I'd like you to meet....

Frank and Jillian.

I stumbled across their blog for the first time after catching up with Haiti friends, Ben and Alexis.

We met Jillian for the first time during Lent, 2009. She was one of several in the group that I vowed would become good friends during our time in Haiti. At the time, she was living apart from her newlywed husband who had plans to move to Port-au-Prince after the holidays. And he did. And they experienced the earthquake as harshly as any survivors did.

I've spent the evening devouring their blog, loving the pictures and the descriptions of daily life that at times sounds hauntingly a whole lot like pre-quake Haiti.

Because I'm not there, no longer a voice for the experience of living in that amazing country, I'd like to share their blog with you. Because they are there. Living it. Loving it most days, but honest about the grit.

http://goatpath.wordpress.com

Enjoy.

A Good Day

This afternoon the sun shines in a cloudless sky, illuminating the light green aspen leaves, highlighting every turn of leaf and wave of branch. The world looks sun-drenched and washed. Rains fall nearly every day in the mountains this time of year, and as a result we are surrounded by lush green and cool evenings. This morning, during my run, a single cloud in the sky burst sending a gentle rain misting down while the sun shown brightly overhead, creating an incredible weather dichotomy. Warm sun shining and cool rain falling, neither sacrificing the other. Pondering the magic of it all nearly distracted me from the task at hand... RUNNING.

Huffing and puffing doesn’t begin to describe what I look like on my first weeks of running in the mountains. Pasty, gasping and heaving paints a more clear picture. Incredible how lack of oxygen to the brain, tho, creates a unique high... and nausea. If I get in shape here, I am going to be brazen about how awesome I am. As it is, I still get dizzy and feel my lungs expanding well past their normal boundaries in efforts to find useable oxygen--sometimes I think I even TASTE them. I celebrate when I can run longer than ONE MINUTE (count it, 60 painful seconds) as I'm heading the return trip back UP the mountain toward home and water and couch and snacks. Oh its so deceiving... I take off from home feeling like a million bucks... run for 20 or 30 minutes and think "man, I'm doing awesome," conveniently ignoring the fact that I've been running downhill the ENTIRE time, letting gravity be my fuel. Getting home is another game COMPLETELY. But the scenery is breathtaking (or is the altitude or my out-of-shapeness?), and I keep shaking my head in wonder that we really LIVE here now. Incredible.

Despite coughing up a lung today, I feel great after my run. I'm having one of those days which I am inspired to get my life back into rhythm and balance with the universe. Of course this usually means first making a list (there is always a list, I'm so type A) of goals and hopes for the oncoming year. 2010 has had a rough and challenging start, but one that despite its tragedy and trials has gifted us with tremendous love, generosity, and a new-improved family. We've seen the true colors of family and friends, and let me tell you--they are spectacular. We also found out what we are able to survive and weather. Instead of throwing the books at 2010, I'm hoping that we can take a rocky beginning and round out the year stronger, healthier, better for it all.

Solomon, Valancia and I just came in from playing outside... throwing pinecones at trees (rather than at sisters, brothers or mommies), climbing over rocks and playing "jump-jump" and "run-into-a-hug" (highly technical, evolved games, I assure you). They are currently in a window of cute behavior and loving on each other in ways that makes me want to bronze a moment and live in it for all time. When Cici throws her arms around Solomon's neck, or Solomon takes Cici's face in his hands and brings her in for a smooch, when they walk hand-in-hand up a hill, everything else melts away and I instantly forget the previous episode of slap-fight or screaming match. I am so glad I have them, but even more grateful that they have each other. I'm not so neive to think that their lives will be charmed and trouble free. They are growing up in a family that will cause the parts of the world that are unkind to question or judge. I pray that we'll get through such rocky moments with love and grace. But when I look at my kids, at the way they are becoming such good friends, I know that no matter what they'll have to face, they'll do so having the other there to understand, to sympathize, to walk the sometimes bumpy road. I am reminded of all the things my brother and I have weathered together, the history and stories we share. Chris makes me stronger just knowing there is another person in the world who understands, who comes from the same beginnings and who has my back no matter what. I was gifted with a best friend conveniently packaged within a family. I am SO GRATEFUL my children have the opportunity for such a relationship and that they are so quickly well on their way on becoming great friends.

