New Mountains

I'm a bit shocked how truly awful I've been at blogging since being home. I suppose its a mix of not having the overwhelming urge to keep family and friends informed of our goings on since we see them or can visit much more easily these days. We also have been concentrating time and energy on our family, on the here and now, and sinking into a more private existence when possible.

I've also found it hard to find words when so much of our life and plan felt partially on hold, up in the air, unclear and uncertain.

But we've found a direction.

Its not where we were hoping to be heading. It leaves us mourning a way of life, a type of work, a community of friends and partners we'll be living away from for a while longer. At the same time, we are energized by finally having wheels set in motion after 6 months of waiting. Limbo is not as glamorous as it sounds.

Almost 2 weeks ago, we had a discussion with our executives at Global Ministries, giving them our final resignation after hoping not to have to do so for so long. We were running out of time on paid leave and needed to make some decisions to ensure an income and health insurance in months ahead. After 6 months of living in other people's spaces (lovely, generous, adored people), after the 4 of us sharing a bed with varying degrees of sleep success, it was time for our family to find a space of our own, a routine, a consistency.

The US immigration office has been giving us mixed and changing messages. Our kids MAY be eligible for visas, but information regarding the processing time as well as their eligibility seems to change every time we make a call--even if calls are made on the same day. Citizenship--at this stage of the game--requires us to live in the States for a few years. And if our family wants to do international work or mission in the future (we hope to), we need to get all family members' paperwork secured so we are free to go and do when and where we please.

And so, after a lot of talk, a lot of tears, a lot of anxt, a lot of prayers, we have decided to step away from jobs we love and the wishful hope of a magical ride back to Haiti and instead plan for a life here, in the States, for a while.

Now you can find us back in Colorado. Our belongings are housed in a storage container waiting for us to find a rental house. We are job hunting, car hunting, apartment hunting while once again grateful for the hospitality of generous friends who endure the Bentrott Traveling Circus stopping a while in their homes.

Certainly these last 6 months have challenged us--and gifted us--in ways we've never experienced before. In fact, our days have been such a complete mix of tragic and heart breaking and uncomfortable swirled together with joy and rebirth and gratitude. Life has felt so big, so raw, so confusing, so certain at times I even find challenge in writing about all it has entailed. I have found it grounding to simply attempt focus on the routine of mommihood and the incredible transformation children make minute to minute.

You never wish to have the kind of life situation that puts your friends and family to the test, but we did, and we are overwhelmed with the generosity and patience of the people we call our most beloved. Space was made, doors have been opened, extra plates set at the table. Its humbling because we know in no way will we ever be able to repay the kindness shown. We only wish that we could have been sunnier, brighter house guests, but truthfully, so often we were tired, struggling not to let mourning show too much on our faces in consideration of the kids, tired from new parenthood, tired from living out of suitcases and boxes, nervous with the uncertainty of the unknown. Through it all we've gotten to spend time well past brief visits with family and friends we've long missed; we've enjoyed long stretches of time on the farm, falling into the routine of the place, letting our children fall in love with their grandparents, uncles, aunts and cousins. We've had time to meet up with friends without schedules pressing down on us. Most of all, we've had time to really get to know our children, love them in this time of uncertainty, let them love us back.

I can't play the "what if" game because it makes me sick to my stomach... If the earthquake hadn't happened we would still be in Haiti, classes in session, the clinic busily treating patients, many lives would be saved, but we wouldn't have Valancia, wouldn't be celebrating finished adoptions. If we hand't decided in a blink of an eye to change our adoption approval from one child to two, our family would look different. I can't do the if's because it doesn't involve straight forward just and unjust, good or bad. Its a mix, like life, so I just have to sit in what IS, and be extraordinarily grateful for our survival, our health, our safety, our family, our incredible-amazing-challenging-gorgeous children, our perspective, our resilience. And we take what IS and move forward.

We are happy to be back in Colorado, glad to start dreaming about where we'll live, what our lives are going to look like. As we face the realities of future jobs, I realize I'll miss working side-by-side with Patrick. We were a good team. Are a good team. I'll miss the complicated urgent yet laid back agenda of Haitian lifestyle. But as surreal as our memories ofHaiti seem at times, our love for the place and the people resides deep in our bones and I have to trust that we'll summon the courage again one day to dare to live an unconventional life again. Truthfully the real challenge comes in trying to live an unconventional life HERE, challenging the routines and systems that are easy to relax into. I hope we can rise to the occasion.

We certainly aren't done with our advocacy and love for Haiti. We hope to weave work with projects in Haiti into whatever lives we build here. Truthfully, Patrick and I have some big ideas and are waiting to see what we find here and how we can put our ideas into motion. So stay tuned...

I write this post for you who read this blog and who wonder what hole we all fell into. You may read it for a variety of reasons; maybe for descriptions of Haiti and an American's life there, maybe for news about Global Ministries or CONASPEH, maybe because you have a heart for children and issues surrounding adoption, maybe because you are suffering from insomnia and want to see how many words I can shove into one single blog entry. What I hope for future writing is a smattering about adoption (although there are people who do it better), about issues of citizenship and immigration, about reentering the American Life, and a teensy bit about Pip and Squeak who challenge us to be better people and who make our lives intensely more interesting and purpose driven. Ultimately I hope our future dreams and projects for partnership in Haiti can be worked out on these pages, recruiting like-minded folks and inspiring thought and feedback.

So if this is your last read, thanks for following our journey through the last few years. As our family has visited various churches and schools, we've felt honored meeting people who have made our family theirs through connecting to our blog. No, its not weird. Instead it helps recreate the feeling of an extended community we came to absolutely love about life in Haiti.

So on to a new chapter. I can't imagine how it will compare to the chapters freshly written. But I dare not tempt fate. It loves to surprise us all.