10 cents a word

Interruption

noreply@blogger.com (Wordy girl) — Mon, 23 Nov 2009 22:04:00 +0000

It's 4 p.m. I have 30 minutes until I can start cooking dinner. Vivine is watching Finding Nemo (don't ask how many times this makes today), and I am trying desperately to stay awake. Today was my first day as a stay-at-home-mom. We didn't really stay at home, though. We went to Target this morning to get "a few things," which turned into a huge basketful of crap. I tend to spend a lot more money when Vivine goes shopping with me. I think it's because I'm moving so slow. I really think the key to being a good mother to a 4-year-old is to never be in a hurry. I can keep my patience, as long as I have nowhere else I need to be anytime soon.

One of the things we had to get at Target was a sponsor gift for our new sponsee-child at House of Hope. I let Vivine pick out a Polly Pocket doll for our sponsee, whom she knows well. It took about 20 minutes. Very important decision, I guess. Part of the problem was that they put all the expensive plastic junk at her eye level, with the affordable plastic junk...

Time out. This post was interrupted when Vivine came up to me and told me that she was peeing in her pants. Not that she HAD peed in her pants, nor that she WAS ABOUT to pee in her pants, but that she was peeing in her pants AT THAT VERY MOMENT. At least she is honest. I had to get her to stop peeing, change her clothes, go outside and play with her, cook dinner, eat, talk on the phone to mom, put Vivine to bed, eat more food (because I never eat enough during the actual dinner - too busy trying to keep her from spraying food everywhere) and, lo and behold, sit down and finish this blog post. It is 8:45 p.m. I'm freakin' exhausted and going to bed now. But it is a thankful tired.

Invitation

noreply@blogger.com (Wordy girl) — Sat, 21 Nov 2009 23:36:00 +0000

Affirmation of baptism for Vivine Langdon
8 a.m., Nov. 29, 2009
At our church

Everyone's invited to worship that morning and to stay for treats afterward. If you need more info, just e-mail me.

PS: In other exciting news, we got Vivine's social security card in the mail today. Now she can finally get a job!

A story and photos

noreply@blogger.com (Wordy girl) — Sat, 21 Nov 2009 02:22:00 +0000

Lots of people ask how Vivine's English is coming. The truth is, I don't really know. We speak mostly Creole at home with her, though PC and I speak plenty of English to each other and we watch TV in English. So far, ommunication hasn't been much of an issue for us. All three of us have figured out how to get our points across without much frustration.

Every now and then, though, we have some funny moments around language. Most of them happen when I am trying to explain something to Vivine that she has never experienced. Today at about 4 p.m., a UPS guy rang the doorbell and left a package on the porch for Vivine. (Thanks, Aunt Cheryl and Uncle Ted!) Vivine heard the doorbell but didn't see the UPS guy. She was really confused, seeing as how they don't really have The Mail in Haiti. Here's how our conversation went. (Translated into English for those who don't speak Creole.)

V: What was that "doo-dooo-dooo-doo?"

Me: That was the door. That's what a person does when they're at the door.

V: (Looking perplexed) Who is it?

Me: It was a man who brought you a gift.

V: Where is he?

Me: He left in his car.

V: Is he our friend?

Me: No, he brought a gift for you from our other friends.

V: What is his name?

Me: I don't know.

V: (Looks at me funny)

Me: He is working. He goes in his car to all the houses and gives gifts to the people.

V: Where is his car?

Me: Look! Your present! Want to see what you got?

V: Yes! (End of confusing conversation.)

I guess maybe you had to be there.

And now for all of you who have been so patient, here are some of the best photos from our first two weeks.

Family portrait taken by our friend Sarah

Playing Candy Land with Papi

My best day ever - vacuuming with my daughter! Thanks, Aunt Joyce, for the mini Dyson.

Granmarie bought this present two years ago! Vivine finally got to open it.

This Fancy Nancy skirt from Kiki went to Target, Shop-N-Save and the park!

Thank you, God, for beautiful weather our first week home!

A day in the life

noreply@blogger.com (Wordy girl) — Wed, 18 Nov 2009 03:29:00 +0000

In the past two weeks, we have established a nice little routine with Vivine. She knows what to expect and even talks at night about what we will do the next day. Unfortunately, the routine leaves very little time for communicating with the outside world. I would love to post more often and put up some pictures, but it took me three days to write just this one post. I'm about to fall asleep just editing it. Enjoy this - the next one could take even longer.

Here is what a typical day with Vivine is like:

6:30 a.m. -ish: Vivine (who sleeps with us) taps me on the shoulder and says, "pee-pee." I carry her to the bathroom and back. As soon as we lie down again, she says, "go shower." We wake up PC, who goes to draw the bath.

