So Much More

It was so much more than simply saying goodbye to my husband for a few days, or a week, or several.  It was more than knowing I would be facing an empty house coming home from work, or going to bed alone every night.

Hugging Taylor goodbye at the airport on Sunday was the concrete realization that so much that we have hoped for has, thus far, been withheld.  It was saying goodbye to the hope we fostered for so long, even after March 21, of taking our baby girl home with us soon.  It was saying goodbye to long summer days at the lake house, introducing her sweet face to all our family and friends, bringing her to church, to weddings, baptizing her, becoming a family at last.  A long last.

Remiss

I have been remiss in posting here.  I have been silent because I feel like I have nothing to write about.  Stagnant.  Stuck.  Stalled.  It's all the same. Everyone knows how I feel right now.  What else is there to say?

Some days I feel it is all I can do to get to and from work and put dinner on the table.  Three nights within the last week we've had leftover soup.  The same soup.  With the same muffins.

Other days it's better. I'm pleasant at work, and I can get a few things done around the house, visit with people, make a nice dinner and clean up the kitchen afterwards.  I've even started running a bit lately.  I cleaned the bathroom this weekend.  It really needed it.

After a crushed-hopes-induced hiatus, I've begun pumping again.  Perhaps that, too, can be an act of faith--pumping in the hopes that within the next several weeks, we will have news of Baby Girl's future.  Maybe in a few weeks we will have a date to look forward to.  Not "look forward" as in "get excited," necessarily.  Just looking forward directionally, toward the horizon.  The next point we need to get to.  To Hope for.

See, I'm stuck in a fog of ambiguity.  Sometimes it's so thick I can't see my own feet on the ground and have to trust that the next step I take will land on something solid.  Oftentimes my trust falters and I can't move... I just stand there, frustrated by my own weak faith and staidness, but terrified of taking a wrong step.

Labor

I am overflowing.  With excitement, anticipation, joy, anxiety, adrenaline.  Sometimes tears.  My body simply cannot contain the emotion that I am feeling.

I sometimes have to sit by myself--door closed at the office or in front of our icons at home, quietly breathing "Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God.  Have mercy on me... a sinner."  Over and over again, just to get my heart rate back down to normal.  Just to quiet my soul and feel the presence of God's Love.  I know He is here with me.  I know He has a plan and will give me strength to accept it.  But I have to remind myself of that sometimes... sometimes when the my heart feels like it will burst at what it is experiencing.

To think that in one week, we could welcome into our home, for good, Our Little Girl.  To imagine going to sleep with her at night and waking up with her in the morning, content to be lying in bed with us, gazing at her in wonder-full Love.  My heart cannot sustain the anticipation.

Far Away

I've had this song from VeggieTales stuck in my head for the last few days.. or maybe it's been the last few weeks.  Months?  I don't know, really, but it makes me think of Baby, and we saw her on Saturday, and we will see her again this Friday.  Of course, it sounds better when Junior's mom sings it to him as a baby, but I can't find the audio anywhere online.. so you'll have to listen to his cute little voice singing it if you want the gist of the song :)

I wish you could see this Little Girl's sweet face.  I wish I could show you her smile and let you hear her little coos and laughter.  The few hours we get to spend with her each week simply aren't enough.  I think about her all the time, and I wonder how she's changing and growing each day.  I can't wait to see her again.

And I find myself singing to her--sometimes in my head, sometimes out loud.  I have her picture on my phone so I can look at her whenever I want.  And whenever I think of her, I start to sing..

Think of me everyday, hold close to what I say
and I'll be close to you even from far away.
Know that wherever you are it is never too far.
If you think of me, I'll be with you. 

I wonder... is she singing to me?

Preoccupied

I've heard of "pregnancy brain."  If 95.8% of your friends were pregnant, you'd have heard of it, too.  And while I'm not pregnant, I've been totally distracted lately.  By lately, of course, I mean the past 6 weeks.  I can't get anything done in a reasonable amount of time.  Thank goodness for deadlines (like Christmas and airline schedules) or much would not have been accomplished at all.

