*Begun on January 31st, 2016, your dedication day, and finished as I found time around my busy full time job of being your mommy.
Today we dedicated you to our Lord.
My sweet, spunky, spirited bundle of energy and sunshine. My not-so-baby girl who claps hands and blows kisses and gives slimy, slobbery, sticky sugars. My strong-willed little one with the temper like your mommy and the determination of your daddy - already exploring your surroundings and testing the limits (and Mommy's patience!) Today we stood before God and before our family and fellow believers who love you and reiterated a promise long since made to God and to you - the promise to devote ourselves as your parents to love you the way He loves you and to point you to His grace and goodness by the way we live our lives.
So many thoughts were going through my mind, little girl, as I held you in my arms and your Grandaddy prayed committing you to God. Tears stood in my eyes (only one or two escaped down my cheeks) and nobody saw the burdens, dreams, desires, and prayers that my heart holds for you.
No one hears the prayers I pray for you every night when I hold your warm, snugly body to my heart and feel your soft breathing. When the weight of responsibility comes crashing down on me and I realize that I am holding in my arms a little life, a precious, moldable soul. I pray then that our Father will reinforce my spirit and draw me constantly to Himself so that I might have wisdom and strength to be the Mommy you need me to be. I ask Him to make me sensitive to your needs - that I would not respond rashly or impatiently to your many little inquiries, needs, and demands on my time and attention. I pray that He will fill me with His love and grace - that in observing my life you will see, not perfection, not expectations, but room to fail, to fall down, and to still be infinitely loved and accepted. I pray you will never live under the burden of what I want or expect you to be, but that you always know support and encouragement from Mommy and Daddy to be the very special person God created you to be. I pray that you will thrive and live life to the fullest - that you will have dreams and chase them, set goals and pursue them. That you will discover the unique talents and gifts He has put within you and that you will feel freedom to create, discover, explore, and learn. I pray that you will know how beautiful you are - what real beauty is, and that you are beautiful simply because you are you, created perfectly and wonderfully and just exactly the way He wanted you to be. I pray that He will hold your heart (and mine) as you learn that life is hard; full of sin and sickness, hurt and broken dreams. I pray that I would refrain from trying to protect you from the world and instead make my arms an ever-open refuge where you can run when life knocks you down. Oh, how I pray that in those times my response, my embrace, my prayers will point you to Him. I pray that you will never question how very much you are loved by your daddy and me and by God.
Most of all, my precious love, I pray you will know Him. Oh God, how I pray that you will! That your life will be lit by the eternal fire of His Spirit, and by the joy that it is to love and be loved by the One who created you! I pray that you will know a vibrant, genuine, life-giving relationship with Him that will determine everything about how and where, and with whom you spend your life. I pray that you rejoice in grace and love mercy and live to share these gifts with others. I pray that the gospel is the fire in your bones that drives you, and sustains you - that it won't go out and won't let you stop until the world knows the Savior.
All this and more I pray for you, my baby, each time I hold you in my arms. And I pray that I won't forget these moments. That every memory will be carved into the walls of my heart. That when you are all grown up and hold your own little one in your arms, I can look at you out of eyes shining with glad tears and know that when those days were mine to cherish I loved you with my whole soul, the very best that I knew how.
And although I pray and "dedicate" you to Him, I (try to) hold you with very loose hands...because from the first moment of your existence, you were already His.
I thank Him that He saw fit to share such a beautiful gift with me.
Wednesday, March 30, 2016
Wednesday, October 14, 2015
Love is Worth the Fight
So something has happened to me since becoming a mother. (The kind with a biological child of my own who lives with me and who I hold in my arms as well as my heart.)
I can't even deal with the harsh truth about the thousands of babies without mothers to hold them.
Not that it was easy before. And there are plenty of children I consider "mine" in my heart although I will never get to really be their mom as I wish I could.
But since carrying that precious little life inside me, feeling and watching her grow, bringing her into the world, and experiencing the incredible bond that instantaneously is just there between my daughter and me...
It has changed me in so many ways.
Not the least of them being it rips my heart out all the more (if at all possible) to think of precious orphaned children than it did before I became my little girl's mommy.
Maybe it's because now I know in a way I never fully understood before all that these motherless babies are missing out on. Maybe it's even partly because I can feel with SO much more empathy for the mothers who go through everything necessary to give their baby life and then have to rip their own hearts apart for the sake of that baby's best interests. (In many cases this is what happens.) Whichever way you slice it, it means hearts breaking and leaving and loneliness and emptiness and pain.
My hands and heart have been just a little pre-occupied these last 5 months, and with good reason. But in recent days our good God has been doing something in me as my husband and I have spent time together reading and praying. He never lets us go...never lets us give up...never lets us forget - when it's a dream, a vision, a passion that He has given.
I want to look beyond myself and my little family and our safe, cozy corner once again. I don't want to push away the memories and the videos and the reminders and the tears anymore. I want my heart to be vulnerable and my arms to ache for babies with no mothers and mothers who must let go of their babies.
When I watched this video my heart broke for the grief of the tiny one with the silent tears slipping down her face even in her sleep. But as deep as the pain is, so the joy of adoption, of being wanted, being sought after and fought for...of belonging runs even deeper. The beauty of the mother holding, loving, forgiving, healing the once motherless is earth-shattering and mind blowing. It's the gospel lived out. And that's why I know without any doubt that THIS is what I am called to do. Hubby or no, with kids or without, these babies that God has placed in my heart, this miracle of seeing them come home, this is where it's at for me.
Passion for my own little, distractions within my small circle, discouragement in the waiting period may rise up to drown out the sound of their voices. He always brings it back to right here. To this struggle to lay down, to pick up, to fight for love and for hope and for joy - the joy of ALL peoples in Him forever.
Love is worth the fight.
http://youtu.be/D3twWpo6DfA
I can't even deal with the harsh truth about the thousands of babies without mothers to hold them.
Not that it was easy before. And there are plenty of children I consider "mine" in my heart although I will never get to really be their mom as I wish I could.
But since carrying that precious little life inside me, feeling and watching her grow, bringing her into the world, and experiencing the incredible bond that instantaneously is just there between my daughter and me...
It has changed me in so many ways.
Not the least of them being it rips my heart out all the more (if at all possible) to think of precious orphaned children than it did before I became my little girl's mommy.
Maybe it's because now I know in a way I never fully understood before all that these motherless babies are missing out on. Maybe it's even partly because I can feel with SO much more empathy for the mothers who go through everything necessary to give their baby life and then have to rip their own hearts apart for the sake of that baby's best interests. (In many cases this is what happens.) Whichever way you slice it, it means hearts breaking and leaving and loneliness and emptiness and pain.
My hands and heart have been just a little pre-occupied these last 5 months, and with good reason. But in recent days our good God has been doing something in me as my husband and I have spent time together reading and praying. He never lets us go...never lets us give up...never lets us forget - when it's a dream, a vision, a passion that He has given.