6:30 to 7:30 a.m.: Bathe, get dressed, eat breakfast. We typically eat cereal, which Vivine calls "Corn Flakes." (We don't even have Corn Flakes, but she calls all cereal that.) I try to drink as much coffee as I can.

7:30 a.m. - 9 a.m.: Mommy and Daddy tag team on showers. I try to clean up the house. Amidst the morning chaos, Vivine always ends up watching Finding Nemo, which she calls "Video Poisson." (Poisson is French for fish.) My goal is to be dressed and showered by 9 a.m. everyday. I'll have to move the goal up by two hours when I go back to work part-time, but I'll worry about that later.

9 a.m. - 10-ish: Mommy does Vivine's hair while she watches a video. I need lots of practice, so we have been doing hair almost everyday. I hope that by the time Vivine starts school my styles will have improved so they will last a couple of days. Doing hair is honestly my favorite time of day, though. If we have time, I let her do my hair, too, which consists of her putting approximately 80 barrettes all over my head.

The rest of the morning: Go somewhere, usually to a store. Mommy and Daddy have to leave the house at least once a day or we go crazy. Vivine does pretty well out in public, though she had a hissy fit in the bathroom at the community center the other day and we had to leave immediately.

Lunch: Eat together as a family, usually at home. We tried McDonalds the other day. Vivine ate two apple slices and drank a milk jug. Eating at home seems to work better.

1 - 3 p.m. Quiet time. We play a game in Vivine's room or, if we are feeling ambitious, try to get her to take a nap. Napping is a double-edged sword. It gives us a free hour during the day, but then she doesn't go to sleep until 9 p.m. Also, Vivine is absolutely awful when she wakes up from naps. Won't talk to us, look at us, eat, pee or do anything human. She just stands against a wall and stares angrily into space for at least a half-hour.

3 - 5 p.m. Play Candy Land, watch Wonder Pets (OMG the best show ever on Nick Jr. - look it up and watch it even if you don't have kids) and cook dinner. While I cook dinner, PC and Vivine wrestle and chase each other in the basement. Giggles and screams abound.

5 - 7 p.m. Eat dinner, clean up, play Candy Land again. Vivine has to get in about eight games of Candy Land for it to be a good day.

7 p.m. Start getting ready for bed. If Vivine didn't nap, it takes about 30 minutes. If she had a nap, it takes about an hour and a half.

7:30 or 9 p.m. PC and I high-five each other on a job well done for the day. Then we plop in front of the TV for an hour until we can't keep our eyes open anymore. I usually think about blogging but just don't have the energy to lift my fingers in rapid succession. It's a good tired.

On coming to America

noreply@blogger.com (Wordy girl) — Sat, 14 Nov 2009 21:01:00 +0000

"Give me your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.
Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me,
I lift my lamp beside the golden door!"

Vivine's immigration to America began at the U.S. Embassy in Haiti. On Friday, Nov. 6, we received Vivine's Haitian passport with her immigrant visa printed inside. We also received an 8.5 x 11" manila envelope and were told to give it to the immigration officer in Miami. The embassy lady told us very clearly NOT to open the envelope.

I can't count how many times on our trip to Miami I asked PC, "Do you have the envelope? Where is it? Is it still sealed?" When we got to Miami, we had to walk about four miles to the immigration windows. (For more about the Miami airport, read my previous post.) This time, we stood in the "Visitors" line, which moves about a million times slower than the "Citizens and Residents" line where we usually go. It took 45 minutes to get to the front. Vivine waited patiently the whole time with the help of some M&Ms. The agent at the counter looked over her passport but did NOT open the envelope. He put it in a green folder and gave it to a lady who escorted us to a special room, which I will call The Hole.

The Hole had four rows of those connecting bus station chairs crammed into a space where two rows would have fit comfortably. My knees nearly touched those of the person sitting in the row opposite me. The only thing that made it bearable was that most of the 80 of us in there spoke different languages, so you felt like you got some privacy. Along a long wall of The Hole was a very tall counter with three agents all bitching about how short staffed they were and how so-and-so was taking a break for too long. They clearly had lost sight of the fact that their 75 patrons were experiencing one of the most significant moments of their lives. Here we were, all sitting there with our sealed manila envelopes, all about to go from living in one country to living in another, and all smirking at each other about the pettiness of these grouchy agents.

We waited in The Hole for about an hour and a half. Vivine had to go pee-pee about thirty minutes in, and I had to ask permission to take her. On the way back from the restroom, I realized I had left both of our passports in The Hole. I momentarily freaked - would I be let back in? I had no proof whatsoever that I was an American, that this little girl of a different race was my daughter, or that we had permission to be ANYWHERE. Fortunately, the gatekeeper of The Hole remembered us. It pays to have a cute 4-year-old who skips everywhere in a very memorable way.

