It may not be a real word but it sure describes how I’m feeling right now. It’s actually been a “hmmmm” kind of week or so. I’ve not been sad, just really reflective and well…..in a word, hmmmmmmm. I don’t have any answers as to why, even though Blake tried as hard as me to figure that one out. He even sent me these to cheer me up!
Little things mean a lot.

Then there’s the mischievous hmmmmmm. This is the one my kids have mastered. Like this look:
This look reminds me how on my toes I need to be all the time. *wink*

No wonder this has been one of my most favorite recent messages:

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I’ve had reason to reflect lately on the difference between knowing what you think and thinking what you know.

A tongue twister and brain bender to be sure, but it’s really not that hard a concept to grasp. Most of us think what we know, we don’t actually know it. I say this because most of the information we absorb isn’t neutral fact, but rather disputed opinions and beliefs. I’m sure this is where the wisdom came from the concept of “taking it with a grain of salt” which to me always meant remembering that there’s room for error.

In no arena does my tolerance, or lack of, for this problem reach boiling point faster than in the social realm. It seems that some people have so much time and energy to waste that their entire existence appears to circle around the discussion of things they think they know about others. Perhaps this is the real definition of gossip. It may not always be intended to slander another or scar their reputation or name but the result is inevitable. It is the very spirit of rumor and mischief, of discord and strife.

Have you ever paused to listen to the way so many people speak today? Listen closely and I’ll bet you’ll hear what I hear. The absolute resolution in their voice is unmistakable. They often speak as if they were not only there when the event unfolded they are discussing, but they take on a film director’s role, doing all they can to ensure the proper level of emotion and interpretation are present during their story telling. Many throw in impersonations from facial expression to voice inflection throughout the dialogue. It’s astounding. Some people must have a lot more time than me or they have found a secret, time traveling transporter allowing them to pop in all over the globe to witness these stories and events.

Equally disturbing to me is the level of absorption from the listening party who takes in every detail as pure truth. Not only do they believe it completely, but if riled with enough passion they’ll quickly assume the ranks of story teller themselves sharing the same story to a new audience. It has to be one of the greatest vices of the human race. The wake of destruction is greater than that of any Tsunami or other natural disaster, yet the only tool required for success is a sharpened tongue willing to spread the disease. I can’t imagine any other force that can so swiftly or completely spread the work of destruction.

Every story is just that - a story. It is painted by the author and thus framed by the personal interpretations and character traits of the artist. Facts are seldom presented and even when they are there is so much cloud cover to sift through that they end up distorted. You may not be able to control what others choose to share, but you have complete control over what you choose to listen to, believe, and more importantly repeat. I think there’s wisdom in taking time to determine if you think you know something or if you actually know what you think.

And in review of my blog, this is a topic of which I obviously have a strong opinion! LOL

Point of View Truths
If You’re Going To Write
What’s In a Name?

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How do I find the words to express the gratitude and love in my heart that you’ve stirred for nearly 14 years? How do I let you know how much you have given to me and to my sweet little family? Do you know you will forever be mama’s baby number one?

I can’t keep from reminiscing today. I think I need to remember all the good things to make losing you okay. Do you remember how small you were? Or how hot the asphalt was on your first walk? I remember how you couldn’t go up or down stairs because they were so much bigger than you. You fit in my hand.

It took some real work wearing down Blake to get you. He may never admit it but he’s never been sorry and he really loved you too. He even had fun playing with you, probably more than you did! And I will always remember the childless years you carried me through. Those were some long and dark times made easier by you. Only those who’ve known this heartache can truly appreciate how much you did, and it makes losing you that much harder.

I remember the ONE and only toy you ever played with. Would that the little alligator could have lasted forever. But then I feel the same way about you.

Or the first time you made the long car drive to Idaho to visit family. You were a real hit!

In your prime you could jump all the way to the top of the recliner where you’d look out the window. You could even make it up on the bed by yourself with some real effort and maybe a little help from a pillow or two.

Oh sweetie, I’m going to miss seeing you sleep soundly curled in a little ball. Not to mention the warm welcome you were always waiting at the door with whenever someone came through it.

And I’m going to miss the pitter patter of those little feet, the snorts in the background and even the snoring. It’s going to be awfully quiet without you.

Shandi, you’ve been the first baby your whole life; you’ll never be displaced. As your first groomer so aptly put it, you never knew you were a dog. You just thought you were a little person with fur. You were hon, you were. From the chocolate you never should have had to the many vacations you went on. I’m going to miss you so much! My master comforter, trusted confidant and most loyal baby. Thank you for all that you’ve given. My heart will forever have a little empty space surrounding the wonderful and warm memories of you. Thank you sweetie for being you, thank you for aging so gracefully, thank you for giving all you had to all of us. We will always love you!

