3rd May 11
Yemi has a new obsession. I really had nothing to do with it, but I’m totally thrilled about it. She has decided to take up painting. We’ve been doing quite a bit of it lately. Her medium seems to be acrylics and a TON of glitter. (Don’t worry I’ll post some of our work here soon.) We clear the kitchen table and get out the paints and canvases and go to town. It truly is a highlight of my day as well as hers. But I have come up against a wall lately. I’m not sure if the concept is just confusing, or if I’m not explaining it well, OR if already at the age of 3 and one half years our brain has begun to try and convince us that we aren’t creative. You see Yemi wants to follow a set on standards when she paints. I keep stressing to her that “there are no rules.” “You can do whatever you want. There is no wrong way to do this.” It doesn’t seem to be connecting though. Don’t get me wrong she is incredibly creative, she paints with obvious intent and purpose, I just hope she doesn’t feel like the way I paint is the way she should paint. Basically I just want her to paint like she dances…like no one is watching. But if she is going to simulate someones style I suppose she could do worse than the abstract expressionists.
12th February 11
Emily and I decided we were going to pick words for the year of 2011. Words that would, we hoped, exemplify the growth we would see in ourselves through the year. As I thought about where I wanted to focus my energies this year I settled on steadfastness. I have recently come to the unsettling realization that I am made of very little resolve. I am great in spurts, but as soon as adversity sets in I tend to bail, or at the very least back off on my level of interest.
As with most of our flaws, this really shows itself in my parenting. I can be patient with Yemi, but for only so long. I comfort her when she needs it, but really how much comforting can one person need. I can answer her questions, unless she keeps asking it. What is it about me that tires so quickly. Where is my perseverance? Where is my steadfastness?
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When most people think of Ethiopia they think of 1 of 2 things. If you are my age or older the first thing that probably comes to mind is the famine of the 1980s that crushed and debilitated the country, a famine that was so intense and crippling that we are still talking about it today. If you are younger than me, a runner, or just a fanatical devotee of all things Olympic the image the word Ethiopia stirs is the picture above. Ethiopia is a proud nation of runners. Not Usain Bolt, let-me-run –fast-for-10-second-runners….Serious runners. A nation full of people that think nothing of running 26.2 miles. A nation where the national record for marathon times is more often than not the world record. What is that about? I suppose it’s about steadfastness.
I’m not going to run a marathon. I don’t want to. But I do realize that more of life is a marathon than a sprint. How will I train my mind, soul and body for the long term? How can I beat my body to win the race? Not a race that last 10 seconds, but a race that lasts 10, 20 or even 50 more years. How can I learn to be more Ethiopian than Jamaican? Steadfastness I suppose, but how long is that going to take?
2nd January 11
I wasn’t really sure about Santa Clause. I’m still not totally sure. Not because I don’t want to lie to my daughter, not because I fear the day when I have to break the bad news, not even because the whole stranger-coming-down-the-chimney-thing is a little creepy. Mostly I just don’t know what I’m conveying to Yemi about the day of Christmas. I don’t want her to think the day is about presents, because it isn’t. I don’t want her to think it’s about candy, because it isn’t. I don’t want her to think it is about trees, carols, snowmen, the list goes on and on…because it isn’t. I want her to know it is about Jesus and his birth, because it is. So I spent the weeks leading up to Christmas not really sure how I would handle to overwhelming amount of sugar she would consume, attention she would receive, and gifts she would open. Then as with most things, when I relaxed, clarity showed up. As I sat in one of several living rooms watching Yemi open gifts, I saw the look of pure joy that came over her face and I was met with a realization. Christmas has become overly commercial, it has lost its meaning to most people, but Yemi doesn’t know that. She knows that on this one day she woke up, got out of bed and was showered with a pile of gifts that she didn’t deserve more than anyone else deserves them. That’s when it started to make sense. Maybe I should spend less time worrying about how my three year old is processing the rampant commercialism of Jesus’ birth and spend more time reflecting on the undeserved gift I was given through Jesus’ birth. Maybe I wouldn’t be so worried about Christmas if I had the same sort of joy that Yemi does.
15th November 10
[Flash 10 is required to watch video]
This is the adoption video mentioned in the previous blog post.