Finally, an agent called Vivine's name, gave us back her passport, and sent us on our way. I was expecting something more ceremonial, at least like saying the Pledge of Allegiance or something. We didn't get so much as a "Welcome to America" brochure. AND they kept the envelope. To this day I have no idea what was in it. I should have asked one of my co-inmates in The Hole.

Unceremonious though the immigration process was, I have never felt happier to be an American. I mean, this is what we're here for, you know? Not only are we a country of fresh starts, but so few of us can claim an inheritance of the land by birth. We were all adopted by our country. I love that my family reflects the diversity and the history of our country. I can't think of a place I'd rather raise Vivine. *Cue snare drums and trumpet regalia - I know I'm being sappy, y'all - comes with the whole Mom thing.*

We are a family

noreply@blogger.com (Wordy girl) — Sun, 08 Nov 2009 20:42:00 +0000

On the way to U.S. Embassy in Haiti to apply for visa.

I know I need to post something to the blog, and I have a lot to say, but I just don't know where to start. We are home - all THREE of us. Vivine is napping in her bed. She has been asleep for almost two hours. Is that normal for a 4 year old? Should I wake her up? Is she even still breathing? Will she cry when she wakes up and I'm not in the room? Maybe I should just go in there and wait for her to awaken. Thoughts like those have been flooding my brain ever since we crossed through the security checkpoint in the Haitian airport and were on. our. own.

The trip to House of Hope was the best we have ever had. (Maybe because all we did was hang out with Vivine and the girls and not do any work. I'm not going to feel guilty for that.) We had a little scare on Friday when we went to pick up her visa. The printer was broken, and wouldn't be fixed until Monday, two days after our scheduled departure. I asked if we could wait another hour to see whether the printer could be fixed now. Lo and behold, we had the visa 20 minutes later. That's Haiti for you.

Vivine seemed to really enjoy the trip home. She slept through most of the two plane rides. In the airports, we kept her occupied with coloring books, fruit snacks, and a Magna Doodle, which, in my opinion, is the most wonderful invention in the history of the world. Seriously, I now hold the Magna Doodle in higher esteem than the Internet, cell phone or printing press.

Being Vivine's mom feels very natural to me, like this is what I was meant to do my whole life. I can't imagine another framework for parenting. What do people who don't adopt children from Haiti do? All I want in life is for her to be happy. She might never be as happy to be our daughter as we are to have her for our own, but I'm going to work really hard to try to get close.

Leaving on a jet plane

noreply@blogger.com (Wordy girl) — Tue, 03 Nov 2009 03:35:00 +0000

Our bags are packed, and we're ready to go! Say a prayer for safe travels and a smooth visa appointment on Thursday. Watch the blog for updates after we return on Saturday.

It's true

noreply@blogger.com (Wordy girl) — Sat, 31 Oct 2009 00:52:00 +0000

In case you haven't heard (via Facebook or text messaging or my dad calling you), we are going to Haiti next week to get Vivine! We leave Tuesday, the visa appointment is Thursday, and (God willing) we will come home on Saturday. All three of us.

PC and I have declared today, Saturday, Sunday and Monday the Happy Days. Right now is the perfect time in our lives. We've gotten what we wanted, but we haven't had to deal with any of the ramifications. It's like that great feeling between being accepted to college and the first day of school, or between getting a new job and your first day of work. For the past two years, a sour, cynical, shriveled old hag has been living inside me, keeping me from hoping too much for this. She constantly reminded me that it could all. go. wrong. But now that we know Vivine is coming home, I don't need her anymore. She has been evicted. I feel like a new person. The hard times are over. Let the good times roll!

Oh, it gets better

noreply@blogger.com (Wordy girl) — Tue, 20 Oct 2009 01:27:00 +0000

So....someone from the orphanage took the missing paper to the U.S. Embassy today. It was exactly the paper they need. It just wasn't in the right language. Apparently, the American Embassy has this annoying rule about documents having to be in English. Details, details.

Our lawyer is getting the document translated and should return to the Embassy tomorrow. And I am really, really being a big person here and not posting a snarky remark about the education of lawyers in Haiti.

The saga continues

noreply@blogger.com (Wordy girl) — Sun, 18 Oct 2009 02:37:00 +0000

On Thursday, I got an e-mail from the U.S. Embassy. It stated that our dossier was missing an important paper it has to have for the "final review." After an evening of stressful phone calls back and forth to Haiti, we think we have things sorted out. Our lawyer is supposed to go to the Embassy on Monday and take the needed paper.

I swear, this thing is dragging on longer than the summer "thriller" plots on Days of our Lives. You know, the ones where a woman takes three weeks to fall down an elevator shaft, her lover takes three weeks to realize she's missing, her husband takes another three weeks to realize she's cheating and then the fire department takes until Christmas to pull her out. Pray for us. And pass the wine.

