Friday, December 24, 2010

Finally


I can share my good news now that it's official.

My sister and her husband adopted a 3 week old baby boy yesterday. This is a story that is nearly 9 years in the making.

It's like there was this puzzle piece, and you've been looking and looking, and it wasn't under the couch or near the sink, and then one day, out of the clear blue, there it is. And it's the perfect fit and it finishes the scene, and you just feel this overwhelming relief. You kind of want to cry out, but it's more like sighing, but not in the discouraging way-- in the things-are-the-way-they-should-be-now way.

O taste and see that the LORD is good: blessed is the man that trusteth in HIM.



And, completely unrelated, as my present to you, THIS:




MERRY CHRISTMAS!




Tuesday, December 21, 2010

Shout it from the Rooftops

This is the first time in a while I have wanted to write. It's shameful. I am shamed. I am a writer, or so I told someone at the mall the other day. I do not define myself by the hobby I enjoy; I do not define myself by the work I wish I were doing. So why, when the question came, "What do you do?" was my answer, with no hesitation or forethought, "I'm a writer." Honestly, I totally blurted it out before I had time to think-- she asked me so fast, and I didn't expect that question. Or that answer. It turned my face hot and my eyes downward.

What, in the world, did my subconscious mean by that Freudian slip?

The world is changing, dramatically. There is good news, such good news my heart nearly bursts at the thought of it. Like for real-- those aren't just words-- when I think about it, my heart gets bigger, then bigger-- each beat pumping it larger and larger, and I fear it (I) cannot take it much longer. Lord, please let what should pass, pass.

At any rate. I want to tell the world about you. The world has a right to know.

Wednesday, December 15, 2010

**

I need comfort. Tell me a story. Tell me you didn't have a best friend until you were an adult, and you turned out okay. And it wasn't that bad...

It's so hard. I know it's my fault. My sons have been to four different schools, so it's not shocking they're struggling making friends.

It just hurts. I'm tired of seeing them hurt, and I'm tired of watching them try to be brave.

Thursday, December 9, 2010

Dreams

I love dreams. Having them, writing them into my pieces, reading about them, seeing them in movies, etc. Love a good dream sequence. And I've had a few odd ones recently.

Last night, I was standing in an old two story house ankle deep in water. Except it would sway, so that the water would fill one side of the house, then sway back and fill the other. It would only go up to the knee when it was at its fullest, and it wasn't on water, just full of water, so who knows why it would randomly tilt like the deck of a ship?

But the point wasn't the water, it was the fish. They were everywhere, and each time the house would sway, there was a loud flapping sound of all of the fish that hadn't been swept up in the water, beating the floor and taking in air. And I would race and try to save the bigger ones, the prettier ones, scooping them up and putting them in the water filled side until the next time the house moved.

Go for it, Freud.

Two days ago, I dreamed that I was surrounded by baby carriages and cradles, full of babies making noises, and I was holding one in each arm in blankets, only they were NOT babies, and I knew this-- they were words. Various lengths and types, but all words. And it was like I had this overhead shot all of a sudden that pulled back like in a movie, and I could see that I was surrounded by these words, my "babies," for miles. And it was this warm, safe feeling.

I always have the best, most vivid dreams after I put the boys on the school bus and go back to bed. I don't do that every day, just when I've been up after 1 (they have to get up by 5:40 and be on the bus by 6:50), but I must say, those dreams are the most interesting. I know people will say it's because I dreamed in the morning, and I just remember them better than the ones at night, but I've woken up from dreams in the night with full memory, and while I've had some good ones, they're never as cool as those back-to-bed-morning dreams.

Remember any good ones? I love to hear people's dreams. Not really as in "hopes and," though those can be nice too, but the ones you have when your brain is on auto pilot, and your subconscious is running the show.