HOPE

Nothing,

Everything,

Enemy,

Friend.

A season,

A reason,

A detour to,

An end.

SENDING LITTLE CHASE UTLEY ZIP LINING FROM THE CEILING FAN

There's a call. Lots of calls, really. There are causes everywhere. Good causes. I want to donate, volunteer, share, vote, do, help. Everything. Something!

It's overwhelming.

Doing "what I can" never feels like enough. In fact, too often it feels like chasing rainbows.

I've been fired from delivering meals to the elderly for getting too involved. A foreign illiterate I was teaching to read was given a new teacher because he got fresh with me. Jobs I took in the name of purpose instead became reasons to self doubt. 

Such examples link a long chain.

"So it goes." - Kurt Vonnegut

Little Chase Utley is dangling above my computer screen. 

I'm supposed to be sending out requests trying to get my book published. It's about a mother hiding from her own mental illness. I wrote it hoping to inspire, create understanding, tell a story with which I am too familiar. 

Now I'd rather send a plastic man and his paper clip down some yarn and smack him into the silverware drawer again. That made my son laugh last night. I didn't feel like a failure. For that moment, maybe I wasn't.

Alas, zip lining Little Chase Utley is only a temporary fix.  

I know I have to keep trying because I know I will never stop caring. 

My tiny donations won't cure any diseases or solve any crises, but I've seen change jars grow up and become bank accounts. It can add up.

And maybe they'll always only give me "busy work" at the soup kitchen and there will forever be someone else better suited for tasks at church. But maybe not.

And yes, I might be too risky a choice to be an adoptive parent and just a number in the literary rejection piles. But my fiction writing mind won't allow itself to entertain sucky endings, so on I go. 

Oh, Little Chase is still going for a ride. Worry not. I'll make it quick. Besides, my hot glue gun is loaded.

Thanks for reading, friends. 

May all of your plastic men have strong limbs. 

Ruthy

SORRY, KIDS. I'M NOT QUALIFIED TO BE A MOTHER.

Adoption felt like the right thing for us to do. It still does. 

It turns out, however, that I am not eligible to be an adoptive parent. Ironically, I am uncertifiable by reason of insanity.

I get it. I really do. I'm glad there are standards. Above all, every decision must be made in the best interest of the child. That's how it absolutely should be. 

          Sad, but not bitter,
          Hurt, without hate,
          God's plans are bigger.
          Trust Him and wait.

I'm praying for words right now, trying to channel a positive message that I know is hiding under yet another rejection. This is different than accepting the lack of interest I usually encounter. There's a boy out there, a boy I promised to love.

We have been blessed with 4 children and 2 grandchildren. These blessings continue to grow. Soon, we will have a 3rd grandchild, a son in law, a daughter in law and more. And that's just our little branch. There are so many I love. 

I am stressed by, and thankful for my family every single day. So thankful, I wanted to share it. I still do. 

Lots of you supported our efforts and I can't thank you enough. (Please send me your cookie requests and I'll happily bake my heart out. Don't be shy. My heart needs the work.)

Setting out on a mission has a way of filling me with hope, passion and purpose. I get all excited. I open my big mouth and tell people, even ask for help.I let the housecleaning fall aside, order pizza way too often, and drag my poor family through obstacle courses of mood born frenzy. All, in the name of purpose. 

Now I feel like I let everyone down and I'm sorry.

And I'm sorry, little boy. I can't be your mother. I still love you. I will still pray for you, cry for you, and wish for you. Maybe someday we will meet. Maybe not, but I hope so. 

There is more to purpose than my eyes could ever see. 

For now, I'm going to focus my mission on small acts, kind words, big faith, positive attitude, an open mind, sincere care and making dinner.

Thanks for reading.

May God bless you and the mission you rode in on.

Amen

Trying Again

We're expecting to adopt. There's a little boy out there somewhere.

I feel a special connection with him like I felt with my other children 

before they were born. He doesn't have a due date though and I 

can't protect him with checkups and prenatal vitamins. I'm up thinking

about him tonight and wanted him to know some things. Since I

can't tell him yet, I put it here.

Thanks for indulging me.

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

I miss you.

I guess that seems a little weird since we haven't met yet.

But you're out there and I love you and I wish you were here.

I want to tell you that you have a family, a home. And I will do

my best to always make you feel like you belong because you do.

You will know about Jesus.

I will pray with you and for you. 

I will ask you how your day was because I really want to know. 

I will give you lots of books whether you want them or not. And  

I will keep hoping you want them

There will be cookies. 

You'll probably spill some milk. 

I will too.

You might get mad at me for making you go to school or clean your

room. That's okay. We'll get through it. 

Sometimes I may forget a paper you needed me to sign or what time 

baseball practice starts, but I will always try my best.

And everyday I will tell you "I love you," because everyday I will. 

I'm praying for you, buddy. I can hardly wait for you to come home. 

Cyber Fellowship

This is my granddaughter, Bella.

This is her little brother, DJ.

Sweet, right? They really are. Still, stuff happens. 

Bella knows she isn't allowed to climb up on the coffee table. We tell her every time she does it. She does it a lot.

She remembered the lesson when she saw DJ on the table. Yep. She yanked him right off. He fell to the floor.

Thud. Ouch. Whah. Boo boo. Poor DJ. 

I'm somewhat certain she had good intentions. 

Babies are not allowed on the table. She knows the rule.

She wanted to help her brother, but instead made him fall. 

Hence, the inspiration for a metaphor-induced poem:


Cyber Fellowship

Create in me a clean blog, O God, 

Please guard my Facebook wall,

Through my good intentions,

Don't let my brother fall. 

Tweet not mine unjust anger,

Or Pin my butt in greed,

And, dare I post a selfie,
Lord, show me what You see.

Prove a simple Candy Crush,
Can sweeten ties with friends,
Because little things can matter,
Even quickie sends.

Should email tempt to frustrate,

Kirk Cameron and such,

Remind me they have missions too,

Bless each with Your touch.

Keep my fingers humble,

Avoiding reckless clicks,

Remain The True Connection,

In cyber fellowship.


Thanks for reading, friends. Click well.