Seattle, the nice town

noreply@blogger.com (Wordy girl) — Thu, 15 Oct 2009 01:23:00 +0000

PC and I just got back from a great vacation in Seattle. We visited my bro, aka Bubba, whom I definitely don't see often enough. It was so much fun! It was like being a kid again, only better because now we have the Internet.

Seattle is such a nice town, y'all! On Friday, I left my purse at Starbucks and didn't notice until we got back to Bubba's apartment. I freaked because my purse contained everything someone needed to steal my identity in about 3.5 seconds. (It also contained my gold princess phone, which I confess I was more worried about losing than my identity.) Anywho, somebody at Starbucks turned my purse in and didn't touch anything - not even the $34 cash in my wallet!

Seattle is also a very quiet place. Everyone talks like they're telling secrets all the time. Bubba and I are Texans, and Hedgpeths, which means we have two volumes: loud and louder. We did a lot of catching up, all of which was overheard by every patron of every coffee shop, restaurant and movie theater we entered over the course of five days. I hope we at least sounded entertaining, if not smart.

Amazingly, it didn't rain once our entire trip. The sun shined every day, which ruined PC's and my plans to find a real vampire. Oh yes, we're reading the Twilight series, and we were totally stoked about spending five days in the Cullens' backyard. Alas, they must have all stayed inside to avoid twinkling in the sun. (Twilight vampires don't rot - they sparkle.). We didn't even see a lousy werewolf. But it was not a total loss, because the nice weather let us enjoy lots of other fun stuff:

At the waterfront, holding the cargo ships.

Bubba at the beach, looking tall.

We built this awesome fort. Not really, but we did discover it and climb in.

We found an old-school slide, the kind you can break your leg on. Ready, set, go!

Whee!

That's how it's done.

View from Bubba's balcony. For real, dude.

Kodak moment.

PC came, too.

View of Mount Ranier, which Bubba climbed earlier this year.

Haiti mail

noreply@blogger.com (Wordy girl) — Tue, 13 Oct 2009 01:23:00 +0000

Received Friday in response to my latest nagging:

Dear Mrs. Langdon,

Please be informed that your file is presently under review. As soon as a decision is reached you will be notified.

We thank you for your patience.

Regards,

Department of Homeland Security/JF
U.S. Citizenship and Immigration Services

It's the first time in 26 months that anyone on the other side of the adoption process has thanked me for being patient. Or e-mailed me just to keep me updated. Thanks, USCIS! (Now, can we speed this thing along?)

Miscellaneous

noreply@blogger.com (Wordy girl) — Tue, 06 Oct 2009 23:05:00 +0000

Topic One: Vah-Vah-Velour

This weekend I got out the Rubbermaid tub of winter clothes and started the Biannual Closet Switch-Out. (I could write a whole 'nother blog entry about how much I love putting things in Rubbermaid tubs. One of my goals is to leave all of my possessions in five Rubbermaid tubs just before I die. One tub will be Coach purses. One will be keepsakes and newspaper clips. The other three will probably be yarn.)

I tend to forget what clothes I have from season to season, so unpacking seasonal stuff feels like getting new clothes. Tonight I was delighted to rediscover my old faithful friend, the velour jumpsuit. I actually have two velour jumpsuits, one in each of my signature colors: brown and gray. How do I describe my relationship with the velour jumpsuit? Guilty pleasure? Unrepented sin? Let's face it, the velour jumpsuit just barely passes as Decent. It's 80 percent Hoochie Mama, 5 percent Camel Toe and 15 percent I-Just-Don't-Give-A-Damn. When I wear it out in public, I feel a like I did in seventh grade when I wore a midriff to Casual Day at church. I know I'm "pushing it," as my dad would say. This year, I'll try to limit my velour jumpsuit-wearing to at-home hours only. But if you see me at Walgreens buying ice cream and razor blades in a velour jumpsuit, don't judge me.

Topic Two: The Power of Negative Thinking

I went to the chiropractor yesterday for the first time in months. (I only go if it hurts real bad.) He told me to drink less alcohol and coffee, but mainly less coffee. I told him I could do it the other way around, but I could not decrease my coffee intake. Then he asked me if I had "problems producing a positive creative image." Huh? "When you visualize the future, do you only envision negative things happening?" he asked. Wow! I thought. Can you fix that by cracking my back? Because it sure would be nice not to spend the entire day visualizing my daughter growing older by the second while I'm missing the opportunity to be her mommy, which will probably make it that much harder for her as she tries to adjust to her new life in America. Instead, I said, "Maybe," and he said, "Well, it's just what the book says to ask." This morning I had my usual amount of coffee, and the usual amount of fearful thoughts about the adoption. But, hey, my back felt a lot better.

