Day 45 : Please, take something from my plate

The school is dark, and quiet, at 3:45am.  But it's 1:45pm in Montana, so that's why I'm here, so I can call another principal about a job I've applied for. I've called several.

The first one doesn't like doing Skype interviews, so sorry.

Several had already filled the position but didn't think I knew anything about where they were because I'm in China and sorry about that.

A few more were never in their office and never responded to my emails.

This principal, he was in a meeting, so I sent another email. Now it's 4:15 and school doesn't start for another four hours.

I knew applying from China would be hard, but I also thought the strength of my resume would overcome most any initial fears. So far, that hasn't been the case. I've also applied to two colleges in Wyoming, with even less hope of these working out because I don't have any college teaching experience. A chicken before the egg problem.

And yet, there's always a part of me that feels like I'm being lead somewhere, that doors are closing so that others will open . . . but I'm terrified that I'll miss it. That I won't see it or know how to get there, because education, HS education specifically, is all I know. It's all I'm qualified for.

But really, right now, I just need - want - a job. I'm tired of this, of applications and late nights or early mornings just to make a five minute call. I'm exhausted from thinking about it, wondering where we'll be, and how we'll live. Of searching websites and filling out applications.

I could really use this portion of the moving process taken off my plate. 

I'm a tug-o-war of emotions because, deep down somewhere, I believe it will happen in His timing, that He hasn't turned His back or forgotten about us. But perhaps a bit deeper down, or hidden in dark corners, is the fear that, like Joseph, I may have to sit in silence for a while. A long while. Because there's some greater and bigger story happening that I'm not aware of. Which is okay, I think, but I know how Joseph's story ends. I don't know how mine will end and, I guess, my biggest fear is that the story is already happening, and that it's already moved on. That I, that we, won't get a chance to play a part. Like kids, after a parade, who scatter throughout the streets, searching for forgotten candies and dollar bills, while everyone else has gone home, laughing and talking about what a great time they had. This truly terrifies me.

These words just came to mind: 

Here's my heart, O take and seal it
Seal it for Thy courts above

I'm going to find it on youtube. Just a second . . .

Aghhhh!!! This song, "Come thou Fount of Every Blessing," is one of my favorites and when I Youtubed it, I found this! My favorite "non-christian" band . . . 

Come, Thou Fount of every blessing
Tune my heart to sing Thy grace
Streams of mercy, never ceasing
Call for songs of loudest praise
Teach me some melodious sonnet
Sung by flaming tongues above
Praise the mount, I'm fixed upon it
Mount of Thy unchanging love

Here I raise my Ebenezer
Here there by Thy great help I've come
And I hope, by Thy good pleasure
Safely to arrive at home
Jesus sought me when a stranger
Wandering from the fold of God
He, to rescue me from danger
Interposed His precious blood

O to grace how great a debtor
Daily I'm constrained to be
Let that grace now, like a fetter
Bind my wandering heart to Thee
Prone to wander, Lord, I feel it
Prone to leave the God I love
Here's my heart, O take and seal it
Seal it for Thy courts above

Come, Thou Fount of every blessing
Tune my heart to sing Thy grace
Streams of mercy, never ceasing
Call for songs of loudest praise
Teach me some melodious sonnet
Sung by flaming tongues above
Praise the mount, I'm fixed upon it
Mount of Thy unchanging love

Which then lead me back to this!!!

Well I came home
Like a stone
And I fell heavy into your arms
These days of dust
Which we've known
Will blow away with this new sun

But I'll kneel down
Wait for now
And I'll kneel down
Know my ground

And I will wait, I will wait for you
And I will wait, I will wait for you

So break my step
And relent
You forgave and I won't forget
Know what we've seen
And him with less
Now in some way
Shake the excess

'Cause I will wait, I will wait for you
And I will wait, I will wait for you
And I will wait, I will wait for you
And I will wait, I will wait for you

Now I'll be bold
As well as strong
And use my head alongside my heart
So take my flesh
And fix my eyes
A tethered mind free from the lies

And I'll kneel down
Wait for now
I'll kneel down
Know my ground

Raise my hands
Paint my spirit gold
And bow my head
Keep my heart slow

'Cause I will wait, I will wait for you
And I will wait, I will wait for you
And I will wait, I will wait for you
And I will wait, I will wait for you

Hm. . . hm. 

