Things are tough right now for a lot of people. That verse where the holy spirit has to intercede on our behalf because all we can do is groan, can't even put what we are feeling into words--that verse makes a lot of sense all of a sudden.
I send out our church e-mail version of a prayer chain. Requests come in via phone or internet and I put them into words and send them out to people who have committed to praying for the requests that come through.
Some I shrug off and write with factual apathy. Others hit me in the gut and make me moan out loud.
Today I got one from a manager whose company gave him the task of laying off almost 20 people. The week before Christmas. When I mentioned this to my husband, he said, B____ called it--he said it's going to get really ugly from now until Christmas with companies laying people off etc. Ugh.
One of Dan's former co-workers lost her dad and his funeral is this week. The week before Christmas.
People are losing jobs, family members, living spaces, credit ratings, relationships, respect and who knows what else left and right. It seems like every hour something else comes to our attention about someone or other who is struggling with something. The week before Christmas.
That's where hope comes in. And I'm thankful I have that. Although sometimes I shake my head perplexed, dismayed, frustrated, annoyed at unfortunate situations people have put themselves in or disheartened by bad situations thrust upon unsuspecting and undeserving people, I know there is hope for all of them.
I groan for what I do not know how to express.
Monday, December 15, 2008
Sunday, December 14, 2008
contemplative
I've caught myself staring off into space a lot lately. Since it never happens in front of a mirror, I have no idea what the expression on my face is when this happens. I can only hope it looks sage and wise, like I'm crafting zen verses, and not dull or perplexed as I fear the reality of this "look" might be.
I haven't been writing much often, and that leaves me feeling bloated and pent-up. Metaphorically that is. I'm afraid some of these starry-eyed spaced out moments often lead me to daydream about a room of my own. A place where I can leave the current and zap to where I need to go to mull things over, make sense of enigmatic dreams or thoughts that pop unbidden into my head. To hone my writing skills by practicing "shitty first drafts". Most of which only happen in my head and are lost with the phone shoulder-held to my ear listening to a voicemail while throwing together PBJ's and trying to negotiate a compromise between battling siblings. To pray for people or situations that are on my heart and mind, so they won't keep sitting there piling up subconscious weight of care that gives me shoulder-aches and audible sighs throughout my day. To sit down and write hand-written letters rather than the impersonal and probably-misconstrued e-mails that time constraints seduce me to instead.It's always sunny and quiet, and there's a squishy sink-into-me chair for reading and repose and a solid, sturdy table with ample surface area for work and creativity. Oh, and the sewing machine is there too so I can sew lace onto socks--because little girls must have lacy socks.
I haven't been writing much often, and that leaves me feeling bloated and pent-up. Metaphorically that is. I'm afraid some of these starry-eyed spaced out moments often lead me to daydream about a room of my own. A place where I can leave the current and zap to where I need to go to mull things over, make sense of enigmatic dreams or thoughts that pop unbidden into my head. To hone my writing skills by practicing "shitty first drafts". Most of which only happen in my head and are lost with the phone shoulder-held to my ear listening to a voicemail while throwing together PBJ's and trying to negotiate a compromise between battling siblings. To pray for people or situations that are on my heart and mind, so they won't keep sitting there piling up subconscious weight of care that gives me shoulder-aches and audible sighs throughout my day. To sit down and write hand-written letters rather than the impersonal and probably-misconstrued e-mails that time constraints seduce me to instead.It's always sunny and quiet, and there's a squishy sink-into-me chair for reading and repose and a solid, sturdy table with ample surface area for work and creativity. Oh, and the sewing machine is there too so I can sew lace onto socks--because little girls must have lacy socks.
Friday, December 05, 2008
Counting down--and maybe into single digits?
It's been a crazy past few weeks here. With an impromptu trip to Oklahoma for my 2 1/2 year old and I, then a road trip to New Jersey for my Grandfather's funeral, and coming home to snow and a huge church event, we're barely surviving and craving a whole lot of sleep. (Not to mention so thankful we are in the waiting phase rather than the paperwork phase--we have all we can handle on our plates right now.)
As I'm reading through my e-mails and trying to count all the referrals that happened while we were gone, I'm estimating that we might have moved up 2-3 spots on the list. I'm waiting for the official "place in line" from our awesome Ethiopian adoption team at our agency.
I'll post the official number when we get the word, but I'm going to guess that we are about 8th in line now. If referrals keep up at this pace, we may know what our little guy looks like in 2008. We are content in God's timing, and thrilled to see the numbers falling off like the Wal-mart price roll-back commercials. Because that means there are kids with families...and families with kids. Soul-thrilling.
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