Topic Three: The perfect Chai

"Chai" is Russian for Tea. I drank eight cups of tea a day when I studied abroad in Russia. My favorite brand was called "Ahmad." It was an English tea imported to Russia. It tasted strong, brisk and bold and was sooooo comforting. I brought a little bit home with me, but, golly, that was eight years ago and I drank it up pretty quick. I had almost forgotten about it until today when I saw it the hospital gift shop, of all places. I was so enraptured that I strolled right into the back office and personally thanked the gift shop manager for ordering it. Tonight I had a cup. Lord, have mercy, it took me right back to the Motherland. The box even has Russian wording on the back describing the flavor and ingredients.

So this is how emotionally parched I am right now - I feel like finding this tea in the hospital gift shop was a SIGN. It was a little love note from Heaven saying, "See! I haven't forgotten you. I know you think your life is crazy and disjointed and makes no sense, but it's all going to come together." I mean, dang, if my favorite English tea from Russian can find its way to a little hospital gift shop in St. Louis where I happen to be working eight years later, then I can find my way in this world, too. Right?

No news

noreply@blogger.com (Wordy girl) — Tue, 06 Oct 2009 02:15:00 +0000

We're waiting on approval from U.S. immigration. They will send us an e-mail when they've decided. I am checking my e-mail approximately 86 times a day so we definitely won't miss it.

That's all.

Sweet note from Haiti

noreply@blogger.com (Wordy girl) — Wed, 30 Sep 2009 03:02:00 +0000

The orphanage director sent me this e-mail today:

"Did you write the embassy to find out about the dossier? If you didn't please try. Vivine told me me yesterday mom and dad signed now. It's like she wants to know the next step."

By "mom and dad signed now," Vivine was referring to the appointment at the embassy last Monday, which went well. We're just waiting to hear back that our case has been approved so we can proceed with applying for her visa. Hang in there, Vivine! Mom and Dad are coming soon!

To everyone else, just keep praying. We're close, but not home yet.

Birthday surprise and advice

noreply@blogger.com (Wordy girl) — Sun, 27 Sep 2009 19:46:00 +0000

This weekend we decided to drive up to St. Joseph to surprise PC's little sis for her birthday. We wanted to see her new house, but didn't want to sneak in without her having the opportunity to show it to us. So we went in her garage and waited for her to get home from work.

Note to self: must go to hairdresser. Dark roots visible from across the garage.

I insisted on standing right next to the wall to minimize my chances of getting runned over. PC had no fear. He stayed right in the middle of the garage and jumped out in front of sister's car as she pulled in.

Yay!!!

She was happy and did not run over PC, which made me happy, too.

The S-I-Ls.

We had a short but lovely visit. Despite my fears, Jenni and her husband really were happy to see us. I typically would not give my mere presence to someone as a birthday gift in fear that they would rather just have a scarf. We got Jenni a scarf, too, though, so it all worked out.

Jenni and husband.

That's my "Honey, don't you think you've taken enough pictures?" look.

As a side note to Kathy K.'s comment on my last post, I AM looking youthful as always, thanks to the great advice that Kathy K. gave me when we were in Russia, wasting away from lack of sun. We were in Petersburg, and I was lamenting the fresh new wrinkles on my neck. "Moisturize!!!" she told me. So I did, and I have every day since then. Thanks to her advice, I have only four wrinkles, all of which developed in Russia prior to my moisture-mania. To all my little sisters, including Jenni, remember this advice. You will thank me and Kathy K. someday.

Weekend warriors (lite)

noreply@blogger.com (Wordy girl) — Thu, 17 Sep 2009 01:18:00 +0000

PC and I continue plugging along on the slowest kitchen renovation ever. To fit the project into our busy schedules, we have broken it down into the smallest possible steps. We do one step every other weekend or so. This weekend, we replaced the countertop. (Yes, we only have one. I never appreciated having a teensy-weensy kitchen until it came time to renovate. Now, I love it!)

Before picture:

PC discovers that the garbage disposal is permanently stuck to the sink. Won't budge an inch. We ended up disconnecting all the pipes and wires and just taking out the sink with with the disposal still attached.

Between "Before" and "After":

Naked cabinets.

Disembodied sink

Artsy photo of naked cabinets

Help! I'm in a sink-hole! Yuk-yuk-yuk.

And finally, the after:

Isn't she lovely?

Next up: The backsplash, scheduled for sometime between now and 2010.

On the topic of home-beautification, I wanted to share photos of the beautiful wreath I made last weekend. Can it already be Fall? Where did the time go?

Welcome, friends!

This is the wreath before it got smushed against the outside storm door. It is decidedly less alive-looking now.

Preachin'

noreply@blogger.com (Wordy girl) — Tue, 15 Sep 2009 23:30:00 +0000

A great moment happened at work today. I work for a Catholic health care system. We're supposed to begin every meeting with a prayer. Half the time we don't do it, and the other half of the time someone reads some trite proverb from a One-A-Day calendar and calls it a prayer. At this morning's meeting the designated leader forgot their prefabbed prayer, so I volunteered to pray. Everyone was mightily impressed by how readily I could call up the old Almighty and ask his blessing with no advance warning. I told them, "Me and God, we're like this," then I held up my crossed fingers.

