The following are the words of the Native American Elder, Oriah Mountain Dreamer. Sometimes, the words of another better describe your own feelings than your own words ever could. So this elder's words demonstrate how I feel...
The Invitation
It doesn't interest me what you do for a living. I want to know what you ache for, and if you dare to dream of meeting in your heart's longing.
It doesn't interest me how old you are. I want to know if you will risk looking like a fool for love, for your dreams, for the adventure of being alive.
It doesn't interest me what planets are squaring your moon. I want to know if you have touched the center of your own sorrow, if you have been opened by life's betrayals or have become shriveled and closed from fear of further pain. I want to know if you can sit in pain, mine or your own, without moving to hide it or fade it or fix it.
I want to know if you can be with joy, mine or your own,if you can dance with wildness and let the ecstasy fill you to the tip of your fingers and toes without cautioning us to be careful, be realistic, or to remember the limitations of being human.
It doesn't interest me if the story you're telling me is true. I want to know if you can disappoint another to be true to yourself; if you can bear the accusation of betrayal and not betray your own soul.
I want to know if you can be faithful and therefore be trustworthy.
I want to know if you can see beauty even when it is not pretty every day, and if you can source your life from God's presence.
I want to know if you can live with failure, yours and mine, and still stand on the edge of a lake and shout to the silver of the full moon, "Yes!"
It doesn't interest me to know where you live or how much money you have. I want to know if you can get up after the night of grief and despair, weary and bruised to the bone, and do what needs to be done for the children.
It doesn't interest me who you are, how you came to be here. I want to know if you will stand in the center of the fire with me and not shrink back.
It doesn't interest me where or what or with whom you have studied. I want to know what sustains you from the inside when all else falls away. I want to know if you can be alone with yourself, and if you truly like the company you keep in the empty moments.
Thursday, October 27, 2005
Tuesday, October 25, 2005
A Journey to the Beginning...
No matter the circumstance or situation or the life into which you are thrust, an adopted child always wonders. You wonder about your beginning. How did you come to be? Perhaps your beginning was sweet and innocent. Perhaps it was violent, or painful or poverty-stricken. No matter. An adopted child always wonders.
Even if you end up living a charmed life, a life in which you wanted for nothing, you were showered with love and you had the best life had to offer… an adopted child always wonders. You wonder what is missing. Not that you feel a void of any kind but you wonder what your other life had or didn’t have. You wonder why it is that God chose to pluck you from the previous option and drop you into your current family. And you wonder why all of the people who were there for your beginning allowed God to choose you, to pluck you out and to drop you in the arms of strangers. Even when life is good, an adopted child always wonders.
For each of us the topic of our wondering varies. And in different life stages, the topic of our wondering changes. At times the wondering just involves stuff and in other moments you wonder about the character of the people who gave you up. Would I have MORE or LESS if I grew up in that other family? Would my parents be nicer or stricter or more generous with their time? Most often, for me I wondered whom I look like? Do I look like them? Why am I so fat? Why do my eyes change color when I am sad or worried? As you get older, the wondering turns toward medical issues. Is there a history of x, y or z in my birth family? Do they die young? Do they age well?
At 6 weeks old, my mom and dad held me for the first time. And I left behind all of the information and the history that causes my wondering today. My family is amazing. I can’t imagine growing up in any other circumstances. I am who I am because of my family and my circumstance and my situation. Often, I think that I needed to grow up in this family to become accepting of the differences in the people around me because, quite frankly, I am very different from the rest of my relatives. My life has not been easy and it is certainly not charmed. But, I wouldn’t even trade the hard times. I believe God knew where I needed to grow up to become the woman I am today.
All that said, I still wonder.
Thirteen years ago, my birthmother expressed an interest in meeting me. And I said no. Today, I will learn her name for the first time. And I will be given the opportunity to meet her in the next few weeks. I will take a journey back to my beginning.
And all the wondering will stop.
