The Best Worst Mother's Day Ever

I like to make my muscles angry.  When I get a massage, which is every few months because I have the back of a 90 year old, I almost always have a knot the size of a baseball behind my right shoulder blade and at the base of my neck  All I really want is for the massage therapist to pound on that muscle and release the pressure.  

But they never do!  

They always start with stretching the muscle, rolling, moderate pressure across the whole area.  They get all the muscles loose and relaxed and then dig in.  But it's still push and release.  It hurts, but then, ahhhh.  Each time they may go a little deeper, release a little more of the tension that has built up (we call that knot "international adoption") and then push again.  Often I'm even told that I need to take it easy the rest of the day because the muscles needed so much attention that now they are a bit inflamed. But I don't care, I still want more.  I want that pain, I want that pressure, because I know that at the end of it the release is so amazing and so worth it.

It's really too bad I'm not like that in any other area of my life!

“The very first tear he made was so deep that I thought it had gone right into my heart. And when he began pulling the skin off, it hurt worse than anything I’ve ever felt. The only thing that made me able to bear it was jut the pleasure of feeling the stuff peel off.  You know — if you’ve ever picked the scab of a sore place.  It hurts like billy-oh but it is such fun to see it coming away.” ~CS Lewis, The Voyage of the Dawntreader

I talked to immigration on Friday-our immigration-twice.  The first time they told me we had been cleared for Ukrainian adoption and could submit our dossier!  Yay!  The timing would work!  Something actually went our way! Happy Happy Happy all morning!  The second time they told me they had made a mistake, we weren't cleared, they needed more information, they weren't sure how long it would take. No! Crash, confusion, depression. Back to the unknown, back to nothing ever working out for us.

I thought the pain was gone, the pressure released.  But instead, He went deeper. Why?  I don't know.  But for some reason, this time, I feel a little better.  Whenever we find out a little bit of information, I want to know all the details, plan what's next, create a timeline, detailsdetailsdetails! And then something goes wrong and not only am I devastated but I have this nagging fear in the back of my heart that it will never go right. For some reason we are not meant to adopt a child and never will.  

But I fear you aren't listening, because there are no words.

Just the stillness, and the hunger, for the faith that assures.

But God.

A father to the fatherless, 

a defender of widows. . .

God sets the lonely in families

Psalm 68

But God gave me this dream.  And He will see it through.  

"The lady made a mistake.  But God doesn't."

I was told (reminded) of this truth by a friend (yeah, you know who you are!)  who also said God knew my son and that he was there.  I need to set aside the lie that this dream will never come to fruition. I can trust in a love that knows no bounds, is unhindered by hindering bureaucracy, and knows all details, seen and unseen. 

I will sing of your Mercy, that leads me through valleys of sorrow, to rivers of joy.

So, some of the tension is eased.  At the end of every massage, every therapist I've ever had cradles my head and pulls, ever so slightly.  I swear, I can feel myself getting taller!  It's so relaxing, so peaceful.  And only made possible by the previous painful pummeling of my poor muscles.  Hopefully for this stage, there is just a little more pressure and then more release. We should know Monday or Tuesday how much of a delay this has caused us. Ideally we will still be able to submit our dossier to Ukraine on May 22nd and plan to travel in July. I really hope that my next blog is the pure joy of knowing that our file is being reviewed by the Ukrainian government!  We're in this for the long haul, the hills and valleys, the ups and downs.  Pain, release.

Joy is not the absence of suffering, it is the presence of God.~Robert Schuller

Small But Feisty

Why yes, I bought my own shirt and still have it!

Years ago my parents took us to Disney World, as adults, which is way more fun.  I was walking along, behind my brother and sister in law, when their heads swiveled in the direction of t-shirt wearing teenager. They looked at me and I looked at them and we all had the same thought, "Kristin must have that shirt."

I may have developed somewhat of a reputation over the years :)

One of the strange things about having children-and there are many- is that you learn more about yourself through growing up with them.  The good, the bad, and the feisty!  Bard and I learned early on that Cici was a "feeler."  She simply feels things more, longer, stronger, than other kids around her.  And don't you dare try to distract her from what she is feeling or she will throw that cupcake in your face.  No, really.  Her passions run deep, whether they are the constant demand to be called "Princess Cat", or the forbidden uttering of any number other than "3 for Cici!" (Don't try to state the time unless it includes the number three!) Evelyn may be a force, but she is mellow.  One would not describe my second child as mellow!