It's true. I talk to God ALL the time. It starts first thing when I wake up. Before I even open my eyes, I say in my head, "God, I am really gonna need you today. There is no way I'm gonna make it without you." I start the day by reading a little scripture, and I keep a New Testament at my desk for emergencies throughout the day. (I have at least one personality crisis per day at work - I guess it's not really an emergency if it happens all the time.) The point is, I've never felt quite so connected to God in my life as I do right now, during this darkest of dark struggle to finally bring my child home.

I have thought a lot lately about how the heck I got to this point of dire need and utmost faith. I have followed Jesus since about age three, when my mom told me that the nice guy they taught about in Sunday School could come live in my heart. I always had imaginary friends, so it wasn't much of a stretch to imagine a benevolent, loving, invisible adult following me around and looking out for me. And I always talked to myself, so prayer came naturally - like talking to myself with someone actually listening.

My mom led me to Jesus first, and then my dad taught me about following Jesus. Dad always tried to make decisions based on what God wanted, not what he wanted. When I finally got old enough to make decisions that mattered, I did the same thing. And it was great! Whenever I was following Jesus, things worked out. I followed Jesus to Mizzou, instead of my dream school of NYU. I had the time of my life there, and I met the love of my life. I prayed hard over which job to take out of college. I did what I thought God wanted, and I excelled as a cub reporter at the Asheville Citizen-Times. PC and I prayed over his job placement out of seminary, and we landed the perfect congregation.

Then, little by little, things stopped working out the way I wanted. I didn't get exactly the job I hoped for when we moved here. I stayed positive, though, because I had a fall-back plan. I would become a mother, which had truly been my dream job my whole life. Well, here I am, years later, drowning in sorrows and longings, very unsure of how things got so desperate. Sometimes I want to curse God and turn away, but I can't. My whole life is structured around the premise that Jesus loves me and saved me. If I stop believing, I don't just lose my faith. I lose my marriage, my home, my friends, my career - everything that brought me to this place would be meaningless.

I have come to a deep understanding of a story from the Bible where Jesus is doing some hard core, in-your-face preaching. Lots of people didn't like what he had to say and walked out on his sermon. When Jesus finished, he looked over at his 12 disciples and said, "You do not want to leave to, do you?" These disciples were the guys who left their jobs, their churches, their money and their families to go on the road with Jesus. And maybe they did want to leave. But Peter put it this way, "Lord, to whom shall we go? You have the words of eternal life. We believe and know that you are the Holy One of God." When I was talking with PC the other night, I explained it like this: "I have followed Jesus so long that I have no place left to go except forward into his loving arms."

God has given me two great gifts. First, when I was very young, he made it possible for me to believe in him. Then, later on, he made it impossible for me not to believe. The harder things get, the more I talk it out with God. The harder things get, the more time I spend reading the Bible, learning and studying and understanding what it all means. The harder things get, the more I flock to church, sometimes three times on Sunday. If following Jesus has brought me all this pain, then why do I keep going back for more? The only answer I can come up with is because he is real. Jesus is as real as my own flesh. And when the world has broken all its promises to you, when words have lost their comfort and you can't believe what anyone says, you would rather have something real to hold onto than something happy. At least, I would. And I'm so thankful that God has given me a real Savior and a real faith to get me through to the next thing, which might turn out to be even worse than this present trial, to be honest. But it will be real - as real as I'll be forever and ever when I'm finally with Jesus for good.

I don't preach that often on the blog, but here are some of my greatest hits:

On Easter
And Christmas

beans plus rice equals love

noreply@blogger.com (Wordy girl) — Tue, 08 Sep 2009 22:39:00 +0000

Rice is about 80 percent of Vivine's diet right now. I plan to ease her into American food by cooking beans and rice all the time when she comes. No out-of-the-box crap, either! To practice, I have been making beans and rice at least once a week for the past six weeks. Finally, last week, I made a batch worth bragging over. Tonight I'm trying to repeat the job. Here's the annotated recipe I have devised from trial and error. I have no idea if this is how "Beans and Rice" with capital letters is made, but it's good enough in my house.

Mama Lynde's uncapitalized beans and rice
- One cup brown rice
- Two and three-quarters cups of water (it has to be the right amount of water. Too much and you end up with porridge, too little and you have undercooked grits)

Boil the water and add the rice. Cook, covered, for 45 minutes, stirring only when you get close to the end. Leave the lid on the pot as much as possible. At the end, the rice should look kind of shiny but not mushy, and all the water should be absorbed.