Patrick McManus says that humans have a "worry box" in their brain and they can only hold so many items to worry or think about.  If one thing too many is added to the box, something else slips out.  My worry box is all full up.  Other Things don't even have a chance.

At least, my subconscious worry box is full up--I'm still able to think about Things like "when should I start dinner?" or "gosh, I really should empty the trash." or even "hm, maybe I should wake up so I can get to work on time."  But I have little space to worry about Christmas thank you cards (sorry folks, nothing personal!), sewing projects, or keeping the house tidy.

All I really want to do is putter around online (not unlike an attention-deficient squirrel on PCP) and ignore most of the things I have to do.

See, I can't stop thinking about her.  Her face.  Her hands.  Her birth parents.  The whole situation.

What's going to happen?  When will we know anything?  Why the delay?  Why now?  What do You want of us, Lord?  What should we do?

I know that my questions will be answered in time--in God's time, but my subconscious is overloaded in the meantime.  I walk into a room to get something or do something and the moment I get there, I forget what I needed.  I go to the computer to look something up.  I manage to check my email (no new messages in the last 10 minutes--why am I checking again?), catch up on twitter, comment a bit on facebook, and browse around Amazon.  But I don't look up what I needed.

Then, listlessly, I go sit on the couch, trying to remember what I was going to do when I hear the lid on the pot of water I was heating begin to spurt and bubble and I remember--I wanted to look up some baking ratio.  But now the water's too hot and I have to cool it down again.

Is this what it's like to be expecting?  I suppose at least, with pregnancy brain, the eventual holding-of-the-baby is a pretty for-sure thing.  Maybe that's what's driving me nuts.  I can't plan maternity leave; I can't set up the crib; I can't put the carseat in the car.  Why bother right now if we'll be waiting another 4 months?  What if this child never becomes available for adoption and we're back on the "waiting list" for however-long?  I work well with deadlines.  I rely on them.  But there's no deadline with adoption.  No date past which we induce.

There's only the waiting.

Don't misunderstand--I'm not feeling cynical and I'm not despairing.  These are just real concerns in adoption.  Real unknowns that I'm struggling with and learning about.  I can only hope that the expectancy of my subconscious translates, somehow, into prayer for this little girl and her families.  Scripture tells us the Holy Spirit hears the groaning of our hearts and knows our need more than we do.  My heart aches for This Little Girl.

She has so many people who love her already.  I hope she can come home, where ever her home will be, soon.

And forever.

Firsts

I've held lots of babies in my life.  My sister when I was very young. Nieces and nephews. Siblings-in-law. Friends' babies.  Babies I've only just met.

But always it was just holding them. For a moment.  Here and there.  The baby was always someone else's baby.  They were mine only in Love and far-off relationship.

And I've given lots of baby gifts over the years.  Hats, blankets, carriers, pictures, booties, mittens, clothes, nursing covers, shoes.  I've wrapped them and transported them and handed them over, watching as the mother and father undid the wrapping and ooh-ed and ahh-ed.

I did all that today again, just like always.  But it was wildly different this time.  I sat down on the couch, with That Sweet Baby Girl in my arms and asked Taylor to grab the little gift bag I had brought.  I had thought that the foster mother would open it and ooh and ahh.

"Why don't you go open it? Over there with Baby?"  she said.

I wasn't ready for that.  I'd never opened a gift unless mother's hands were full (of baby).  And certainly never while holding a baby that might be mine.  Taylor brought the bag over, sat down next to me on the couch, and put his arm around my waist.

Uncertain

I'm not sure if we should share.  I don't know if it's something that one would blog about or if it's better to keep it closer to the vest, all in the family.  I want to ask for prayers but I don't want you to think that I'm anxious or hopeful for one certain outcome or another...

Last Wednesday, a woman had a baby--a baby girl--and she wanted to make an adoption plan for her daughter. She had looked at our profile book and thought we'd make a nice family for her baby.  She talked to the adoption agency and they talked to the father.  The father does not want to make an adoption plan.