Right now, probably due to the fact that she is three years old, her passion is mostly directed at herself and bringing an adorable yet deadly interpretation to Frank Sinatra's classic. . .

Yes there were times, I'm sure you knew

When I bit off more, than I could chew.

But through it all, when there was doubt

I ate it up and spit it out.

I faced it all and I stood tall,

And did it my way

Evelyn loves people and will thrive on leadership in many ways.  But sometimes she can love people a little too much, and that is going to be a thorn for her as she grows older and is confronted with more complicated choices than what to do at recess, play "Frozen" or swing by herself.  Cici will lead, and hopefully others will follow, but she'll need to remember to look back and see if they're still with her!  She won't care nearly as much what others think and her passion will call people to her while also driving them away.  It can be lonely.

For what is man, what has he got?

If not himself, then he has naught.

To say the things he truly feels;

And not the words of one who kneels.

The record shows I took the blows-

And did it my way!

My hope is that she remembers her humor along the way.  For Cici, tears of anger come quickly, but shrieks of laughter can follow soon after.  And with laughter, grace sneaks in.  Grace for herself and grace for others. Bard and I strive to live a life that is outside ourselves.  We would not be here without the countless people who poured into our lives.  So it's our turn and I want more than anything for my children to live in the world. Surrounded by darkness but sharing the light.

Cici will often pray, "Dear Jesus, thank you for getting my baby brother.  Please get him RIGHT NOW!" And her voice may sound like a chirpy little bird but the attitude and strength behind it is more like a roaring lion!  She is not quick to jump in but will often observe her surroundings before tentatively dipping a toe in to test the water. You may know her for weeks before knowing that she can talk sentences around most other three year olds, has learned her letters and the sounds they make, and is trying to start reading and writing (she will sit forever, focused on carefully writing out "Cici.")  She will dance more, snuggle longer, and fight faster than her older sister. But to discover all the little facets of her personality you're going to have to observe her more than she is observing you. 

Which makes me wonder, what kind of big sister will she be?  Evelyn will mother the child, get bored, come back, care for him, help him-do things for him-and run off again.  But I might be able to learn about this little boy from watching what Cici learns about him.  She thinks we should name him "Harry" and that he'll have brown eyes like her.  She wants to give him his own "Silkie Bear"-her most prized possession and said she'll teach him to talk.  A little while ago when a plane flew over our house, she asked if it was the plane going to get her brother. And very few days go by without her asking, no demanding, when we can get on a plane and go get him, "I want to go get my baby bwudder RIGHT NOW!"

So do I baby girl, and he is very lucky to have such a wonderful older sister protecting him. She may look like a little fairy but she is feisty on the inside and will fight for him because he is family. Our family.  

Sisters, Sisters

I started this blog when I found out I was pregnant with Evelyn, our first child, who is now six years old. I remember the day so clearly.  I took the pregnancy test when Bard was at work, pretty sure it would be positive.  I cooked a special dinner, set out our china and crystal goblets, and placed a present for him on his plate.  He was a bit surprised when he opened the present and saw, "Mike Mulligan and His Steam Shovel" which he had told me a few weeks prior was his favorite book from childhood.  He looked at me and said, "Oh, that's nice of you."  But was obviously puzzled!  I looked back at him with a little smile and said, "It's not for you. . ." :)  He figured it out!

Fast forward more than six years and here we are, two beautiful daughters, blessed to have a wonderful family.  But it's not quite complete.

Since we're waiting on our USCIS clearance (Immigration) and then will submit our dossier to Ukraine and wait to hear from their SDA (Adoption and Children's Rights), I thought I'd share a bit about the family our little guy will be joining.  You already know me-chatty, snarky, artsy, tongue in cheek, more passion than is good for me, and Type A, okay, A.  Bard is the smartest man you'll ever meet, way more subtle than myself (which is not hard), a great husband and father, and passionate about those in need.  But, we're boring. What about the girls?! 

I used to post regular updates on how they were doing and what they were up to, so, here's who will be welcoming little Solnishko to the US!  Well, let's be honest, poor second child will have to wait for the second blog ;)  But I promise an update on Cici too!

