Sunday Share

I read some amazing blogs.

Some that I agree with, Some that I don't.

But regardless their perspectives are important and valid and every week let's be honest periodically on Sunday Share, I want to point you in the direction of those blogs that I was gripped by during the week!
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Gripped might be an exaggeration. Unless of course, you love Downton Abbey the way you should. And if you do? Then you were so excited to see This Post over at Rage Against the Minivan this week!


Amy over at Building The Blocks wrote This Post that brought tears to my eyes. God, never let me become complacent about the things that break Your heart...

Curly Jo wrote a difficult but truthful post called Invisible Disability, Trauma, Attachment and My Pride over at Curly Jo's 2 Cents. A must read exposing the sometimes difficult world of healing our children from hard places... Check out her new posts on the topic while you're there...

Over here? We're watching the Three Stooges, putting puzzles together and baking a cake. Amen and amen. =)

Do you remember where you were that day?

(Originally posted September 11, 2010)


I do.

I had a 7am P.E. class, so I had gone to class, gotten out early, and had run back to the dorm room to commence sleeping. I had just fallen back asleep.

I remember waking up to my phone ringing.

I remember hearing The Husband--then "The Boyfriend" --tell me to turn on the t.v.

I remember turning it on just in time to see the second tower get hit. My roommate came running into the room and just sat down at the end of my bed.

At that exact moment, it might have been an accident. But a few minutes later, there was word about the 3rd plane. We didn't say anything. We didn't move. We just sat there.

Everything we had forsaken?

Everything we had grown up taking for granted?

Was being attacked.

Our freedoms. Our safety. Our country.

***************

A few years ago, I was babysitting hanging out with my friend's two girls. "T" was probably about 7...maybe 8. We had watched Hairspray that night, and I remember my heart being filled with joy to see the confusion on her face as we watched it.

"Why were they being so mean to those black people?" she asked.

"We didn't do a lot of things right back then. But we are working on doing things right, now." I replied, cautious not to put myself in a corner where the historical responses might confuse her more.

"Well, I think they should have let them dance...They were the better dancers, anyways" She responded, confident that had SHE been in charge, things would have been different.

I smiled, "Yes. Yes, they sure were"

"Hey Ashley...You know what we learned in school the other day?" She came back quickly--unbeknownst to me--quite finished with our previous topic.

"What's that?" I responded, sure that somehow they were teaching about the Civil Rights era in 2nd grade now...

"We learned about these people who flew planes into these big buildings in New York. And now? Those buildings are gone, and a lot of people died that day."

My heart stopped. Sitting there with T? Was the first moment I realized that there would be a whole generation who would be asking US about "that day". The significance of "that day" in history was concrete. And for T... who was just an infant on 9/11... it was as far removed as Pearl Harbor. Or World War II. Or, even, the Revolutionary War.

"You know, T...I remember 'that day'" I said, feeling a little melancholy, my soul always carrying a piece of "that day" with me.

"You were ALIVE when that happened??" Her eyes big and curious.

And so I told her all about what I remembered.

How the country banded together to protect our freedom. 

How none of us had really known what that meant before.

How at that moment... regardless of political positions or intellectual disagreements? We were all, simply, Americans.

I told her about the lines at gas stations being miles long, because people were afraid of gas shortages. How planes couldn't fly for weeks afterward...anywhere. How nobody really knew what the next day would look like, or the next week. or month. or year. But that I had trusted in God and had faith that He loved us.

We talked about how I didn't actually know anyone in the towers, but that one of my professors had a son-in-law who worked there. And had been at a meeting across town when it happened. He was one of the lucky ones.

I told her we were scared. America had never been attacked like this, at least not in my lifetime...and quickly, I realized that THIS was how our grandparents must have felt when Pearl Harbor was attacked.

The immensity of knowing that you were alive during something as significant as that? is profound. I tried my best to explain everything I could...knowing that some things? some feelings? just couldn't be explained.

I didn't mention the picture I have in my head of people jumping out of the windows.Or the piles of bodies being pulled from the wreckage.

I didn't tell her that we were always worried we would be attacked again. Even trying to proactively determine what the risk of our part of the country getting attacked would be (low, we decided).

I didn't tell her that I didn't really cry. I couldn't. really. cry. It was an an emotion I had never really felt...

I did tell her how proud I was--and am--to be an American though. How the resilience of Americans after 9/11 only confirmed how blessed I had felt to be born in such a country.

How, even when I don't agree with the politics, the religious disputes, the hatred, that Americans can possess....I have never wished I'd been born anywhere else.

That I have always said the Pledge of Allegiance with pride and sang Star Spangled Banner as beautifully as possible.

How, even in the worst of times, we were the greatest nation.

And instead of wishing to be somewhere else, when we disagree with things, we should work to change them and make them better.

"Like the people in Hairspray did?" She asked.

"Yep. Just like that".

Source

Sunday Share

I read some amazing blogs.

Some that I agree with, Some that I don't.

But regardless their perspectives are important and valid and every week  let's be honest  periodically on Sunday Share, I want to point you in the direction of those blogs that I was gripped by during the week!

My friend, Ashley, over at Expecting Miracles has touched on the beauty of her Open Adoption in this week's post titled Her "Real" Mother.  Good stuff here, folks!