You have my heart, Lord. Take and seal it, while I wait for you. Just like Joseph.

Day 46 : Early birthday dinner and questionable job requirements

I promise, I had a great time.

Today (yesterday - posting this a day late) was my first full day back at work since Elias was born. It was busy - a typical day. 

For dinner, Josey organized a group of people for an "April Birthdays Dinner" at the Blue Frog, and it was great. Truly. It reminded me of almost seven years ago when we had dinner with a group of friends (Gangwires, Whipples, Carlsons, and Ashleys) for my birthday, right before moving from PA to WY. Then, like now, it was a good time, full of laughter and faces that will be missed in a few short weeks. 

But perhaps the most memorable portion of the day came at the hands of a job application. Since Christmas, I've been applying for jobs all across the mountain states with little, ahem, I mean no success. Recently I stumbled across an adjunct English position for a small college in Wyoming. When I scrolled down, trying to understand the expectations and minimal requirements for the job, I found this section:

My friend thinks an IT guy is testing if anyone actually reads through the posting. Maybe.  Maybe not. I really have no idea what they mean by any of it, but it doesn't matter because I submitted my application. A brother needs to work!

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Day 47 : Unknown VS Known

We've sensed that our kids are struggling a bit, and not just with leaving China and their home and friends, but with the uncertainty of where we're going. Of what they don't know.

So this morning, we sat together and made a list of things unknown. Judah and Eden both wrote things like, where will I go to school, will I make any friends, where will we live, will Daddy get a job. Things like that. Zion listened, then asked me how to spell "scared." 

So we read the story of Joseph.

My kids knew the story, of Joseph and his coat and dreams and how his brothers sold him to a group of foreigners wondering by. We started reading from there, jotting down, at times, all the things Joseph didn't know. Things like, where he was going, perhaps the language, what to do, what would happen, and why was this happening, because the younger Joseph, the arrogant and selfish Joseph, suffered the consequences for his actions. He was sold. But the after-sold Joseph was different. The Lord was with him, and he was no longer arrogant. But still, bad things happened. Because he did the right thing, he was sent to prison (thank you Potiphar's wife!) and then he was forgotten.

After translating the two dreams for his fellow inmates, the cup bearer is released and once more finds himself serving the king. And for two years, he forgets Joseph. When I read these lines, my whole family gasped. 

Another unknown for Joseph, "Why? Why am I not being saved? Why am I forgotten? WHERE ARE YOU GOD!"

Yet, Joseph continued on, trusting God, and doing what he knew was right. 

Then one day, he was remembered, lifted up, and became the second in command for all of Egypt. 

When we finished reading, we made a list of "What is Known." We wrote that we have a Mom and Dad who love us, brothers and sisters, a God who knows everything and cares for us, and we know we are a family who can enjoy the journey and coming adventure. 

The list of unknowns was almost twice as long as the knowns, yet it couldn't tip the scales. 

We are known, by a God who knows no end, who knows the future, and who knows what's best. And we have family, friends, and adventure. 

And that's enough. For now. 

Day 48 : Sure you can have my life for much less than what it's worth

Eden, preparing signs

We had our sale today. There's something strange, difficult even, about selling your things that aren't like garage sale things, things you no longer use and want to get whatever you can out of them, but the items you love. The items that hold memories and precious moments. Because how do you put a price on the basket you bought on your first trip outside the city? Or on an antique little table that you spent all day rummaging around for, wrestling it out of a large mound of other antique pieces, then wrestled with the kind man with a half smoked cigarette for a reasonable price - all without a translator and a whole lot of hand motions? Do you know how many times we've used that tent? How it kept us dry when we camped by the river, and how we set it up just right in KanDing so we could see the mountains on one side and the river on the other? I have a picture of Zion sleeping on my chest inside that tent . . . do you want to see it? 