I want to look beyond myself and my little family and our safe, cozy corner once again. I don't want to push away the memories and the videos and the reminders and the tears anymore. I want my heart to be vulnerable and my arms to ache for babies with no mothers and mothers who must let go of their babies.
When I watched this video my heart broke for the grief of the tiny one with the silent tears slipping down her face even in her sleep. But as deep as the pain is, so the joy of adoption, of being wanted, being sought after and fought for...of belonging runs even deeper. The beauty of the mother holding, loving, forgiving, healing the once motherless is earth-shattering and mind blowing. It's the gospel lived out. And that's why I know without any doubt that THIS is what I am called to do. Hubby or no, with kids or without, these babies that God has placed in my heart, this miracle of seeing them come home, this is where it's at for me.
Passion for my own little, distractions within my small circle, discouragement in the waiting period may rise up to drown out the sound of their voices. He always brings it back to right here. To this struggle to lay down, to pick up, to fight for love and for hope and for joy - the joy of ALL peoples in Him forever.
Love is worth the fight.
http://youtu.be/D3twWpo6DfA
Wednesday, July 29, 2015
My Love-Hate Relationship With Schedules
Guys, it's happened. I'm that mommy. The one whose whole life revolves
around her child and whose Facebook is plastered with said child's
pictures and whose blog posts have turned into mommy diaries.
Well, sort of. See, I am learning that life is not lived in separate blocks of time - "Now I am a mommy. Now I am a missionary. Now I am a housekeeper and homemaker.", but rather as a messy, challenging, glorious, exhilarating mix that makes me a wife, homemaker, mommy, and missionary (among other things) all at the same time.
As such I am learning to bring Him into everything I do rather than waiting for that elusive moment of free time when the baby will be fed and all the chores will be done. When I am nursing Gracie I am thinking about Him and His amazing love for me as my Father. When I am doing housework I am thanking Him for a house to clean and a family to take care of. Even when I (finally) get to take a shower I am telling Him how grateful I am for the small things like hot water and showers and body-wash.
What I'm trying to say is that this is not a blog post about being a mommy - it's a blog post about life.
With that said, how many of you have a schedule? If you have one do you stick to it? How do you feel about yourself when you stick to it? How do you feel about yourself when you don't? For years I was an organized person. I loved my schedule because it was my measuring stick for my personal standard of success. Give me a list, baby, and let me cross those things off one by one - not so much for the purpose of getting things done, but so I can drown myself in gloating and self-satisfaction at the end of the day. I was successful again! Hooray for me!
Of course there was always the downside of raking myself over the coals every time I failed to stay on my schedule. How could I be productive/successful/
I lived my life this way until in my mid twenties I had a revolutionizing enlightenment of grace that practically changed my life on many different levels. Suddenly my success, acceptance and value no longer depended on my performance, including how well or not I stayed on a schedule. God's view of me through the eyes of grace began to seep into my heart, slowly but surely doing away with my old patterns of selfish, self-satisfied or self-deprecating living (all of which, by the way, are rooted in pride) and rejuvenating my relationship with Him in a way I never could have imagined.
Somewhere along the way I threw out my schedule. There were several reasons for doing this, the main one being my old tendency to rely on my schedule for my sense of self worth which went against the truth He was revealing to me and life of grace I was just beginning to learn how to live. Also I wanted everything I did, including my times with Him spent praying and reading the Bible to be born out of love and gratitude for Him and not just so I could check something off my list and feel good about myself. So. No schedule for me! Woo hoo! I'm free!
But then I became a mommy. A stay-at-home mommy for that matter. Suddenly I was surrounded by mountains of things needing to be done and my former free and easy method of living wasn't seeing those mountains getting any smaller! In fact they seemed to be growing to insurmountable heights! I caved and made a house-cleaning schedule. I arranged the major daily, weekly, monthly, and bi-monthly jobs into a nice, neat, Pinterestey format and felt quite proud and accomplished and supremely mom-like surveying the result of my efforts. Maybe now I would get something done around here!
Only to despair the first week of putting it into action. "Oh no! I missed one day because Gracie was fussy and skipped her nap! How will I ever keep up? Now that task will remain undone for another week!" And my inner wailing went on and on. My grand schedule was a failure after all!
Then I had a revelation that knocked my socks off:
I WAS THE MASTER OF MY SCHEDULE and not the other way around! As the creator and implementer of my schedule I had all rights reserved and total freedom to adjust, make changes, or even scrap it completely if it wasn't serving it's purpose of helping me to accomplish my goals of a cleaner and more efficient home. Armed with this new enlightenment I attacked my schedule and made adjustments moving some things around, taking some things off, and creating a "catch-up day" so that if I miss one day for some reason (like fussy Gracie, or a doctor's appointment, or mommy's crashtime/naptime) I can make it up!
And so my love-hate relationship with schedules continues. The key for me is to remember that it is there as a guideline and not as my master or my measuring stick for success. It is to help me to be the wife and mommy that God wants me to be and when it ceases to do that is when I need to either scrap it or revamp it. I also am learning to remind myself daily that my value and worth do not depend on how well I stick to the schedule or even how good of a wife and mommy I am but how much my Father loves me and His grace that covers me in spite of all my faults and failings.
I will say that it felt pretty good to check off "Clean, sweep, and mop kitchen" today! It's ok that I didn't check off yesterday's task for the day because my Gracie needed me. She will only be a baby for so long. Tomorrow is another day!
Well, sort of. See, I am learning that life is not lived in separate blocks of time - "Now I am a mommy. Now I am a missionary. Now I am a housekeeper and homemaker.", but rather as a messy, challenging, glorious, exhilarating mix that makes me a wife, homemaker, mommy, and missionary (among other things) all at the same time.
As such I am learning to bring Him into everything I do rather than waiting for that elusive moment of free time when the baby will be fed and all the chores will be done. When I am nursing Gracie I am thinking about Him and His amazing love for me as my Father. When I am doing housework I am thanking Him for a house to clean and a family to take care of. Even when I (finally) get to take a shower I am telling Him how grateful I am for the small things like hot water and showers and body-wash.
What I'm trying to say is that this is not a blog post about being a mommy - it's a blog post about life.
With that said, how many of you have a schedule? If you have one do you stick to it? How do you feel about yourself when you stick to it? How do you feel about yourself when you don't? For years I was an organized person. I loved my schedule because it was my measuring stick for my personal standard of success. Give me a list, baby, and let me cross those things off one by one - not so much for the purpose of getting things done, but so I can drown myself in gloating and self-satisfaction at the end of the day. I was successful again! Hooray for me!
