Color by numbers…

November in statistics would look like this, for me:

Chai lattes drank: 7

Mainstream Movies watched: 14

Hallmark Holiday (Christmas, Thanksgiving) movies watched: 7

Photos taken with my iPhone: 198

Photos taken with my Canon: 0 {Wah Wah}

Creative, artsy projects done: 0

Percentage of Christmas shopping completed: 90%

Items baked: 3 {oh! progress!}

Books read: 2

Times accidentally set off home security system: 1

Super stressful work projects: 2

Surgical procedures: 1

Doctors visits: 12 {must work on this.}

By the numbers, there are some definite disappointments. Must rectify a few of these immediately. Aim to read at least 3 books in december, take photos with my Canon, see my doctor significantly less, have ZERO surgical procedures, bake more, do something creative more… Three cheers for creativity! Hip Hip Hurrah!

Overall, November was kind of a tough month and I’m breathing a bit easier with it over. Things just feel, oh I don’t know, lighter perhaps… I’m really thankful it wasn’t rough because of anything worse though, we’ve had dear friends really going through some incredibly difficult things these past few weeks. It hasn’t escaped me for a second how un-complain worthy my life is. I’m in control of these numbers, I decide them. Here’s to better numbers and some peace.

The ugly truth of adoption…

In the media lately there have been a lot of stories about heinous acts of child abuse. Each story feels a bit worse than the last, and my heart aches for these kids and what they’ve gone through. I ache for them because I’ve parented and loved hurt kids whose childhoods were marred, scarred and pretty much obliterated by selfish people whose cruelty out lives their humanity through the shaping of these kid’s lives…

There was one article though, that really struck a chord with me. Before I address the parents or the Pearl’s book, let me reiterate that this little girl was adopted. I imagine most people who read this and be unable to comprehend why someone who wanted to go to the trouble (and extreme expense) of adoption would wind up abusing (or in this case murdering) their child. Those same people may even question whether people who could do that (adopt then abuse and eventually murder) were just sick individuals, wishing to torture a child.

Let me preface what I’m about to say with this: there ARE sick people who adopt and foster kids with the intent of hurting them, just like there are sick people who have their own biological children with that intent, and just like there are those same types of people who steal other people’s children with the same wicked and evil intentions…

HOWEVER- I do not think this girl’s parent’s fit that category.

There is this beautiful spotlight put on adoption and what an amazing thing it is, in this country. There are beautiful agencies with designer waiting rooms, and hundreds of books. The month of November is national adoption month. Celebrities adopt children from all over the world and it’s this beautiful example of something so amazing and non-racially unifying. People cry and the general consensus is that adoption makes the world a better place.

We have news spots for foster kids waiting for adoptions and foundations talking about all of their children waiting for families. There are organizations talking of orphanages on foreign soil, so full of children who just need love.

Here’s the ugly truth about adoption: these kids don’t JUST need love. They need a whole lot more than love. And these parents? They need a lot too. They need unconditional love, support and understanding. They need for their friends to keep calling, and loving on them, even when they don’t understand. They need for the general public and church members to not sit in judgement because their adopted children don’t just blend right in. These parents need people to listen to them, to hug them, to offer to help out. These parents need people to get to know their kids and to form a community of love and support for their whole family…

But more often than not, this isn’t what happens.

Friends do stop calling, because they just don’t understand. People do judge. They see the kids as bad influences for their children because they lie, or steal, (or worse) and the parents always look exhausted and frustrated. Somehow these types of people don’t fit in the happy idea of what a lot of people want their schools, churches, social circles and communities to look like so they are shunned in subtle (and not so subtle) ways…

Once celebrated for adopting, the now isolated and broken parents are at the end of their ropes emotionally and mentally. Abandoned themselves, they have a child (or children) who has the manipulative IQ of an adult mastermind, who underhands them at every corner, and has worn them thin and bled them dry. Desperate to regain and heal their family, they turn to books and professionals. Books like the Pearl’s book…

Like a dehydrated man dying for thirst, wouldn’t he go for the poison out of ignorance, if it was there and he was desperate and he believed it would save his life and quench his thirst?

The solution isn’t to wait until children are dead, and punish the hell out of parents. The solution is not to regulate even stricter adoption laws. The biggest problem is the middle… it’s the preparing the parents for the reality of what it will look like, with these kids, and then supporting the hell out of them through both the beautiful and the gritty and disgusting moments… The sad reality is that even the number of mental health professionals equipped to help are so small in number, and so astronomically expensive that they are out of reach. What other choices are left, but turn to crazy people like the Pearls, who are exploiting broken and desperate parents with their sadistic propaganda?

Alright… this was long. If you hung on, until the end, thank you… It’s something we really need to know about it and learn about and FIX. We do, the people… So we can save families, lessen the power of people like the Pearls, and stop things like this from happening… Because here’s what I can tell you, and I know this FIRST HAND- there are desperate and broken families out there and they need us to stop judging them, stop ignoring them and just LOVE and embrace them before it’s too late…

a little bit of show and tell…

On Fridays I like to show you a little of the things around the web that made my week a little brighter… Take them with you as you head into your weekend, they’ll keep you warm.

