a few years ago i talked to a caseworker about adopting again. i was pregnant with our 6th child and she dismissed my question politely–nope, too many kids.  then-all-hell-broke-loose.  what was i thinking adopting the first time, right? i will never “get over” what happened to us all, especially the children.  still..i read about this lady in Kenya who takes care of 52 kids..crazy, right?

Mel is in the pool amusing herself by humming the shark soundtrack from Jaws.  She stops abruptly and shivers in the water.  Ooh, she says, I was scaring myself…

I have not let her watch Jaws; just told her about the good parts.  She says that sometimes she will be playing a game of ripstick tag at the park and humming Jaws then she will say to herself, we’re gonna need a bigger ripstick.

These stories clearly illustrate that she is the one who should be blogging.

I have a picture in my head of me or my more attractive avatar standing at the edge of a chasm, shouting into it.  I don’t think anyone is listening.  It gives me a freedom to say what I want–after all I am just shouting into the abyss, right?

Still if someone were to listen, I would be afraid to thank the precious handful of people who have held our hands through the terribleness of our story.  I know so many people have more devastating stories, but ours is riven with a shame that makes people (justifiably) uncomfortable.

But I don’t think Lindsey would mind if I said thank you.  I should say it about a thousand times to get the point across.  Thank you not just for friendship, but for listening.  Thank you for the letter that you and H. wrote.  Thank you for being there.

And while I am shouting into the abyss I would like to point out that you are so beautiful with children.  You hear them, your own and others. It is precious to watch you do it, and you are a great gift to me.

so thank you,

i shout

from the edge of the chasm