Friday, December 30, 2011

Ghandi

Whoa, 3 entries in one day!  Holy smokes!  My husband and sons are working on a construction project and I actually have some real time to dump my thoughts!  I have a thing for Ghandi.  I have mentioned it before on this blog.  One of my favorite quotes on Christianity comes from him, " I like your Christ, I do not like your Christians. Your Christians are so unlike your Christ."  I think I love this quote because I can totally identify with it.  In a previous post I mentioned rejecting people that didn't accept my values.  There could be some self-identified Christians in that group.  It is important to note that in my vernacular, "reject" is NOT synonymous with "condemn".  I simply mean that I won't share my private time with them, but I will still show them love as best I can.


I think one of my stumbling blocks with finally owning my faith was that I felt I wasn't perfect enough to be Christian on the one hand, and I knew too many Christians that were flat out jerks that told me I wasn't good enough, or living righteously enough on the other.  Because of this I felt unworthy of Christ, like an ugly duckling and I my feelings were only being reinforced by people that should've been accepting and supporting me.  Talk about confusing.  I didn't and don't want to be associated with people that were and are so mean.  I want to be careful to not morph, accidentally, into a self-righteous jerk.  To prevent this I will be selective in who I let "into my head".


On the other hand I have known many people that don't yet know what they believe, or don't believe that Jesus is Christ, or don't believe in God for that matter.  I will always keep these people in my life, so long as they continue to accept me.  Why?  Because they live like Christ even if they don't share my faith in him.  I would rather have a friend that accepts me, and lives a life style in keeping  with my own, that will encourage me even if they don't agree with me.  They will rejuvenate me and enrich my life more than a self-identified Christian trying to pick, "a log out of their neighbors eye".  Even if they don't want to admit it, these friends of mine are more Christ like than the droves of Christians that actually drove me from Christ.


I have also been lucky enough to have plenty of Christian Friends that have given me strength to own my faith.  Friends that don't just have a bumper sticker relationship with Christianity, but they actually live the life a Christian is called to live.  Without those types of friends I would not be able to write this blog at all.  But, it's those friendships in which we disagree on fundamentals and yet can still get support, that Christ's love, as Ghandi would see it, is embodied.  So in short, faith Christ isn't my determining factor in who to include in my life, and my children's lives, but life styl, and willingness to support my faith in Christ is.  If one looks outwardly for the truth, and inward to judge we will most likely get along.  No one is perfect, most definitely not me.  I have chosen to live a life-style that actively rejects what the world embraces, and will surround myself with people who do the same.  You don't have to be a Christian to do that, but I need strength from Christ to become better than who I am, and to weather the criticism of the world that I am actively rejecting.  Why we are doing it may be the core difference in our values, and yet matters least in how we treat one another.  Behaviors, not beliefs is what matters most to me.


Religion, Spirituality, is a journey EACH ONE OF US takes.  We all seek answers to the same questions.  Some of us actively seek out answers, reading and researching for answers.  I, like Lee Strobel, took the journey and came to one conclusion.  Other's take the journey and come to yet another conclusion.  Some keep the journey locked within themselves never looking openly for answers, and never finding them.  No matter what another human's journey is, it is their's and not mine.  Who am I to tell them what they should do, where they should go.  It is simply my job to love them, and most of the time I fail them.  My job is to judge inward, not outward, so that I might love them better.  Really none of us knows (intellectually) the truth about much of anything.  Faith is something you can't know intellectually at all anyway.  It is something you live.  The rest of it is just a bramble of formalities many people get caught up in.  


I will discuss Aristotle's Nicomachean Ethics in a different post.  Reading his outlook on friendship and virtue really helped me navigate my way through this conundrum.  

More for the debate

An old entry, from my other blog.  I don't use it anymore, but some of the entries are quite good so I haven't deleted it.  It discusses boys and public education.  This was written right after Cooper's terrible first grade year, so it may be a bit less objective than my current writings.