– I know we’re always told smiling is good but here’s a convincing argument on why not to smile.

– because I have so many friends or family members who have had babies within the last month or are about to have a baby any day, I loved this so very much and had to share.

– because the weather taunts me wispy snow flurries, I figure photos like this one are important to keep on hand.

– ignore if you’re like me and can’t read the post… just look at the images. It’s quite possibly one of the most amazing things ever.

– this Minestrone soup. It’s so simple and so very delicious… {only i omitted the onions, added zucchini, used kale and served with hunks of sharp cheddar and warm biscuits.}

– speaking of food… I haven’t made these, but the food porn of these alone is incredibly worth the click. Heavenly.

– I’ve loved this trailer since it was released, but knowing the movie is out next month has me watching it now, daily. It sends both chills down my spine and warms my heart. It looks so very, very, very much like the sort of movie that makes you sit there and feel like you have just witnessed the very reason why movies exist at all- after having seen it.

– All of the Pemberly Digital Videos… Most recently Emma Approved. I loved the Lizzie Bennett Diaries from day one and these are great too… Love me some Austen revisioned…

– lastly, I’ll leave you with this trailer, which was just released… Wow, right? 

What about you? What’s bringing you some extra warm and brightness these days?

when beauty ate the beast…

IMG_4028Most of my best thoughts seem to occur when I’m either behind the wheel of a car, or in the shower. Why is this?

Yesterday afternoon, between my house and Gen’s school I’d written an extraordinary blog post in my brain and revised an extra difficult section of a chapter I’m working on. I was giddy with excitement when I looked around and noticed they had decorated our lovely downtown for Christmas, and this made my heart radiate even brighter with glee. Just then a large swarm of birds ascended from the grassy park to my left and I marveled at their elegance as they flew higher and higher, all working together.

By the time I was home I remembered the birds and the Christmas decor, plain as day, but not one single thing about the rest of it. It’s like a trap door slammed shut in my brain and now my brilliant thoughts are trapped inside the Arena, fighting for their lives- Tributes of their own plight.

Sorry. Like I said, I just finished Catching Fire, and I’m afraid until we see the movie next week, I’ll find it seeping itself into my daily life. Tune in tomorrow when I wear a single braid, down my back and Josh Hucherson shows up with loaves of warm, fresh bread… {All kidding aside, Genny would die.}

In the Hunger Games of my brain though, why is it the memory of the birds and the glee over the holiday decor that win out? Shouldn’t it be the brilliance and creativity? Truth be told, I am so frustrated! I feel like this happens more and more. {and more}

And so, brain tired and back sore, I close the lid of my laptop and snuggle with a blanket in front of the DVR, thus rewarding my brain with absolutely nothing…

actual self-awareness…

Yesterday was one of those rare days where there was but one choice, to slow down…

Gen was home sick, from school. After a grueling session at physical therapy (which I’m taking for an old knee injury that has reared it’s ugly head after I strained my IT band something fierce) I was deep within the thralls of a migraine. It was blustery and rainy out, misery was all around.

As my meds began to take effect, I remained still and decided to curl up and finish a book I’d begun reading last week. (Catching Fire. Yes, I’m likely the last person in the country to read it, I know. It was deliberate. The first one depressed my beyond belief.)  Gen also decided to curl up, steaming tea in hand (her affliction was less head related and far more of the throat/nose variety) and plant herself in front of Jane Austen movies. When she grew weary of old English dialect and empire wastes, the remote guided her to the Hallmark channel for Christmas movies.

And just like that, our rain turned to snow.

It was eerily magical really…

The two of us love made for tv Christmas movies. We dvr them and will gorge on them incessantly until the 26th, when we’ll begrudgingly admit we’ve had our fill. I keep hearing complaints that they shouldn’t be on yet, but to those of you hating on this reality- there are lots of available (non-festive) channels… As far as those of us CM lovers go, November first is fair game. Hate elsewhere please, until after Thanksgiving anyway… Then come on over and indulge with us! We have popcorn and cocoa, with homemade marshmallows too!

Anyway, I’ve veered off point, by my obsession with low-budget holiday cheese.

The snow was beautiful. Really beautiful, in fact, because we were warm inside. We had an endless supply of mugs filled with steaming tea. We had a pot of homemade minestrone soup and fresh biscuits. We had blankets and heat. It was poetic and beautiful and though we commented on how lovely it was several, several times, not one time did I feel grateful for one of those things. Not once was I thankful that I wasn’t out in the snow. (I will clarify, I did utter many, many prayers of thanks that my headache had broken) Not once did I feel overcome with the reality that on that Veteran’s day, as twitter and Facebook status’ across the country boasted of snow- did I think about the thousands of homeless veterans without soup, mugs of steaming tea or Christmas movies.

Yesterday afforded me no choice to slow down. Even so, I still had choices. I still choice to think about me. I still chose not to be grateful for the small miracles and blessings and beauties. All in all, it was a lovely afternoon/evening and as my head hit the pillow I did thank God for it, but next time I’m forced to take things slower, I need to try a little bit harder to really be more aware…