Of course there was always the downside of raking myself over the coals every time I failed to stay on my schedule. How could I be productive/successful/
I lived my life this way until in my mid twenties I had a revolutionizing enlightenment of grace that practically changed my life on many different levels. Suddenly my success, acceptance and value no longer depended on my performance, including how well or not I stayed on a schedule. God's view of me through the eyes of grace began to seep into my heart, slowly but surely doing away with my old patterns of selfish, self-satisfied or self-deprecating living (all of which, by the way, are rooted in pride) and rejuvenating my relationship with Him in a way I never could have imagined.
Somewhere along the way I threw out my schedule. There were several reasons for doing this, the main one being my old tendency to rely on my schedule for my sense of self worth which went against the truth He was revealing to me and life of grace I was just beginning to learn how to live. Also I wanted everything I did, including my times with Him spent praying and reading the Bible to be born out of love and gratitude for Him and not just so I could check something off my list and feel good about myself. So. No schedule for me! Woo hoo! I'm free!
But then I became a mommy. A stay-at-home mommy for that matter. Suddenly I was surrounded by mountains of things needing to be done and my former free and easy method of living wasn't seeing those mountains getting any smaller! In fact they seemed to be growing to insurmountable heights! I caved and made a house-cleaning schedule. I arranged the major daily, weekly, monthly, and bi-monthly jobs into a nice, neat, Pinterestey format and felt quite proud and accomplished and supremely mom-like surveying the result of my efforts. Maybe now I would get something done around here!
Only to despair the first week of putting it into action. "Oh no! I missed one day because Gracie was fussy and skipped her nap! How will I ever keep up? Now that task will remain undone for another week!" And my inner wailing went on and on. My grand schedule was a failure after all!
Then I had a revelation that knocked my socks off:
I WAS THE MASTER OF MY SCHEDULE and not the other way around! As the creator and implementer of my schedule I had all rights reserved and total freedom to adjust, make changes, or even scrap it completely if it wasn't serving it's purpose of helping me to accomplish my goals of a cleaner and more efficient home. Armed with this new enlightenment I attacked my schedule and made adjustments moving some things around, taking some things off, and creating a "catch-up day" so that if I miss one day for some reason (like fussy Gracie, or a doctor's appointment, or mommy's crashtime/naptime) I can make it up!
And so my love-hate relationship with schedules continues. The key for me is to remember that it is there as a guideline and not as my master or my measuring stick for success. It is to help me to be the wife and mommy that God wants me to be and when it ceases to do that is when I need to either scrap it or revamp it. I also am learning to remind myself daily that my value and worth do not depend on how well I stick to the schedule or even how good of a wife and mommy I am but how much my Father loves me and His grace that covers me in spite of all my faults and failings.
I will say that it felt pretty good to check off "Clean, sweep, and mop kitchen" today! It's ok that I didn't check off yesterday's task for the day because my Gracie needed me. She will only be a baby for so long. Tomorrow is another day!
Tuesday, July 14, 2015
Gracelynn Ruth's Birth Story or His Plan is Best
So it's been almost 2 years since I posted on this blog?! I have no idea what could have possibly been keeping me busy...besides planning a wedding, getting married, moving into our first house, and working my first real job. Oh, and carrying and giving birth to our first child!
What better than the birth of our little girl to get me back on the blog, right?! Now that she's here and sleeping [almost always] through the night and my world is starting to consist of more than just feedings, sleeping, and feeding again, it's time to share my daughter's birth story!
It's funny; all the plans you make when you're expecting, all the hopes and ideals you build up for the birth experience...and somehow God always takes our dreams and plans and turns them all around and upside down and yet the stories are *still* beautiful.
This is our story. From the beginning it was anything but "ideal" from a human perspective. We didn't expect to be expecting our first child before our first anniversary. We didn't plan to be moving, unpacking, and starting my new job in the early weeks of pregnancy. We didn't dream we would experience bleeding and a threatened miscarriage early on. [That's a story in itself!] But all of this our Father knew. And He is faithful. We know His plan far outbested our best plans and were thrilled to learn of the little life growing inside me! Although I didn't find pregnancy to be high on my list of "favorite things", the joys and blessings were still to be found, along with the anticipation and excitement of preparing for our little one to join us. Somehow I made it through the last weeks of my kindergarten job and we were at home anxiously expecting the arrival any day of our little girl!
My mother-in-law arrived, the crib was ready, all her little clothes were washed and stacked neatly, and I was...VERY pregnant. So began the anxious waiting to feel the first signs of labor beginning! As my due date approached, apart from the intense discomfort of late pregnancy I felt...nothing! At each doctor's appointment baby girl was still doing well and ready to go, but no signs of labor. Rats! I should mention that although I was hoping against hope, I was half-expecting to go past my due date as my mom has a history of carrying her babies for 42 weeks!
At our 39 week appointment we were surprised to see that somehow even in extremely cramped quarters Little Miss Zhang had managed to wrap herself up in the umbilical cord not once but TWICE! It was distressing, to say the least, since I was all ready to go for a natural delivery as soon as contractions started. To make things worse, her heart rate had slowed significantly compared to her usual heart rate. I was shocked to hear the doctor recommending that we be admitted to the hospital until she was born just to be on the safe side! What?! From still having another week to wait until the due date, to going to the hospital and suddenly expecting her anytime?! Hubby and I talked and prayed about it and decided that due to our living a considerable distance from the hospital we should go. In the event that her heart rate dropped lower or we began to experience any other complications, it would be better to be where we could receive immediate care.
When we checked in to the hospital the next day they ran us through some tests and found that the cord was still wrapped around twice and baby girl's heart rate was still low. When our OBGYN discovered this she immediately recommended a C-section. I was beyond distressed to hear this and asked many questions and explored all our chances of being able to wait it out and give birth naturally. It was a difficult decision for us and we had all our family praying for wisdom and peace! We asked God to show us the best and safest way for both our little girl and her mommy, and we feel that in the following hours He did so. First of all when they checked me to see if I had begun to dialate, nothing. NO signs that labor was anywhere close to starting. Meh! How discouraging! Then during the 20 minute stress-test baby girl's heart beat was either in the lowest range of what is safe, or even dropping down to unsafe. The last straw for me was what I believe to be a miracle sign from God. Until this point I hadn't experienced a single real contraction, just Braxton Hicks. However during the 20 minute test I had 2 or 3 real, painful contractions and we were able to see our baby's response to them. Her heart rate dropped incredibly low during each contraction, and for me that was a sign that if she was distressed during these first, small contractions there's no way she would be able to handle full on labor. Besides there was still no indication that I would go into labor any time soon. So we made the call to schedule a C-section!