The case has to go to court, now, because the mother (wisely) won't sign relinquishment forms if the father is so unwilling.  The court will decide if the baby can be placed for adoption or if the mother will parent.  It is my understanding that, in most cases where one parent refuses an adoption plan, the judge rarely rules against the parent.

Quotidian

It's that time of year.  "Spring cleaning" peeps its head out in the back of our minds, emerging from the cozy winter soil, as memory recalls warm sunny days in sun dresses.

I never liked cleaning when I was growing up.  I didn't really like cleaning when I was in college, either.  It was just a chore, something I had to do in order to get to do other things I wanted.  It wasn't until I got married, and had my "own" house to take care of, that I began to appreciate the virtue in good, honest housework.

I recently read an article in Body + Soul magazine (eh, I got a free subscription with some tea I bought online) all about a "fresh look" on spring cleaning.  [Unfortunately, I can't seem to link to it, so you will have to bear with my paraphrasing and re-hashing of the article.]  "The idea," the author states, "is that we should find meaning in ordinary tasks, because true clarity is fleeting enough--and when it's over, somebody still has to clean the crisper."  Ahh, doesn't that ring true with so many things I've learned over the years?

Momma used to tell me, when I emerged from some chore I had finished: "That didn't take long enough. You didn't do it right."  I was always quite appalled and indignant (especially when I had done [almost] everything she asked me to do), because "how would she know?" But, looking back, I realize that she was getting at the same idea as the article.  So much these days says "do it once, never do it again."  With many things it is possible to finish completely the first time, but not with most things in life.  Folded laundry will be worn and need to be washed. Clean dishes will be dirtied. Swept floors will be "dusted." Over and over again.  If repetition is weariness without end, life is exhausting (and if so, frankly, why bother?).  Instead, focus on the now, not on the "when it's finished."

So what's my point?  As a housewife, a philosopher's wife :) I know it's important to have a clean and happy home--one that welcomes not only guests and strangers, but also its more permanent residents.   [I'm not saying your home has to be spotless--taking care to make a "good, clean home" is different than a catalog-perfect "living" space.]  When one comes into a real home, it's apparent in the walls and the floors and the air. A Home is full of Love.

Because, folks, physical things have meaning!  It's not enough to tell your children you love them and pray for them (though those are infinitely important), you have to work out your love--in dirty diapers and banana-crusted floors and mud-stained clothes and temper tantrums (hopefully the kids').  It's not enough to get married and be madly in love with your spouse. Work out your unending Love for him in the unending pile of dishes that accumulate, or the unending cycles of laundry.

It's in such repetition that we, as humans, exist. Breathing and waking up and going to sleep are all repetitive. Seeing the sun rise and set each day is repetitive. Hearing your child(ren) laugh (again and again (at the same thing)) is repetitive. Why don't those things weary us?  In housework, too, we can find joy in the repetition.  In going back to the sink, for the third time today, I can find a moment's peace in the warm sudsy water, in the lemon scent of my soap, in the knowledge that we have enough food.  Make it a meditation. Pay attention to what you're doing.

See, housework and all those blissfully quotidian, repetitive tasks, are a kind of therapy, really. A perfect meditation. Doing the dishes is calming and relaxing for me (mostly--sometimes I'm just tired).  It's something I do on my own, so it gives me a window of time where I can think to myself.  Folding laundry is the same way. Repetitive, soothing, consistent.  I fold everyone of Taylor's t-shirts the same way.  I sort the socks and match them up.  I re-organize our sweater cubby so they don't fall out.  I put the clothes away and admire a clean room, all put together.

We should all revel in a little repetition--it's good for us :)

A Homily for Momma

Fr. Paul, the priest at my home parish, only knew Momma for a few months before she died.  But in his homily for her funeral, I feel that he knew her through and through.  Perhaps it was his grace as a priest. Perhaps it was her "transparency" among friends and those she trusted.  Either way, his words were from his heart, and they spoke to ours.  Here is the text, if you want to read it.

