Empowering

I stay in touch with a couple people that were invested in my daughter's welfare while she was in Ethiopia. Communication with them is sporadic at best. It depends upon electricity, internet availability, limited mutual language and overcoming cultural differences. 

Seriously, people, I have been having a conversation that is approximately seven lines in total for more than a month.

Her: I got a new job!
Me: Tell me about your job! What do you do now?
Her: I am cleaning lady. I make 300 birr a month. I want to start road coffee business. I struggle to survive.

How do you respond to that? I'm not sure what the conversion rate is now, but when we were there it was 17:1 That means she's making $17.64. A Month.

I just spent $27 at the store and thought I got out of there cheap. As I drove home I analyzed my purchases. How many of them were necessities? How many could we do without? How can I help this woman? Who do I know that can arrange a micro loan for her?

But for every person I know that struggles, there are hundreds....thousands....who are struggling along with her. It makes the conversation I had with Brent on Monday, in which we discussed the increasing prices while our budget stays the same and how do we do it, what can we trim, seem foolish. Not because we don't need to trim, just because the idea of living on less than $20 a month is laughable. That doesn't even buy water (not bottled. tap).

Did she tell me that in hopes that I would send money or fund her business, probably. Could I do it? Probably. But what she said reminded me of why I do what I do and also reminded me that I need to do it more. Selling accessories is silly. Frivolous. And it CHANGES LIVES. Every time I sell a bracelet, scarf, Christmas ornament or earrings there is a woman somewhere getting paid a decent wage, who can send her child to school, drink clean water, buy food. She is empowered. She isn't begging on street corners or selling her body. She is making a life. She is maintaining her family.

Accessories not your thing? Fine. I get that. But I encourage you to find a way to empower someone today. The world depends on us everyday people giving a rip about others.

If we don't care, who will?

www.mytradesofhope.com/jamiedriggers
http://myshare.worldvision.org/Driggersfamily

Perspective

Twice in the last week, I've had the opportunity to hear different perspectives of the same event. Neither event was even a ripple in my world, so my perspective on the situations was relatively clear.

Twice, they relayed completely different takes on a situation. I mean huge differences. Major.

My take-away from this has me pondering. We really have no idea what is going on in another person's world. It was eye opening. I mean, I knew that we don't really know what's going on in another person's heart, but how very far off we can be....like 180 degrees off....way off, that blew my mind.

Today I am going to try to remember that just because I think someone thinks/feels/acts/said/did/insulted/humiliated/offended doesn't mean they do/did or meant to.

Take a deep breath today, Jamie, and don't pick up the offense/cast the judgement.

Artificial Twinning

There have been many, many moments in the last 13 years that I wondered what God was thinking by giving us our eldest "twins." But there have been many, many moments when I have been so glad He did. Like this morning when Princess rode off with Eldest to go to weightlifting and agility with the boys. As if most 13yo girls would have the guts to do that. But with a brother by her side? She's unstoppable.

 When he tells her, "Go change?" Love. It. He actually doesn't have to tell her. He tells the little sister. But sometimes he is confirmation when she asks, "Is this immodest?" I tell her, "Go ask your brother." I can't think of a better judge that the one who shares the locker room with 13yo boys.

These two make my whole heart happy.

Rat Snakes

Yesterday there was an enormous black snake on my porch. There was much little girl screaming and giggling. I still have the skeeves. But I was a big girl and told my kids to, "LEAVE THE SNAKE ALONE!"
Snakes are gross. Mice are grosser. Rat snakes eat mice. And apparently rattlesnakes.An enemy of my enemy is my friend.

I have become my mother who told me as a child that the black spider on her ceiling was her friend. Brown spiders under clothes, however, die a swift and painful death. Shake a rattle at me and you will lose your head faster than you can say, "die."

My teen daughter walks with me in the morning. My husband walks with me at night. Both provide many moments of connection. I have to talk very little on either walk. Win win.

I think I'm going through caffeine withdrawal as I have only allowed myself one pot a day. You cannot imagine my joy upon discovering the dregs of my morning coffee in the afternoon.

Adventures Under the Mango Tree

I'm a sucker for the story of the person who gives up their American life and trades it in for a life of service. I read Kisses from Katie on my way to Ethiopia and I read No Greater Love after coming back. I grew up on the stories of Lottie Moon and Annie Armstrong and Corrie Ten Boom (which isn't the same thing, but talk about your self sacrifice). So I was very excited to be asked to review Adventures Under the Mango Tree by Lilian Ann Klepp.

Back Cover Copy
Hearing the tremendous needs of orphans in Sudan, an ordinary woman in Wisconsin prayed, "Lord, what can I do?" His answer was life altering!
"Sell all you have and give it to the poor," He said. Acting in faith and with a heavy burden for orphans, author Lillian Klepp and her husband, Dennis, sold everything they had and moved to war-torn Yei, Sudan. There they opened Harvesters Orphanage and Christian School in a place ranked worst in the world for women and children's well-being. Together, in the midst of a civil war, they battle chronic malnutrition, poor schooling, cancer, malaria, and poverty.
Adventures Under the Mango Tree is Lillian's journal of touching stories with heartwarming photographs of the precious orphans they help, the dedicated people who love them, and the often life-threatening struggles they face together.