How much should that cost? 

And why do you, dear buyer, want it for much less?

Sold!

We are fortunate that most of our larger furniture was purchased by a family who won't need it till the summer, so our house can stay somewhat normal, but still, the maps are down, the jars and baskets are sold, and a few of the side tables missing. Our house is no longer our home.

This, for me, is when it starts to get hard. This is when I just want to pack up my suitcase, and leave.

Our kids, too, are beginning to feel it. When they first walked in the door on Friday, after we had rearranged the house in preparation for today's sale, both girls' faces dropped and Zion started crying, "I don't want to get rid of all this stuff!"

Me neither.

So we tried talking with them and getting them excited about what might come. And we (I mean Sarah) baked muffins and made tea so they could have a sale. "Whatever you make," we told them, "you can use in America to buy some new toys or books." That seemed to help a bit.

Plus, they had fun.

Today was a good day, a weird day, and a full day. 

When we were looking through some boxes we'd found, this paper fell out

LEAVING

Everything is not always as it seems.

Notice the patterns, stories, and movement going on around you.

What you start your day tomorrow, imagine each place you visit is new;

Use all of your senses, and find a different world.

There's something shallow to this - something surfacy. But also, it was encouraging, in a strange and simple way. A reminder to be present, and to enjoy the "adventure" of life and the day to day.

And to share it with my family, to drink raspberry and eat muffins, to sit and laugh and cry and hope for tomorrow. To be all in, not pushing along with visors on, but present, with my family, noticing the patterns, stories, and movement around, as we head towards a different world.

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Day 49 : A first

Seven weeks exactly today. And Elias got his first bath, surrounded by a sea of blond. 

Today, all day, we prepared for tomorrow's sale. The Walkers came over for pizza and Sarah Wells made a lot of muffins - Judah is selling them tomorrow at the sale.

It's 10:37 and I'm exhausted. I'm headed to bed.

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Day 50 : Indispensable Man

I had a whole blog written about the indispensable man, and it was somehow just deleted.

I swear. 

And I quite.

Day 51 : Xipu (pronounced, "she poo"). And it always makes me laugh.

Judah and I went to Xipu for the evening. This was one of my favorite places when we lived closer but have only been back a few times. So we went, to say goodbye.

This is our evening, in order of appearance. 

Train ride in.

This place holds meaning only because I specifically remember Sarah Cole waiting here for my family. 

This corner used to have my favorite street food and Travis Miller and I shared some spicy fish, sitting on low tables to the right. Now they're gone.

Josey loves these kind of pictures, so I take them, but she's better at it.

The smell of roasted peanuts . . . my favorite.

Dinner.

So good.

On our way back home.

Goodbye Xipu.

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Day 52 : On repeat

I'm posting this almost four days late. Because Tuesday was a lot like Day 66. We began packing up our stuff, and I took some pictures, but the internet stole all mojo to fight against it through the night.  So I quit and went to bed. 

This is my makeup post - pictures will come later. I hope.

DARN YOU CHINA INTERNET!!! I will never miss you. Ever.

Ever.

Day 53 : Our Shelter from the storms

Our kitchen has changed a bit since this pic, but I still love it. And it's still our kitchen.

This week marks the official change. Up till now, moving has been an idea without shape or form. Starting tomorrow, moving moves into our home.

Child the time has come for you to go
You will never be alone

Eden, in her spot, doing what she loves most.

Every dream that you have been shown
Will be like living stone

With big brother

Building you into a home
A shelter from the storm

-J.G.

