Oh, Vertigo, When Will You Let Me GO GO?

Yes, it is hard to dance, get Halloween costumes ready, go to church, shave your legs, etc. with this crazy feeling in your ears.  Back to the doc I go, go tomorrow.  I'll try to carve Sarah Morgan's pumpkin today but Dad will have to man the trunk or treat mobile.  Enjoying Jennie and Nancy's blogs.  Read Persepolis and on to Maus I.  My first full length graphic novel completed.  I was struck by the rawness of the form.  It captured the girl's, main charaters,  growing up Iranian in a way that words just could not have alone.  I compare it to Diary of Ann Frank, a masterpiece of its own, and the way it charts the girl's movement through madness all around her.  I've always tried to understand that period in the Middle East's history and now I understand that as a Westerner I probably can't, not with true depth, but this novel gave me a look into Iran at present that will really help me when I hear Iranian stories in our "news."

China Adoption Group Reunion: From There to Here

This is much too fresh for me to write about yet but I feel I must while the senses are fresh with the feelings and images and sounds of the event.  For our family this was the first time in 6 years that the group with which we adopted our daughter was together minus three families.  These are the people that shared the experience of adoption with us the 14 days we where in China.  Upon arriving at the gathering house Sarah Morgan all but disappeared, hand-in-hand, with her crib mate she did not remember as they were adopted as near-16 month old children.  That didn't seem to matter.  The girls played together like they were neighborhood friends who shared the same backyards, swing sets, and classrooms everyday of their lives.  They were-connected!  Our group, the adults, come from all over the country, are vastly different than one another, have different amounts of children and family blends, but we all seem -connected!  It makes me think that if we could all think of ourselves as adopted, grafted together as one Dad said as we all tried to pose for a picture, "one whole crazy group,"  the whole world would feel more-connected!  Imagine the TEA Partyers  and the Occupy Wall Street Group-connected!  The Democrats and the Republicans-connected!  The rich and the poor-connected! The Muslims, Jews, Christians-connected!  The pacifists and the terrorists-connected!  Utopia-no.  Anarchy-maybe.  Impossible-probably.  Good?  Bad?  One could also make the argument,  it is sameness and shared experience and oneness of motive that really is the connection maker.  The long straight black locks of hair, the dark eyes that disappear in giggles, the finding of love caused by the sacrifice of abandonment.  And that "whole crazy group" might fight like cats and dogs except for the similarity of our union with our "forever child."  I mean one season of MTV's The Real World, Housewives of fill-in-the-blank with a city name, Survivor, or Big Brother and you know that Rodney King can ask all day, "Can't we all just get along?" and we can pretty much answer with a 99.9% accuracy-NO. I told you, it was too soon to write this.  I've already edited it three times.   I don't know, but I do know a group of 13 Chinese "sisters"  who could teach the world a thing or two about the "family of humanity" and if you are a believer, the "family of God."