Kelly at My Overthinking posted a controversial guest post-  Transracial Adoption According to a Recovering Adoptee - this week that--agree or disagree-- every adoptive parent needs to read...Because, whether we like it or not? the perspective of a transracial adult adoptee is an irreplaceable tool. This is a hard, but necessary, read.

Over here? We're napping. Nothing extraordinary.

Happy Sunday!

If you have read something you'd like to share today, leave a comment below!

2 Months Home

At the Lion King! Marvel LOVED it!

I can't believe we've already been home a little more than 2 months!

The time really has flown by (I knew it would) and we've been daily amazed by our little guy.

That's not to say that these first days were without a few thorns here and there. But overall, this season has confirmed to me the resilience and bravery ingrained in Marvel's very being. I know that we aren't to thank for this and always with reverence, we often think of those who are.

Here's what Marvel's up to these days:

Favorite Food(s): hard boiled eggs; avocados; strawberries; vanilla ice cream; cookie butter; marshmallow mateys ;-)
Favorite Person: Moses (our dog). They're totally BFFs
Favorite Color: Yellow
Favorite Show(s): Dinosaur Train; Dora; Diego; and Sesame Street
Favorite Phrase(s): To Moses: "Hi baby" and "Gert-outta-herr". To anyone else: "No way"; "You don't need it?" (thank his daddy for that); "Settle down"; "Mom, whats firest?"; "Be Quiet"; "More schooltime?"
Favorite Sport: Soccer
Favorite Thing(s) To Do: Ride his big-wheels; go to any store where he can ride in the cart; watch tv; color (with markers); legos; woah-hawsh (swimming); feed/water Moses (score for Mommy!)

We feel so blessed and undeserving of this little boy and are so enjoying getting to know his big personality!! Things like trying to "scare" me by throwing "spiders" or "dinosaurs" at me and jumping out from behind doors, he is definitely exploring parts of his personality that have been locked up for some time!!!

I can't wait to get to know my little guy even more in the seasons to come and I am overwhelmingly grateful to God for the opportunity to be his Mommy!

Someone Started School!

Disclaimer: School started two weeks ago. I couldn't get pictures to load and let's be honest that's what you guys really want anyways. Better late than never, eh? =)

I wanted to think it would be traumatic for him....

I mean, he'd adjusted alright to an entirely new country, filled with a new language and strange-looking, doting, white people....

But I'd just assumed that Mommy was the secret sauce there.

Turns out my Genius Child is also amazingly resilient and adaptable.

Go Figure.


We're slowing integrating school into our lives by spending a season in the "half day" program before putting him in "full day" later this fall.

Of course, he'd be totally okay with full day now.  He often points out the tall skyscrapers next to his school all the way across town and asks if he can do "more school"?

Even today as we left church (right down the street from the school) he asked if he could go to school now....

I don't know whether to be disappointed or bursting with pride. If I should be disappointed, don't tell me so...because I'm all bursting with pride for my little Genius Child.

He also knows all his shapes, colors, numbers 1-20 (okay he starts losing it at around 15), his alphabet and his whole name.....

Not that anyone's bragging. (Except that I totally am)

Here's a little glimpse into that glorious first day of school!

Giving me the "thumbs up" and wink as we headed out the door!

All smiles on our first day of school!!!

Loves his new teacher!

Notice.

Think of my blog as an Opinion Page.

I'm not an objective journalist.

I'm just a girl with a passion. an opinion. and a desire to express those things through the beautiful written word.

If you don't agree with me. That's okay.

I'm not on World News.

I have a free blog (that happens to be public) where I- from time to time- choose to write to share my heart, my passions, and more recently, those little eyes that stole my heart.

So imagine my surprise to find an absurdly divisive, hateful, and biting comment from someone who knows me only from a page on the internet.

A person who left no opening for discussion of our disagreement. Oh boy, do we disagree.

Someone who obviously wanted the opportunity to use hate and sarcasm to perpetuate his/her own perspective on my blog.

Ya'll, we may disagree on a few things here and there...That's to be expected and really? it's okay with me. But we need to be able to sit down at the table and hear each other out in a respectful way

Hate? Anger? Sarcasm? Biting Remarks?

Do nothing but beget themselves. And I won't take part in all that nonsense.

Change won't come by tearing each other down and destroying those who disagree with you. The only thing that comes from all that? Is more hate, more bitterness, and more division.

The truth? is that I'm thick skinned--it hurts but I can take it-- BUT I don't have room in my heart or in my life for that.  I won't engage in that kind of back-and-forth.

There was a point in time when I was certain my mom and my friend Randee were the only people reading my blog. But as a public blog that shows up on Google searches from time to time, I knew that could change.   I chose to keep my blog public because there are people who might need to hear our story. I know there was a time when I was always blog-stalking in hopes that I would find someone who might understand how I felt. Believe me, I've been there.

But. 

It's still a personal page. It's still my page.  If you can't be nice? I don't have to share your opinions with the world. It's really that simple. Be courteous, be kind, be respectful, be honest. If your honesty is in contrast with mine, that is A-okay with me. As long as you are respectful about it. capish?

Here is the FB post I wrote shortly after reading my first-ever  most-recent hatemail.  I think it just about sums it all up for us, friends.

• I moderate the comments on my blog, World. That means, if you want to write a horribly hateful and divisive comment because you disagree with what I write or the choices we've made as a family? I will simply delete what you wrote, refusing to perpetuate that same hatefulness to the rest of the world. It's that simple. Disagree with me? Let's talk about it in a respectful and honest way. The End.