I love our home. Josey has taken a collection of western knick knacks, some choice pieces at  second-hand markets, and once or twice . . . or a few times more, some neighborhood garbage picked furniture, and she has created a shelter for our family.

The sisters in their room

Once, she bought a medium sized cabinet from a friend across the way and asked me to go pick it up. I carried it from their apartment, down the seven flights, up our seven flights, and into our bathroom. The next morning, there were three cockroaches the size of my big toe, scurrying across the floor.. So I took the cabinet onto our porch and sprayed it with Raid . . . instantly 12 cockroaches fell to the ground, squirming.  I sprayed some more. More fell.

I brought it into the stairwell of our apartment complex and paid the guards to carry it down and throw it away.

Our "fireplace" of candles for Christmas . . . because of my wife.

But this is what I love about our home, that it's filled with homemade projects, attempts and failures, and then more attempts and some pretty awesome wins. Like make-shift fire places, coffee tables, and mantle pieces. We made them. Well, Josey made them and I did what I was told. They have our ideas and work. They have and are us.

We love our home. Because it's Home and its cozy and warm and full of colors and wood and stories.

And tomorrow, we price it and prepare for Saturday when we'll sell it. All of it.

Our memories.

Our day to day.

Our home.

I took this over Christmas because it's what I see in the morning before reading. I love it.

Child the time has come for you

to say goodbye

to your shelter from the storm

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Day 54 : What the hell just happened! and other Easter thoughts.

Our last holiday in China, Easter.  We spent the day with friends, and I fought against the lingering funky mood of yesterday. 

We were supposed to have a fire to start the morning, but it rained, so we slept in a bit then sat on the porch to watch the sunrise and read the Easter story. I've heard this story just about as often as the Christmas story, but while reading it through again this morning, I found myself sympathizing with the disciples more than I ever have before. 

Since becoming an educator, more than a dozen kids within my local school systems have lost their lives, and the affects are paralyzing to the community because, "just yesterday we were . . ." or "we were playing football together last Friday, and now . . ." and many more. Because they were here, and suddenly, they're not.

The disciples experienced it too. "Just last weekend He was riding on a camel and people were laying down palm branches! And now . . ." Their words linger off. Their minds wander through yesterday's events, because it all happened so fast, and now He's gone and what the hell just happened?

Their friend is now gone. Their mentor. And their king. They believed Him when He said He was God's son. They believed Him when He said He was the king of heaven and earth. They just didn't understand him, fully. And now He's gone. 

How can He be king if He's dead?

We speak so often of what happened on Friday and then on Sunday, but what was their Saturday like? I imagined that it was long. And quiet. Minus, perhaps, the cries and tears and maybe even the tossing of tables and chairs because WHAT THE HELL JUST HAPPENED?!!!

Nobody has an answer. 

How long and how dark was their Saturday night?

The Gospels say that when Mary went to the tomb early Sunday morning, Christ was not there. When she ran back to tell the disciples, most of them were still gathered together, which makes sense, because where would they have gone? Their whole lives were completely dismantled, their future twisted and dark, because how can God's son die?

He said, "Follow me," then He died. 

Then suddenly, He wasn't. He was alive, and with them, eating, drinking, laughing. And explaining.

Easter, more than any other Holiday, should bring together family and friends. It should break the chains that bind us and enslave us to divisions and hurts and long-standing arguments. It should remind us to reconcile, and to forgive.

But not in my family. Because, like my mother once said, "Some hurts are just too deep." Yesterday, on Saturday, I resonated with the disciples because I too (albeit, on a much smaller scale) felt lost and without hope, wondering, "Where is Jesus? How can this be happening?" He didn't answer.

Nor did He appear in my apartment today, which I really kinda wish He had because, like Thomas, I have some questions. But He didn't. 

And now instead of empathizing with the disciples, I'm envying them. Because in my life, in my family, death still has victory. And at times, the sting is more than I can bear. 