When I accepted this review, I was in need of inspiration. I needed the reminder that laying down one's life is a calling. Something. It's no secret that I've been in a dark place, but books like this typically pull me out of them, at least for a bit.

That said, I think I read it for the wrong purpose. I wasn't particularly inspired. Maybe a little terrified. My take-away message was ....yep, it's hard and it gets harder and there are moments of joy, but mostly it's hard.

Tell me about it.

I don't doubt the hearts of these people and I fully believe their stories are inspiring to them and their experiences very real, they just didn't translate to the page. Analyzing it as a writer, I think this was a case of telling more than showing (as opposed to the adage "Show, don't tell."). Analyzing it as a super-tired adoptive mother, it may be a case of I may not have rebel armies coming at me, but my service is hard, too. And it may just be that I wanted to finish the book and feel like it was time to move to Ethiopia to help the moms keep their kids. And I didn't. It may read better for the non-jaded. I hope it does. It just didn't do much for me.

Edited to add: And then my daughter comes to me talking about the compound she wants to build and what do I hand her? This book. 

Gratitude

I'm thankful for sisters that keep me accountable to do one Thing a day that drags me down. Sometimes the Thing is as simple as picking up the hot dog package left on the patio from Memorial weekend grilling, or, like today, putting away the coats, gloves, hats, scarves and boots that were piled on the coat closet floor. It is silly that these things drag us down and even sillier that we don't do them. I'm so glad I have a village that makes me do them AND that don't mock me when I send my daily email confessing my daily Thing.

I'm thankful that two play-dates came to me today instead of me having to do the phone calls. Everyone is happy and my phone phobia could rest for a day.

I'm thankful that my teens will be home from camp in a couple hours. A couple hours after that, I am going to try to remember I'm thankful for all their noise enthusiasm.

I'm thankful that there are people who actually think I would be good enough at a job to ask me to do it, even if it is the last job in the church building I would want to do and yes, I have considered cleaning the toilets and I hold to my statement. I know I would be rather horrid at it not necessarily be the best candidate for the job, and I may be the bottom of the barrel, but maybe they actually think I would do a decent job.

I took a Facebook time waster quiz the other day that informed me my optimal job would be social activist. If I wasn't so afraid of intimidated by reclusive (OK, can't spin this one positively), I think Facebook would be correct. So I looked around and found a way to be a social activist by appealing to America's need to accessorize. I absolutely love this company, so I'm going to sell for them on behalf of all the mamas out there that want to find a way to keep their children. Poverty alone should NEVER break up a family.

Intentional Optimism

When you run into me on the streets or in the library or at church, there's a good chance that you'll walk away from the interaction thinking you've never met someone so enthusiastically negative before. Even if you aren't thinking it, I'm thinking it. And there's a good chance I'll be kicking myself for several hours afterwards.

I'm tired. Lord, I am so tired. I'm tired and jaded and bitter and angry and it spills all over my attitude so that even I am sick to death of myself.

I didn't used to be this way. My mom used to comment that everything comes up roses for me and I fully agreed. But let me be the first to tell you that the last three years have murdered my spirit. It has been an absolute slaughter, but instead of being over quick and dirty like, it has been the slow bleed out with just enough transfusions to make me live another day.

I drink two 12 cup pots of coffee a day. And I slog through the day like I am not existing on stimulants alone.

My husband, though less dramatic about it, is the same. We have become angry people. Angry, tired people. Angry, tired people that go on walks and hash through our days and try to figure out how to not be so angry and tired and bitter and jaded all the time. How to not answer the phone wondering what this person wants from us that we are physically, spiritually and mentally unable to provide. (Hint: if they aren't offering coffee, we probably don't have the energy for it.)

So, on our most recent walk/therapy session, we decided that together we will read Learned Optimism and, dammit, we are going to learn it.....again. We used to be suck positive people and we want to be those people again.

After this post, it is my intent to reopen the blog with enthusiasm and positivity and optimism and joy. I may not be feeling it, but I'm going to type it until I do. When I first started this blog it was a place to hash out my thoughts and come to a resolution where I remembered that God is still God and He is Good. All the time.

Here's hoping.

I told Brent that I'm afraid to only talk about the good things because I really want people to understand that my life isn't sunshine and roses all the time, so let it be said now and forevermore, sunshine and roses are rare about these parts. Don't forget that. I may put up a brave online face and make it seem like we have it together, but I have sucky days too. Don't hate me for all the beautiful that I am determined to find.

This feels fake to me and I'm a Don't Bother If You Can't Be Real kind of girl. But as of today, I'm going into fake it till you make it mode.

Pray for me.
And starting in three......two.....one.....