Other (very important) ingredients:
- Half an onion, chopped up in the food processor
- A teaspoon or two of minced garlic
- A can of red beans. Cook my own beans? Lord, have mercy, I'm not Martha Stewart.
- A cup or so of chopped tomato
- Loads of black pepper
- Two teaspoons (at least) of paprika
- A teaspoon of cumin

In a big ol' pan (Wok? Skillet? Whatever), saute the chopped onion and garlic in two tablespoons of cooking oil. Get them good and soft because PC HATES crunchy onions in stuff. Add the tomatoes and cook 'em up. If you don't have tomatoes, you can use a splash of spaghetti sauce, but it will give your beans and rice an orange hue. Tastes the same, tho, shoot. Then, add the cooked rice. Drain the can of beans, but leave a little of the gooey bean water in the bottom of the can. I can't be sure, but I think the small amount of gooey bean water is key to giving the beans and rice that "We belong together" texture. Add it in with the beans. Stir vigorously, adding the spices and saying, "Voila!" For fun, you can add chicken, sausage (yum), or hot peppers. But this is your basic beans and rice that will hopefully satisfy an international four-year-old. We'll see...

More drama

noreply@blogger.com (Wordy girl) — Sat, 05 Sep 2009 16:46:00 +0000

This week we have been getting used to the idea that it will be a while before Vivine comes home. There was an appointment at the U.S. Embassy on our case this week, and while it didn't go badly, it didn't go well enough for us to get a quick pass home. It will take at least another month, but probably longer.

We need lots of encouragement and positivity right now. Sometimes when we tell people about the delays in the process, they decide to express anger, sadness or frustration to us. They say things like, "Why is it taking so long? Don't they want these children to have happy homes? That is just wrong!" While it's kind of nice to know that people have sympathy for our situation, it puts us in a very uncomfortable position. We feel like we have to justify this thing that is causing us so much pain or even comfort someone else for our sorrows. A co-worker yesterday said the perfect thing when I told her what was going on with the adoption: "Well, it doesn't mean she's not coming home, it just means it's going to take a little longer. But she IS coming home." Yeah! Her faith gave me strength, instead of dragging me down even further.

So, we have to wait a little longer. Fortunately, we are pretty dang good at it. We are in the very slow process of making over the kitchen. We're doing things that parents with young children can't do - watching lots of rated-R movies, making late-night trips to Dairy Queen and cursing loudly whenever we feel like it. Earlier this week we went to the Rams-Chiefs game, and today we're going to the Mizzou-Illinois game. PC and I are very much in love, even through all the adoption drama, and I think we have it about as good as a married couple with no kids can have.

Keeping busy

noreply@blogger.com (Wordy girl) — Mon, 31 Aug 2009 02:27:00 +0000

PC and I had loads of fun together this weekend. Friday night we played Wii. PC beat me so many times in MarioKart that I finally insisted we switch games. I tried to do it nicely. Not like the time he beat me at Wii lightsaber fighting and I threw the controller and the couch and said I wasn't going to play with him anymore. "Fine," he said, and he hasn't played that game with me since. So I knew I better be nice about getting whooped at MarioKart. And I was! PC played Rock Band with me. He was the guest bassist in my band, The Godfathers.

Saturday we went to Six Flags with adult friends. Most of our trips to Six Flags have involved the youth group. Going with just adults was great! I don't really like roller coasters, but I thoroughly enjoyed sitting in the shade and knitting while everyone else went on the big rides. Just to prove I wasn't a total wuss, I said I would ride the Screaming Eagle, one of the smaller wooden roller coasters. I played the Big Girl, but inside I was hella nervous. When we got to the front of the line, the coaster shut down for repairs. Saved by the maintenance guy! I got street cred AND I didn't have to risk my life.

I used to love roller coasters. Once, when I was in high school, I rode the Texas Giant 10 times in one day. The Texas Giant is a real gut blender - the kind of experience you don't do unless you have a chiropractic adjustment scheduled the next day. And I could ride it all day long. (Heh, heh.) Anyway, a few years ago PC and I hit Six Flags with the youth group. We went straight to The Boss, Missouri's version of the Texas Giant. Halfway through the ride, I knew something was not right. I desperately wanted to get off. I kept looking all around for a way out, an emergency brake or even a parachute. When the ride stopped, I had the shakes all over. I tried to hide it, but as soon as PC asked, "Are you OK?" I started crying. I was surprised because I really thought I liked roller coasters. I guess somewhere between the age of 18 and 25, my G-force tolerance dipped to almost nothing. I wonder whether knitting and roller-coasting are mutually exclusive hobbies. I mean, obviously you can't do both at once - knitting on a roller coaster would be a good way to get a stick in your eye. But maybe you can't even like them both at once. I started knitting when I was 23, so the timing would be just about right. If I could go back in time, I would still become a knitter and sacrifice roller coasters.