On the porch I asked my kids, "Which is more important, Jesus dying, or Jesus rising?" After a short discussion we all agreed on Jesus rising. Because anyone can say, "I will die for your sins," but only God's son can rise again. Only Christ can overpower them.

He died so that we don't have to, and He rose so that we may live. And in-between, His disciples were left asking, "What the hell just happened?" so that they could one day understand. 

And that's what I'm left with today, that I believe, but help my unbelief.

That I have hope, but help my lack of hope.

I forgive, help my inability to forgive. 

And that ultimately, I still don't understand. 

When will Sunday morning come?

Day 55 : Because of something.

It's hard not to feel . . . empty maybe? 

There was a moment today when Eden was struggling, when the simplest of correction would plunge her into tears and sadness and it was clear something deeper was churning. 

We sat on the porch and she told told me she wasn't feeling well.

"Where," I asked, "In your tummy, or your heart?"

Her heart. Because of something Zion had done hours earlier. When Zion asked her to play later, Eden was hesitant. 

That's how I somewhat feel today. The ending is coming, closer and closer each day, and it just feels empty. I knew leaving would bring range of tumultuous emotions, I just didn't expect one of them to be loneliness. 

And my heart aches. 

I just can't figure out if it's because of something I did. Am I Zion?

Cause right now, I feel like Eden.

Day 56 : Concrete Park and the Culture Blend

I've heard this park is famous, world famous, but for not for its dancing. For its skateboarding. That may or may not be, but either way,I love it. The dancing, spinning tops, card playing, rollerblading, kids playing, and dogs peeing. Everything. For me, it is fully China, and will be dearly missed.

I've often walked through this park with headphones on, and on the rare occasion I'm listening to music, it creates a beautiful cultural blend. So today, when this group started their dancing, I recorded. 

Because this needs to be remembered:

The community that exists in this park is . . . unlike any I've seen in the state. Except maybe for the drum circles in Golden Gate Park, San Francisco. 

And it's every morning and every evening - pretty much. 

And I will miss it dearly.

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Day 57 : Perhaps a moving on

I wanted to write some thoughts here because, although it doesn't align with the purpose of these hundred days, it defines today and hopefully some of the future.

Paternity leave allows a few extra minutes of the day where I can think and write, because my wife is kind and gracious. Today, I listened to a podcast that truly resonated with my recent frustrations of wanting more out of life, out of my creative pursuits, and out of the future. I've been frustrated and discouraged, and today, I hope, I found a little bit of liberation.

Here are two highlights from the podcast:

"Art is fun, because it’s humanity. It’s who and what we are." 

Josey says this often, and it's a dichotomy for me because, yes, art should be fun and it should be created in moments of inspiration and an overwhelming need to express who and what we are. But I also believe we cannot wait for inspiration. As Jack London says, "we have to go after it with a club." And sometimes, that isn't fun. 

I guess the better response, at least for me, is that if its never fun and always a drag, always difficult and a burden, than I need to evaluate why and how I'm doing what I'm doing. Perhaps the problem is at the root of the why. Like needing approval or popularity. Because I can see how that would steal all joy.

"We continue to make art so we can continue to communicate the way we feel of what this world has to offer."  Love this.

"Do, or do not, there is no try" – yoda

Mozart had to work hard. He may have been blessed to figure it out at a young age that he wanted to be a musician, but he still had to “trace” and steal from other artists. He still spent a large amount of time creating shitty works. But I forget that. I use the muse of his genius as an excuse to not try, because “I’m not Mozart."

And I'm not. 

But I am an artist, because I create art. And that's the point. Not to be Mozart, but to do. To create. To express and attempt to make sense of all that this world has to offer.

In future days, I hope I can look back on this day and say, "Yeah, that was sort of the beginning, the shifting of the sails, and a redirecting.

I hope.

Day 58 : Silly Dreams

"Don't let your silly dreams,
Fall in between
The crack of the bed and the wall."