It's very strange to suddenly have all your ideas of how your birth plan will go being exchanged for planning for surgery. In the hours leading up to the scheduled time I found myself struggling with letting go of my ideals. I was even more upset to learn that Winston would not be able to join me in the operating room. What?! We would not get to experience the arrival of our daughter and becoming a family together as I had imagined for so many months! I fretted and worried that my baby girl would miss me, having been carried close to my heart for so long, and suddenly out and on her own while I was sewed up after she was born. But about half an hour before they came to prep me for surgery I was listening to two songs that I believe God gave me for my delivery: Hillsong's "Still" and Chris Tomlin's "All the Way My Savior Leads Me" and so much peace washed over me. Out loud I gave my ideals and dreams and plans to God and told Him that I receive and accept the birth story He was going to give me and my baby girl. From that moment on there was no distress, no anxiety, not even any fear of surgery. Just joy. His time was now. I would be a mother in a matter of minutes, and would be holding my baby girl in my arms. As I was wheeled back to the operating room I looked at my husband and smiled and tears began to roll down my cheeks. The nurses said, "Don't be scared! It will be alright!" "I'm not scared," I answered, "I'm just so happy and excited!"
The operating room experience was nothing like I had imagined. I pictured white and cold and quiet and alone. The doctors and nurses gathered around first thing to get their picture with me before surgery! I know, I know, In the States this would be unheard of! They even posted the pics to an online media site right there in the operating room! Cracked me up right from the start! There I was in my luxurious hospital/surgery clothes, no makeup, grinning a silly grin and giving a thumbs up minutes before my baby girl would be pulled out of my giant belly! The anesthesiologist asked it it was twins. Sigh. For the last time, "No, just one!" The nurses and anesthesiologist proceeded to give me the spinal to numb me from the waist down, and while I was scared it would hurt, I was shocked when they told me it was all over. It felt like a pinch or a push on my spine and I kid you not, 30 seconds later I couldn't even feel my legs. It was the craziest feeling ever! I had worried that I wouldn't be with it enough to realize what was happening for my daughter's birth, but although the lower half of my body was totally numb, I felt like my mind went into super-clear overdrive state. I remember every single thing about how the room looked and smelled and everything everyone said. The anesthesiologist gave the ok to start and called the time. The nurses and anesthesiologist started chatting with me while the doctors worked and I remember talking about how my husband and I met, how I learned Chinese, and how I had spent time teaching English in Taiwan. We chatted it up big time, and I didn't feel anything except a bunch of tugging and pulling behind the curtain.
Then they told me I would feel some more intense tugs and pulls for abour 5 minutes. Whew, was it intense! No pain at all, but wow, I thought my body would come off the table they were pulling so hard! In all that pulling I heard the doctor say, "Sheng!" which in Chinese means to give birth, and with one mighty tug all the tugging and pulling stopped. It seems like time froze for that moment. I'm tearing up now as I write about it. "2:46pm!" The anthesthesiologist called the time. I heard a couple little fussy cries and my heart stood still. "Is that my baby?!" I asked. "That's your daughter!" the nurses told me. Instantly I was overcome with the most amazing joy and the deepest love I've ever experienced. It was my Gracelynn Ruth. I was a mommy! Tears rolled down my cheeks and I talked to her so she would hear my voice as they cleaned her up and wrapped her in the blankets I had prepared for her months before. "Gracelynn, Mommy's right here! Mommy loves you! Don't be afraid, little girl...Mommy's right here!" The nurse standing beside me used the blanket to wipe my tears and looking up I saw she was using her sleeve to wipe at her own tears. There will never be anything to top it. It was a holy moment. They brought her over to me, swaddled until nothing but her sweet, wet face was peeking out. I kissed it and took in her scent and her flavor, relishing and basking in the fact that this was my little girl. Then they carried her out to her Daddy and Grandma while they sewed me up. Winston says it was about half an hour but I felt like it was just a few seconds. I was so pleased and thrilled and still not experiencing any pain at all.
They wheeled me out of the operating room where my sweet husband kissed me and then we went straight to our hospital room [No long hours in recovery! YAY!] where my baby girl was waiting with Grandma. After considerable heaving and tugging they got my still totally numb self onto the bed and laid my precious little one in the crook of my arm so I could hold her for the first time. More tears. She knew my voice and smell, and started to cry hungry fusses. Her daddy leaned over the bed and called her name, "Gracelynn!" She turned towards his voice. He leaned down and kissed us both. We were a family and it was perfect.
There are many more details about the not-so-perfect parts...
About after the spinal wore off and crying joyous tears through the pain and telling hubby I'd do it all over again for our little girl and dealing with the pain and recovery while trying to nurse my newborn and learning to sit up again, and walking for the first time and going to the bathroom for the first time, and so many overwhelming, challenging, beautiful and glorious firsts!
Here we are, two months later with a gorgeous, chunky 2 month old girly who talks and coos and smiles and lights up our lives every day! I would like to say, His plan is perfect. Every time I think I have the best plan He has a better one. Every time I think I can't follow through with His changed up version of my plan, He shows me I can in His strength. Every time I worry that I am the worst mom in the world, He reminds me that we're all the worst parents in the world learning from Him how to be better parents. I've found He gives grace for every step WHEN it's time to take that step...not sooner. The day Gracie was born I was still overwhelmed and thinking "How do I do this?!" The minute I held her in my arms I knew, "With the grace He is giving me right now. In this moment." And so I am trying to live moment by moment with my little girl. Parent her, make decisions, love her, show her [and my hubby] grace...in that moment. The moments all add up to make the days and months and He is there with His grace to give wisdom and cover my failings.
He is so, so good!
What better than the birth of our little girl to get me back on the blog, right?! Now that she's here and sleeping [almost always] through the night and my world is starting to consist of more than just feedings, sleeping, and feeding again, it's time to share my daughter's birth story!
It's funny; all the plans you make when you're expecting, all the hopes and ideals you build up for the birth experience...and somehow God always takes our dreams and plans and turns them all around and upside down and yet the stories are *still* beautiful.
This is our story. From the beginning it was anything but "ideal" from a human perspective. We didn't expect to be expecting our first child before our first anniversary. We didn't plan to be moving, unpacking, and starting my new job in the early weeks of pregnancy. We didn't dream we would experience bleeding and a threatened miscarriage early on. [That's a story in itself!] But all of this our Father knew. And He is faithful. We know His plan far outbested our best plans and were thrilled to learn of the little life growing inside me! Although I didn't find pregnancy to be high on my list of "favorite things", the joys and blessings were still to be found, along with the anticipation and excitement of preparing for our little one to join us. Somehow I made it through the last weeks of my kindergarten job and we were at home anxiously expecting the arrival any day of our little girl!
My mother-in-law arrived, the crib was ready, all her little clothes were washed and stacked neatly, and I was...VERY pregnant. So began the anxious waiting to feel the first signs of labor beginning! As my due date approached, apart from the intense discomfort of late pregnancy I felt...nothing! At each doctor's appointment baby girl was still doing well and ready to go, but no signs of labor. Rats! I should mention that although I was hoping against hope, I was half-expecting to go past my due date as my mom has a history of carrying her babies for 42 weeks!
