When the Sun and Earth Collide

Nostalgia. I woke up this morning to it humming and singing in my mind. All the bits of precious memory that accompany it, the things you swear at the time you won't forget. A voice, a feeling, a scent, a play of light or shadow, a rare moment. The things that leave their mark on you.

We spent five weeks in Sri Lanka and while it wasn't necessarily a vacation, it was probably the journey that so far has made the hugest marks on our hearts and lives. Every day, along with the absolutely unreal beauty of this small island in the Indian Ocean, we were faced with challenges. There were many mornings when we sat over breakfast, smiled at each other and said "We can get through this or that, we've lived through worse things already." It didn't stop the butterflies in our stomachs but along with the challenges, was so much joy. So much. And also along with the butterflies was excitement as well, anticipation, and adventure. I'm sure there is nothing really worth doing that doesn't throw your mind into some sort of turmoil of emotions.:)

Because of this feeling of nostalgia I thought I would do something I never do, add a couple of photos for those who are curious and who haven't seen the absolute legion of them I have posted on facebook. So, here I sit, drinking peppermint tea while William sleeps, trying to avoid looking out the window at the miserable rainy/ snowy/ icy (Yes, all three seem to be possible here in Norway at the same time.:), day and remember warmth of both people and place; beauty and chaos; Colombo where stunning mansions were side by side with bombed out homes and buildings, where the churches were surrounded with cement walls with shards of broken bottles and glass stuck in them, where flowers were fragrant and vibrant; Buddhist temples and shrines; and my own feelings while there as well.

Drinking in the beauty. Trying to make sense of the differences all around me. (Which were numerous and extreme and sometimes mind boggling.) Eating too much fish curry and bakmi goreng and fresh mango. The relaxing of the spirit and body that the tropical warmth inspires. The wonder at seeing elephants and monkeys (and thank the good Lord, no spiders) in the wild. Taking advantage of the moments. Every last one.

So, carpe diem and enjoy.:)

In Nine Months Time...

I was reading this morning about sorrow. The heavy hopeless sort that seeps into your limbs, bones, heart and soul, weighing you down so that you can't see any "light at the end of the tunnel", any goodness or meaning in your days, any purpose in getting out of bed, setting one foot in front of the other...in being alive. The sort when you wake up and leave the lights off all day long, leave the blinds drawn and the door locked and curl up on a corner of the couch praying no one will come over, that no one will know. When you believe you shouldn't live. The sort where nothing moves you, not the sun shining in the sky, the softness of a summer day, a child's smile or embrace. When you turn your back on all of this as a sort of punishment to yourself for that things that you are not.

It was a prayer actually. A prayer about working through clinging sadness. As I read it, I thought, I have prayed this prayer, (variations there of at least), so many times before. Prayed it not really believing it would be heard, prayed it in hopelessness, despair, anger, sadness, lethargy, apathy...all the emotions that crowd into that great gaping wound despair creates inside a person. This time though I read it and if I cried it was with relief. I am over the worst. I have been over the worst for a long time now actually but somehow reading this prayer brought that home to me in a way nothing else has yet. I almost laughed with the freedom of it, thinking that this prayer isn't for me anymore, not today at least. Whether I believed I was heard or not, I was. Whether I believed I was alone or not, I wasn't. If I felt I was unworthy of anything good or beautiful before, it wasn't true.

How astounding the way life sweeps so dramatically from day to day, year to year, how nothing is ever the same for us. And also how astounding the quiet times are when the moments move by at a steady pace, all fullness and grace and small daily changes that are so subtle as to be easily missed. How beautiful that faith is a thing that even while it wavers and feels nonexistent, can give us hope. How constant God is even while we doubt.

My answer to prayer is here now. He has a sturdy, chubby little body; deep, chocolate dark eyes; perfect rich brown skin; a ready laugh and smile and a funny little dimpled face. Not to sound glib, but that is the way my prayers were answered. And in so many other ways as well. Smaller, less obvious ways...a million of them...a million dancing fragments of light, joy, peace, and hope all around me that were perhaps always there, but that I forgot for awhile and now am choosing to see.

And the most amazing part is that my husband and I were talking last night and discovered that in only nine months time we can (and will) begin this life altering, exciting, and unique adoption journey again. Whether we choose Sri lanka again or somewhere altogether different like Madagascar, Ethiopia, The Philippines, Vietnam, or India remains to be seen. But somewhere out in the huge, wide world we will find yet another of God's small miracles and answer to our prayers.

And thank God for that!