How adoption messes with your mind

noreply@blogger.com (Wordy girl) — Wed, 26 Aug 2009 23:25:00 +0000

I saw this flier at church on Sunday night, and read only certain words.

I was filled with joy. I could totally adopt a three-year-old black American girl named Chelsea! She needs me! And I need her, for Heaven's sake!

Then, read all the words on the flier.

I know the photo is blurry, but it clearly says, "Feline." It was for a cat, not a human. I move that from now on, the word "adoption" should only be used to refer to parent-child relationships. We should "pass" laws, "start using" new technology and "bring home" new pets. It will make life much less confusing for those of us who are obsessed with adoption.

Are we there yet?

noreply@blogger.com (Wordy girl) — Tue, 25 Aug 2009 02:24:00 +0000

We don't know yet when Vivine is coming home. It is a touchy subject. That does not keep every person we know from asking about it. I have considered a form of retaliation in which I inquire about upcoming events in others' lives with the tenacity of an impatient four-year-old on a 10-hour car ride. Imagine:

"Have you decided when you're going to retire? I mean, do you have a date? Why is it taking so long for you to retire? I really hope it happens soon for you. Will you tell me as soon as you decide? Promise?"

For good measure, I will throw in a story about someone I know who did something similar and it went horribly wrong:

"My friend recently retired, and he loves it. Well, everything except the government health insurance. He has to take blood pressure medicine and it costs a thousand dollars a month. Plus, he lost half of his pension when the stock market crashed, so he had to get a part-time job as a night cashier at QT. He developed gout, and I think he's getting depressed. But I'm sure that won't happen to you. Your retirement is going to be great."

Of course, I never would actually say anything like that aloud. (Just publish it to the Internet where it will live in perpetuity. I am going to claim the "I-didn't-say-it-to-her-face" defense.)

It is almost September. How can we still be doing this? I suppose I should say something about God and how his grace is the only reason I have survived the adoption without becoming an alcoholic. And that's true. But I also want everyone to know that the unbelievable dragging-out of this adoption is as much of an unpleasant surprise to me as it is to you. I really thought we would have our daughter by now. So, the next time you want to ask me, "Are you there yet?" ask God instead. God has the power to spring Vivine from Haiti, and if fervent petitioning hasn't gotten it done yet, maybe incessant whining will.

If you really want to know...

noreply@blogger.com (Wordy girl) — Tue, 18 Aug 2009 02:10:00 +0000

After two years in the adoption process, I finally found a Web site that describes each step in succession. This must be a new site. When we started the process two years ago, I had to piece everything together from blogs, message boards and interviews with other adoptive parents.

To get an idea of what we've gone through, visit http://adoption.state.gov/country/haiti.html. We are in the final step, "U.S. Immigrant Visa."

The latest

noreply@blogger.com (Wordy girl) — Tue, 18 Aug 2009 00:56:00 +0000

Remember when every blog post I wrote had a unifying topic with an interesting lead sentence and several supporting anecdotes? Those days are over. Right now, all of my brain power is focused on keeping the crazy inside. I am a woman on the edge, y'all. My baby is THIS CLOSE and, yet, I have no actual idea when she is coming home. I am exhausted, moody and anxious - above all anxious. From here until I-don't-know-when, blog posts will consist of random nuggets of information and photos taken with my new, awesome camera. Even italicizing and shrinking the size of my photo captions seems overwhelming. So you'll just have to deal with regular font for the time being.

Random nugget #1: We started remodeling the kitchen.

Bye-bye ugly tile.

Hello, gorgeous drywall.

PC did not believe I could fit that piece of Sheetrock in the trash. I did!

Random nugget 2: We harvested and ate the first watermelon. It was perfect - watery and melony, just like we meant to do it that way.

Here PC is demonstrating how the watermelon is larger than his head.

Random nugget 3: Bear is finally trying to earn his keep. He said he would pay the bills if we taught him how to read and write.

Whatever, he is just trying to get our attention by eating important papers.

Random nugget 4: I am practicing my photography skills with the new camera. Here are beautiful things from all over the house. As you can see, we have a thing for Haiti stuff, purses and Virgin Marys.

Computer. Coffee.

I tried to take a picture of this awesome cross stitch with the old camera, but it didn't look this good.

Close up of Vivine's quilt

Fridge. Lots of Haiti stuff.

Beer box. Diploma cover. Knitting.

Plant. Little statue. Cowboy hat. Yee haw!

More Haiti stuff.

Chair. Stool. Mary. Knick knacks.

Guitar. Lazy Dog.

Fancy dishes.

Morning me.

Piano. Crosses. Books. Dog food. Purses.

Door. Window. Bureau. More Marys. More Haiti stuff. More purses.

Fake flowers. Haiti painting. "Repurposed" patio furniture. (Now it's a sectional!)