friends.  or maybe you weren't even nice- maybe you were mean. or maybe you were one of those kids- who just didn't get it-ever, and you know how much it sucked.

i should be over it by now.  it's not new.  this is how it's always been. somehow i'm just not over it.  somehow it's actually harder now.

yesterday i was on a walk with one of my best friends.  we were talking about uganda and zoe and schooling.  i was saying our plan was to continue homeschooling her for a while- that i wasn't sure if we'd put her back in school- but that i get stressed sometimes about her future- about whether she'd want to go to college and how that would happen.  she said she wouldn't worry about that because zoe's path was so obviously going to be different- that she wasn't going to just go off to college and find a boy and get married- like i did. ouch.  that stung.  maybe it stung because maybe inside i know it's true.  maybe it stung because i had to hear it out loud from someone else- a voice of my fears.  or because it was taking away some far off hope.  but mostly it stung because true as it may be- it's just not something you can state.  as if it's a 'known', as if it doesn't deserve an acknowledgement of the fact that it totally sucks. and it's  really, really hard, and isolating, and unknown.  it stung because she has no idea how much it stings everyday- and every year- and that while her life goes on and follows it typical course- mine doesn't.  and i try hard to not feel sorry - i try hard not to wish it were different here- i try hard not to feel jealous and resentful. but sometimes i do.  and then of course i feel terribly guilty.


right now zoe is over at lily's house.  i invited her over, i called, i dropped her there. she is waiting for lily to come back with her friends from the bagel store.  she'll get to play with them. i won't have to watch. but i do have to wait- by the phone for 'the call' that things aren't going well- or hear afterward about the stickiness- about her reaction to the stress of being around kids who are 11 and who get it. or maybe it will go well- or well enough.

the peace
where is it?  i'm not sure.  it comes sometimes.  when i can remember that it is what it is.  when i can embrace her as just zoe, not zoe in relation to everyone else.  when i can 'forgive' those around me for their normal lives.  when i can not stress about how she's doing down the street with three other girls her age.  when i can let it go and when i can be OK with her not fitting in exactly.  i'm not sure if the work is in accepting things, or lowering the expectations- or if the work is in being still in the awareness that it will always be hard.  that peace and joy come in many flavors. as does love.  that lives that are lived out differently are still beautiful and meaningful and passionate.  that hope isn't hope for her to live the 'normal' path- but to blossom on her own path.  that i will hurt her by feeling sorry, and i will grow strength in her by helping her carve her own, unique way. ahh, there's the peace.