Monthly Archives: November 2011

Shalom

Posted on
19

Shalom.

It is more than peace. It is harmony. It is a peaceful relationship with self and the world and God.

Shalom.

The word rose and fell from our lungs like slow reaching waves on soft sand. Each wave washed layers of harmony, lifting and floating and rebaptizing the room of worship leaders in these unexpected waters of beauty.

The harmony? The “Shalom” sound that washed over us? It was a brilliant and beautiful minor chord–peacefully dark–profoundly dark, this rich layered chord that we don’t often rest in during our sweet happy Sunday services.

And so we sat in the wash of darkness.

And just as the tide of minor notes rolled in, it rolled out, leaving us in a salt-air of silent Shalom. Serenity. Sitting inches from someone else, I was oblivious. I was standing alone on that peaceful beach with my toes still damp.

And these words floated into my mind like a beacon: “It is right. It is ok. You are ok.”

The words–the thoughts–were as clear as the slow Shaloms that passed through our unhurried lungs. And these words were just as soothing.

I didn’t fight for that moment. I didn’t push for it. There was too much stillness in my own soul for me to even have the chance to say “hmm… I wonder what this will be about?”

The words found me. The Shalom with self and world reached for me. And it enveloped me and it swaddled my soul like the soft hands of my mother when she carefully calmed my colicky cries.

And the cries faded. The fight faded.

I’m no longer fighting for light. For illumination. For revelation. I’m no longer fighting to see and to know. I’ve released the weapons of my own resistance, resting them on the white seat I sat in during that Shalom. And I’ve laid myself down, belly side up and vulnerable to whatever the next day has for me with its unknown colors and costs and cares.

And I, with an ocean of hope in my deep-down insides, cannot wait to discover what the day will bring.

Adoption Update: Waiting to wait.

Posted on
19

The room was light and safe and full of friends. We were surrounded by good music and sugary things and fun ideas. I was in a beautifully outgoing mood, feeling socially inspired, probably because the whole house buzzed with ladies that I know and love and respect. And we were there to celebrate the first birthday of a dream come true.

“Waiting to wait.” That’s what my friend said when asked what’s going on in the adoption process. She was answering for her family, but I ditto’d her answer as mine as well. Kinda cool that we have friends who are doing this State adoption thing right alongside us. I felt so very not alone.

Waiting.

The word greeted me like an old familiar friend stepping into the kitchen. Waiting has been my word all along, reaching all the way back to our infertility story. (Read it backwards here.)

And now, we’re waiting on December to deliver a letter saying something like “Hey Thompsons! We think y’all are awesome and we’re going to put you on the Potential Parent list and we’ll let you know if any kids come through who are in need of a loving home.”

And then we’ll wait some more, until the call when the case-worker says there are kids in the system who need a home and are we interested in finding out more about them.

Well, we don’t have to just sit on our hands and wait. We can do a few things in the meantime. We might go to a “matching event” where we get to meet DFCS case workers from other counties who have kids that are waiting as well. Or there’s this website we can go on to see if any kids are waiting, look at their pictures and profiles and all that. (Can you imagine!?)

Or we could get a call one day, from someone somewhere who knows a young woman who is looking for a family for her unborn/newborn child. There are OB/GYNs in the area who have us on their mental list. There are public workers who do as well. And then there are friends who know. And we can rally the troops in a matter of hours and have diapers and formula and onesies ready. Thatisnotaproblem.

Let me say this with unmistakable clarity: We are open to a private adoption.

And I want you to know this because… well, you might just hear about a girl out there… and The Thompsons might cross your mind… And the words might come out of your mouth: “Hey. I know a nice family on the other side of the country who would make great parents for that unborn one.”

Who knows, we might all be waiting to hear from you.

Thank you for supporting us in this process. I can’t wait for us all to see where this is going.

“She’s going to beat you senseless.”

Posted on
5

It’s date night, and in a surprising twist, Drew and I are both reading. The timer set for 15 minute increments. And when the Model-T’s “Oogaa Oogaaahhhh!!” blows on his iTouch, I laugh, demand that he change the alarm-tone, get over it, and begin a few minutes of sharing what we’ve read so far.