Strangers often ask if my kids are twins. No... born on a different day, to different mothers, but brought under the same roof by a twist of fate and a whole lot of luck. Siblings, yes. And may they forever be so. In the best sense of the word.

So on this gorgeous day that invites reflection and play, I celebrate how far we've come as a family and what we've become. I soak in the here-and-now with the warm sunshine. I give thanks for sun and rain, for lungs that breathe (no matter how dramatically), for kindness shown between children, for my family and precious time to play, to explore and to cherish each other.

Mt Evans

This weekend, we packed up the family for a little local roadtrip up one of Colorado's grand 14'ers accessible by car. In our Colorado life BB (before babies) we never took the opportunity to ease up such heights behind the wheel, preferring the challenge of tackling the record peaks on foot so we could stand at the top, pumping our fists in the air Rocky-style, basking in the sense of accomplishment that comes from putting your body through physical pain for the sake of a great view and staking a proverbial flag on the top of the world. Of course there were always hikers who humbled such accomplishments like the sinewy mountain man running up and down the same peaks, making light of our physical duress. Or the 4-year-old who proudly announced without a hint of shortness of breath at one oxygenless top that this was her 5th 14'er. Now days we drive guilt free, toddlers safely nestled in their car seat, feeling accomplished that we escaped the house in favor of exploring our neighborhood. The kids were less impressed by the dramatic scenery then their parents, but took the opportunity of a few hours in the car and lack of oxygen to take a nice Sunday morning nap.

On a bright sunny day, the scenery was astounding. Around every curve a new dramatic vista opened up, as we climbed higher and higher into the sky. Wildflowers dotted the roadside and sprinkled the mountain with color, impressing us with their high-altitude fortitude. The higher we climbed, the lower temperatures sank leaving a chill on the breeze blowing in the windows. Permafrost leaves the air crisp and clean, high above the pollution and noise of the world.

I was also reminded of a recurrent nightmare I have. In this dream I am driving along a winding mountain pass on a narrow road with no guide rails. In my dream the view is beautiful, but I am fighting anxiety as I realize I have no breaks and the road keeps getting more and more narrow. Eventually the road thins to a footpath and then into nothing and my car goes careening off a cliff and sailing through the air. Usually I wake up heart-racing before my car lands in a fiery crash. I haven't had said dream in a while, but this particular drive awakened countless nightmare-filled nights, and I was struck a little panicky as the narrow road SANS guardrails wound higher and higher into the clouds. Normally not a fraidy-cat about much, I found myself hiding my face in my sleeve (much to Patrick's amusement) on a few turns when I was sure that the brakes would fail and we'd be careening off the next turn turning my nightmares into an ironic foreshadowing for our bitter end. But like most anxiety, it was for naught as Patrick guided our car safely to the tip-top of the mountain.

The view from the peak was incredible, the breeze wintery cold, the oxygen thin in supply leaving us breathless with even a relaxed stroll.

From such a grand apex, looking out at all the peaks of lesser altitude stretching out into the dusty blue horizon, I always have the "grain of sand" feeling. I relish such moments when witness to just how huge and incredibly beautiful the world is we live in. I feel intensely spiritual and calm when reminded through such a vantage point that we are a piece in a very connected, very living, very vibrant world, yet only one small piece. There is something grounding about being reminded of the vastness of our world and that the frets and worries, the time-wasting anxieties we fill our moments with (that keep us from enjoying the view) are petty in the grand scheme of things.