http://allthingsboy.blogspot.com/2008/09/new-year-same-old-crap.html

To Homeschool or Not to Homeschool

I am a teacher.  I am an educational advocate.  While I know the system is broken, I still believe in it's ability to work.  Even if it means kicking, and banging on it from time to time.  I have homeschooled my sons once before.  For one semester.  They were in a really horrible school, even though it was a "blue ribbon" school with decent test scores.  Test scores mean nothing by the way.  My youngest son was in first grade, couldn't write his last name, and wasn't learning to read AT ALL.  My oldest son, who suffered a huge academic loss due to poor teaching in first grade, was in the first 3rd grade class in this district to try a rotating schedule.  All current research says that rotating schedules actually impede learning until children reach the age of about 10 or 11 (5th grade), because they aren't yet developmentally prepared to deal with multiple teachers and multiple classroom settings.  I pulled them out because I felt it was a one time emergency type situation.  I had already advocated on their behalf starting with the teachers, and eventually working my way up to the school board.  I presented all of them with research (for my oldest son), and educational law (for my youngest son).  Nothing changed.  I was left with no other option but to use my skills solely for their benefit.

It worked out wonderfully academically speaking.  My oldest son not only regained the lost learning, he went into 4th grade (in a different state) reading 2 grade levels ahead.  My youngest son not only learned to read, he learned to write and did both on grade level when he entered 2nd grade.  By the way, we ended our "school year" in April.  I also found out my youngest son  is dyslexic.  However, (here's the "but") it made me a basket case.  Granted my husband was gone that entire time (Army).  I was totally alone with my kids, 24 hours a day for 6 months.  I didn't get a single minute away from them.  On top of that my oldest had already learned the worst lesson public education teaches (I know because I had to unteach it to my classes every year); if I wait long enough the teacher will give me the answers.  When that didn't happen my son did what my classes usually do, he whined.  Problem is he was my kid.  He didn't stop after a few days because he knew I wasn't going to give.  Heck no.  He kept at it the entire 6 months hoping "mom" would cave in.  He should know me better than that.  I was very happy to see them re-enroll into public school.  We definitely needed a break from each other.

I still function under the belief that if I supplement their weak spots, have a close working relationship with their teachers, use the law to advocate for them, teach them metacognition, and to self-advocate they can succeed in public school; and that the school will be better because it will have a KNOWLEDGEABLE parent making it be accountable. After a few long term substitute teacher jobs I am beginning to doubt that.  I still think a school would benefit from having our family be a part of it, I'm just doubting that our family would see any return benefit.  Even the "intensified" English classes that I taught lack CRUCIAL skills.  While they could rattle off elements of a short story, vocabulary definitions, author biographical information, they couldn't tell me what the main idea was, or the theme.  They couldn't tell me cause and effect or problem - solution.  The few that could tell me the theme couldn't support their answer with details from the text, not a single 8th grade intensified student could do that.  They can't think.  They can't problem solve.  They can't really communicate their ideas.  They function only in the lower 2 levels of Bloom's Taxonomy.  It isn't just here, I've seen it consistently in 5 states now.  This observation is validated with actual statistics.  More than half of college freshman have to take remediated English courses.



How are these kids supposed to manage college or working, let alone living.  A teen that can't manage causal relationships is in a dangerous situation.  Not to mention how are these students supposed to succeed in other subjects like science and social studies?

The U.S. Military provides families with something called "Soar at Home".  It's basically an online school with courses in math and language arts based on state standards.  I gave each of the boys an evaluation this winter break to check on their skills.  My 5th grader got 80% correct in math, and 77% in language arts.  He got 0% right in the sections for "supporting details", "cause and effect", and "problem-solution".  I was nearly enraged.  It isn't his fault, it isn't his teacher's fault.  These things simply aren't being taught.  They take too much time to grade, and are only a small portion of the "TEST".  If a teacher has to chose between a student passing the test and a student learning to think, which will they chose?  Since there are so many kids they teach to the mean, which means assuming kids won't have luxury of learning to think.  My 2nd grader got a 60% in Language Arts (learning disability so not too bad.  I didn't read it to him), and 45% in math.  WHAT! Math is his strong suit.

So now I'm debating my sanity vs their education.  I have the skill set, and the tool kit necessary to ensure they succeed academically.  I can either spend from 4-5pm doing school homework and 5-7 pm catching them up on what they aren't learning at school, or I can homeschool them.  Seems like a no brainer, but it seriously makes me a crazy person when I don't get any alone time.  Not to mention I can't work at all.  Jury is out.  If I did homeschool, I am thinking it would only be during Middle School.  I really think that Middle School is the make or break academic time for kids.