- My Morning Jacket

"Fall asleep and forget all your troubles
Dream of laughter and old friends and lovers
Dream of when you were innocent
Dream forever"

- Lord Huron

We grilled tonight and these two songs stuck out to me a bit more than they have in the past. 

Because of Elias.

Because of transitions.

Because of my incessant restlessness.

Because.

I can't stop from tossing and turning, from opening my eyes and checking the clock.

The time is Day 58, and before I know it, it will be Day 0 and the sun will rise and the dreams will be lost and fragmented to bits and pieces of ideas and memories. 

What then?

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Day 60 : Surprise!!!

This won't surprise many of you, I know, but instead of taking a video of Josey walking into the Sarah Wells Surprise, I took two pictures. Awesome. Sorry all. 

There are few things I can surprise my wife with and Jesse and I have been planning it for about a month. And it was perfect. Minus, you know.

Sarah (and Jesse) are pretty special. They're the kind of friends you call when life is down, when rocks scrape the knees. Because they're the ones who will cry with you, and sit with you, and say not a word.

But more than that, they're the kinds of friends who rejoice with you. They're not competitive, they don't choose their wants or desires or disappointments over someone else's joys. Because they're the type that set them aside, and cry with you, dance with you, and say not a word. They simply and sincerely rejoice with you.

There are others too, who live this out, and we've been fortunate enough to know them and share life with them, all over the world. These people have taught us what it means to love, and how to family.

Finally, someone new to play a game with!

During dinner, when I asked the kids what they're favorite part of the day was, Aunt Sarah's surprise visit was on the same playing field as baby Elias coming home, because for the Miller family, her presence is a big deal. 

Thank you all who helped bring Sarah here. We are truly blessed (again). 

Baby Elias and Aunt Sarah. A perfect day.

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Day 63-61 : Elias Jordan Miller

Judah was born in PA, and then right after, we moved into the group home on Barry Rd.

Eden was also born in PA, but then we moved to Wyoming.

Zion was born in WY, then we moved to China.

Elias, like many trinkets and toys throughout the homeland, was made in China. And like his siblings, will move within a few weeks of being born.

I'm currently sitting outside the steps of the hospital, on the corner, drinking a Budweiser because I couldn't find anything better. 

Elias and Mom are upstairs sleeping and I want to make sure I don't forget today. 

Throughout the day, whenever I could steal a moment or when pushed to the corner because I was most certainly getting in the way, I jotted down some notes. Even the doctor noticed and more than once told me "write this down!" So I did. 

: Day 63 : 

They said she didn't need to wear the hat, but I felt someone should.

- Waiting -

Five doctors are in the room, all poking, talking, laughing. I sit in the corner, helpless, in a faded denim apron, much-too-small blue Croc sort of shoes, a blue hair cap, and a mask tied around my face. The baby's heart muffly beats through the machine - it took them over ten minutes to find it, but the sound is assuring. 

Things beep in the other rooms from down the hall, and we sit and wait. 

Whispered Chinese.

Broken English.

Kind assurances.

The patocin drips and the doctor orders an epidural, both of which Josey didn't want. But the doctor insists.

And we remember Judah. 

Both girls were natural births, both boys need help.

Josey's toes, with red nail polish, twirl and curl as they and she wait for the epidural to come. I'm ushered into another room for a few minutes. I hear her moan in pain then I'm brought back and we wait. Contractions come. The pain does not subside.

Something is wrong. 

The doctor increases the dose. I check the time.

At 4:50, Josey moans a bit. 

"You need to feel za pain, but less," the doctor says.

But it's not less, it's all of it. 

In the hallway, doorbells ring, things beep, and a woman begins to wail. Someone else is having a baby.

More contractions come, unyielding. The epidural isn't working. And the baby is coming. 

They take us to another room, as Josey begins to cry, silently. Sheri can only say, "It's okay," and remind her to breath because the baby's coming. 

Because Elias is here.