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Looks like those hard hours at work dad put into helping build it paid off!

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…And you eat green worms! We learned these lines as children on the playground, or at least something like them. Our parents and teachers frequently quoted lines about how it’s not a competition, not to say anything if you can’t say anything nice and do unto others as you would have done unto you. But this human trait hangs on with brute force. Too often, what was said was not shown, or at least not consistently by those mentoring adults.

This morning I’m reflecting on some recent things I’ve heard my daughter’s friends say. Mostly, they’re things of little consequence but the feeling of telling the world I’ve got the biggest stick and I’m better than you make the ugly trait clearly visible. Sometimes I hear her adding adjectives and attitude that are a mirror reflection of her friends. I know every person struggles with this balance, it still makes me sad though.

The timing is coincidental for such conversations. I’ve been reading some of the thoughts shared by the two presidential candidates now that the election is over this morning. I echo what my husband said last night when he said, “We needed to see more of that on the campaign trail.” The reality is in so many ways we continue as adults to tout those familiar lines from childhood, to raise ourselves by putting others down at least until a victory cry is determined. Then we pull an about face, put all that behind us and talk positively of the other guy. I suppose it’s at least a silver lining that this point is reached, but somehow it just doesn’t feel right to me. I’m grateful that grace paid a visit to the stage of the election, but I’m sick for the example and repeated pattern shown right up to the moment of decision, in short that she wasn’t present for the entire process. I for one was ready to have the entire election over before it began, let alone after a few weeks or months of it. I have no stomach for it.

How can we really teach our kids to speak kindly, not be judgmental and walk a higher road if we ourselves aren’t willing to do the same? It cannot be a lesson of do as I say, not as I do. Example always speaks louder than words. The wording may have changed, perhaps even grown smoother over time, but the underlying beast of competitive meanness remains.

I don’t want to have it said of me one day that it was nice to finally have grace enter the stage of my life and interactions with others but it would have been nicer to have had more of it all along the way. I don’t want my kids to hear me spout off the rules of compassion and social interaction only to ignore them with my example. At the end of the day, does it really matter who’s dad is bigger or what someone else eats?

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It’s hard to believe that it can be 5 years ago. So much of it seems like it’s only been a few months. The words of my Great-Aunt, Letha Wilcox ring in my head, “And it came to pass, not to stay.”

I was living in Idaho on that fateful day terrorists attacked. We had just returned home from a trip to New York City a few months previous. On that trip we took the elevator to the 110th story of the south tower to the observation deck. It was like nothing I’d ever seen. It was amazing. Although we didn’t know it at the time, our timing was impeccable. There were no clouds to distort our view, no long lines to reach the top – nothing but clear skies and skyscrapers as far as the eye could see. It was a once in a lifetime experience -an experience on the brink of extinction, though no one would ever have dreamed that possible.

It was frustrating being surrounded by so many natives to our rural Idaho community. They had no ties, connections or experiences with NYC. To them this was just a sad thing. I couldn’t share with them how tragic it was, how majestic that city is or amazing those towers were because they’d never experienced it. Experience is the only true teacher. So my husband and I sat glued to the TV for half the day watching things unfold. It was as if the entire world had grown quiet and time had become suspended for those first few hours after the initial attack. The shock and horror were almost tangible.

At a personal level, the images I saw on my screen struck a deep and resounding chord in my heart. I was recovering from a three month illness that came without warning and with a vengeance. It started with a trip to the ER and few days at the hospital. It grew into daily visits to the doctor, hundreds of tests, trips to the University of Utah to be seen by specialists and a full month of rehabilitation in physical therapy. No one knew what it was. I spent nearly three months wondering if tomorrow would come or if I’d be able to walk again. Now the lives of so many were experiencing so many of the same horrible emotions and uncertainty.

Grief and devastation ran rampant over the next 24 hours. It paralleled so closely my own personal circumstances. I was still reeling when my husband dropped the next big bombshell the very next day. All of his outsourced, out of state contracts decided to invoke force majeure. Although his portions of the contracts were fulfilled, he would now never see the full dues agreed upon for his services. In the height of our greatest financial distress with all my medical bills, (self employment insurance stinks!) we now had no income. In an instant everything changed. Security was replaced with doubt, peace with fear.

I replayed the scenes in my mind of the towers crashing to the ground. They symbolized exactly how things felt in my own life. I wondered if we could ever possibly recover from the devastation and ruin that surrounded us.

Six months later a job was finally secured in another state. The rebuilding was long and hard. There were days when I would sit in tears praying for miracles. And days when I’d sit in tears because miracles came. Bankruptcy was never an option and I found great satisfaction knowing that we survived two of the top three reasons most common to this plight: major medical bills, loss of income and divorce. In the end, the words of my Great Aunt rang true: “And it came to pass, not to stay.”