Thursday, December 29, 2011

getting off the fence

Determining the world I wanted my sons to see was the easy part.  I wanted them to live simply. To listen more than they speak.  To be humble.  I wanted them to question their own motives and desires, as well as those of the people they encounter.  I wanted them to see the world as a place in which they are alien citizen who have the responsibility to do good to others and the planet itself.  I wanted them to follow Christs example, because one thing EVERYONE can agree on is that he was an awesome dude, that did great things.  However, manufacturing that vision to their minds eye, is another story entirely.

I have failed many times over at teaching them this, at being an example to them.  I have said before on this site that it was difficult for me to know the line between providing for my sons, and making them slaves to the expectations of a materialistic society.  Every parent wants to provide their child with the things that will save them from being the social outsider at their school.  While I have still failed to master this concept, of all of my responsibilities as "PARENT" I have succeed most in this area.  Sad, huh.  I have succeed in teaching them vision, but not in teaching them how to live within it.  I have built the blue print, but not a users guide.

The husband and I have done a great job of discouraging participation in clothing and toy fads.  While we have bought our share of Bakugan, Hex bugs, and BeyBlades, clothing is a different matter.  The boys wear polo t-shirts, and jeans to school.  They prefer to dress this way.  They say it makes them feel good about themselves, and keeps them from attracting unwanted associations as to their character and preferences (at least so far.  Junior High will be a different story next year).  So while we've done a great job of not buying labels, shopping at thrift stores, and teaching our children to not want material possessions, we have failed to teach them that unwanted associations and judgments are a part of life.  I'm sure next year will give us plenty of opportunities with Cooper who will be entering 6th grade.

I think the thing I struggle with the most is dealing with persecution for my associations and values.  I keep my beliefs, and values pretty close to me, and do not carry them with me outside of my own home, unless I'm going to church.  What does this teach them?  I don't care what your beliefs are, if you only value them and practice them at home, that teaches your kids that they are conditional.  That what you truly value is blending in.  


As the boys are getting older it is becoming more and more critical that I have no fear in advertising my beliefs, regardless of the  consequences.  It becomes critical that I LIVE my beliefs as a verb, and not keep them only in my heart.  What I have been doing is no different than people who put a yellow, "Support our troops" magnet on their car and leave it at that.  They do not actually support our troops.  A magnet doesn't do it.  Sacrifice, volunteering time, talents, or funds to that cause would be supporting their troops.  I have had a sticker relationship with my values for far too long now.  How are the boys supposed to live in opposition to what the world values, if I won't?  

I had my children young.  Perhaps that's not an excuse.  I still need my excuses I suppose.  While they were young I was struggling with who to be in the world myself.  I couldn't manufacture a vision for someone else by any means.  I couldn't own my beliefs.  I wanted my belief in Christ to be just our secret.  It was good enough, right?  Christ knew I loved him in my heart.  Now I see that this is no different than never showing my love to my husband and just assuming he knows how I feel.  If I never hugged him, never honored his wishes, never performed acts of kindness for him, never owned up to being married, and acted single when I was with single people.  Pretty sure that would devastate my Mr. and eventually lead to a divorce.

Loving Christ means that the world will persecute me.  It means that I will be rejected.  I have a serious fear of being rejected.  I have not always done the greatest job of filling up my daily life with people that won't reject (rejecting and disagreeing are two incredibly different things to me I will explain in a later post) my beliefs, and because of that I haven't had the support I needed to weather rejection... a catch 22.  A catch 22 trap I built around myself because of the circles I allowed us to travel.  It's a choice.  A choice that requires me to reject the social invitations of others.  I hate rejecting people more than I hate to be rejected.  I have struggled with the bible telling us, "Bring not every man into your house for many are the snares of the crafty one... If you do good, know for whom you are doing it, and your kindness will have it's effect.  Give to the good man, refuse the sinner." (Sirach 11:29-30, and 12:1-7) and Jesus telling us to forgive 70x7, to love our neighbor, and "what you do to the least of men you do unto me".   I find the good in everyone I meet so this seeming contradiction has really been hard for me.  As my Mr. says I, "view the world through rose colored glasses, and find a bit of (myself) in absolutely everyone."  For me rejecting someone else is a bit like rejecting a part of myself.