As we settle into our life in Colorado, creating more permanence to our position by securing jobs and looking into daycare options, I have struggled with feelings of loss of a place and way of life we weren't quite ready to move on from. Most days here feel instead like a vacation of sorts since we are still in a period pre-job, pre-schedule. I can conveniently forget that at the end of this vacation, we aren't returning to Haiti. Such thoughts keep me from completely investing in the life we are in now, from letting it be as much of a teacher as chapters before have been. Standing on Mt. Evan's summit, I was jolted into the present, into the incredible life we STILL continue to live, into perspective. I was reminded of the opportunities that lie before us, ready to be recognized and seized, appreciated, learned from. The road we are on doesn't have to be narrowed with restrictions, but can open up a journey with new vistas leading us to places we need to go. Haiti doesn't have to be a chapter closed but an important road ventured. We braved the path and now we know the way. More often than not risking a hair-raising venture is worth the perspective at the end.

Haiti was like that. Is like that. I hope our Colorado chapter has its own unique lessons to teach. One hike or drive at a time.

GET TO WORK!

Enough with the slow days of summer. Put down the fishin' poles and deflate the floaties, kids. Its off to work you go!

Ah, the joys of adoption and immigration. Truly we have reason to celebrate every box that gets checked off on the long list of hoops to jump through to bring two Haitian children into our home and make them legally members of our family and of our country.

I write this only to highlight some of the absurd we deal with in trying to get everything sorted out and boxes checked. Patience is a virtue, and I'd like to say Patrick and I have harbored such in the process, but that would be an outright dirty lie.

Since entering the country at the end of January, we've been trying to get the kids hooked up with medical insurance--first Medicaid to cover them until they were adopted and could be placed on our Global Ministries plan. The State of Colorado made them eligible for state medicaid as refugees coming into the country which sounded like a blessing as we started receiving fat hospital bills from Valancia's brief stay and evaluation. However as we've discovered with many government agencies, communication and coordination between entities is not a well-oiled machine. Rusty. Squeaky. Broken. For months, Patrick has been doing a juggling act between various offices in effort to get the children into the system, and he has hit one road block after another. As a physician, the experience has given me valuable insight into what the nation's poor and uninsured have to go through, the challenges to be faced navigating such dense systems.

Most recently those in charge determined our kids needed social security numbers to get on any retroactive assistance programs that might cover hospital bills. Ok. So after waiting for adoptions to be finalized, Patrick headed with all necessary paperwork to the SSI office. He met with a very nice woman who sat and entered one document after another into our kids' files, minutes ticked into hours. When Patrick handed over the last page and could see light at the end of the tunnel, the process almost complete, an alarm dinged on the worker's computer prompting for a copy of the kids'... get this... not even lying... WORK VISAS. Yes, apparently regardless of age, all people coming into the country need a work permit in order to qualify for a social security number REGARDLESS if they are adopted or if still sporting Huggies. Of course citizenship will erase all this silliness, but that is still to happen at an undefined time. So now we have to harass Homeland Security for work permits for our kids. I mean really, it IS about time they start pulling their weight around here. They are just consumers really, eating, drinking and soiling a staggering amount of diapers... so time to start contributing to the family fund already! Why didn't I think of this before? But skill set? What on earth can they do??? Make messes for vacuum salesmen? Do diaper leakage testing? Taste-test Gerber baby food? Their resume's are sort of pathetic.

On a happier note, the news reported this week that the House and Senate have each passed versions of the Immigration Bill for the children coming in on Humanitarian Parole. One more House vote is needed to approve the Senate's revised version of the bill which should happen this September. The kids could start getting their citizenship processed as early as this fall! Of course how quickly the law will be put into action remains to be seen, but great news nonetheless. THANKS TO ALL who wrote and called their Congressmen and Senators advocating for this bill and for the children it represents. In Legislative time, its incredible how fast it all has been processed.

Truthfully the news--while amazingly good--also left us questioning a bit, wondering if we should have been more patient, if we should have pushed a little harder to extend an already generous home stay. But we comfort ourselves knowing we had to make a decision for financial, security, sanity reasons. Our future is always ours for the molding. Amazing that the wait might be shortened and freedom to go and do as a family unit is closer than we expected!

So as we groan about getting the kids work permits, we celebrate a legislative move that puts us a lot closer to the finish line!