Great Read

If you have regular, real interaction with my family, I implore you to read this series. I'm linking to part one, because it makes the most sense read from the beginning, and it is all excellent, but if you only have five minutes, scroll down to the end and link to read "Part Two." The whole series will take you less than 20 minutes. It's just....where we are. We no longer recognize ourselves or our family and desperately seeking stability. We love our family and we know that we are walking our God ordained path, but we are worn the the core and need our people to understand.

Pray for us and "hug the cast."

Holding on for Something Beautiful....
Jamie

Important

True Story

Right Here.

The same is true of "freezers." Some of us don't have bloody noses, but we have bloody and tired souls. The rest still applies.

Hello My Name Is....

Naive Oblivious Ignorant Clueless Heartless Idiot Child Stealer Complicit Guilty by Association ... And:

I've come to the conclusion that, yes, I am naive. Even now. Not was. Am. And I'm going to be OK with that. I refuse to live in a world where you can't believe the best about people. And if I live in a world where people are going to believe the worst about me, well, not much I can do about that.

Happy "Hello I'm a Loser" Day

(Because all you get is this crappy card and the heart shaped pancakes I made for the kids.)

We don't do gifts of flowers, jewelry, chocolate or dinner.
I probably won't even shave my legs. It is February, after all.
We don't go to bed at the same time.
We don't vacation in normal places at normal times.
But you know my love for a fabulous sunset.
And you bought me a second tour to see Aurora because once just wasn't enough.
We may not do it the way the world tells us we should, but it works.

(I might even shave my legs.)

And then there was that day when the already shaky floor you were standing on dropped out from under you and the people you expected would prop you up began to throw stones of accusation.

The leaders of my (Ethiopian) adoption agency are in prison for bribery/forgery/corruption, what basically amounts to child trafficking.

As one woman aptly put it, "No one wakes up one day saying, 'I'll take the trafficked child, please.'"

People can be so self-righteous.
Have you never done something you regret that you started with the best of intentions?
How about we throw around compassion instead of condemnation?
I don't know about you, but when a person has been shaken to the core, I'm not sure that words like "special order children" and "oblivious" and "naive" do much to help.
Could we skip the "why didn't yous" and realize with us that the past is past. What's done is done. Can we look to how to restore the future without slinging around the past as if we live in a world with a time machine?

HOW was I supposed to know?! Call me naive, but the thought that buying and selling six-year-olds was even a thing never occurred to me. Babies, maybe. But you you BEEN to Ethiopia? Children swarm. We couldn't leave the compound without someone trying to give us a child. You wouldn't NEED to buy them.

People are scared. My friends are scared. We are looking at our children and asking ourselves is she one of them? And how do you know? And if you find out she was.....

What. Then?

I got four "praying" texts. An, "I don't know what to say...." email. A "I had a couple minutes and thought you could use a hug" friend on the porch.

But the majority of what I got was condemnation.

I'm angry. I'm hurt. I was mislead. I'm scared. I'm unsure. I don't need your negativity to add to that.

I didn't choose an agency. I found a child. I took the agency that had her. When you look at a photo and know, in your heart of hearts, that she is yours and the agency that has her is Hague accredited and the only thing you really know about international adoption is that Hague=good, not Hague=bad, why would you look further? Some of us that step out in faith have NOT been on the boards for a decade. Sometimes we just saw a photo and moved when our spirit said, "move." That does not make us naive, morons, oblivious, idiots, we are not child traffickers or hustlers, it is not our fault. It isn't. You, sitting there on your high horse that knew better. We saw a child and acted. A child who can't help where she came from or what led her to this moment in time or agency with which her mother left her. We are people who stepped out to do the right things for, hopefully, the right reasons....and some of us got burned. Many of us caught in this mess did not sign up with an agency and get a referral. We signed up for a child and got an agency.

I knew where to get a perfectly healthy newborn baby. The US has those in abundance. It just seemed a little greedy for me, who'd already had four of those to ask for more.

And for miss "special order," let me tell you about Special Ordering children. There's another place you can do that: domestic adoption. Newborn private. Newborn public. Newborn open adoption. Newborn closed adoption. The US Foster care system in general. It happens EVERY DAY. Go into any agency and say you want in and the first thing they do is hand you a four page checklist of what you will and will not take. So take your accusations and shove them up your nose. You can't tell me you didn't fill one out with your Completely Ethical Agency. Because you did and I know you did and YOU know you did. If you didn't, you haven't adopted and you have no legs to stand on while you are slinging around your hurtful words.

I'm disappointed in the international adoption community. The adoption community in general. I thought we were better than this.

Sadly, the people who need to read this, won't. But writing is my therapy and it needed to be done.

I'm scared.
I've hired an investigator.
We may never know.
And we may find out things we don't want to know.
And then we will have to make decisions we don't want to have to make.
And what we need is prayer. Lots of it.
If all else fails....If you can't think of anything nice to say, please, for the love of all that is holy,
SHUT UP.

Yes. This.