My Overthinking

Philly Area mom, Life forever changed by adoption

30 hours + 26 hours {reunion worth it all}

China and I got off to a rough start. 30 hours door-to-door travel, missing luggage, and a hotel arrival at 3am doesn’t build our relationship. Three and a half hours after arriving, I was out of bed and up again. There was no time to waste today on jet lag. I had a very important meeting today, one that could not be missed for anything.

kelly-with-boys

One ran to greet me arms opened wide. The other hung back in shock to see me there. It took them literally 5 minutes to request OH HAPPY DAY on my phone and charade asking me if I brought him his camera. We played Legos with a kit his mama-to-be sent to him, watched old videos on my phone of their time in America, sang some praise songs together, and gave a lot of hugs and kisses. We called home and woke Mark up for them to yell a few words into the phone including “Shūshu! Āyí zài zhōngguó!” (Uncle! Aunt is in China!) Drew and Ashlyn were awakened (5:40am there time, mind you) at the boys’ request. Then another call to wake up the other Ayi and Shushu for another round of yelling and laughing.

30 hours of travel. 4 hours meeting waiting children. 2 hours dining with directors. 1 hour with these boys. 26 hours total in this city before flying back to Beijing.

Every minute redeemed.

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A letter to my daughter on a rainy day

ripped-shirt-1I felt so angry when you texted me last week with this picture. It was the second full day in your brace, and the first day in your new clothes that we had to buy to accommodate the brace. And, your favorite shirt of the bunch was shredded. I was angry–and it had nothing to do with any money spent a few days earlier on that top. You didn’t know it had torn because you couldn’t feel it. Kids were asking questions that you didn’t want to answer. You were upset. And, I wasn’t home to be with you in those big feelings. So, all my big feelings came to the surface.

I’d like to go back to this past summer when you didn’t know what the word scoliosis meant, when you lounged around in our hot house with shorts and a tank top, when we spent the day at the pool when our concern about the time was based simply on when we’d be able to eat dinner, not whether your four braceless hours were up. I wish you didn’t have to think about your back and the red skin beneath the brace that now covers it. I wish you didn’t have to keep track of time so that you clock all 20 hours in everyday. I wish you didn’t have to worry about getting to class in time because you have to change clothes after gym in the nurse’s office. I wish you could wear whatever you want and sleep in whatever position you want. All that? I wish I could take it all away for you and like you said in tears the other night, make it all “normal” again.

Do you remember that rainy day a few weeks ago? It was pouring. When we ran to the car that morning to drive to school, I told you I hated days like that day. I told you how hard it is to get up and get moving for the day when the sky is so dark and you hear the rain coming down and you know you’re going to get soaked when you step outside your door. I told you I’d rather just refill my cup of hot coffee and get back under my blanket in my green chair and read for a few hours. Do you remember what you said to me?

A morning like this is better than a cloudy one; at least you know it’s serving a purpose.

My dear, sweet, wise daughter–it’s a rainy day for you…a rainy season really. It’s not comfortable. And, I understand that there will be nights you just lay in bed and cry because you’re tired of it all. But, my love, it’s serving a purpose. It is guiding your body as it grows. It’s hard now, I know, but it’s so that it won’t be hard later. And, I really want that for you. I so want that for you.

You can do this. You won’t always feel like you can. In those times, I’ll be here feeling big feelings with you and then cheering you on, reminding you of the words you told me yourself.

MENDED

MENDED

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OH HAPPY DAY Day {October 24th}

It’s officially countdown time. I am no longer telling people I’m leaving for China in two weeks…I’m leaving Saturday. Sat. Ur. Day. As in, like 5 days from now. That means it’s officially time for Kelly to be running around like crazy while making lists and remaking lists all while still trying to make meals, do laundry, play Uno with kids, and live somewhat of a normal life. I’ve learned something lately–I’m really not normal.

The rest of the team leaves on the 19th, a few days behind me. We’ll have one full day in Beijing and then a travel day to Xian before we drive another few hours by van to the city where we are serving. On Monday the 23rd, we will load into a white van with a driver who can only say “Hello ? Hello? Hello? Howareyou?” in English. We’ll wind through busy streets where Mercedes drive beside old bikes pulling trailers of vegetables we don’t recognize, all of them honking at each other to make themselves known. We’ll take deep breaths as we pull up to a big accordion gate where we will be waved through. And, there we will start Day 1 at the orphanage.

Just imagining the scenes as I write the words makes my heart beat a little faster.

We’re almost there.

There will be 15 of us in that van behind our driver friend wearing OH HAPPY DAY shirts. But, our team is so many more than that. There are literally hundreds of people a part of this team–financial donors, doll makers, art supply buyers, parents who sent pictures of their children to show the staff who cared for them, children who participated in sticker drives so that we could cover little fingers and hands with kitty cats and smiley faces. The 15 in that van are just the ones who actually get to GO.

As we enter into those gates on Monday the 24th, we want to do it as a Team with a capital T not just as our little team. We’re setting something up so that we can do that–something we have declared OH HAPPY DAY Day.

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On Monday the 24th, our team will be donning our blue OH HAPPY DAY shirts as we go. We’re asking that you join us in your OH HAPPY DAY shirt. Think of us, pray for us, be one of us as you wear it. Maybe even share a selfie with #ohhappyday to give us that reminder that you’re with us as we go. We’ll be hopping online as a team looking for those pics to encourage us at the end of our first day. We’d love to see yours among them.

Need a shirt still? Order yours HERE, making sure to give us your first and second choice of colors since we’re getting a bit low in stock.

Want another way to come with us? Sign up to pray for us HERE. I’ll send out some prompts this week to get you started.

Okay. Enough. Back to crazy.

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I’m 40. {surprise}

I never cared about my age. And, I even dig my grey hairs coming in. But, a few months ago, as today approached, I started feeling it.

40.

I didn’t start feeling 40; I started feeling 39, realizing that being “in my 40s” was an entirely different season than “30 something.” All those things I dreamed about doing back when I was…ahem…”30 something”…well, now I should be doing them. And, frankly, that’s a bit overwhelming and scary and makes me battle between the desire to work harder and move faster and crawl into a corner and hide.

At 39 3/4, I confessed it to Mark with a gentle suggestion that he may want to do something a little different than the normal make-me-dinner-and-buy-me-a-cake-the-kids-love-but-I-don’t deal (which, mind you, has always made me happy before). I didn’t want something that would make me feel younger; I wanted something to help me feel convinced that 40 is good…or at least not so bad.

As I approached 39 11/12, I prepared for an Eeyore birthday. But, then October 2nd happened. I walked into our Sunday morning time right into a row where my jaw dropped to find most of my dearest confidants ready to wor ship with me, including several who drove over an hour to be there and one who my husband used his miles to fly here from Michigan. Yes, that’s right. He actually flew my friend here for a birthday lunch.

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We sat for hours and chatted, and they took turns sharing something they love or appreciate about me…40 year old me…as I have been and as I am now. My heart was fuller than full because the words they shared touched on the most tender places, those places where I feel insecure and doubt whether I am enough–loving people, mothering, listening, leading. I took it in then and over the next couple days, and 40 lost it’s sting. Instead of feeling like I’ve missed something or that my prime season was over, I had hope and a vision. These women were somehow blessed in the very areas where I have felt the pain of pruning. The next decade can only have more blessings in store as those places continue to be pruned and bear fruit.

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I didn’t know what I wanted for my 40th birthday. I’m so glad he did.

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