At our 39 week appointment we were surprised to see that somehow even in extremely cramped quarters Little Miss Zhang had managed to wrap herself up in the umbilical cord not once but TWICE! It was distressing, to say the least, since I was all ready to go for a natural delivery as soon as contractions started. To make things worse, her heart rate had slowed significantly compared to her usual heart rate. I was shocked to hear the doctor recommending that we be admitted to the hospital until she was born just to be on the safe side! What?! From still having another week to wait until the due date, to going to the hospital and suddenly expecting her anytime?! Hubby and I talked and prayed about it and decided that due to our living a considerable distance from the hospital we should go. In the event that her heart rate dropped lower or we began to experience any other complications, it would be better to be where we could receive immediate care.
When we checked in to the hospital the next day they ran us through some tests and found that the cord was still wrapped around twice and baby girl's heart rate was still low. When our OBGYN discovered this she immediately recommended a C-section. I was beyond distressed to hear this and asked many questions and explored all our chances of being able to wait it out and give birth naturally. It was a difficult decision for us and we had all our family praying for wisdom and peace! We asked God to show us the best and safest way for both our little girl and her mommy, and we feel that in the following hours He did so. First of all when they checked me to see if I had begun to dialate, nothing. NO signs that labor was anywhere close to starting. Meh! How discouraging! Then during the 20 minute stress-test baby girl's heart beat was either in the lowest range of what is safe, or even dropping down to unsafe. The last straw for me was what I believe to be a miracle sign from God. Until this point I hadn't experienced a single real contraction, just Braxton Hicks. However during the 20 minute test I had 2 or 3 real, painful contractions and we were able to see our baby's response to them. Her heart rate dropped incredibly low during each contraction, and for me that was a sign that if she was distressed during these first, small contractions there's no way she would be able to handle full on labor. Besides there was still no indication that I would go into labor any time soon. So we made the call to schedule a C-section!
It's very strange to suddenly have all your ideas of how your birth plan will go being exchanged for planning for surgery. In the hours leading up to the scheduled time I found myself struggling with letting go of my ideals. I was even more upset to learn that Winston would not be able to join me in the operating room. What?! We would not get to experience the arrival of our daughter and becoming a family together as I had imagined for so many months! I fretted and worried that my baby girl would miss me, having been carried close to my heart for so long, and suddenly out and on her own while I was sewed up after she was born. But about half an hour before they came to prep me for surgery I was listening to two songs that I believe God gave me for my delivery: Hillsong's "Still" and Chris Tomlin's "All the Way My Savior Leads Me" and so much peace washed over me. Out loud I gave my ideals and dreams and plans to God and told Him that I receive and accept the birth story He was going to give me and my baby girl. From that moment on there was no distress, no anxiety, not even any fear of surgery. Just joy. His time was now. I would be a mother in a matter of minutes, and would be holding my baby girl in my arms. As I was wheeled back to the operating room I looked at my husband and smiled and tears began to roll down my cheeks. The nurses said, "Don't be scared! It will be alright!" "I'm not scared," I answered, "I'm just so happy and excited!"
The operating room experience was nothing like I had imagined. I pictured white and cold and quiet and alone. The doctors and nurses gathered around first thing to get their picture with me before surgery! I know, I know, In the States this would be unheard of! They even posted the pics to an online media site right there in the operating room! Cracked me up right from the start! There I was in my luxurious hospital/surgery clothes, no makeup, grinning a silly grin and giving a thumbs up minutes before my baby girl would be pulled out of my giant belly! The anesthesiologist asked it it was twins. Sigh. For the last time, "No, just one!" The nurses and anesthesiologist proceeded to give me the spinal to numb me from the waist down, and while I was scared it would hurt, I was shocked when they told me it was all over. It felt like a pinch or a push on my spine and I kid you not, 30 seconds later I couldn't even feel my legs. It was the craziest feeling ever! I had worried that I wouldn't be with it enough to realize what was happening for my daughter's birth, but although the lower half of my body was totally numb, I felt like my mind went into super-clear overdrive state. I remember every single thing about how the room looked and smelled and everything everyone said. The anesthesiologist gave the ok to start and called the time. The nurses and anesthesiologist started chatting with me while the doctors worked and I remember talking about how my husband and I met, how I learned Chinese, and how I had spent time teaching English in Taiwan. We chatted it up big time, and I didn't feel anything except a bunch of tugging and pulling behind the curtain.
Then they told me I would feel some more intense tugs and pulls for abour 5 minutes. Whew, was it intense! No pain at all, but wow, I thought my body would come off the table they were pulling so hard! In all that pulling I heard the doctor say, "Sheng!" which in Chinese means to give birth, and with one mighty tug all the tugging and pulling stopped. It seems like time froze for that moment. I'm tearing up now as I write about it. "2:46pm!" The anthesthesiologist called the time. I heard a couple little fussy cries and my heart stood still. "Is that my baby?!" I asked. "That's your daughter!" the nurses told me. Instantly I was overcome with the most amazing joy and the deepest love I've ever experienced. It was my Gracelynn Ruth. I was a mommy! Tears rolled down my cheeks and I talked to her so she would hear my voice as they cleaned her up and wrapped her in the blankets I had prepared for her months before. "Gracelynn, Mommy's right here! Mommy loves you! Don't be afraid, little girl...Mommy's right here!" The nurse standing beside me used the blanket to wipe my tears and looking up I saw she was using her sleeve to wipe at her own tears. There will never be anything to top it. It was a holy moment. They brought her over to me, swaddled until nothing but her sweet, wet face was peeking out. I kissed it and took in her scent and her flavor, relishing and basking in the fact that this was my little girl. Then they carried her out to her Daddy and Grandma while they sewed me up. Winston says it was about half an hour but I felt like it was just a few seconds. I was so pleased and thrilled and still not experiencing any pain at all.
They wheeled me out of the operating room where my sweet husband kissed me and then we went straight to our hospital room [No long hours in recovery! YAY!] where my baby girl was waiting with Grandma. After considerable heaving and tugging they got my still totally numb self onto the bed and laid my precious little one in the crook of my arm so I could hold her for the first time. More tears. She knew my voice and smell, and started to cry hungry fusses. Her daddy leaned over the bed and called her name, "Gracelynn!" She turned towards his voice. He leaned down and kissed us both. We were a family and it was perfect.
There are many more details about the not-so-perfect parts...
About after the spinal wore off and crying joyous tears through the pain and telling hubby I'd do it all over again for our little girl and dealing with the pain and recovery while trying to nurse my newborn and learning to sit up again, and walking for the first time and going to the bathroom for the first time, and so many overwhelming, challenging, beautiful and glorious firsts!