Mom gets a brief snuggle, Dad cuts the cord, and then Elias is whisked away to be cleaned and checked. All is fine.

At 5:45, Elias is feeding, Mom is smiling, and nurses are swarming. Once more, I'm in the corner. I grab my notebook and jot down a few quick notes - things the doctor said while delivering our baby.

Elias was born in two contractions - within 5 minutes. He probably could have come faster but for the doctor, "Take your time," he said, casually, "I'm a very lazy doctor and don't want to have to stitch you up - just be patient." He chuckles. So does Josey. And I can't believe how tough she is, and how she can smile and laugh at such a time. 

When the second contraction comes I hold her hand and say, "Don't push with your face" and feel super helpful.

After the birth, Josey asked if everything's okay. "Nothing out of the ordinary yet," the doctor responded. Then he held up the placenta, "Here's the placenta! Now, I can eat dinner!"

The next few hours hum together. Josey has minor complications that needs attending and Elias is Elias - a baby who needs attending. We move from room to room and doctors and nurses come and go, like ants working a disturbed mound. Things are getting done and we have our baby, our beautiful Elias who is small and wrinkly and looks like Judah. 

We send some emails, a few texts, and then try and sit and think. It's over. And we have a new baby boy.

I head outside, buy some cheep beer, and begin to write.

: Day 62 : 

- Holdings -

We have an ayi who sleeps in the room with us. She is kind, helpful, and speaks not a word of English. Everything she says comes through the translator on her phone and takes her three or four attempts to get it right because her phone can hardly hear her. I think she's fearful of waking Elias. 

All morning, the door swings for doctors and nurses. At one point I watch the clock. Literally, every 3-5 minutes, someone comes in, phones whip out, and some translator app is used. They are all kind, all gentle, but we just want some quiet. 

At 11:30, we ask the ayi to leave until three because our kiddos are coming and the room is small. They don't know if Elias is a boy or girl yet but they've all been hoping for a boy. I sit them down in the lobby outside the room and explain the need to be quiet and gentle. I don't think they hear anything. They just want to see their new baby brother or sister. 

When they find out, they're stoked.

Judah holds him first:

Then Eden:

Then Zion:

They argue over whose next and try to cuddle with Mom. "I'll never forget this day," Judah says and Zion can't believe she's almost turning five because for months we've told her she won't until after Elias is born. 

Aunty Bekah has been with our kids for the weekend and it's only fitting. She came to China the year we did and has been part of the family ever since. She held Zion from the beginning. And now Elias. Well, she watches Eden holding Elias because really, Eden has the strongest claim to him and aunty B is kind enough to let it happen . . . with a bit of help.

For dinner, Elias' first date arrives. She brings dinner, ice cream and brownies, and her joyful spirit, and Elias sleeps the whole way through. He's got a lot of learning to do.

Michelle rounds out Elias' first full day, and when she leaves, we count our blessings.

: Day 61 :

- Blessings -

He sleeps, and he eats; he is healthy. Mom too. And that is more than enough. We have what seems too many nurses, but there are many in the world who don't have enough. Our ayi hovers and just about fusses over every little thing, but there are many in the world who have no one to fuss over. When our kiddos arrive for the second day, it is loud, too loud, but there are many who sit in silence. 

We are blessed. And "thank you" just doesn't seem to be enough. But we truly are. For ten fingers and ten toes, for two brothers and two sisters, and for a full and rowdy home. 

Today is our last full day at Angel Maternity Hospital. Josey and Elias are being released tomorrow, to a home where he will be loved and smothered and fought over. But I'm pretty sure this one will win. 

This little girl's heart is so precious. When Elias had to get his TB shot, she heard him crying and ran to my lap, tears running down her cheeks, "He's crying Daddy. He's crying."

When the other kiddos went home for the day, she stayed with us, kindly fighting the ayi for time with Elias. And winning.

For this, for all of this and much more, we are blessed. 

