Four years ago today, Rachel came home. It was the day before her second birthday. Up until then, she had been living in an orphanage in China waiting on her momma and daddy to come get her.
My sister, Jennifer, and her husband, James, adopted their second child from China. I was unable to go with them but it didn’t mean my heart (and anxiety) weren’t there with them. They knew Rachel had been diagnosed with mild Cerebral Palsy but beyond that, knew little else. Their hearts led them to this little girl and they journeyed back across the Pacific Ocean prepared for the unknown. When they were given Rachel, she was a sick little girl…high temperature, nagging cough, needle holes in her tiny heels.
Sick Baby Rachel – China, March 2009
When Rachel arrived in the United States, she preferred women…would rarely go near a man…was so tiny and so thin…but there was something there, something in those gorgeous dark eyes, and it wouldn’t be long before her spark lit. She began walking, talking, growing, was potty-trained easily, and is now an agile, active, brilliant little girl. Any signs of CP have long since vanished.
October 2009 – 7 months after coming home. Her spirit was already in full bloom.
Rachel – 5 years old
Love is an amazing thing…
Sometimes you find it and other times it finds you. Rachel was perfectly placed into our lives…a little girl half-way around the world would become ours. Her spirit and love fill us. Her big heart warms us.
Love truly is an amazing thing.
A dancer in a feathery, flowing gown? A love-struck, lonely bachelorette? An underwear clad, starving survivor? Or a globe-trotting racer? Which one are you?
Which reality show do you secretly desire to be on?
I will unabashedly admit that Survivor is one of my favorite T.V. shows. I’ve watched it from the beginning and can’t help but continue to turn in each week. The hunger, the lack of the basic necessities of life, the push on their moral compasses…exciting stuff I tell you.
My husband and son dream of one day participating on Survivor, and they would probably win. They’re made of much tougher stuff than I am…much tougher, trust me. As much as I adore the show, I can’t help but wonder where those poor people go to the bathroom, and what do they do if they get a terrible case of heartburn? For real…do they suffer alone in the wilderness? So not for me.
If I had to choose, if someone twisted my arm until I was forced to pick a reality show to appear on, it would have to be Dancing With the Stars. Or Duck Dynasty. Either way, I’d be covered in feathers!
“Spring is coming, spring is coming. How do you think I know? I saw a pretty daffodil. I know it must be so…”
Spring is trying to arrive in southern Tennessee. The first visions of daffodils (buttercups is my preferred name for them), brilliant blue skies, and the fluttering of robin’s wings are easing into our landscape. Winter has held on tight this year, but even as it grips with freezing nights, stubborn signs of spring keep sprouting around us.
Red-breasted robins fluttered in the front yard this sunny afternoon. Folklore states that if you…
“Make a wish
on the first robin you see in spring, it will come true – if you can finish
making the wish before the robin flies away.”
I’m craving color…greens of every shade, pinks and lavender, sunny yellows. The first signs of new growth are whispers that it is all on its way.
We hear through the filter that has shaped our lives. Maybe what we hear is not what was really said.
What do you really hear when people speak to you? Do you hear their intent, what they really meant to say, or do you hear something entirely different?
My family went through a tragic event two years ago, and it wasn’t until I heard the words above did I put two and two together. It wasn’t until someone voiced what actually occurs in my life every day, did I realize that I live with filters on my hearing. Everything I hear passes through the filter of that event even though we’re two years, three months out. Everything I hear somehow, some way relates back to that moment even though most of what I hear has absolutely nothing to do with it.
I just read Gone Girl by Gillian Flynn , and I met two characters not really hearing and absolutely not really knowing. So much of the book is a farce, a lie between a man and a woman. Constant lies, constant filtering of words. The female character chooses that lie in the end… until her husband slips…until the truth slips free (and we’re left wondering what her retaliation will be for that one moment of honesty). She heard the truth. No filter of pretense, no filter of lies. Intriguing book to say the least!
What do you hear through? What influence or snippet of time sits in your brain, filtering your thoughts? And now that you realize the filter exists, will you continue to hear through it? Or do we even have a choice?