Monday, October 25, 2010

I'm here.

I'm here, I'm around. I'm trying to read and keep up and comment...I'm sorry if I've missed people. And I'm sorry I haven't responded to questions in comments--hi Angela! Hi new readers--Homesteaders, Aecusack--I always intend to go and respond to comments and then never do. Please don't give up on me.

We've been busy. Updating paperwork for the adoption--it seems our agency fired our Ethiopian attorney so whoops, we needed to do some updating in that regards. More authenticating of documents which means another trip to the Secretary of State's office. Today I will be dealing with USCIS because of our impending expiration of our federal fingerprints, oh dear. It's always something but that's ok. We just keep moving forward.

I dreamed the other night about my Dad.

In the dream he was smiling, wide and bright and even. Even. Not the one-sided smile that we rarely see anymore--he just doesn't show emotions.

And then suddenly he was standing there, in his running clothes. His old-school running shorts and one of his threadbare marathon running t-shirts.

He looked at me and said "Let's go! Who wants to go running?"

And he took off running.

And in my dream mind I was so proud of him, thinking, 'wow, my Dad is still running at age 72.'

I think--I hope-- that will be my Dad's heaven.

It has to be.

Endless even wide smiles and long runs with strong legs that carry and carry and carry him as far and long as he wants to run.

I try to imagine a world where there aren't disabling strokes and other devastating illnesses, where there is no infertility, where babies aren't taken too soon, and where there aren't beautiful innocent children in Ethiopia--millions of them--wondering why no one is choosing to be their family. Where there aren't children hurting and longing and aching for parents anywhere.

I can't stop strokes--though every day in my work I try. I can't cure infertility. I can't stop the unfairness of it all. But hopefully--God willing, the Ethiopian government willing, our Secretary of State willing, our federal fingerprints willing--hopefully....hopefully....

On a much lighter and sweeter note, another thing I can do while I wait, is make cakeballs. Wedding cake cakeballs to be precise (stolen, naturally, from Bakerella!).


  1. It's obvious what a loving, caring and selfless person you are. You have definitely been handed an unfair hand of cards and I don't understand why. I hope beyond hope that things turn around for you and you are blessed above and beyond. Hugs

  2. What a vivid dream you had. I'm glad to hear that you've been keeping busy and hope that this wait will be worth it.

  3. what a beautiful dream abou your dad. i have a feeling that his heaven might be just a little bit better than that ;)
    and your baby, oh i can't wait until there are beautiful pictures of her gracing these pages. i know there are setback but perhaps the changes will bring some quicker results. finger crossed!

  4. And I thought CCRM had a lot of paperwork... Glad you are back and forgot to mention I read an article about a place in Dallas that specializes in Ethiopian adoptions. All I remember was that it started with a B. Not sure if that was the town, doctor, or clinic.


  5. Thanks for telling us about your dream, it was hauntingly lovely - Like most of the dreams we wish were reality...

    I have to admit, Cakeballs do take the edge off though. Have you ever checked out Joy the Baker? She's pretty awesome.

  6. Beautiful post. Great to hear from you.

  7. Sounds like a beautiful dream! Great as always to hear an update.

  8. So had to laugh about the CCRM paperwork comment! I'm still here too, living life. Just not on the blogosphere much anymore.

    That's cool that you walked for an autism fundraiser. My nephew is autistic. Seems like such a mysterious modern disease.

    You guys rock for adopting from Ethiopia. One of the staff at my climbing gym just adopted two kids from Ethiopia. They love to climb just like their daddy!

  9. What an amazing dream about your dad. I sure hope that is his heaven, too! Thinking of you as you wade through the paperwork. We're dipping our toes in the adoption waters, and I am already overwhelmed! Thanks for all of your comments on my blog...

  10. What a lovely dream. I'm just so sorry that your dad's next run will likely be in Heaven and not here on earth with you. Someone at my brother's funeral said they imagined him running - one step on earth and the next step on a golden street in Heaven. I wonder if that made an impression on me because I have had several dreams about him running. He's always on a beach, my dog is with him, and he is very happy. It's rather comforting because I always feel like I've just gotten a glimpse of him in real time. I just wish your dad could run with you right now. I really do.

    I hope the busyness of updating your adoption paperwork makes the wait time go by that much quicker.

    Great cake balls!

  11. What a beautiful dream you had about your dad. I'm so sorry that reality doesn't match your lovely dream. I absolutely believe he'll be running like the wind in heaven one day.

    I've been hoping you would provide an update on your adoption. I'm sure the waiting must be frustrating. I have everything crossed that things will start moving more quickly soon.


  12. I love the dream you had about your dad running. My only wish would be for it to come true. You are such an amazing daughter and your mom and dad are so lucky to have you in their corner.

    Oh and those cake balls look AWESOME.

  13. I ended reading this smiling - at the idea of your dad in his retro running clothes, those tiny wedding cakes, and just the different tone in your post. Things may not be perfect yet, but there is not the undercurrent of despair and hopelessness that has worried me so much in the past. It's so clear that you are ready and strong and optimistic - even though your adoption is still in the works I am already so happy for you!

  14. What a beautiful dream about your dad. I cannot even imagine what it is to grieve the loss of a person who is still here...but also isn't. And sheesh...enough on the paperwork, yeah? Having dealt with BCIS for marriage, the mere thought of it makes me want to puke. As with all, I've no doubt it is worth it in the end, but when will the end be in sight!!! So looking forward to seeing your happy ending...

  15. I also can't wait for your happy ending!!!!

    LOVED the dream about your Dad. Just beautiful!

  16. I am just so excited for your adoption. I keep hoping that things will move faster than expected and you will have your beautiful child. In the meantime, Jill is right, you don't deserve the hand you've been I hope things start turning around, though you are doing your best to 'make lemonade out of lemons" but still....NOT FAIR!!!!

  17. I really loved reading this post. I am so looking forward to hearing all about your happy ending too- hopefully not long from now. Thanks for saying hello!

  18. Thought this might be of interest to you, if you haven't seen it already.

    Cheers, MM

  19. Your words always touch a spot in my heart. Miss you!

  20. fantastic as always...
    I know what you mean about your dad. After my mom's stroke, I would dream about all the things I wanted to have mom-daughter chats with her about in real life... cathartic.
    I can't wait to hear more about your adoption adventure, and as always love to see the food pics! :) YUM!

  21. I can't believe I missed this post.

    I've been thinking about you a lot and wondering what was happening on the adoption front. Sounds like you are dotting, re-dotting alllll the "Is" and crossing your heart along with those "Ts."

    Your dad sounds like he was a wonderful man. I don't know my dad and it always makes me smile when I hear someone share stories about their dad - it's a beautiful thing.

    Onward and upward!!

  22. check out a radio show about adoption from ethiopia:

  23. So much happening in this your life.

    I can very much relate to the dream about your dad. I never knew my dad as healthy in the sense that his MS had taken over his body while I was still small. I don't remember him walking without assistance. I only have some recollection of him walking with his cane. Most of my memories of him are in his wheelchair.

    When I dream of him now though, he is ALWAYS walking. ALWAYS. And his speech is crystal clear without the slur and slowness. Even though I never really knew him this way, in my dreams it is like this is how he has always been. It's a surreal kind of thing and when I wake up from these dreams I instantly try to fall back asleep so the dream can continue... in hope for the chance I get to know him this way too (if that makes sense).

    I have missed you...