On What is Real
We have been back home now for 11 days, and we’re settling into the changes in our lives as well as we can. Johanna is getting ready for school, with shots (which she loves desperately), new clothes (which she likes a bit more), and with appointments at the school where Joie is learning about the local ESL immersion program. It looks like she’ll start her classes tomorrow.
The first 11 days have come and gone with the expected ups and downs. On the plus side, there have not been too many tears, though we can tell Kelly Johanna misses her foster family and her friends terribly. On the down side, we're all frustrated by our inability to communicate. (Again: Why didn't I learn more Spanish?) Being the most adventurous in the family (or the most willing to sound like an idiot) I've been building my vocabulary by one or two new words a day. But anything beyond the simplest of utterances requires a lot of time and patience on her part, because my pronunciation stinks.
Many people have asked for more pictures, so here are links to two sites where you can view slideshows of the pictures used in this blog, as well as many new ones. I tried to keep from replicating the pictures in these two shows, but may not have been all that successful…
Slideshow One …and… Slideshow Two . If you follow these links you’ll see aerial shots of greenhouses sheltering tropical flowers, more Florencia street scenes, and familiar faces from the previous posts.
I chose the title for this post because I have been thinking a great deal about the question of “What is really real?” Struggling to get back into “work mode” after months of planning and wondering and doubting, and after two weeks of travel, I find myself reflecting a lot on this question.
I know that family is real. I know that my family, in either its new configuration or its old one, is a real and significant as anything on earth. I know that when Georgia wakes up whiny and cranky because her mom’s out exercising, and when she says “I want my Braden” and I slide her under his covers so she can snuggle up with her brother… I know that’s about as “real” a thing as I will ever encounter. I know that my new daughter’s laugh is real, and I know that my hopes for her to pass through this strangeness strong and confidant are real.
Friends are real. Clare and Ronan, the brave Brooklyn adopters of three brave and beautiful children, they’re pretty real. Carlos and Sylvia, Oscar the lawyer, and the ladies at ICBF in Florencia… they’re all very real, and I miss them because they’re so far away. Reed and Erin, Scott and Janet, Ruth, Michele, Rick and Karen, Philip and Angela, Rod and Janel…all our friends here at home who supported us through prayer and hope, these friendships are as real as any I’ve ever known.
The daytime manager at the Caqueta Real and his deaf-mute cleaning lady… the scowling friendly nighttime manager… Claudia, Willman, Patricia… Lucia and Andreas…
I think my point is that all the things we clutter our lives with, all the things that occupy our minds and niggle at our doubts and worries, pale in comparison to the people who so graciously join us on this journey. A very wise friend told me recently, “You get a few gifts in your life, in your talents and the people that surround you. What you do with these gifts is up to you.” How true, Mason. How true.
People are real, and our experiences with them are things to be treasured. Maybe that’s why I don’t want to close this journal, even though we’re home. I don’t want to close the door on the people that populate these pages.
The first 11 days have come and gone with the expected ups and downs. On the plus side, there have not been too many tears, though we can tell Kelly Johanna misses her foster family and her friends terribly. On the down side, we're all frustrated by our inability to communicate. (Again: Why didn't I learn more Spanish?) Being the most adventurous in the family (or the most willing to sound like an idiot) I've been building my vocabulary by one or two new words a day. But anything beyond the simplest of utterances requires a lot of time and patience on her part, because my pronunciation stinks.
Many people have asked for more pictures, so here are links to two sites where you can view slideshows of the pictures used in this blog, as well as many new ones. I tried to keep from replicating the pictures in these two shows, but may not have been all that successful…
Slideshow One …and… Slideshow Two . If you follow these links you’ll see aerial shots of greenhouses sheltering tropical flowers, more Florencia street scenes, and familiar faces from the previous posts.
I chose the title for this post because I have been thinking a great deal about the question of “What is really real?” Struggling to get back into “work mode” after months of planning and wondering and doubting, and after two weeks of travel, I find myself reflecting a lot on this question.
I know that family is real. I know that my family, in either its new configuration or its old one, is a real and significant as anything on earth. I know that when Georgia wakes up whiny and cranky because her mom’s out exercising, and when she says “I want my Braden” and I slide her under his covers so she can snuggle up with her brother… I know that’s about as “real” a thing as I will ever encounter. I know that my new daughter’s laugh is real, and I know that my hopes for her to pass through this strangeness strong and confidant are real.
Friends are real. Clare and Ronan, the brave Brooklyn adopters of three brave and beautiful children, they’re pretty real. Carlos and Sylvia, Oscar the lawyer, and the ladies at ICBF in Florencia… they’re all very real, and I miss them because they’re so far away. Reed and Erin, Scott and Janet, Ruth, Michele, Rick and Karen, Philip and Angela, Rod and Janel…all our friends here at home who supported us through prayer and hope, these friendships are as real as any I’ve ever known.
The daytime manager at the Caqueta Real and his deaf-mute cleaning lady… the scowling friendly nighttime manager… Claudia, Willman, Patricia… Lucia and Andreas…
I think my point is that all the things we clutter our lives with, all the things that occupy our minds and niggle at our doubts and worries, pale in comparison to the people who so graciously join us on this journey. A very wise friend told me recently, “You get a few gifts in your life, in your talents and the people that surround you. What you do with these gifts is up to you.” How true, Mason. How true.
People are real, and our experiences with them are things to be treasured. Maybe that’s why I don’t want to close this journal, even though we’re home. I don’t want to close the door on the people that populate these pages.
posted by Michael Thelander at 11:32 AM
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