[First Reading: Judith 15:8-10
Second Reading: 2 Cor 5:1-10
Gospel: Matt 5:13-14]

As I was meditating on these readings, I said to myself, "How beautiful these words speak of Jeanette, herself." I said to myself, "The life of Jeanette was so faith filled that she lived her life in the presence of all of us."

But as I reflect on the words today, the words of scripture -- that had been chosen by Jeanette and her family for this Mass -- speak about her. And if Jeanette was here she would promptly tell us, "Yes! But, God comes first!" She would like to hear the words of God, for it was the heart of her life.

And as we listen to the first reading, we hear of a very beautiful lady, one that was still with the spirit of God. And she wanted not the praise of the people, but that her life should be dedicated to the service of God. And in giving service to God she obtained great joy, peace, and happiness. So much so, like King David, she danced for the Lord. And as I thought about this, I said to myself, "Yes, Jeanette, go ahead and dance for our God. You did everything for God and rightly so. Just like Judith, you go ahead and dance. Dance for Him that we here can only imagine the great Love, the Joy, and Happiness you have the pleasure of doing before our God.

Then in the second reading of today, from St. Paul's letter to the Corinthians, it speaks of our human body as a dwelling tent, something that has been given to us to use so that we may glorify God through the Son. And it's not meant for us to live an endless life here on this Earth. St. Paul is telling us that, so that we may use it to serve God, so that we too may achieve eternal happiness. None of us would love to stay on forever in this life because we were all promised the Goodness and the Greatness of our Heavenly Kingdom. So much so, that if we only realize how beautiful this existence with God is, I'm sure we would ask the Lord to take us home Today.

As I was sitting with Jeanette one morning, she was by herself, and as we sat and she shared with me, she said, "Father, I am tired. I want to go Home." And I said to her, "Jeanette, God is waiting. He has given you the time, the time to prepare yourself, so that when the hour comes, you can surrender your life to the Lord, just like Christ did on the cross. You carry this cross in your body for your salvation and the salvation of your Loved Ones. When the time comes it will be like the transfiguration, when Jesus was transformed into the beauty of His eternal existence." And as we watched the transfiguration through the story, then we understand how beautiful that Life will be. And we know that when the hour comes we will be like stepping out of this body and into the glorified body prepared for us by God, Himself.

And in today's Gospel reading, Jesus speaks about the Salt. He says, "You are the salt of the Earth." Continue to be salt of the Earth. Use your salt to enhance the taste of salt and your light, not to hide it, but to display it in the quality of life and the relationship that you shared with God. The greater our relationship with God, the better the quality of salt and light we demonstrate through our lives. Yes, Jeanette was the salt of the earth. She salted the lives of all those people she touched through her work at St. Ann’s, through the RCIA, the CCD, and all the other programs. Jeanette allowed the light to shine forth in her life. And this light came through her prayer life. Jeanette was a woman of great prayer.

As we were sharing that morning, she said to me, "Father, I love my family." And I said, "Love is a gift from God. If you love your family it shows your deep love for God." She said, "But Father, I am tired. But, since Richard wants to go to the Congress, I will go with him." And she built up that courage and strength to make sure it became a reality in their lives. And not only that, she spoke very lovingly of her children. She was so proud of all of them and she was looking forward to the day of her two grand children's Baptism, which would have taken place in May. She said, "Father, I am looking forward to that. That will be my last Joy." But God said, "No. Come home to Me. I need you."

And as I went to anoint her on the evening that she passed away, she said to me, "Father, I'm finding it so hard to pray," and I said to her, "Jeanette, let your soul pray. God hears the prayer of your soul. You don't have to use words. He knows what you are trying to say to Him. Surrender yourself to Him and allow Him to take you where He wants."

Jeanette, we thank God for the gift of you. We take from you the many good lessons that you teach us about God and we pray that you will pray for us that we may become the Salt of the Earth and the Light of the world, just like you showed us.

May you rest in peace.