Having kids means you will encounter a spectrum of people, perhaps more closely than not.  When you don't have kids you can control the circles in which you travel a bit more.  You don't have to go to soccer games, wrestling matches, school functions.  Since, I find the good in pretty much everyone I meet when a person invites my family to do something I say "yes" without even weighing the possibilities.   I think I have finally, and hopefully not too late, figured this out.  This part of my fabrication for the boys has been the hardest.  As they have started making friends, and because of our time in the military, I have learned that this isn't a contradiction.  It means to be very choosy with those people you call close friends.  The majority of our time is spent among all people.  We are to treat them lovingly, compassionately and with forgiveness.  When you are at work and a co-worker (or mom at the playground) takes a caddy jab at your performance (parenting), when you get cut off in traffic, when someone at the store blocks the aisle; you do not react in anger, but in compassion.  We are to be "light in the darkness", a smile among grumps even if we have EVERY right to be grumpy too.  A super human feat called grace.

Your social time is your time.  It is limited and precious.  Most importantly you get to chose who to spend it with.  It is during this time that you pick only those that support your belief.  If we are truly going to have the strength to live out our beliefs, to be counter-cultural, this time needs to be shared only with those that will encourage us, support us, and allow us to feel mainstream even if only for a short time.  So that we have the energy and peace to again go out into the world and walk up the down escalator with a smile on our face.

I have failed my sons, until now, in how to live this.  If I continue to make the same mistakes they will not understand that peer pressure happens, it never stops happening, and that it their responsibility to weather it without caving in.  That standing up for what you believe in isn't the same as rejecting others.  Scientific research proves that doing good for others rejuvenates our bodies at the cellular level to repair damage done by stress of day to day life.  After all, true inner happiness comes not from doing good for ourselves, but in being good to others.  Their only example of how to live actively will come from home.  I am responsible for constructing this reality, and it's user guide, for them through my actions, through my life.  

Monday, December 26, 2011

follow up to "Why I stopped training..."

In hindsight I realize that my last post could be easily misread.  The epiphany I had in 2010 was summed up best, by another mother having a similar awakening.  She said, "I realized I am not my child's babysitter.  I am her parent".  Meaning, that she wasn't only responsible for ensuring her child's needs are met, and she is kept safe, but that as a PARENT we are RESPONSIBLE for the emotional, spiritual, and intellectual development of our children.

In 2010 I realized that my children will experience the world through me, through my ACTIONS.  Doing justice to their little souls and minds would mean parenting DELIBERATELY.  It takes a heck of a lot of energy and focus to be intentional in your parenting.  First, you have to decide how you want them to SEE the world, then you have to figure out what it will take to show them that world.  Finally, you have to actually deliver whatever it will take CONSISTENTLY.  It means devoting time to activities for them so that they can attain autonomy and self actualization.  It means teaching them humility (NO FUN).  It means basically, that you weigh what you want for yourself against what they need in order to develop into the humans they deserve to be, and you do it constantly.

So in short, I decided I wanted to be more than my child's babysitter.  I wanted to be more than a nice mom that kissed booboo's, made dinners, and made them take baths.  I didn't want to "bring them up", I want to "raise them".  I wanted to PARENT.  This doesn't mean I can't ever run or workout.  It doesn't mean I can't work a job.  It means that in any decision I make I put their DEVELOPMENT first.  I ask, "What will this teach them", and "Will they benefit" ALL THE TIME.  The older they get, the more complicated things become.  That is why I won't train to compete at a high level.

I think that being raised, myself, with the world view of the vocations made it easier for me to not only surrender my selfish ambitions, and "die unto myself"; it made it easier to throw myself head long into my "vocation" with a happy heart.  See, I author their world view as all parents do for all children.  I wanted to author it deliberately, AND give them the tools to navigate their way through the quagmire that WILL find them when the world view I author for them is challenged as they get older.  When that happens, I need to have the strength, and devotion, to support them and be a "safe" place regardless of the path they ultimately chose for themselves.  I must have the "emotional real estate" to change to meet their needs.

To continue to train would mean that while my kids would be well dressed, well groomed, and well mannered their substance and world view would be manufactured by TV, friends, and my haphazard actions.  My weekends would be spent, not with them going to their activities and spending time doing things together that shape them, but at my races or with me absent (this fact became much more urgent when they both started school, as weekends were really our only time together).  My mind wouldn't be preoccupied with thoughts and reflections on/about my own parenting, but about my training.  I definitely wouldn't be forcing myself to take self-inventories in order to develop into a selfless person capable of unconditionally loving my kids, and others.  What would that life teach them?  Probably that things and honors are more important than relationships.  It probably wouldn't teach them to inventory themselves.

