S. tells me about the missing lobe on the left side of the human chest; a space carved out for our hearts.  I know some of my friends are agnostics and atheists, yet I can’t help but see God’s authorship in that missing space.  A place missing only God can fill.

I used to stay awake very late out of fear, now it is grief.  I hate to admit it but the grief stage that resulted in  lack of appetite was more cosmetically useful.  I would not go back. 

I don’t tell the kids about the Chris Rock monologue that haunts me.  He talks about how you know the bad parents because they assert that “at least” they are meeting basic requirements for their childrens’ care.  Food, water, shelter:  all basic.  Protection from sexual abuse was in that list–necessities for all my children.  Yet I failed.

I constantly feel the pressure against that missing place in my chest.  I think we all do except Sea.  He tells me he is better, wills me to believe it.  I never will.  The hole in my chest is there to remind me.

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

I found an adoption website with blogs about kids with RAD.  First I was gratetful to not feel so alone, then I thought–where have you been all my life?

Also, after multiple rejections Yahoo! Voices published a poem I wrote!  I am amazed.

Please consider contacting your favorite chocolate company to pressure them to enact fair trade standards in the cocoa industry.  Google “chocolate farm” and you will find articles about widespread abuse of children in west Africa.

This is a point of particular weakness for me as I wrestle with my relationship with chocolate daily.  I don’t think the answer is simply avoiding chocolate (although it would be beneficial to my waistline if I could…) but in voicing our concern as consumers.

No perfect solutions, I know, but I am heartbroken by the idea that hundreds of thousands of young boys live in hellish conditions because of the way chocolate is grown, harvested, and produced.

Got any ideas?

I strongly dislike the advertisements and intent of ABC’s show, GCB.  I dislike the promos so much I cannot imagine watching the actual show.  I looked for signs of protest and found only one—One Million Moms.  I am grateful they object to this show and its portrayal of so-called christian women (be they one b-word or another) and if you have a problem with this show I would encourage you to either email ABC or contact OMM to voice your objections about this show.

I have PLENTY of criticisms about the way organized religion, the practice of Christianity, ordinary christians, etc, but I do not see much in this show that suggests it reflects reality or that it would be tolerated if it were about another group of believers of another religion.

i have a picture in my head of a chicken in a glass box at a boardwalk concession. it has been trained to peck buttons.
i am fascinated by the embedded meaning in the buttons i use–
search
remember me
cancel
refresh

i don’t want to lose sight of their embedded meaning
they are each doors to something big or small, eternal or temporal
what each of us does with time