On Being Alone

  My friend recently blogged about being alone and being in a group or a partnership/marriage. I thought I would reflect on this subject in my blog.  I was alone quite a lot during my life. I was an only child. We moved a lot. I loved my friends and my parents and my family and the people in our churches but they were not always there. My Parents had between six and eight churches most of the time when I was young-less when I was older. Daddy worked at carpentry, grew a garden, Momma canned and sewed to make ends meet.  They studied for their services for hours preparing to preach or teach, prayed and visited in the community, hospitals, and funeral homes many times a week. It was "our normal."  They loved me dearly and provided for me in a way that is a miracle, really.  They were different, Mom fiery and determined, not to be messed with, but great with a story and could make something out of almost nothing.  Daddy was quiet, strong, stubborn, smiling.  Mom worried about everything.  Daddy didn't worry.  Mom was careful.  Daddy pushed the edge.  How fast would the car go-he would find out.  I was caught in the middle a lot.  Between them.  Between the world against my Mother ( many hated her for being a minister, don't think so-ask someone even today about female preachers and see what they say) and the burden they both carried for the churches.  That burden became my burden very early in my life.  That is a lonely life for a little girl. My family lived mostly in Kentucky and Indiana and we only saw them a few times a year. I am still friends with my best friend from childhood. We met when I was 5 I think but we only shared three years of school together and then visited as often as we could from then-our families being close friends. I loved the church people I met and their presence in my life really filled in a lot of interest in how people are different. I have always loved the differences in people. I think that is my favorite thing -how people are so alike and how they are so different. My friend Marie who is one of the strongest women I have ever met and who has overcome more hurt than almost anyone I know and remains an optimist, laughs when I tell her I find most people beautiful, but I do. I wish I could find myself beautiful but I haven't gotten there yet. I played a lot by myself and learned a lot about being alone. It would be different now. I rode my bike and later my motorcycle everywhere. I explored the fields and countryside. I stayed outside playing any kind of ball I could find. I practiced my bat swing and pitch for hours at a time. I would get a rubber ball and pitch it against the concrete walls of the garage for hours at a time. I later did this with a tennis ball using my racket to play the "US Open, etc" in my mind for thousands of hits. Now I won't even let Sarah Morgan out in the yard without me to watch her. She asked me one day if she could just go around the mini barn and meet me on the other side of the house-I realized how close a watch I keep on her-but my friend Carol is a detective and she works a lot of OVERTIME trying to keep women and the elderly and children safe so I know who can be out there in the world to do irreversible harm. I must get Sarah Morgan more opportunities to be with other kids and freedom outside and open the world for her more. I married at 29 years old so I had several years on my own. I lived alone for a while. My college friends I call the sisters and I traveled all over the country camping along the way and I could never understand why my Mom was so worried. I understand now! I couldn't get up from the sleeping bag the next day if I tried camping today but my friends and I still travel and they have accepted Jon as a brother. One of them married after me and we accepted Daniel as a brother. I love them all so much. They took much of my loneliness away. The other two are single and a great inspiration to me. They are confident, beautiful, well-read and well traveled. We all love history and places and books and movies and restaurants, and did I mention BOOKS! I have learned the most probably from the women with which I have worked. They are a unique breed, they are tough and gentle and everything in between that any situation calls for. They have taught me about being a mother, a teacher, loyalty and friendship. Old and young I love them for what they bring to the table of life. Then there is Jon, my husband. He is everything I love and need. He is genuine, gentle, kind, funny, self denying, hard working, and so very loving. He thinks I'm beautiful and tells me that every day. He tells me one of his greatest desires is for me to see myself one day through his eyes-I hope I can someday. We are pretty well "joined at the hip." I depend on him too much I think.  I don’t mind eating out alone or going to a movie alone.  Travel-that would be hard for me.  I don’t drive as well as I used to and flying is really hard for me to do.  I was the bodyguard on those camping trips seeing the USA all those years ago. I carried the baseball bat and slept with it by my side in our tent each night. I grew up with guns but don't carry one. My Father wouldn't even let me play cowboys and Indians cause he said you can't even play like you are shooting someone. He impressed on me gun safety and responsibility. He always said never pick up a weapon that you don't intend to use-OR have used on you. That gives you pause. If asked wouldn't he protect his family with one of his guns he would always answer-I don't know what I'd do until I was in that situation. I kinda feel the same way and hope I never have to find out. It's funny though I would have been kicked out of school for zero tolerance because I always carried a pocket knife in my purse. My Father gave me several that I treasure and I have purchased several throughout my life. I just never thought of them as a weapon but just another tool. That wouldn't work today, would it? Anyway, I think the world is a very hard place for a woman alone and I think the single mothers and grandmothers of the world are the most courageous group of people in the world. I think then that economics is rough on women, also-tougher than men-I just do. Lastly, on being alone-some of the most aloneness I have ever felt came when I was in a crowd of people. When I was shy or misunderstood or different or whatever. Most of the alienation came from my own mind but it is a terrible aloneness. During those times I have always sought God. God has always been there for me. The ray of hope, the thing I leaned on, the thing I trusted, the thing in which I believed-not understood but believed. Sometimes He seemed so far away but I still had faith that He was indeed near and I trusted in that I could not see or feel until I could feel it again.  I know there will probably come a time in life when I am alone again.  I hope I have the wisdom to live it and not fear it.

