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My Overthinking

Philly Area mom, Life forever changed by adoption

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A letter to my friend on her adoption eve

10.27.18

Hi A.J.,
It’s Kelly Ayi. I have been thinking about you a lot lately. I remember the first time I met you. It was two years ago when I visited the welfare house for the first time and was waiting outside to see M.Y. get back from school. You were with him wearing your school uniform shirt and smiling big. I thought, “that little girl is so cute.” When I came back with Mark and Ashlyn and my friends in January, I got to know you a little bit better. I liked watching you do relay races in the park and dance. You still smiled big and your laugh was so cute. I said to my friends, “that little girl is delightful.” When I came back once more, one year ago, you and I spent a lot of time together. You taught me Chinese words and played my ukulele. You helped the younger kids. You painted a picture for me with both of our names on it. I framed the picture, and it hangs on the wall in my office. Your smile was bigger than I remembered. I came home and said, “that little girl is the best. My friend A.J. will be a wonderful daughter.”

Tomorrow is a big day. You are meeting your mom and dad. You will become their daughter. Some kids might feel all mixed up getting ready for that day. They might feel really happy because they have wanted a family for so long. They have watched other children leave before. Now it is finally their turn to get a family! But, they also might feel sad to leave China and their friends. They might feel scared because they do not know what living in this family and in America will be like. I wonder if you have some mixed-up feelings too. It would be okay if you did.

I have told your new parents a lot about you. I told them you are cute and delightful and will be a wonderful daughter. I have also told them that you might have big feelings, some happy and some not happy. They understand. Whatever you feel, they want to be with you. There is nothing you can feel or do that will make them not like you or not want to be your family.

I am far away now on the other side of the earth. But, I am waiting patiently until I get a message and see pictures of you with your family. They are really nice. They smile big just like you. And, they will take really good care of you.

With love,
Kelly Ayi

http://www.myoverthinking.com/wp-content/uploads/2018/10/She-plays-the-uke-and-smiles-big-1.m4v

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Posted by Kelly the Overthinker
Filed Under: adoption, Letters

You’re a teenager {a letter to a friend on her 13th birthday}

7.17.18

She’s so intentional. It’s one of the things I love about her. On the occasion of her eldest’s 13th birthday, she asked for a super meaningful gift–words. She asked us to be intentional too and for us to share our words of wisdom, advice, encouragement, etc. with her little girl who is not so little anymore.

With her permission, here are the words I humbly gave to her.


It’s a big day. Maybe you don’t feel all that different than you did yesterday, but it’s still a big day. It’s official—you’re a teenager. No longer are you a “little girl.” Your parents have poured into you for years with a forward vision, intentionally guiding you and correcting you and loving you so that you can be the best you on those days and all your days. But, now, more than ever before, you are going to be learning what it means to be a strong and beautiful woman.

There is no shortage of messages proclaiming what being a strong and beautiful woman means, messages about equality and your rights and what defines attractive and what makes you valuable, messages about how to relate to men, who you should and should not be a fan of, what matters in life. We are all message makers, whether we want to be and try to be or not. And, our world is full of all different messages that tell us how we should understand ourselves and the world around us.

As a woman a little bit ahead of you, whose grey hair has earned me the right to share what I see as wisdom, I challenge you as you start this new season of life to carefully consider what messages you tune into. Whatever you are doing—alone or with people, in person or on your phone, looking in a mirror or looking into someone else’s eyes, carefully consider what messages you are hearing in your head that are telling you what to do and what to think. Ask yourself if what you are hearing is truly True. If you decide because of what you know already that it is not, then tell yourself so, and tell yourself a different message, a “You know that’s not truly True. Don’t go there. This is what’s truly True…” If you decide it is truly True, then nod your head and tell yourself so with a “That’s right. Keep on going.” If you consider what you are listening to and aren’t sure if it’s truly True or not, that’s okay because you’re still learning. Don’t be too shy to talk to your mom or dad and ask what they think. It’s their job to help you figure these things out, and they really like their job because they really love you.

It’s not easy being a teenager. It’s a lot of work to figure out who you are and who you want to be. And, it’s not easy to consider what messages you are listening to and discern what’s truly True. But, I don’t doubt for a second that you can do it and do it well because you not only have really good parents but you have the help of the One who is the expert message maker and who is the author of the truly True. It’s His job to be with you all the time, even when your mom and dad aren’t, and He really loves His job because He really loves you more than you could ever imagine.

I can’t wait to watch you figure out what being a strong and beautiful teenager means and grow to become a strong and beautiful woman who earns the right to speak a few things to me because I’m still learning too.

Humbly,
Genuinely,
Warmly,
Kelly


Head over HERE to read the words her mama gifted to her.

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Posted by Kelly the Overthinker
Filed Under: Letters

Hand off

6.4.17

It’s time to do this.

When we met him at the Philadelphia airport last summer, we took off running. Those who had run for him before us had done their part, but they had gone as far as they could go. He needed someone else for the next leg of the race. All 6 of us were in. We gave him all we could, running harder than all of us thought we were able to do, sharing the task at hand, holding each other up. We pressed on when it hurt because we knew we were the sprinters. That was our job on the team. And, we knew that he was worth it.

You saw us running from the sidelines and cheered us on. Then something changed. You stopped routing for us from the sidelines and joined us.

For a while, we ran side-by-side, knowing that a transition was coming. In anticipation, our sprint started slowing down and your pace picked up. At times it felt like we both had our hands on the baton. At this point though, you’re running so hard that we can’t keep up—which is exactly how it should be.

With great satisfaction in the race we have run, we now hand off the baton to you. It’s all yours to run with. Soon, your driving sprint can slow down and you can settle in at a different pace, the pace you can run for the rest of the race.

Know that we couldn’t be happier that you’re the ones who are taking this marathon over for the long haul. And, know that we are happy to join Team Aaron’s cheering section on the sidelines.

We love you and can’t wait to see our friend become your son.


On Monday afternoon at 2:30pm local time, they will receive him. We will set our alarms Sunday night at 2:30am to stand with them.

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Posted by Kelly the Overthinker
Filed Under: Letters, M.Y.

A letter to my daughter on a rainy day

10.15.16

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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Posted by Kelly the Overthinker
Filed Under: Letters

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I overthink everything. This blog is a prime example. Make yourself a cup of coffee and sit down for a read. Actually, make that a pot of coffee. There’s a lot of overthinking here.

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