Even if you end up living a charmed life, a life in which you wanted for nothing, you were showered with love and you had the best life had to offer… an adopted child always wonders. You wonder what is missing. Not that you feel a void of any kind but you wonder what your other life had or didn’t have. You wonder why it is that God chose to pluck you from the previous option and drop you into your current family. And you wonder why all of the people who were there for your beginning allowed God to choose you, to pluck you out and to drop you in the arms of strangers. Even when life is good, an adopted child always wonders.
For each of us the topic of our wondering varies. And in different life stages, the topic of our wondering changes. At times the wondering just involves stuff and in other moments you wonder about the character of the people who gave you up. Would I have MORE or LESS if I grew up in that other family? Would my parents be nicer or stricter or more generous with their time? Most often, for me I wondered whom I look like? Do I look like them? Why am I so fat? Why do my eyes change color when I am sad or worried? As you get older, the wondering turns toward medical issues. Is there a history of x, y or z in my birth family? Do they die young? Do they age well?
At 6 weeks old, my mom and dad held me for the first time. And I left behind all of the information and the history that causes my wondering today. My family is amazing. I can’t imagine growing up in any other circumstances. I am who I am because of my family and my circumstance and my situation. Often, I think that I needed to grow up in this family to become accepting of the differences in the people around me because, quite frankly, I am very different from the rest of my relatives. My life has not been easy and it is certainly not charmed. But, I wouldn’t even trade the hard times. I believe God knew where I needed to grow up to become the woman I am today.
All that said, I still wonder.
Thirteen years ago, my birthmother expressed an interest in meeting me. And I said no. Today, I will learn her name for the first time. And I will be given the opportunity to meet her in the next few weeks. I will take a journey back to my beginning.
And all the wondering will stop.
Thursday, October 20, 2005
The End of an Era
As the final strike was called and the flash of thousands of cameras lit up the stadium, the St. Louis Cardinals run at a World Series Championship came to an abrupt halt on Wednesday night, October 19th, 2005. That single instance also symbolized the end of the life of Busch Stadium as well as the closing of a long and eventful chapter of my life.
Bundled in my warmest coat with hat and gloves in tow, I remember grabbing hold of my dad's hand and maneuvering the crowds at Busch Stadium as a little girl. Every now and then we braved the cold weather and the rowdy crowds at a St. Louis Cardinals football game. So it was at a very early age that my relationship with Busch Stadium began.
But it is not my relationship with the building that resides closest to my heart. It is the relationships developed within that building and the evolution of relationships over this period of time that touch me deeply and resonate in my mind as this era ends.
Seven years ago, I began attending St. Louis Cardinal baseball games regularly with my closest friends. Over the first couple of years, on our seating tour of Busch, we sat high and low, in the outfield and the infield. Eventually, we found friends in the right field bleachers. And within a couple of years, two of us became season ticket holders.
We spent the next five years cultivating relationships with other Cardinal fans. They started with a beer at the game or a tailgate party or a few drinks on a Friday night. We traveled together, shared our families and friends with one another, celebrated birthdays and births and the other joys of life. And in turn, we shouldered sorrows for one another, bore the burdens of our baseball-loving friends and shared the pains of life. Traditions formed in our corner of Busch stadium. No standing in the 9th inning, for example, until there are 2 outs and 2 strikes. Standing before then was bound to encourage a batter to walk or knock a base hit up the middle. And only entering the women's restroom through the OUT door. Silly perhaps, but tradition nonetheless... After long road trips or even a winter without ball games, the thought of gathering once again in section 509 was exciting. I couldn't wait to see who was back, to meet the new people and to begin another year.
Over the course of those relationships and the last five years at Busch, life goes on outside as well. But because we are there so often, our worlds tend to collide. In this time, I've started a new job twice, moved once, bought two cars and started a small painting business. I've ended two relationships, lost a child, and gained a brother-in-law and a nephew. I've said goodbye to an aunt who I knew for a relatively short while and an uncle, my Godfather, whom I loved dearly. Two of my best friends married each other and I became a Godmother two more times. That's just a snippet of my journey to this point. And at one moment or another, each of these experiences spilled over into my life as a Cardinal season ticket holder at Busch Stadium.
The collision of worlds brings you closer to the ones you spend so much time with in the seats. The collision of the worlds makes you feel closer to the players on your team, whether it's because they are dealing with the same issues as you or just because you are acutely aware that somewhere, they've got life outside of Busch as well.