This whole Reading-During-Date-Night-Thing is a bit out of our normal routine, but it’s working for two reasons: 1) we are fostering communication and curiosity and compassion for one another using “Hey, tell me about what you’re reading” as the backdrop, and 2) I just dove into Mandy Steward’s latest book.

So when the Oogaaa sounds, I get to hear about Dragons and Fortune-Tellers (or something like that), and then I tell him about “Tomorrow’s Dreams Today.” And my reports to Drew go a little like this:

p. 8: I won’t spoil the story, but you need to know that when I read through this page, I got uncharacteristically teary. Then the second time I read it I couldn’t help but laugh. So Drew and I laughed. Then flowed the honesty about how it rubbed up against a recent dream-dying day I’d experienced. Beautifully, the Author-Mandy won’t let me sit in my dead dream. She says I have to figure it out. Flesh it out. Live it out. Drew said he liked “this girl” and how she thinks.

p. 14: After marking this page up and down with my own scribbles and underlines, I review things with Drew. We’ve reached her thesis concept, her aim to show us how she lives out her artist-dream in her present day realities. It shakes me. And he wants to know “what is this book about? Is it a memoir? Is it a story? What is it?” I used words like Artist and Faith and Journey and Parenthood and Responsibilities and Creativity but they didn’t feel complete. So I flipped ahead for future pages that would show where she was taking me (don’t tell Mandy). And I read some of the section titles and quotes and questions… And I felt words like Right Now and Plan and Challenge and No Excuses rise up. Oh boy. And that’s when Drew, with an ironic thrill in his voice, said she’s gonna beat me senseless. And yes I did that throw-my-head-back laughing, and resolved to tell you about the first 15 pages of what is becoming my new favorite book.

So I type all that out and then that dang Ooogaahhh starts up again and I read this post to him. And then hear more about the Dragons.

Enough typing. I need to get back to the dream-reading and question-answering and plan-making. And for my people, the artist/creative/dreamer types? Y’all might wanna do your dream a favor and read this book. And please do tell me what you think of p. 8, mkay?

Grab it here.

A Mandy-Festo

Posted on
5

“We are both applauded and rejected for our ideas. And our juxtaposed minds make it impossible to have simple faith. There’s too much room for questions. We were created to see the world differently. To say the words differently. To paint pictures of inner realities using outer realities. We were made to help bring into light things that are not easily seen. And so, we question our own eyes. And we question the light. And we toss and turn and don’t hold on for long. We are easily distracted and easily swayed. To find something resolute within ourselves is a gift–a rarity. We are certain of the uncertainties, and comfortable with the questions. We are fearful and brave and hard to hold on to.”

Do any of these words speak to who you are?

Leveraging the light

Posted on
6

Ironically, I slept in just a bit this morning. But let it be known that I didn’t sleep nearly as late as I normally do on Mandy Mondays. That, my friends, was a small victory. Yes I had the annoying stream of morning light through the window cheering me on. But I was going to get up anyway. I was, dadgummit.

I had the best of intentions.

I wanted to leverage the extra hour of morning light that I’ve we’ve been given. I wanted to wake up to greet the sun with inspiring words flying out of my fingertips and pounding onto page and key.

I wanted to make something beautiful and poetic and colorful. And I wanted to do all of this before the 8am hour arrived.

I’m not the only one with such aspirations. Go on. Raise your hand if you feel the same way.

So for those of us with hands raised and hearts ready, let’s do this together.

Let’s make a pact right here, before our body-clocks adjust to this new timeness we’re in. Let’s make a pact to go to bed closer to our old body-clocks’ time. And let’s make a pact to wake up closer to our old body-clocks’ waking time. And let’s make a pact to leverage the light and make something beautiful before the day even knows we’re upon it. Let’s claim a corner of a table, a section of a room, a stack of papers, and let’s make that our morning spot where we gather our thoughts and our hearts and let whatever is in us come floating out over the soft steam of the morning’s coffee.

It’s easy. All we have to do is wake up a wee bit earlier.