And we are thankful.

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Last Hundred Days

Day 64 : One thing I'll always miss . . .

Photo by Sonya Todd

The Village.

While Josey was out for some last-minute shopping, I stole some time and sat on the back porch, reading. The girls were outside playing with the neighborhood kids and I could her them yelling, laughing, and playing all afternoon. 

When I came in the house to make some coffee, these were sitting on the bench, just inside our door.

Later Josey told me they were from Mysan, our downstairs neighbor. She was returning our pan and decided to throw in some muffins as well.

But just before Josey walked in the door, Sonya called, asking if the girls could stay for dinner. 

Eden loves this little dog, Coco. 

And because Judah was spending the night with his buddy, that meant we had a few moments in a quiet home. And it was. Because our kids were all throughout the village.

From Diane Sonam

Our kids can be scattered across a city of 14 million, in a foreign country, and we feel and know they are completely safe. This doesn't happen everywhere in the world, and we are grateful.  Our kids have been so fortunate to live and laugh safely, with parents everywhere ready to step in, clean cuts, wipe tears, and feed hungry bellies. I love it.

When the girls got home, we made a fort on the porch.

Notice the green tint? Yeah, we won't miss those either.

Then they decided to sleep in it.

We will miss this village. The Todds, the McGowans, the Sonams, and the many other families who have loved our kids and helped raise our tribe. 

Day 65 : Many things

Went to the doctor today, but not to have a baby. Yesterday, Zion's cousin accidentally stabbed her in the eye with a pen. This morning, we took her to Global to get it checked out. She's fine, but she needed some meds to beat back infection. "It was actually kind of fun," she said.

She loved this hallway.

Judah, still working on some trust issues, had a day of work, reading, memorizing, and staying close to Mom and Dad. Love this boy and his desire to "just want to be good."

Eden has officially taught herself to ride her bike!!!  So ridiculously proud of this girl.  Like Judah in front of his grandparent's house, forever Eden, and we, will remember this place, our complex, as where she finally got it down. 

Plenty of couch, but when Auntie Bekah's in house, she's a magnet.  

Many things, and many things to be thankful for.

Day 66 : One thing I'll never miss

Leaving involves grieving over what we'll be leaving behind, like friends, a beautiful culture, and the place we call home. But leaving also involves saying goodbye to some things I won't miss. 

For me, it's the internet. We've had an ongoing battle with this persistent foe, and I'm eager to leave it faaaaaaaaaar behind. 

So on day 66, I've added 6 images that will forever haunt me (you see what I did there?)

Notice, in the top right hand corner, full bars are showing.

"Just a moment . . ." really means, "tough shit. Ain't gonna happen."

Looking forward to deleting this software from my computer and phone.

Actually, I am. Check the upper right hand corner. . . again.

This is the worst of them all because it happens while I'm in the midst of writing a blog, deleting all unsaved content. Just like it did for this image. My salvation is in question after moments like this.

The. Wheel. Of. Death.  He has nasty cousins too who lives in Amazon and Netflix. All of them suck.

To my brothers and sisters who live or have lived in China, these are perhaps the most frustrating images one can handle, am I right? Can I get an "AMEN" on this?  

In 66 days, I will gladly say, "GOOD RIDDANCE!" to these terrible, terrible images that have laid rotten eggs in my soul and forced me to invent colorful new words so my kids don't hear my curse . . . more than they already do. 

Day 67 : A Break

For the past three years, Spring Break has been a time to get away. I've gone exploring with the guys I work with and Josey's taken the kids camping. But this year, we're staying home. Because the baby is almost a week past-due. 

This is our last break in China, and it is, truly, the calm before the storm. Like Sunday, we're trying to slow down and rest and be together.

We had tea eggs and Biazi, coffee and milk for breakfast.

We went for a walk.

Photo from Zion

We hung out with Sean-T.

And listened to some of our favorite songs.

We took a break, together.