I have not written a blessed post on this little sliver of the web since this time last year, but empty this past year was not! So much transpired. New lives to love and challenges to overcome. So much grace to be thankful for.
I learned that when you drop the proverbial ball, the world doesn’t combust as you thought it would. While we are profound in the spiritual sense, in the worker bee impact on the entirety of the world sense, we really are not that significant. Someone else does the work, or it doesn’t get done, or you get to it but 3 months after you said you would. And the world keeps spinning.
I learned that you can do what you imagine is impossibly difficult. Your worst fears realized are still navigable. Just keep going.
I learned that the well of grief is wide and deep. Cry when you must. Unravel too. Your departed loved ones are guiding you through the murky waters still.
I learned about boundaries, my lack thereof, and my need to establish some. Physical ones, digital ones, even emotional ones. Countless times I was compelled to mute or block out the joy of new moms not because I wasn’t happy for them in the miracle of life being bestowed upon them but more so because I couldn’t separate my all or nothing feeling of being lost from the new beginnings of others. I know rationally this wasn’t necessary and I feel ashamed to admit it. But I think more often than not people show you what they want to show you and they withhold the raw truth. And if more of us shared what we were actually feeling maybe everyone would feel a little less alone.
And then there was the first miracle. My beloved niece, Tiernan, arrived and she helped to fill the void of my longing. I learned what is was like to be certain I would lay my life on the line to prevent even a moment of harm from befalling her. I held her the first nights of her life as my sister healed from a very invasive experience. Though she was not of my flesh, she felt like mine and my brother and sister were all too willing to let me bask in the glory of her life.
I learned about hope! We finished a home study in May as James and I felt called to adoption especially of a child with Down syndrome. We completed the massive undertaking but it still felt off. Like we we were completing an interview for one of the most profound jobs on the earth. Thankfully being grilled by social workers helped James and I establish more of a dialogue about topics we never would have navigated organically. This was our gift. With documents in hand we still prayed that a child would find us. Somehow I thought there must be someone who needed us as much as we needed them. Might they just walk into our lives? Or would we be another family in a book waiting to fulfill our most sacred wishes?
And then there was John. He carries the name of my grandfather. And with that he carries boundless love in his heart. Another John. Another great love of my life. I’m learning how to be a mother. Something I have ached for, for longer than I can recall.
I’m learning so much more about disability. Humbled by how little I knew prior to this new role. Of Autism, and the legal system, and guardianship, and the DDD, and meltdowns and sensory processing, and therapies, and grief, and attachment, and that’s just an ounce of the load. I can’t tell you how many times someone spoke ill of the disability experience. Cautionary tales of what to expect. Our minds can be narrow and I honored where each and every person was coming from.
But thankfully I cannot tell you how many people extended their grace, their hope, and their belief in what is possible rather than their fear of what would be hard. And boy, is it hard. But I would confidently go to the end of the earth to protect John. Nothing he could ever do will deter me from loving him with my whole life. I’m honored he found me and James and with every bit of time we have left I’ll shower him with every opportunity and spend every ounce of patience to support him and give him comfort.
There’s not a food he doesn’t like. There’s not a heart he has not touched. I love the moments when I am soaring through the sky with joy of an accomplishment. I love the way you tenderly pray over the sick and invoke your mother for guidance. I love the tantrums and the sadness and the big feelings that we work through together. The times I am brought to my knees sobbing wondering if I am enough, if we are enough, and realizing that we’ve already been given by God all we will ever need to care for another human life. I love every broken bulb and locked phone and magnificently unique thing you do. Everything has its place and purpose. This story is open ended so buckle up with us if you will.
In 2022 I drank SO much coffee. Too much. But who’s to say? Had oh so much pasta, pizza, and Ethan & the Bean chocolate chip cookies too. I didn’t exercise as much as I should have but was busy and moving enough to feel balanced. I solidified profound connections with some and grew further away from others. The natural ebb and flow of relationships and pruning of obligations was cathartic. I barely read any books and have very little to report on literature but I lived a lot and that has to count.
I learned we tend to come undone and be the ugliest with the ones closest to us. I learned I don’t always listen, can get wildly defensive over things that really don’t matter, and question my worth. Maybe I always knew these things. Conversely, I also learned I need to be more gentle with myself. As gentle as I am with others. I deserve that and I’ve learn to be comfortable enough to declare what I deserve.