It has come to pass, but I will never forget. And neither will millions of other Americans who united in hope and rebuilding after that tragic day. They say what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger. They’re right.

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I was just at my car loading groceries this morning when a car pulled up behind me. The man driving was apologetic for disturbing my morning but was in need of help paying his power bill as his payday wasn’t until the 8th. He held out his power ‘pay in advance’ card for me to see but it wasn’t necessary. I could hear the desperation in his voice and see it in his eyes as he described his power being turned off that morning. Visions from the movie “The Pursuit of Happyness” flooded my mind. I could see a small family at home with no A/C, no lights and no refrigerator. I told him I rarely carried cash but he was welcome to whatever I may have. I was so grateful to have something in my wallet. It was less than $10.00 but it was something; his gratitude was overwhelming. I just wished it could have been more. I wished him the best and he drove away.

I spent the drive home thinking about all the people who struggle to make ends meet every day. Those that fall short on funds to pay a power bill by three or four days before pay day. I thought about how fun it would be to call up the power company, tell them to pick five residential customers who were in line for getting their power cut and anonymously filling their account for another month. I thought of the concept of random acts of kindness and how important they are. I even thought about starting a blog or other publication about it - something that shared little acts of kindness shown around the world. It seems like the news is so full of all the terrible things that it’s no wonder so many are guarded with more than their wallets these days.

There are many who would call me a fool. A fool for sharing my substance with one who asked. After all, how can you ever be really sure they are honest or aren’t going to misuse your generosity? To those, I simply say so what if they do. They have a need, I have the ability to give them something. Who am I to judge the validity of a hand asking for help? I know what it’s like to go through hard times, to pray for a break. In short, a simple helping hand once and a while. Today I am thinking I need to stash a $50 bill in my car or wallet just for such occasions. I was actually kicking myself as I began driving home that I didn’t march the gentleman back inside the store to the bank inside and help him put at least a couple week’s worth of power on his card. Next time, I’ll be better prepared.

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It’s been eight years ago today that my husband and I officially launched our adoption website: HopeToAdopt I’d been chatting in adoption chat rooms for a few months and became aware of a growing need for waiting families to have reasonable options for creating online profiles. A few websites were offering the service, but as web developers and adoptive parents were unhappy with the high prices being charged for the minimal effort of an “online birthparent letter” so we created HopeToAdopt.com. My husband wrote the program that automated building a 5 page website by answering questions and making selections. I designed the main site and several personalized themes for families to choose from. While other sites were charging $400 for six months for a two page letter we launched our site giving families their own 5 page site, a personal site address and access to personal site stats for $39 a year. I had two dreams with the creation of HopeToAdopt, both of which happened within the first year: 1) I hoped at least one family would be formed with the help of their H2A profile, 2) I secretly hoped our daughter’s birthmother might find us.

I’ll never forget the first notification that a placement happened. It was an e-mail from a former online friend who had been deeply discouraged with adoption and online efforts after a recent scam. It was early January, 2001 and the e-mail stated that she thought I’d like to know they’d just brought their son home and that his birthmother found them on HopeToAdopt.com! I just started to cry. I was so happy for her, even more so because of her recent heartbreaks with online adoption efforts and I was so overjoyed to have played some small part in her success. It felt wonderful to give something back to the world of adoption that had given me so much. Within a few weeks I received word of two more families whose profiles played a role in their matches and successful placements. I knew if nothing else happened and the site went away that day I’d be happy and satisfied, but there was more in store.

In June of 2001 I would receive an e-mail from our daughter’s birthmother. It brought into view a door of reuniting and opening our adoption. A few months later we all met again. Cidnie was almost 4 years old then and to watch her run into Monica’s arms with the biggest hug reduced me to a teary mess. It was an incredible moment. However, the crowning moment would come that November when we were present at her wedding. My dreams were not only realized, they were bigger and better than I could have imagined.

Today, eight years later our site is adapting to the many changes of the Internet. Today marks the day we are no longer creating/accepting new profiles on our website. One year from now there will be no more HopeToAdopt.com profiles. The service simply isn’t required anymore, blogging is the new medium for personal websites and it’s free. I’m grateful for the run we had. We turned down offers to buy our website and the two of us have run it successfully for these eight years. Other websites and agencies copied what we did, which tells me we did something right. *wink* And we did it all while proving it could be done for a fraction of the cost of others. While we’re working on a continuation of beneficial online adoption services, the reality that today marks a big milestone is ever present in my mind. It’s a sign of growth, a sign of change, a sign of progression while at the same time marking the end of something that’s been very near and dear to my heart. It’s truly bittersweet.

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