Other Mother

I don't think I've ever written about Sarah Morgan's birth mother.  This weekend the group of couples with which we traveled to China are meeting for a 6 year reunion in Goodlettsville.  They will be coming from all around the country.  Sarah Morgan's crib mate  is coming from Dallas with her parents.  I have a love for Sarah Morgan's birth mother but also a great detachment.  I feel no anger toward her and I feel a vague love for her that is very hard to describe.  It is tinged with feelings that don't accompany any other love I feel.  In other words I feel differently about her than any other person in my life.  She is there in my life but undefined.  I think of her in the most routine of time not on Mother's Day or Chinese New Year or near Sarah Morgan's birth date.   I sometimes scan Sarah Morgan's face, her features, the speech patterns, her tendencies, her body parts-fingers and toes and wonder the features given by the other Mother.  I often tell Sarah Morgan I can't believe God put that much cute on one person-then I start at her toes and go up saying-toes-yes, cute, ankles, heels, shin-yes, all cute,  until she giggles and we hug.  Her other Mother must be beautiful.  I don't feel the same about her Father or the family-why do I put all the positives of Sarah Morgan on her Mother?  She could have been selfish, or mean, or unfeeling but I won't let her be.  I think it was how I saw women in China-at the mercy of-everything-family, men, economics, class, poverty, alienation, history, government, law, tradition.  Sarah Morgan's records only say that she was a newborn when found by a caretaker at the city gate.  They named the day they found her as her birth date.  That would mean that her other Mother had to have given birth to her and then the same day get the baby to the gate.  Could she have done this by herself?  Would she have been able?  Did someone make her do it?  Was it the plan?  Did someone else take the baby for her, from her?  It is against the law to abandon in China, of course it is against the plan of the government to have too many children-the paradox of China-believe me-not the only one.  The other Mother probably has or will have other children.  Sarah Morgan probably has siblings.  They could be anywhere in the world or in her home town or in the busy cities where families send their young to work in the urban factories that churn out our blue jeans and Christmas decorations.  Sarah Morgan would not have had enough status to even be sent to work in one of the live-in factories.  What would she have done?  I think of the female beggars who grabbed our suitcases at the Beijing airport and tried to run with them to our van to gather a few cents from us for their efforts and who had to be roughly moved away by our guide and made to let go of the luggage.  We had been only on Chinese soil a few minutes then. Sarah Morgan is a survivor, She would have made it but at what cost?  Sarah Morgan moves like my Mother and sometimes when she jokes she looks like my aunt, so I must move and look that way and not realize it.  She loves to collect rocks and build things-a very my Father's family-like thing to do.  It is like a university experiment about environment vs heredity played out each day within Sarah Morgan.  No, I don't have the answer.  It is so strange though that I know we, Jon, Sarah Morgan and I were meant to be together.  I don't know how but I KNOW it.  Why are our parents gone when she needs them so much in her life? Why this timing?  I don't know.  Do I worry about how old we will be and how young she will be?  Yes, even though you would think that after everything I would trust God to deal with that.  On Friday I will be surrounded with flowing blue black hair and smiles, and girl giggles and I will meet again the only people to have shared the same experience we did.  Who were there to hear the screams as they placed Sarah Morgan in our arms.  The bus rides, the plane trips, the food, the smells, the fear, the heat, the laughter, the awe, the miracle.  I'm sure each of us will carry some thought of the other Mothers with us.  As the world grows smaller I may one day see another face that is my daughter's and find that she is much like me.

This is a recent self-portrait completed by Sarah Morgan for her guidance class.  When she brought it home I thought , wow, that looks so much like the image of the "Other Mother" I had made.

Click to enlarge poem to read.

Click to enlarge to read

The People You Meet

One of my favorite weekends is Bell Buckle Craft Fair. Over the years I have enjoyed this event so much. Today was my first day to feel healthy in awhile and the sunshine, friends, art, and the people really was the best tonic. I got to see one of my favorite fabric artists again. A very sweet lady who does yarn work in the Portugese style. She said it is a vanishing art. She is always surprised to win a ribbon. Her wonderful demeanor and beautiful colors of yarn work made me feel like we were old friends. I didn't hold up long walking but enjoyed people and dog watching and soaking up the October sun. Maybe I'll start drawing again some as well as writing.