I remember when Darryl Kile died. I was touring Graceland in Memphis with three friends when I got the call. Emotions overwhelmed me. The rest of the weekend was spent worrying how his family and his team was handling the loss and wondering what we could do to make it better. Soon after I sat in Busch stadium twice on sunny afternoons bidding farewell to fallen Cardinals, Darryl Kile and Jack Buck. The intensity of the emotion came not just because of the sudden loss or the fact that I was a fan. It came because I had allowed my life into Busch and the world of Busch into my life.
So while the relationships, for the most part, will not end when the last bit of Busch comes crashing to the ground and the memories will not be hauled away... As this season comes to a close and this era comes to an end, so I turn the page on this chapter of my life.
What a rush of emotions! And the fear that follows... What's next? Another year. The possibilities are endless. I hope the next chapter causes this book to bulge at the seams.
Bundled in my warmest coat with hat and gloves in tow, I remember grabbing hold of my dad's hand and maneuvering the crowds at Busch Stadium as a little girl. Every now and then we braved the cold weather and the rowdy crowds at a St. Louis Cardinals football game. So it was at a very early age that my relationship with Busch Stadium began.
But it is not my relationship with the building that resides closest to my heart. It is the relationships developed within that building and the evolution of relationships over this period of time that touch me deeply and resonate in my mind as this era ends.
Seven years ago, I began attending St. Louis Cardinal baseball games regularly with my closest friends. Over the first couple of years, on our seating tour of Busch, we sat high and low, in the outfield and the infield. Eventually, we found friends in the right field bleachers. And within a couple of years, two of us became season ticket holders.
We spent the next five years cultivating relationships with other Cardinal fans. They started with a beer at the game or a tailgate party or a few drinks on a Friday night. We traveled together, shared our families and friends with one another, celebrated birthdays and births and the other joys of life. And in turn, we shouldered sorrows for one another, bore the burdens of our baseball-loving friends and shared the pains of life. Traditions formed in our corner of Busch stadium. No standing in the 9th inning, for example, until there are 2 outs and 2 strikes. Standing before then was bound to encourage a batter to walk or knock a base hit up the middle. And only entering the women's restroom through the OUT door. Silly perhaps, but tradition nonetheless... After long road trips or even a winter without ball games, the thought of gathering once again in section 509 was exciting. I couldn't wait to see who was back, to meet the new people and to begin another year.
Over the course of those relationships and the last five years at Busch, life goes on outside as well. But because we are there so often, our worlds tend to collide. In this time, I've started a new job twice, moved once, bought two cars and started a small painting business. I've ended two relationships, lost a child, and gained a brother-in-law and a nephew. I've said goodbye to an aunt who I knew for a relatively short while and an uncle, my Godfather, whom I loved dearly. Two of my best friends married each other and I became a Godmother two more times. That's just a snippet of my journey to this point. And at one moment or another, each of these experiences spilled over into my life as a Cardinal season ticket holder at Busch Stadium.
The collision of worlds brings you closer to the ones you spend so much time with in the seats. The collision of the worlds makes you feel closer to the players on your team, whether it's because they are dealing with the same issues as you or just because you are acutely aware that somewhere, they've got life outside of Busch as well.
I remember when Darryl Kile died. I was touring Graceland in Memphis with three friends when I got the call. Emotions overwhelmed me. The rest of the weekend was spent worrying how his family and his team was handling the loss and wondering what we could do to make it better. Soon after I sat in Busch stadium twice on sunny afternoons bidding farewell to fallen Cardinals, Darryl Kile and Jack Buck. The intensity of the emotion came not just because of the sudden loss or the fact that I was a fan. It came because I had allowed my life into Busch and the world of Busch into my life.
So while the relationships, for the most part, will not end when the last bit of Busch comes crashing to the ground and the memories will not be hauled away... As this season comes to a close and this era comes to an end, so I turn the page on this chapter of my life.
What a rush of emotions! And the fear that follows... What's next? Another year. The possibilities are endless. I hope the next chapter causes this book to bulge at the seams.
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