Casey and I brought two tiny little souls into this world.  He and I have an obligation to this world to ensure that those two little souls are accepting, loving, tolerant, and well educated.  In a world that doesn't value those qualities it means I cannot just put on auto-pilot and expect to end up with kids that have the strength to live in defiance of the values of our society.

Saturday, December 24, 2011

Why I stopped competing/training

I need to give a bit of background and a qualifier or two. First, this is a rendering of my journey, not a universal truth that adheres to everyone. Second, I am Catholic. While even I thought this had little to do with my decision, in hindsight it is a heavy hitter in the process.

When I found out I was pregnant with Cooper I was 21, a senior in College, engaged to Casey, Captain and number 1 runner at Indiana State University. When I made the decision to keep our baby I put little thought into the Catholic Vocations. There are three of them, three paths or purposes to life; Religious Life (being a Nun, Priest, or Monk), Single Life (in which you are a missionary carrying out tasks too laborious and time consuming for a family person or Parish Priest), or Married Life. This will sound archaic, which is precisely why I put little thought into it, but if you chose Married Life as your "vocation" you are to devote yourself wholly to raising your children and to your marriage. The idea being that this is the path that will allow you to walk more closely with Christ through your sacrifices, hard work, and you will be a missionary of sorts to your children. I don't know about you, but the idea of two seperate people working to become one spirit in Christ is daunting.  That's one purpose of Marriage within the Catholic Church.  It's hard enough for two seperate people to agree a single paint color, let alone become one spirit!  Being 21 and pregnant I pretty much only thought about the fact that a.) I wouldn't fit in my wedding dress, and b.) I won't let this end my running career.

Fast Forward 8 years. It's the 2008 Chicago Marathon. I am at the elite starting line along side many World Class Runners, only 3 of whom have children at all and yet I have 2. I put in many many miles to get here. I ran until I was too tired to do anything but spend the afternoon on the couch while my sons watched T.V.. I saw Casey and the boys on the sidelines in their "Go Mom" t-shirts, and I began to wonder, is this my path? Is this really where I belong?

I flashed back to a snowy Sunday morning. I was 5 miles into a long run when one of the gym's daycare workers came rushing across the expansive gym. I was more annoyed than worried when she stopped at my machine. "Mrs. Gasway? We need you to come right away." When I got to the daycare room I saw Cooper covered in blood. Will (5) had slammed Cooper's (8) face off the concrete floor. I cleaned Cooper up, and much to the horror of the workers got right back on the treadmill.

I was unable to finish that race (Chicago). I have pretty severe asthma, and I have fall allergies. The two were working against me.  Afterwards, I went back to the Elite Suite to get my things, and my youngest son was literally climbing the walls. He was bored out of his mind. There was a stairwell in the media area. Directly underneath this stairwell was the food for the journalists. He kept sliding down the handrail, dirty shoes hanging over the food. I was MORTIFIED!   I was too tired and defeated to really do much about it.

After Chicago, I took some time to myself to think about how I was purposing my life. I knew that my sons needed more of me than they were gettting. I also knew that I needed running to keep sane. I took it easy that winter and ran the 25k River BAnk Run in May. I had another asthma attack. This one was much worse. I finished the race, but had to deny ambulance transport. It was Mother's Day. My kids weren't with me, they were at home, 4 hours away. This was pretty much "it" for me.

I went home to a husband that scolded me, but was empathetic, and two fabulous kids that were happy to have me back regardless of my performance. I realized that my kids loved me unconditionally at the moment, but it was temporary.  My finances were a mess, my children were longing for me, and my husband felt powerless in his life.  I saw bits of this lifescape at this point, but not all of it, and I knew I was at the core of the positive change my family needed.  I am the mother.  I am the center.  Whatever direction I spin in my family follows like a pinwheel.

A lot of change occured in my life at this point, including Casey's decision to join the Army. I took some time to myself and read a book a running friend of mine had sent to me "Called to be Holy".  It was at this point that I began to make a conscience decision to chose time with my kids over time at the track.  It was also during this period that I began to realize that my youngest son wasn't yet learning to read and he was half way through 1st grade.  I began to spend a lot of time researching dyslexia, and learning how to tutor children with dyslexia so as to reconstruct their synapses.  I was advocating on his behalf at school, and eventually pulled him out to homeschool him so that I could teach him to read.