Here we are, two months later with a gorgeous, chunky 2 month old girly who talks and coos and smiles and lights up our lives every day! I would like to say, His plan is perfect. Every time I think I have the best plan He has a better one. Every time I think I can't follow through with His changed up version of my plan, He shows me I can in His strength. Every time I worry that I am the worst mom in the world, He reminds me that we're all the worst parents in the world learning from Him how to be better parents. I've found He gives grace for every step WHEN it's time to take that step...not sooner. The day Gracie was born I was still overwhelmed and thinking "How do I do this?!" The minute I held her in my arms I knew, "With the grace He is giving me right now. In this moment." And so I am trying to live moment by moment with my little girl. Parent her, make decisions, love her, show her [and my hubby] grace...in that moment. The moments all add up to make the days and months and He is there with His grace to give wisdom and cover my failings.
He is so, so good!
Saturday, December 28, 2013
decking the halls [of my heart]
i'm writing this post from my bed where i've been for the past three days since the flu decided to pay me a visit the day after christmas. in a way, it's perfect that this post be written from amid the mountain of tissues, medicines, and hot water mugs that surround me. it's so "not perfect" that it's perfect.
this christmas has been the most different one of my entire life! between the flurry and dizziness of getting engaged on thanksgiving day just as the christmas holiday was beginning, and being in neither of my familiar places to celebrate the season, there have been many times when nothing "feels" right. it just doesn't "feel" like christmas. for any of you seeing pics posted of me on facebook with my handsome fiance looking as if all is bliss, don't be deceived into thinking that our life is without it's hardships, lessons, and challenges. this post is about how in it's different-ness and hardness and unchristmasy-ness it has also been the most beautiful.
in the states as christmas approaches, anywhere you look you can see signs of the season - christmas trees in houses, stores, businesses, malls decked out to encourage shoppers to get in the "christmas spirit" in THEIR mall, strains of "silent night" and "joy to the world" can be heard wherever you go because somehow at christmas time it's ok to proclaim from the housetops that "Christ our Savior is born" in the public arena. and from the christian arena, there are even a decent amount of reminders that "Jesus is the Reason for the season." families are preparing their annual visits, favorite goodies and dishes, wrapping gifts, and houses smell of cinnamon and spices and fireplaces glow. in our own ways we are all trying to find christmas. we are searching for a feeling that we once had, whether it be when we were children and christmas was magical, or that one year that it seemed everything was perfect - all the family was gathered round the tree, everything was harmonious, all was calm and still as dad read from the advent story book by candlelight...
so what happens when none of those "feelings" that seem to make christmas are anywhere to be found? what happens to the Savior's birthday when there is no pile of gifts under the tree to commemorate the great Gift that He gave of Himself? what happens when looking out the window there are no lights or greenery or christmas trees to please our eyes and give us that "christmas feeling" in our hearts? what happens to our hearts when that warm family feeling cannot be recreated? when hurts and rifts and disagreements are too deep for harmony and peaceful gatherings? what happens when death enters a home and leaves that family circle feeling empty and broken and unfixable and irreparably void of the warm feelings christmas is supposed to bring?
this christmas, stripped [just when i think it can't be stripped any more...] of so much of the glitter and spice and eye and ear pleasers that my heart has come to look and long for at this time of year, i have been amazed as He has shown me, with more clarity and depth than ever before, the beauty and wonder of His Son coming to earth.
" ...and the Word became flesh and dwelt among us, and we have seen His glory..."
john 1:14 tells us.
the gifts that have decorated my christmas this year cannot be bought in a store, wrapped in pretty paper, or put under a tree. they are not feelings that can be drummed up by the sounds of a christmas song or the smell of cookies baking or the sight of fresh fallen snow glittering with the reflection of christmas lights, or even by cuddling down with my favorite man to watch a christmas movie. [let it be said here that said favorite man has been GREAT in making me feel loved and special although i'm spending this christmas so far from my family.]
this christmas as i sat with a group of students, around an open bible, sharing and discussing the story of how and why He came, the miracles surrounding His virgin birth, the very miracle of the Gift that He is to all of mankind, my heart hung a twinkling decoration in honor of this moment. the longer we talked about His birth, His unselfish love for us, and His immense and timeless plan to become like us, take on our skin and bones, and feel our very pain and sorrow and discomfort and sickness, then to die for us so that we might know the Light of Life...the brighter the ornament in my heart shone.
hearing new baby christians thank Him for His coming, tell Him how grateful they are and how unworthy they are for Him to come with His light into their darkness, how they only want to live for Him, my heart hung another ornament. here, with no lights, no tree, no outward signs at ALL of christmas as we have come to expect it to be, here were His disciples "getting it." they might not get what christmas means to us in the states, but they get HIM. here was the true meaning of christmas.
learning, sacrificing, messing up, and growing in my relationship with my husband-to-be, working through some difficult things with someone very dear to my heart, realizing that christmas isn't a time to cover up and hide unlovely or unholy things, but to rejoice that HE CAME to our unholiness, yet another tear-be-sparkled ornament graced the corners of my heart. coming to accept the grace that says christmas is not only for joyful things, and in all reality, this is WHY we can be joyful. this is why we have christmas. not to cover up or run away from things that make us uncomfortable or that look and feel messy, but because IN them, we have a PRESENT Savior...our Emmanuel, who came to be our Shepherd, our Guide, our Helper, our Rescuer - not separate from these everyday messes, pains, failures, and difficulties, but IN them.
"the Spirit of the Lord is on Me, because the Lord has anointed Me to proclaim good news to the poor. He has sent Me to bind up the brokenhearted, to proclaim freedom for the captives and release from darkness for the prisoners to proclaim the year of the Lord's favor and the day of vengeance of our God, to comfort all who mourn, and provide for those who grieve...to bestow on them a crown of beauty instead of ashes, the oil of joy instead of mourning, and a garment of praise instead of despair..."
isaiah 61:1-3 so for me this christmas, the all-encompassing lesson to be learned has been that He came not to give me one warm fuzzy night a year of "silent nights" where all is calm and bright, but to enter my sin, suffering, unholiness, gloom, despair, struggles, messiness, grouchy moods, unchristlike attitudes, and bring the Light of His life to outshine my darkness. writing out from under the mound of blankets, tissues and such that have continued to collect during the writing of this epistle, i can say with joy that three sick/flu days after christmas, the decorations He hung in my heart this season are still shining brightly. [good thing because i'm watching the strands of lights on my sad little tree burn out one by one.] praying He will continue to teach me more of Himself...what it means that He is my Light and my Life...in whatever season, whatever situation i find myself.