Because I Was Asked...

I'm sharing the news of our newest addition:

Yes, it's a dresser :) And yes, I love it (in an appropriate way for loving furniture, that is). Nice solid wood, cedar-lined drawers, spacious cabinet. This is a piece I'd be happy handing down to our children.

All in an attempt to make cleaner, more open space in our house--getting rid of things we don't need, finding better way to store the things we do need. So far, it's working out well :)

Also, you can see our new bedroom icon corner in this picture.  I still need to paint or stain the little shelf in front, but I really like saying our evening prayers in our bedroom together by candlelight.  It's a nice feeling, and having an altar in the bedroom reminds us to say our prayers at night, which is also helpful for one's prayer life :)

They're HOME!

A quick update on Jack, though if you follow his blog, you know this is old (but nontheless, still VERY exciting) news:

We couldn't be happier for the three of you :)

Praise God for the gifts He has given us in your Love!

One More Thing

Some of you may remember reading about the Fannings, who have had a lot of hearache this year.

A month or two ago, we sent little Jack a nice cheery burprag to encourage him--and to let the Fannings know how much we care about them! 

We and many others have been praying up a storm for Jack to get better and stronger.  

Let's just say that prayer really works (and burprags, I guess): 

Jack, you really are a little ray of sunshine for us all! Praise God for you :)

The Power of Prayer

They say that Joy and Sorrow are sisters--and it seems both have visited this family en force recently. Please keep them in your prayers: 

http://thefannings.blogspot.com/

Jack was born by c-section several months before the due date because of complications during pregnancy. Overall, I think he is improving, but even little setbacks at this point can be major issues.  Needless to say, this delicate time of intensive, gentle care for the little guy has been stressful on his parents.  May God watch over them and keep them close to His heart. 

You're in our thoughts and prayers, Fannings!!

God's Will in My Life...

Frequently, when frustrations or suffering arise, I find I often ask a very angry "Why?!" of God. But before I ask "why?" I need to try very hard to remember to say first: "Behold the handmaid of the Lord. Be it done unto me according to your word."

'Tis the Season

Not the Christmas Season, but the wedding season! This is not a complaint at all--I'm just astounded at how many of our friends have been (or are, or will soon be) getting married! It may have been "just because" we got married that I started noticing, but the number of weddings we were invited to really seemed to increase once T and I "took the plunge." Actually, I really love it. So many good, holy, faithful couples getting married and devoting their lives to God's will and His gift of life (that's another side of the coin--SO MANY BABIES are coming (and have come) from these couples! I think openness to life is one of the most important aspects of getting married. If you're not ready to accept children, don't get married. (Sorry if that sounds harsh, it's just the way I feel)). The door of our fridge has had at least one wedding invitation on it for the past two years--this summer we've received well over 10! (For those who don't know, we always put any wedding invitations we receive on our fridge door to remind us to pray for the couples.) Anyway, the real reason for this post is because yesterday, T and I attended the absolutely beautiful wedding of Bridget and Yuri! T's family grew up with Yuri's family in the Seattle area and Yuri since moved to Boston for an MBA from Harvard. He met Bridget here (Bridget, a true Bostonian in the best (Irish) sense of the word!) :) and the wedding was held at Bridget's home parish. It was simply lovely. The readings were particularly beautiful. The first reading was Tobias' prayer with his new wife, Sarah on their wedding day (Tobit 8:4b-8). "Grant that she and I may find mercy, and that we may grow old together." The second reading from Ephesians 5 exhorted wives to submit to their husbands, and husbands to love their wives "as Christ loves the Church, giving Himself up for her " (Eph 5:25). But the gospel was the most intriguing. Bridget and Yuri chose the passage about the miraculous catch of fish from Luke (chapter 5). Jesus asks Peter to cast his nets again (after toiling fruitlessly all day), which Peter does. The result is a great abundance of fish! Bridget and Yuri chose this passage, the priest told us, because they realize their marriage will not be all sunshine and roses after the wedding day. There will be difficult times when their efforts seem fruitless, but if they truly trust in God, He will reward their labors. This couple knows that their wedding isn't all about them, it's about God--and God's love for them. And the reception was so much fun--yummy food, great conversations, old and new friends, dancing, and hugs all around! It was wonderful to catch up with so many friends (some of whom T hadn't seen in 10 years!) and spend time with a quality group of happy people. My feet hurt today from dancing, as well as my legs and my arms. But it was fun :) And Bridget and Yuri look so happy together. Praise God for such good couples, who are so focused on Him!