This brings us to January 2010.  Over the next 2 years I spend a majority of my time and energy raising my sons.  Not in a June Cleaver sense.  I began to understand the idea behind the "vocations".  My job was to raise my sons to be whole, happy people that know and UNDERSTAND the LOVE of God, and how to love LIKE God.  This meant, more than anything, I needed to be an example of how to serve God.  This also meant that I needed to be tuned into their needs, which of course I couldn't do if I was only tuned in to my own needs.

Easter 2010 I did a TON of meditation.  I realized that my MOTIVATION to compete was driven by my own vanity.  I wanted recognition.  I was putting my "vocation" on the shelf to feed my own vanity.  To "run for God", would be the vocation of a single person.  This line of reasoning was reinforced with the fact that most of my peers were single.  The time and focus required only took me away from my family, and forced me to focus most of my energy on being in tune with my own needs, which I realized was counter productive.  It was at this point that I decided I would run for my mental and physical health ONLY.  I would no longer train to feed my vanity. 

I know I am a flawed person.  I can be an out-right asshole sometimes.  Grace means that God loves me anyway.  He loves me not as a warm fuzzy feeling in his chest, but loves me as a verb.  He will meet my NEEDS (not desires) even though I don't deserve it.  He will forgive me even though I am not worthy.  He will ALWAYS listen, though not always answer.  God is always in tune with me, even if I'm not always tuned in to God.  This is the love I want to embody for my children.  I realize that I cannot embody this type of love if all of my energy is focused on me doing my own thing.  It takes a lot of energy, focus, and yes, selfishness to pursue huge success in any field.  I needed to shift that focus from my running to my family.  If I were to continue on the path I was on in 2008 I would have taught my children annoyance, impatience, and how to be self-serving.

I have come to understand that the Single and Religious lives wouldn't have pushed me closer to God.  I am naturally a selfish person.  I love time alone to reflect and meditate.  Being on my own is my comfort zone.  Cooper was no accident.  Meeting Casey was no accident.  God knew what I'd need to learn to love like him, and he gave it to me.  It took me a while to surrender to my situation and understand it.  Since I have devoted myself as a servant in my role as a Parent and Spouse my life has become my refuge.  My finances are straight, my Marriage is as strong as ever, my children feel whole and happy.  My children know humility, and love with grace.  They are seeking their purpose, and I am their torch bearer.  That is a better reward than any finish line.

I may again run in races, but I will not be competing in the same sense as I once did.

Tuesday, September 20, 2011

Houses don't know you're dead.

HOUSES DON'T KNOW YOU'RE DEAD

Your trinkets stand dutifully
waiting for your
return.

The plates crusty like
moons in the sink bear truths
to me that you will not return and I
must deal with the dozens of ends
left flipping loose.

quiet and empty would be a relief from
the you I feel pressing against
every wall at once.


...unfinished, and note... this is a reflection I had while walking past a house whose owner recently passed away. None of my friends or family have died!

Monday, August 22, 2011

journeying

Comfort kills. I heard that in some advertising campaign a while ago. I don't mean it literally, because I actually like being comfortable. I mean it in an broad figurative sense. Getting complacent with your life and yourself kills the potential human you could be. Casey and I, a long time ago, dreamed of adopting a "little" girl. I say "little" because we never really imagined ourselves adopting a baby. We knew we didn't want to dip below the age of 5. There are so many kids ready to be adopted right here in the US foster care system. They all have a back story, and NONE of them are responsible for how they ended up there. This morning we head to our social-workers office to discuss our potential matches.

I could go into a preachy, don't blame the children for the crime of the parents speech here, but instead I want to share the personal side of this decision. After all, it's the personal side that is interesting, no one cares what socio-political view point sparked the initial motivation. This process is beautiful and terrifying all at once. Since starting I have seen my family members in ways I never could have if we'd remained complacent, and my love for them has grown profoundly deep.

I have not met many men that would agree to bring a 10-14 year old girl into their family. Most men steer clear of girls that age, and rightfully so, they can be terrifying little balls of raging hormones. My man? He said let's go to the classes. I think he may have had a Daddy Warbucks fantasy at first, he does LOVE to be the hero. I was sure to burst his bubble at every opportunity. I have been working with At-Risk youth most of my adult life, and I knew he needed to go into this with eyes wide open.

As we went through classes I watched his perceptions of foster-care adoption change. His altruistic rosey picture became more real. He came to realize that even though our future daughter WANTS a family, she won't (most likely) want a "replacement" family. She will have memories, yes even fond ones, of her own biological family and we must respect those. He came to own the role of Father for a girl means something that is much different than it is for our boys. I think he relishes that fact.