15th November 10
I made a video for Second Mile last night that just presented statistics about orphans in the world today. Maybe I’ll post the video here later, but until then you’ll just have to pretend you saw it. The basic point of the video was that there are currently about 143,000,000 orphans in the world, and the number is growing daily. Beyond that sobering statistic the real “meat” of this discussion is “what can we do?” Not just about orphans, but about children becoming orphans. I don’t know if that makes any sense, but in my jumbled way of thinking it does. For me it boils down to this…I love Yemi, I am infinitely grateful that she is our daughter, and that God decided to put her in our lives. By adopting her we changed a statistic. We turned 143,000,000 into 142,999,999. That is awesome, it’s amazing, it has changed my life forever, and I pray that it has changed hers as well. The question is — what has it done to stop the number from growing? What have I done to change the problems that create orphans in the first place? How can I not only provide a home for a child (hopefully children) who needs a mommy and daddy, but also support mommies and daddies everywhere to be able to keep their babies and provide them what they need? How can I help educate men and women so that we can reduce the number of AIDS orphans? How can I teach people love and understanding so that children do not lose their parents to war? How can I show people that opening your home to a child that might otherwise be without hope is not just for those that are “comfortable in life,” but maybe it is for those who seek to not be comfortable in the first place. I don’t have the answers, but I am still looking…and to be honest I’ve never been one to wait until I understood something before I tackle it. So here we come 142,999,998; 142,999,997; 142,999,996………….
15th September 10
Or…
It doesn’t really seem like that big of a deal, right?
Well, you try and teach the concept to a toddler. It isn’t easy, in fact it’s nearly impossible. Somehow, however, Yemi was getting close. As our “post test” I gave Yemi a quick quiz to see which person out of 2 similarly named people she like the best. Here are the results.
Yemi liked….
Paul McCartney not Paul Simon
Napoleon Dynamite over Napoleon Bonaparte
Neil Young better than Neil Diamond
She prefers the Wipeout commentary of John Henson instead of John Anderson
The no-brainer of the night went to Big Bird over the “Big Show”
In an upset Harry Hamlin won out over Harry Connick Jr.
And… sparing us a family crisis, and a very long discussion…
John Lennon narrowly eeked out a win over John Wilkes Booth
4th September 10
September 2, 2007.
They say it’s your birthday. In our scenario the “they” is a doctor. I’m not exactly what they use to determine your birthday, but I assume it has something to do with your teeth, or bones, or something far more complicated that only makes sense to medical professionals. Whatever criteria they used, September 2, 2007 seemed like a good day.
It seems like a good day to me as well. At first it really bothered me that we didn’t “know” Yemi’s birthday for sure. Kids in America know their birthdays. It is a really important thing here. I’ve never known anyone that didn’t know what day they were born. Most people know what time they were born. With Yemi it isn’t that simple. Who knows, the date she was given could be months off, it could be the exact day, we really don’t know. Her grandfather wasn’t even adopted and he didn’t know his birthday. I just don’t think it is as important in Ethiopia as it is here, and I’m okay with that. Deep down I wish I knew her birthday for sure, but ultimately it isn’t that important. We picked a day and we are going to celebrate it with all the vigor we can muster. Each year when September 2nd rolls around we will party. We’ll party like there is no chance that she was born any other day, like we have conclusive proof that she was born on the 2nd, like we were present for the delivery.
But…what is September 2nd going to mean to Yemi in the future. This is where my brain begins to run wild with worry and confusion.
I read a book when we were going through the adoption process. The book was interviews with children who had been adopted and were now between 14 and 25 years old. There stories were all different. Some tragic, some full of hope. There were international adoptions, foster-to-adopts, and even some intra-family adoptions. The stories could not have been more different, but, they all shared one similarity. Each of the interviewees mentioned that no matter how much they thought of their biological mother throughout the year, they were overwhelmed with thoughts of her on their birthday. They mentioned several reasons but the predominant reason was fear and doubt. They were wondering if their biological mother remembered it was their birthday. If they even cared.
There is no easy way to deal with these questions, but, I’m sure they will come up.
I don’t have any idea how I will answer Yemi. I’m sure it won’t satisfy all of her doubts or worries. I have found the answers for myself however. Yemi is an amazing child, and I choose to believe that her biological mother remembers her. I choose to believe she loved her and that she wanted the best for her. I choose to believe that each year when her birthday comes up on the calender that her biological mother remebers, and wonders what Yemi is doing. I choose to believe her biological mother celebrates her birthday, even if it isn’t September 2nd.