Sunday at St. John Chrysostom's

Psalm 84

How lovely is your dwelling place, O Lord of hosts! My soul longs, indeed it faints for the courts of the Lord; my heart and my flesh sing for joy to the living God.

Even the sparrow finds a home, and the swallow a nest for herself, where she may lay her young, at your altars, O Lord of hosts, my King and my God. Happy are those who live in your house, ever singing your praise.

Happy are those whose strength is in you, in whose heart are the highways to Zion. As they go through the valley of Baca they make it a place of springs; the early rain also covers it with pools.

------------ I mentioned last week how good it is to attend Divine Liturgy again. It's true that, many times, one does not know what one has until it is missing. I don't think I took the Byzantine church in Washington for grated while I was there, but I do think I undervalued the richness of that particular faith tradition. Being in Boston, so far away from old friends and our families, we were also confronted with a difficulty: there are no Ruthenian Byzantine churches in the entire state of MA. This sad lack of our particular tradition is not devastating, though. Being Catholic, there is always a church we can attend (especially in Boston). There are some fabulous faith communities here and we are blessed with a strong group of friends who share our love of the Church! There is even a Ukrainian Byzantine church here we could attend. (As a small note: We did try the Ukrainian church, but they spoke the entire Liturgy, which was quite a let down for us, being used to singing the liturgy. The other (most likely sung) services are entirely in Ukrainian. Also, they didn't have a Saturday evening liturgy and T works a lot on Sundays.) Still, I miss the familiar hymns (even though many of them have changed ever so slightly since the revision of the Liturgy a couple years ago). I miss the incenser with bells on it. I miss the icons. I miss the changing of the hymns, incense, and icons with the changes in the liturgical year. I miss the leavened bread used for the Eucharist. I miss seeing babies receive. I say all that because I hope to give you a small idea of what it was like to go to Divine Liturgy again this Sunday! T arranged the visit very nicely so that we got to spend two Sundays there. We are still celebrating Pentecost, so the church was still green! There was a baptism this week, too. Michaela Elizabeth was baptized, chrismated, and received her First Solemn Communion all in one day! She was a very good baby while she was "churched" (where the priest takes the baby and carries her into the church. He also dedicates her before the icon of the Theotokos). I've been fortunate enough to attend 3 Byzantine baptisms: my God daughter Caellainne's, A & R's baby "Sasha," and now Michaela's. What a beautiful world :) Father's homily this Sunday was incredible. He urged parents to protect their children from the evils of the world. He made sure to emphasize that parents should not keep their children ignorant of the world, but that they should foster in them a deep desire for purity and holiness. Fr. Joseph is a very unique priest. Not only does he have several degrees (two PhD's, I think) and all the experience and wisdom many years as an Air Force chaplain teach, he is also the adoptive father of an orphan from Spokane, Christopher. Having raised a child himself, he speaks with great authority. He told us, "We must protect our children. Make them pray, even if they don't want to. Teach them the faith. Be mean. When they're 30 or 40 they'll love you." I'm glad my parents were "mean." I'm glad they taught me to pray--in so many different ways. I'm thankful of all the ways T and I have learned to pray as a couple on our way to heaven. I love the beauty of my faith, of the Church, and of churches. I'll post some pictures of St. John's soon. It's truly a beautiful church, for the glory of God! I'm glad we got to go again. Next time I'm in Spokane, I'll try to take pictures of Ss. Cyril and Methodius Church, which T and I attended for the first year we were married.