If I Could Blink

Transitions aren’t my forte. In fact, when I first moved to Spokane from Casper, the idea that driving to the other edge of town took longer than 10 minutes floored me. I was late to so many meetings. Downtown was a foreign country as far as I was concerned. I figured an encyclopedia on tape wouldn’t be long enough for the ride. Since those first days “off the ranch” I’ve learned to deal with commuting, transitions and all the stop and go that is implied to driving.

Today, I read a report from Rwanda published in Sept. 2010 that stops all adoptions until the country has been accepted under the rules of the Hague Convention. This is a worthy goal and I’m yet again impressed by this African country which stole my heart when I visited in 2009. And yet, this process that safeguards both adoptees and adopters can take a year or more to implement! That means that all children not already in the “pipeline” for adoption will just have to wait. Of course, people can always try to adopt in non-Convention countries or independently, but that’s even more of a logistical nightmare, not to mention an uncertainty in finalizing the adoption both in the Rwanda and America.

So here I am thinking about transitions again. Kids who desperately need homes can’t drive any faster, nor can their country in its efforts of due diligence. At first I thought this was a waste of time for the kids because they shouldn’t have to wait this long. What will change in that time? But perhaps the orphanages will improve their efforts and programs to fall into compliance with the Convention which would make life for those waiting all the better. This time might be used to promote the country, focus on in-country adoptions, and/or raise awareness.

Still I want Rwanda to be there, now. I don’t want to stop for the light. I want them to have a free pass to “GO” and move forward in making adoptions possible again. If I could blink, I would see this time flash by, this transition as a mere breath in time. But I can’t nor can I make any other transition move that quickly. So instead, I’m thinking outside the box. How can this or any transition bring life and be good in and of itself while we wait? Sometimes I listen to the news, journal about the process, plug in my iPod. These days I’m just praying. A silent drive. A silent transition. An opportunity for earth-shattering growth.

Out of Words

My friend wrote a blog with the same title. I have had an interesting problem with this reality though not for the same reasons as hers. But I feel like if we’re both in this boat, we can share a title. I need all the help I can get!

This week has been spent wishing I had a dictionary to point out the thoughts, phrases or simple nouns that I wanted to convey to various people. At track practice I couldn’t spit out or remember (hard to say whether the mind or the tongue was the culprit) the name of any drill. Thankfully muscle memory rarely fails me. Perhaps I should learn sign language… All that said (or unsaid) I was left moving my body to model what I wanted and using the ever so descriptive words such as “the whatchee” or “you know, This.”
Me: the Pulitzer Prize NON-contender.

Later I ran into situations when I couldn’t properly convey my thoughts and feelings without potentially saying the wrong thing that might hurt. Likewise, when I finally did string words together at an important moment, they came out in an unfortunate and embarrassing way. With such circumstances, I could cry, hoping the tears would spell out something articulate.

I recalled a song by Ben Glover, entitled “26 letters” which explains the limitation that 26 letters has on expressing emotion, hopes, fears, dreams, requests, and simple thanks. This particular song speaks of these actions as they apply to God.

26 letters is all I got
To tell You how I feel about You
26 letters and you know I'm never ever
Gonna write the perfect paragraph
I try to express
with adjectives of thankfulness
But, I don't know if I can do it
With 26 letters

And like Ben, I’m not sure I can handle 26 letters. Not that more letters would be helpful, as I can’t even remember the currently approved combinations. But perhaps like Ben, I realized that that which needs to be said holds such great weight, mere words or letters can’t bear it. What words fully express the gratitude for “being you”? What words truly reveal the desire and need for forgiveness of friends and God? What words offer the ample praise, glory and love that my God deserves?

I won’t stop trying to find the words. I quite like utilizing a vocabulary beyond simple pronouns and body movements. And I also realize after this week that words are precious, missed when not had and discouraging when used poorly.