"In Him was life and the life was the light of men. the light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it."
john 1:4-5
this christmas has been the most different one of my entire life! between the flurry and dizziness of getting engaged on thanksgiving day just as the christmas holiday was beginning, and being in neither of my familiar places to celebrate the season, there have been many times when nothing "feels" right. it just doesn't "feel" like christmas. for any of you seeing pics posted of me on facebook with my handsome fiance looking as if all is bliss, don't be deceived into thinking that our life is without it's hardships, lessons, and challenges. this post is about how in it's different-ness and hardness and unchristmasy-ness it has also been the most beautiful.
in the states as christmas approaches, anywhere you look you can see signs of the season - christmas trees in houses, stores, businesses, malls decked out to encourage shoppers to get in the "christmas spirit" in THEIR mall, strains of "silent night" and "joy to the world" can be heard wherever you go because somehow at christmas time it's ok to proclaim from the housetops that "Christ our Savior is born" in the public arena. and from the christian arena, there are even a decent amount of reminders that "Jesus is the Reason for the season." families are preparing their annual visits, favorite goodies and dishes, wrapping gifts, and houses smell of cinnamon and spices and fireplaces glow. in our own ways we are all trying to find christmas. we are searching for a feeling that we once had, whether it be when we were children and christmas was magical, or that one year that it seemed everything was perfect - all the family was gathered round the tree, everything was harmonious, all was calm and still as dad read from the advent story book by candlelight...
so what happens when none of those "feelings" that seem to make christmas are anywhere to be found? what happens to the Savior's birthday when there is no pile of gifts under the tree to commemorate the great Gift that He gave of Himself? what happens when looking out the window there are no lights or greenery or christmas trees to please our eyes and give us that "christmas feeling" in our hearts? what happens to our hearts when that warm family feeling cannot be recreated? when hurts and rifts and disagreements are too deep for harmony and peaceful gatherings? what happens when death enters a home and leaves that family circle feeling empty and broken and unfixable and irreparably void of the warm feelings christmas is supposed to bring?
this christmas, stripped [just when i think it can't be stripped any more...] of so much of the glitter and spice and eye and ear pleasers that my heart has come to look and long for at this time of year, i have been amazed as He has shown me, with more clarity and depth than ever before, the beauty and wonder of His Son coming to earth.
" ...and the Word became flesh and dwelt among us, and we have seen His glory..."
john 1:14 tells us.
the gifts that have decorated my christmas this year cannot be bought in a store, wrapped in pretty paper, or put under a tree. they are not feelings that can be drummed up by the sounds of a christmas song or the smell of cookies baking or the sight of fresh fallen snow glittering with the reflection of christmas lights, or even by cuddling down with my favorite man to watch a christmas movie. [let it be said here that said favorite man has been GREAT in making me feel loved and special although i'm spending this christmas so far from my family.]
this christmas as i sat with a group of students, around an open bible, sharing and discussing the story of how and why He came, the miracles surrounding His virgin birth, the very miracle of the Gift that He is to all of mankind, my heart hung a twinkling decoration in honor of this moment. the longer we talked about His birth, His unselfish love for us, and His immense and timeless plan to become like us, take on our skin and bones, and feel our very pain and sorrow and discomfort and sickness, then to die for us so that we might know the Light of Life...the brighter the ornament in my heart shone.
hearing new baby christians thank Him for His coming, tell Him how grateful they are and how unworthy they are for Him to come with His light into their darkness, how they only want to live for Him, my heart hung another ornament. here, with no lights, no tree, no outward signs at ALL of christmas as we have come to expect it to be, here were His disciples "getting it." they might not get what christmas means to us in the states, but they get HIM. here was the true meaning of christmas.
learning, sacrificing, messing up, and growing in my relationship with my husband-to-be, working through some difficult things with someone very dear to my heart, realizing that christmas isn't a time to cover up and hide unlovely or unholy things, but to rejoice that HE CAME to our unholiness, yet another tear-be-sparkled ornament graced the corners of my heart. coming to accept the grace that says christmas is not only for joyful things, and in all reality, this is WHY we can be joyful. this is why we have christmas. not to cover up or run away from things that make us uncomfortable or that look and feel messy, but because IN them, we have a PRESENT Savior...our Emmanuel, who came to be our Shepherd, our Guide, our Helper, our Rescuer - not separate from these everyday messes, pains, failures, and difficulties, but IN them.
"the Spirit of the Lord is on Me, because the Lord has anointed Me to proclaim good news to the poor. He has sent Me to bind up the brokenhearted, to proclaim freedom for the captives and release from darkness for the prisoners to proclaim the year of the Lord's favor and the day of vengeance of our God, to comfort all who mourn, and provide for those who grieve...to bestow on them a crown of beauty instead of ashes, the oil of joy instead of mourning, and a garment of praise instead of despair..."
isaiah 61:1-3 so for me this christmas, the all-encompassing lesson to be learned has been that He came not to give me one warm fuzzy night a year of "silent nights" where all is calm and bright, but to enter my sin, suffering, unholiness, gloom, despair, struggles, messiness, grouchy moods, unchristlike attitudes, and bring the Light of His life to outshine my darkness. writing out from under the mound of blankets, tissues and such that have continued to collect during the writing of this epistle, i can say with joy that three sick/flu days after christmas, the decorations He hung in my heart this season are still shining brightly. [good thing because i'm watching the strands of lights on my sad little tree burn out one by one.] praying He will continue to teach me more of Himself...what it means that He is my Light and my Life...in whatever season, whatever situation i find myself.
"In Him was life and the life was the light of men. the light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it."
john 1:4-5
Saturday, September 21, 2013
portrait #1
15 year old guang peng.
the mute one.
the mute one.
who just talks with his eyes.
he sat in our makeshift camp office looking curiously around
as the orphanage director introduced him and his three friends to us. my busy,
overworked brain tried to think of a million and one things and rush ahead to
be sure we were prepared for our next activity as the names flew by me. but
when she said his name, “this is guang peng. you have to keep an eye on
him…he’s a rascal, this one.” i stopped, looked down, and two of the deepest,
fullest brown eyes i’ve ever seen looked half-innocently, half-mischievously up
at me. there was something in those eyes that spoke volumes. something that
grabbed me and drew me in. the director continued, “he’s mute. he doesn’t
speak, but he can hear and understand. just…keep an eye on him.” she didn’t
need to say anymore. my heart was gone.
over the next few days we became best of friends, guang peng, in his shy, silent way; speaking, almost yelling, without words. i’d turn around and there those eyes would be, calling to me from across a room, pleading with me to join him. i found out why the director had said to watch him…he was a runner. one moment he’d be there, the next he’d be gone. just a few minutes though, and he would appear back at my side, laughing at me with those eyes as i realized he’d fooled me again. we talked about things too. he’d slowly look through all the pictures on my camera and i’d talk to him about camps, about life, about things that made me laugh and cry. and he’d answer with his eyes.
on our last night together he laid beside me on the floor during our evening movie, making constant silent bids for my affection. he knew it was almost time for goodbye, but he didn’t want it to come. he didn't make one sound, but everything in his actions, looks, movements was screaming out for a mother's love. i might have been the closest he ever came to it that night, him all curled in a fetal position inside my arms, taking my hands and wrapping them around his face, closing his eyes and breathing me in like he wanted to remember that place to come back to forever.
