Post on Idea Camp Web Site.
/I was asked to blog for The Idea Camp's gathering this fall in Austin on Human Care.
I'd love for you to check out some thoughts I have on "The Nitty Gritty of Adoption"...
http://theideacamp.com/
A Review of Bread & Wine (better late than never)
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A few months ago I was invited to read Shauna Niequist's newest book, Bread & Wine: A Love Letter to Life Around the Table, with Recipes. I jumped at the opportunity because 1) I adored (!!) her first two books, 2) I'm always looking for a good read outside of leadership and spiritual formation books, and 3) who doesn't love a free book?!?
I've known Shauna from up close and from afar since circa 1998. We worked together and were in the same small group for a moment in time, but for the past decade I've admired and cheered her on from the West coast. I love the voice she's developed and the platform God's given her. I love women like her using their gifts in ways to make us all better.
I promised to review the book before it was officially released in mid-April. Oops. I wish it was because I've been consumed cooking myself through the recipes in the book, but it's merely life that delayed my review.
So, on to the official review. Let me be clear and frank with you about Bread & Wine: THIS IS HER BEST WORK TO DATE! To say I loved Bread & Wine would be an understatement. I gobbled up every word, disciplining myself to read slowly, savored in her carefully articulated words, chewed on the timeless truth told from everyday and exotic stories, and salivated the richness of those darn recipes. Perhaps the proof is that I intend to read it again and make every single recipe in this book. If that's not a commendation in the midst of this ridiculous season of my life, I don't know what is. You can order it here.
As I read, a couple realities confronted me. To know me is to know that I am not oh-so domestic. I do not cook well; I throw meals together from the handful of "recipes" that are second nature to me. I do not bake; I buy my sweet treats. I'm not the most hospitable host. Our family motto is "mi casa es su casa", so make yourself at home when you take your shoes off at the door.
But through stories and Scripture and sensory experiences, Shauna casts a vision for life around the table - literally and figuratively - with those you love and those in need and those who need a safe space. I found myself compelled and challenged and called to extend the gift of hospitality, to be more mindful of who I invite into my life and space. My expectations are not unrealistic, but I appreciated these words,
If you put in the time, the learning, the trying, the mess, and the failure, at the end you will have learned to feed yourself and the people you love, and that's a skill for life - like tennis or piano but yummier and far less expensive. I'm not talking about cooking as performance, or entertaining as a complicated choreography of competition and showing off. I'm talking about feeding someone with honesty and intimacy and love, about making your home a place where people are fiercely protected, even if just for a few hours, from the crust and cruelty of the day. (from the "start where you are" chapter)
I will start from where I am. That's a good reminder for most everything.
Of course, many of Shauna's stories are from a life I will not live (summers on Lake Michigan, a childhood with extensive international travel, multiple vacations a year), but that's not the point. These are great stories. Stories of vision and a calling to live deeply in the life you've been given. Still there are so many common stories - of miscarriage, jeans that don't fit postpartum, celebrating your mom's 50th birthday, living in the tension of being working mom, and grieving through death. These stories I can relate to and the other stories are simply fun.
I'm called to love and togetherness and caring for my body and the world. This book shows me how to do that just a little more. Cheers.
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| Shauna doing her thing! |
More on Shauna
Shauna Niequist is the author of Cold Tangerines and Bittersweet, and Bread & Wine. Shauna grew up in Barrington, Illinois, and then studied English and French Literature at Westmont College in Santa Barbara. She is married to Aaron, who is a pianist and songwriter. Aaron is a worship leader at Willow Creek and is recording a project called A New Liturgy. Aaron & Shauna live outside Chicago with their sons, Henry and Mac. Shauna writes about the beautiful and broken moments of everyday life--friendship, family, faith, food, marriage, love, babies, books, celebration, heartache, and all the other things that shape us, delight us, and reveal to us the heart of God.
The Nitty Gritty of Adoption.
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I've heard something like "you can be a hero once when you adopt, but from that point forward it's called parenting". Two and half years ago my husband and I adopted Judah (then 2.5) and Addise (then 11 months) from Ethiopia. Adopting never felt heroic. We don't believe we saved our kids from anything. Becoming their parents always felt like a gift, an obedience to a calling. These days it feels like parenting with as much obedience as we can muster on any given day.
Parenting adopted kids is no joke. Granted, parenting my biological 1 year old son is no joke either, but he hasn't come into our family with a host of deficits, needs, trauma, and core pain. Our biggies have and it manifests itself every day, whether we have the eyes to acknowledge it or now.
The nitty gritty truth of adoption is every aspect of adoption is painful, and will forever be painful. My sense is that "others" think after your adopted kids become a part of your forever family and you grit through those first blurry-eyed months of transition that your family is normal, just like regular families. It's not.
We just celebrated Mother's Day. It was over-the-top joyous for me, but there was a deep, unspoken, and unacknowledged ache in my heart as I remembered Judah and Addise's first mom. Every birthday is a reminder of what was given and then lost. Every time we're at the doctor and are asked questions about their history I have to shrug through my smile and I'm brought back to the unknown of my children's past.
We watched our "Meet-chya Day" video for the first time with our kids this past Mother's Day. Judah was eerily quiet and confused. He was entranced while watching the first moments when our family was introduced. I know he was trying to process what was going on. I anticipate his questions in the days ahead.
Where are the pictures when I was a baby? Why were you crying, mama? Why was I wearing that girl shirt? Why was I born in Ethiopia? Is Addise my "real" sister? ... GULP.
A few months ago we had lunch at our local Ethiopian restaurant and our server, named Aster like our daughter's middle name, began asking questions to Judah in Amharic.
Aster: What's your name? Judah: My name is Judah.
Aster: Is she your older sister or younger sister? Judah: She's my little sister.
Aster: Do you want that to drink? Judah: Yes, I want the orange juice like them.
Aster: Thank you for coming here today. Judah: Thank you.
In a state of utter shock, I asked Aster if he really understood her: "Of course. Once he knows Amharic, it's always in there." she nonchalantly replied. I could hardly process what was happening. My son lived in Ethiopia for 2 1/2 years and has been home for nearly the same amount of time. For nearly half his life he's barely heard Amharic. But it all rushed back to the surface.
It's different with our daughter. She doesn't have the conscious memories, she has visceral wounds. She's oddly clingy and frequently reverts back to baby-like behaviors. Recently, she's been fearful of us leaving her. Her reactions to discipline are disproportionate. These are the wounds she carries and we have the opportunity to help her heal through.
These reminders of their loss and trauma and past are all too often. Many days we just are doing our parenting/life thing and then a trigger will pop up from no where. Some days we feel like a normal family (whatever that is) and then reality smacks us across our face. And we are humbled at the privilege and responsibility of parenting our children in and through their whole story.
This is why I'm so excited about Idea Camp in September. Adoption is a privilege, a calling worth giving our life to but we need support and we need others to get it with us so we don't have to explain every single thing. Parenting is exhausting enough without having to educate the world.
I'm not sure I can attend/participate at Idea Camp Human Care this September (ya know, with the "3 kids 5 years and under" thing), but I certainly hope you can. These are good people. Smart people. Humble people. Active people who are as committed to listening and question-asking as they are to doing something. I trust founder/CEO, Charles Lee, and believe this conversation is important not just to the Church but to our lives.
Find out more here: http://theideacamp.com/. Or simply register here: http://ideacamp2013.
