Our Impossible Adoption Story
If you're looking for the unbelievable account of how "impossible" became "done" in 5 business days, start here.
Party Pics and Cake Recipes
Big, huge thanks to everyone who came out for the Meatball’s first birthday party this past weekend. We were so blessed by everyone’s love and thoughtfulness, and even more blessed when we started talking about how it felt like Sunday that afternoon, ’cause we just had church … with the addition of some family. Sometimes it’s easy to forget what an awesome village we have in our friends and (mostly) church family.
I didn’t get many pictures, ’cause I was making coffee and cutting cake … and, okay, talking about babies. A lot. And the ones I did get aren’t great ’cause I try to use the forward-facing camera to get Meatball’s attention and we dimmed lights for cake. But for the sake of documentation:
That cake is healthy(ish) and delicious, and I’ll get to that in a minute. Read more…
One Year Later
Dear Meatball,
Happy birthday, baby.
I can’t believe I woke up this morning next to a one year old. (Late, I would like to point out, because you decided to wake up screaming around 4:30, and stay up for a half-hour or so. I don’t know if you were shooting for 4:26, to mark the exact minute, but it wasn’t cool.)
It was a beautiful morning too. We got some fresh snow last night, and the ground glistened gold for you. I know, because I stared at it long and hard while you laid it bed. I sat down to write this twelve hours ago, but I couldn’t find the words.
I tried again while you smashed strawberries into your placemat, but ended up just scrolling through 600+ pictures of your first year. Words continued to evade me.
They escape me still, so I’m sorry if you’re reading this a decade and a half from now, and you’re a little disappointed that your mama, who so loves to write, couldn’t construct something beautiful for you on your first birthday. I really wanted to.
But the more I think about it, the more I think about you, the more I’m convinced there just are no words. And sometimes that’s okay.
You’re one year old, and you’re already a talker. Sometimes you sit quietly and read books to yourself. Sometimes you slam pages and read books to Nana or me. Sometimes you sing. Sometimes you preach – arms waiving, finger pointed, dramatic pauses and everything. Sometimes you yell at Nana’s dog. No one wonders where it comes from. You’re a young man of many words and you come by it honestly, but know that someday you will find yourself in a situation for which – even for you – there are no words.
And that’s okay.
Someday you will have your own personal, powerful encounter with the God who created you for loving you, and words will fail you. You will experience a presence and a love that you’ve heard about all your life, and it will blow your greatest ideas out of the water and you will stand humbled and ecstatic and utterly silent to your core. It’s really cool.
Someday you will meet a girl more beautiful than the sunset. You will be her friend. You will be a gentleman, and after the necessary time you will stand next to a pastor and you will look up to see her walk down an aisle like an angel from heaven, and your mouth will drop open just a little (because you already do that) but no word will come out. And she’ll love that.
Someday you will say goodbye to someone that you love. Read more…
Checking In
Hi. I’ve been meaning to call you for days. No, really. It’s not you. It’s me.
It’s Christmastime. And it’s two-jobs-and-a-toddler time. And it’s help-husband-launch-his-art-career time. And, okay, I’ll be totally honest …
I’ve been writing for another blog.
Lots of other blogs, actually.
For money.
I feel so dirty.
Not really. I feel great about it. I’m not sure if I’m allowed to show you what I’ve been writing ’cause I’m ghostwriting, and I think people are supposed to think I’m their insurance agent or realtor or whatever. And you’re thinking, “Insurance agent?” Ya. You wouldn’t want to read it anyway. I tend to tell people I write for other websites, and then change the topic really quickly before they start asking follow-up questions and I have to admit that I’m not appearing on Babble or whatever the other cool networks are.
Pause for a cute picture:
And I’ve been trying to get something like a website up for Husband so we can put something on a business card, because his art stuff really is going amazingly well. I’m terrible at creating real websites. The couple of times I’ve done it, actually ventured into WordPress.org territory, I have set aside a whole day and consumed a lot of coffee and been really stressed out. I don’t have whole days anymore, or the energy to be stressed out, so I’m faking it. You can take a peek here if you want. It’s live. It’s just not really being thrown around yet.
Pause for a cute picture:
And there is a lot going on in my head. Read more…
November Through the iPhone
November managed to completely sneak by me. Too fast to photograph, apparently. At least too fast to photograph well.
The few that I do have tell a story that I’m not excited to narrate.
Our theme for November was help.
(Go ahead. Break into song. I’ll wait.)
Some of us are too big to need help with things we used to need help with. Big enough, even, to want to help with new things – like shopping and cooking.
Circumstances are teaching our family how to help each other in new ways. Sometimes the three of us spend a day in the next state to help me explore new opportunities in writing/editing. Sometimes I throw down challenges that I, myself, am ill-equipped to complete and I end up texting my mom pictures of the sewing machine I dug out of the closet with questions like, “Why is it doing this?” and “What does this dial do?”
Our first holiday season without my dad has seen more changes than I anticipated, but we pull it together to help. (It’s shameful that I’m 30 and have never before contributed a single dish to a Thanksgiving meal, I know. In my defense, I’ve never been asked and the meals have never been wanting.)
Friends help. Church members help. We reach out to help others in new ways.
It’s all very heartwarming and happy in pictures, but it’s revelatory in my soul, and I add it to the list of things my toddler is teaching me. Because, as Husband will readily attest, I am terrible at asking for help. Read more…
13 Gifts That Give Back
It’s the season for gifting, and I love it. I love giving and receiving. I love the thoughtful purchase, the loving home-mades, the useful gift cards. I love finding that perfect thing, and I love it when a craft or recipe or idea comes together. I love the anticipation, and I love genuinely happy faces.
The only way to make it all even better is to give gifts that give back. Gifts that get shared with someone across the country, or around the world. Gifts that come with a story, and leave joy in their wake. So I’ve assembled a baker’s dozen of my favorites.
There are a lot of companies that give a small percentage of their proceeds to charity, and they are awesome because they don’t have to do that but they choose to. Then there are companies that produce things solely for the benefit of their workers or their beneficiaries. I tend to lean toward the later.
So here we go: 13 Awesome Gifts That Give Back
The Hoot – Krochet Kids – $26
Krochet Kids makes hats (and bags and apparel and accessories and prints) for the whole family, for great prices. Krochet Kids works with women in Northern Uganda and Peru, providing a job, an education, and mentorship to each one.
Each hat is signed – on the inside of the tag – by the woman who made it. I dig that.
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PeaceBomb Bangle Set – PeaceBomb – $20/45
I can’t get over these things. I found them a couple years ago, and haven’t been able to come up with a reason to buy them for myself yet. (But I’m working on it!)
There is still a lot of scrap metal in the fields of Laos from the Vietnam War, and still lots of unexploded munitions. These bangles, and other jewelry items from PeaceBomb, are made from recycled bomb metal, and the proceeds fund the safe removal of unexploded bombs from Laos fields. Read more…
Spits and Wiggles 