so many secrets hidden away behind those eyes. i’ll never know what tragedies, heartaches, and tears hide behind the locked up place in his heart that also binds his tongue. i only know that those eyes, so full of understanding, and so pleading as they spoke the unspeakable found their way into the memoirs of my heart. i will never forget them. they are one of the images that drive me. as i live to go beyond the walls that guang peng and children like him put up to protect themselves from a harsh and violent world. as i live to build behind those walls a kingdom of love and gradually to see those walls crumble and fall, conquered by the only Love that will never fail.
over the next few days we became best of friends, guang peng, in his shy, silent way; speaking, almost yelling, without words. i’d turn around and there those eyes would be, calling to me from across a room, pleading with me to join him. i found out why the director had said to watch him…he was a runner. one moment he’d be there, the next he’d be gone. just a few minutes though, and he would appear back at my side, laughing at me with those eyes as i realized he’d fooled me again. we talked about things too. he’d slowly look through all the pictures on my camera and i’d talk to him about camps, about life, about things that made me laugh and cry. and he’d answer with his eyes.
on our last night together he laid beside me on the floor during our evening movie, making constant silent bids for my affection. he knew it was almost time for goodbye, but he didn’t want it to come. he didn't make one sound, but everything in his actions, looks, movements was screaming out for a mother's love. i might have been the closest he ever came to it that night, him all curled in a fetal position inside my arms, taking my hands and wrapping them around his face, closing his eyes and breathing me in like he wanted to remember that place to come back to forever.
so many secrets hidden away behind those eyes. i’ll never know what tragedies, heartaches, and tears hide behind the locked up place in his heart that also binds his tongue. i only know that those eyes, so full of understanding, and so pleading as they spoke the unspeakable found their way into the memoirs of my heart. i will never forget them. they are one of the images that drive me. as i live to go beyond the walls that guang peng and children like him put up to protect themselves from a harsh and violent world. as i live to build behind those walls a kingdom of love and gradually to see those walls crumble and fall, conquered by the only Love that will never fail.
Thursday, August 15, 2013
finding the words
how do you get to the end of a summer and really reach the point where you can put it into words?
how do you capture weeks of camps, and all the kid hugs, laughs, dances, games, tears, i love yous, and sad goodbyes in a blogpost?
there are so many stories.
so many emotions.
so many deep down experiences that really, when it comes down to it, can only ever be captured with the heart.
for me, i think there is a tendency to shy away from any invasion into my house of memories that is stored away after a summer, or a winter, or a lifetime of living and loving.
rather than attempt, and fail, to convey for someone else's comprehension, the countless stories i've encountered, the endlessly deep eyes i've looked into, the hopelessly, gut-wrenching cries i've heard, i just remain silent.
in my quiet place i take out those memories, and i contemplate, i grieve, i resolve, i become re-invigorated to make changes in my world, in the lives i know, in the ways i can.
sometimes when someone asks me, "how was china?" or "how's kinmen?" i try.
i try to open the locked up place and let them in.
i'm glad they care enough to ask.
i'm glad they want to know.
but it's hard, in a few minutes of conversation, to see them really grasp or fathom the depth of the story i am telling...the grandmother, the idol worshipper, the orphan, the real-life person behind the story.
this summer's end, as i have returned "home" to the states for the time being, i have found myself coping with all the stories crashing on the shores of my heart by hiding. not that i have stopped feeling or remembering, i just stopped going there.
stopped going deep.
stopped taking out the key and entering into the locked up place.
because it's easier if i just focus on here and now.
it's easier if i don't feel the pain.
it's better all around if it stays locked up.
but somehow today, i found myself forced to remember.
somehow something triggered those feelings locked up deep down.
memories of faces, of cuddles, of tantrums, of desperate bids for love and affection crashed over my heart again like waves that i couldn't and didn't want to hold back.
as i wept for their loss, ached for their abandonment, prayed for their rescue and healing, i longed for a way to convey each story, and paint each face in a way that brings to life for others these forgotten ones.
as i wracked my brain for a way to do this, the answer came.
"you have to write."
and so this post is a resolve to write.
i write for tian xi, and for you peng and guang peng
for justin and for jo
for cindy and lucy and antony and susan and for the scores of people i can't name here who have made their imprints on my heart.
it might be slow in coming.
it might be one slow story at a time.
but i want to at least try to create with words pictures of the people i see and love.
i'm taking out the key and i'm walking inside...
who wants to go with me?
how do you capture weeks of camps, and all the kid hugs, laughs, dances, games, tears, i love yous, and sad goodbyes in a blogpost?
there are so many stories.
so many emotions.
so many deep down experiences that really, when it comes down to it, can only ever be captured with the heart.
for me, i think there is a tendency to shy away from any invasion into my house of memories that is stored away after a summer, or a winter, or a lifetime of living and loving.
rather than attempt, and fail, to convey for someone else's comprehension, the countless stories i've encountered, the endlessly deep eyes i've looked into, the hopelessly, gut-wrenching cries i've heard, i just remain silent.
in my quiet place i take out those memories, and i contemplate, i grieve, i resolve, i become re-invigorated to make changes in my world, in the lives i know, in the ways i can.
sometimes when someone asks me, "how was china?" or "how's kinmen?" i try.
i try to open the locked up place and let them in.
i'm glad they care enough to ask.
i'm glad they want to know.
but it's hard, in a few minutes of conversation, to see them really grasp or fathom the depth of the story i am telling...the grandmother, the idol worshipper, the orphan, the real-life person behind the story.
this summer's end, as i have returned "home" to the states for the time being, i have found myself coping with all the stories crashing on the shores of my heart by hiding. not that i have stopped feeling or remembering, i just stopped going there.
stopped going deep.
stopped taking out the key and entering into the locked up place.
because it's easier if i just focus on here and now.
it's easier if i don't feel the pain.
it's better all around if it stays locked up.
but somehow today, i found myself forced to remember.
somehow something triggered those feelings locked up deep down.
memories of faces, of cuddles, of tantrums, of desperate bids for love and affection crashed over my heart again like waves that i couldn't and didn't want to hold back.
as i wept for their loss, ached for their abandonment, prayed for their rescue and healing, i longed for a way to convey each story, and paint each face in a way that brings to life for others these forgotten ones.
as i wracked my brain for a way to do this, the answer came.
"you have to write."
and so this post is a resolve to write.
i write for tian xi, and for you peng and guang peng
for justin and for jo
for cindy and lucy and antony and susan and for the scores of people i can't name here who have made their imprints on my heart.
it might be slow in coming.
it might be one slow story at a time.
but i want to at least try to create with words pictures of the people i see and love.
i'm taking out the key and i'm walking inside...
who wants to go with me?
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