Evelyn is a classic first born. She's enjoying a fun year in kindergarten (and not to brag but reading at a second grade level!  Okay, that's bragging, are you surprised?!) She's a unique little mix of an extrovert and introvert, getting shy at new situations and meeting people she's not sure about but thriving in social situations, always wanting to do more, play with more friends, and go more places.  She comes to my ballet class with me and also takes tap class.  Grandpa David bought us a piano a few years ago and Evelyn has been talking lessons ever since.  But still, I am asked on a regular basis if she can take swimming, soccer, gymnastics, Irish step dancing, violin, and anything else that pops in her mind.  She seems to think that our time and money are everlasting :)  She's bossy. . .err. . .I mean a good leader!  And we are trying to help her learn how to influence people in a positive manner, encouraging and teaching them instead of dictating and annoying them.  Sometimes there is only a subtle difference between the two :)

I think you go through phases with each child, and when I started thinking about this blog post last week (when I intended to write it), I was feeling a bit frustrated about the phase I was in with Evelyn.  From a very early age Evelyn showed that while she was mellow in an adaptable, flexible way that made parenting through trips, changes, and new routines fairly easy, she is also a force.  Make that FORCE. She is driven, she wants more, she questions everything, she is constantly engaged, constantly searching. Constantly exhausting!  I think as she grows this will be one of her greatest strengths.  Let's face it, there are lots of things in our world that should be questioned and we need people who will want something better, something new, something unknown-and people who will make it happen.  That's Evelyn.  But, when it's five o'clock, you're trying to make dinner, you can't for the life of you figure out why the "why phase" didn't end at 2 years old for your child like it did for everyone else's, and you just need her to Sit. Quietly. For. One Minute.  It can be a bit frazzling!

But that was last week and then this week happened and spun me around from being frustrated with my daughter to being her biggest advocate and fighting for her rights in a place where her protection should have been everyone's first priority. If you want the whole story, you're going to have to buy me a combination of chocolate, caffeine, and alcohol-all of which I have had extra of the past 8 days!

Dear World at Large, My husband's intellect and research capabilities can run circles around you and I have more passion and fury than a pantheon of Greek gods.  Do. Not. Mess. With. My Child.

So what does this have to do with anything?  Well, it's just where I'm at right now, which means I'm sharing with you :)  But honestly, I had a bit of an epiphany a midst all the chaos.  I've worried some about what needs my little guy will have and how I will meet them-in a patient and consistent manner-or if I will just fall apart.  I'm sure both will happen to an extent!  But a few weeks ago, when I posted about Love Alone is Worth the Fight, I was really just thinking about the fight to get him here, not all the fights we'll battle out once he's here.  And those fights are not clean paperwork, they are messy and physical.  Fights with him and fights for him.  Fights as a family and fights tearing at our family.  The past week has left me a bit battle scarred, and it's not even over yet.  But as I was driving down 6th ave, the sun shining through my windows, Love Alone is Worth the Fight came over the radio again and it suddenly struck me.

I love my child and I will do anything for her.  I will fight this fight for her and she doesn't even know I'm fighting it.  And if I have to fight this battle for a month or a year, or win it now only to fight it again 5 years from now, I will do it.  She's mine. She defined sacrificial love for me when I first laid eyes on her.

Greater love has no one than this. . .

I question everything. I strive, constantly, to make connections. I push, to the point of exhaustion, because I want, no need, no crave, to know WHY.

I would give my drawer full of Cadbury Eggs to know why we've gone on such a tortuous and seemingly endless adoption journey.

Why.

But in that moment, driving, listening, I maybe saw a shimmering glisten of hope. You see, my love is but a shadow.

And if I question, constantly, I do not stop at questioning love.

And then a terrible lie came into the world.  It would never leave. It would live on in every human heart, whispering to every one of God's children, "God doesn't love me."

You see, my fight is but a shadow.

And if I consent to live in shadows, then my constant striving will never know peace. My struggle will be endless, no matter what I achieve, today, tomorrow, or ever.

Complete Joy (which is Evelyn's name) is found at the utter- lay down my arms and pick up grace-acceptance of what has been fought for me.  Just me.  And won.  For me.

So I will be like a child, picking up my little toy guns and pew pew pewing at all the bad guys who are in my way.  Because maybe that will teach me just a little bit to look up and see that my fight's been won.  And that it was worth it, all along, love is worth the fight.