Our approval was official last Saturday. While I jumped up and down and sang in celebration with our sons I failed to notice my understated spouse slip away. A few minutes later, when I realized he was gone, I went to look for him. I found him upstairs pouring over the adoption listings for girls in our age bracket. He didn't even notice me enter the room. His dark brows were pinched in concentration. This was his celebration. The rest of the weekend he perused listings, tried to find more information via Google, and narrowed the listing down to three different girls, two of whom were sisters (we want them both).

As I watched his intensity I realized that I whatever I thought the measure of his heart was, and I thought it was huge, I was wrong. It's bigger than I had fathomed. Its funny that we forget our spouses are people, individuals. After, gosh, 12 years of marriage, I had begun to see him as an extension of me. In this moment I came to appreciate him the way I had 12 years ago, only this time with clarity. He is beautiful. Can I say that about a man? A stinky, deep sea diver man? It is true.

He was viewing these three girls as though they were daughters already, I could see it in his intensity. He'd been this way before, with our sons. Whenever the boys need something, be it a toy repaired or medical attention, his entire posture changes. He comes nearly robotic, his brows pinch together and his eyes become fixed. There is no talking to him then, he is mission focused. To see him this direct this energy at POTENTIAL offspring humbled me, and filled me near to bursting.

The adoption has allowed me to see my spouse as a human being! A human being with a mansion of a heart, and an bottomless well of a soul. My wonderment of his beauty has been not re-born, but re-constructed. Because of this journey, and his refusal to be complacent I have seen more of who he is than ever before. I feel incredibly fortunate. His babies (11 and 8 now) are little reflections of the quality of his life. I'll save that entry for later.

Saturday, January 22, 2011

reflections

I can see clearly the path behind me, it's jagged turns and steep grades. The landscape it hacks through has been assimilated into myself, it is me, and I ran my way through it as I have every other stretch of rugged terrain that I have been required to navigate. Funny, the flat expanses of my life do not inspire me, they do not beg to be conquered. They are easy, and bland. I do not enjoy them. I do not adopt them as pieces of myself as maybe I should.

My husband is more than the cliche' of best friend. He truly is me, and I am him. When he is in pain, I am in pain. When I suffer, he suffers. Both our children seem to be acutely aware of the unique bond we have. When a swan was mourning over it's injured partner on the side of the road near our house, and refused to leave until days after it's partners death, in spite of being in immanent danger itself, my oldest son said, "Mom, Those swans are just like you and Dad!". Which is why when I was having success in the world of running, and Casey seemed, to the outside world, to be distant and reserved I was not hurt or offended. I could feel his private pain and suffering. I knew my success only made it more acute for him. He was mourning the end of his own athletic career, and was desperate for a new outlet.

When he suggested joining the Army, as if it were a joke (He was 33 and only one year from not being accepted any longer), I knew he was serious. I knew, because of who he was, that he would take it to the extreme, push himself to see what he could accomplish. We both love our challenges. The difference? I have a healthy fear of danger, Casey does not. I was worried, and rightfully so, the man is not just an adrenaline junkie and a work horse, but obsessed with succeeding at everything. He has never failed at anything. I also could feel how acutely he needed this, and I knew I must be supportive.

Over the next several months we talked to friends, did our research and when he decided not to in as an Officer, I urged him to go into Intelligence. It was safer. I should not have been surprised when he came home from Processing (where they finalize your enrollement) and said, "I'm going to be a Frogman! It's a Special Ops thing. I am going to be an Army Diver!" but I was. Now they had him, grrr. I pushed it out of my mind decided denial was the best route, and focused on preparing myself for his upcoming absence. There is no such thing as adequate preparation.

He left Dec. 28th. Dec. 27th my brother, a Harvard Law student, and I had a heated debate about the U.S. Military involvement in Iraq and Afghanistan after watching the movie Avatar (which I did not like). Needless to say there were a few illusions I needed to cling too to make through the next few days, and it was just not a good time to venture into liberal waters concering the US military. My poor husband, who is much more grounded than either my brother or myself calmed me down privately, "Annie, it doesn't matter. Patriotism is senseless, soldiers are the pawns of politicians. I am doing this for us, for me, and because I feel a sense of duty to earn my citizenship."