But I choose to believe it is.
2nd September 10
Today was Yemi’s birthday. So, we tried to cram as many things as possible that she loves into the day. We started with Chick-fil-a, saw some friends, Grandma came to visit, ate a burrito, had some gelato, and got some percussion instruments. It was a day for the ages.
23rd August 10
I’d say the thing that is most amazing to me about the adoption process would have to be the amazing amount of control that God is exercising throughout. I could write pages upon pages on how remarkable it is that God is weaving the tales of people on continents separated not only by thousands of geographic miles, but also millions of cultural and philosophical miles. I could write those pages, and someday soon I will, but first I want to dwell on a simpler realization I have had lately…
Yemi is perfect for us.
Not in a, we would love any child that came into our home sort of way, but in a this child is ideally designed to spend her life with us. I was told before we went to get Yemi that I would soon understand how uniquely designed she would be for us. I can honestly say that I wasn’t exactly sure how true that was going to be. It was true, ridiculously true, more true than I could have ever imagined.
I always imagined I would love her. I always believed we would have fun together. I even hoped that maybe she would find some of the things I enjoy entertaining, but if I’m honest, I probably wasn’t to optimistic that it would turn out that way. I was wrong…in a a big way.
If you boiled me down to just a few things I hope what you’d find was Jesus, Music, Art, and a willingness to push the limits. If you watch Yemi for a day, those are the things you will see in her. She obviously hasn’t made a choice to follow Jesus, but I pray continually that she will. From that point, however, the similarities get downright silly (or as Yemi would say See-yee.) The girl’s got more rhythm than most adults I know. She can keep the beat better than some of the kids I student taught. For the love of Pete…the other day we were listening to a record and she was shaking her bottom to the bass drum. This is sort of impressive for any soon-to-be 3 year old, but the Bass drum was thumping out a hemiola, and she was dead on. There were people in my COLLEGE orchestra that couldn’t do that. Not to mention she’s got an eye for color. That’s not to say that she has the same ideas about color theory as I may, but you can tell she’s thinking about it. I love that she is thinking about it. What more could I ask for?
Well, maybe I could ask for one more thing. If only my Yemi could love letter forms as much as I do…
Check!
Turns out, she is really into letters, and how to make them. The picture above is what Yemi and I did last Friday night. Emily had a party to attend, and Yemi needed an unexpected bath. So, we did a 30 minute lesson on the basics of typography. Yemi would yell out letter, and I would draw them each in a different typeface. If she didn’t like it, we’d try again. We got 9 that we felt pretty good about, so we left them up after bath-time was over.
Lesson number 2: leading and kerning!
I can’t wait for the next bath.
17th August 10
I tend to struggle with the idea of greatness. I am sort of wired to be really good at a wide spectrum of things, but not specifically great at any of them. This bothers me. More accurately I should say that it has bothered me since I can remember, but I am very slowly learning to overcome the frustration and embrace who God made me to be. I’m sure there are people that are amazingly talented at one thing, and they wish they could wear a bunch of different hats. I happen to have those hats in my collection and I should really learn to appreciate it.
The frustration is starting to subside. I wish I could say that it was due to my diligence in prayer, or my dedication to contentedness, or even just my discipline.
I can’t.
Not even a tiny bit.
It’s all in seeing Yemi react to me, and seeing myself interact with her. Being a “jack of all trades” is great as a parent. I can do all sorts of things really well. Maybe not great, but Yemi could care less about great. She is far more interested in effort, or to be more blunt she is just interested in having fun.
Fun doesn’t require greatness.
So the next time I start to feel like a failure I guess I’ll just go grab Yemi and play guitar, or mandolin, or piano with her. Or maybe we can build some puppets, or paint, or pretend to be pirates. Maybe we’ll build necklaces together, or draw doggies on the magnadoodle, or shoot straw wrappers, or cook fish, or dance, or bake bread, or take pictures of each other.
See, I could focus on being great at reading bed-time stories. I may even be able to be one of the best bed time story readers of all time…
but then who’s going to make the felt mustaches and eye patches.
