Blogging by Day

In episode 2 of Blogging by Day, I once again pretend that I wrote a blog by just linking to one I wrote for work.

I think my job is cool and on days when I'm not a crabby brat, I know I'm lucky to get to do it. Maybe tonight or tomorrow I'll write a little less formally about the coolness and hardness of getting to be involved with this particular work. For now though, if you want you can click below and read Work Megan Blogging by Day on the Supreme Court's decision about the Indian Child Welfare Act.

Equal Justice Under the Law for Kids, Too. 

A Family of Family-makers

I'm at Summit 9. Christian Alliance for Orphan's annual event gathering orphan care advocates, people who answer God's call to defend the fatherless in a myriad of amazing ways. The event draws parents, professionals, church ministries, and advocates working in adoption, foster care, trafficking, family preservation, global orphan care, and more. This year, I'm in Nashville with advocates from 49 states and 25 countries.

It's an amazing event for many reasons, but it occurred to me tonight that this event is so powerful for me each year because it is a place where I receive the very thing I spend so much of my life fighting for others to have. This is a place where I belong - where my sense of purpose belongs. 

My heart beats for ensuring that children are in families. I believe with every fiber of my being that every child deserves a safe place where they feel like they belong and are loved, a place where they can learn to be who God made them to be. Family is God's exquisite design for this. 

Some of you know me and more of my story than others, but the short and sweet of it is that my biological parents weren't fully equipped to give me what I needed to thrive in life. When this became especially true, a family I already knew and loved said: "we love you" and "you belong here". (What an extraordinary gift!) I was in a hard situation for a time, but I also know I was protected in many ways from far greater harm along the way. I was also moved into the safe embrace of a family far more quickly than may who face the devastating consequences of long-term institutional living or the instability of moving from foster home to foster home. I am blessed to know far less of hard places than many, but my experience gave me a taste of the before and after of a safe and stable family. There is no glimmer of doubt in my mind that it changed me. Family saved my life. How could I help but want that for every child?

This morning, Stephen Ucembe, a young man who grew up in an institution, spoke to us from his depth of knowledge and experience. Research and science speaks clearly to the dire consequences of institutional living, and that matters, but Stephen's story spoke even more brilliantly to the poverty of being unloved and having no sense of self or belonging when growing up in an institution. He told us, simply and profoundly, that "we should help children not to survive, but to live." Orphanages provide physical sustenance: food, education, shelter. Physical sustenance is sometimes enough to prevent physical death, but this is not life. Life is a place to belong, a confidence that you are loved, and the ability to figure out what it is God created you for and pursue it with all your heart.

This passion of mine for family is found, (because of family) but it is not easy work. It can feel overwhelming. The problem sometimes seems to grow faster than it can be addressed. What is right seems obvious to me, but difficult to implement in real life. Irrational barriers sometimes seem to arise to doing things that seem inarguably right. This work is just what I'm meant to be doing, but sometimes the vastness of both the problem and the barriers make it feel like impossibly difficult and lonely work. Summit 9 provides a sense of belonging though. These are my people. This event and its participants are a warm embrace that reminds me that I am not alone in this work. In that sense of belonging, I regain my sense of purpose. The truth shines brighter in the collective that my work is not futile. Together, we make a difference. While there is still much to be done, the stories, the efforts, the expertise surrounding me at Summit 9 reminds me that this work is immensely important and I am not alone in it. These thousands of passionate co-laborers and I are a family. We are a family of family-makers. And if you are a family-maker, you know how profoundly important that sense of belonging can be to keep you on path to pursuing your purpose in life.

What an extraordinary gift to be here amongst family.  

Extra-Shiny-Amazing Weekend

I have all these amazing, breathtaking people in my life. They are go-getter, world-changers. It's the craziest thing. I think I had a perfect weekend. Every single minute replays sweetly in my memory. What are the odds? With the exception of a few hours reading and napping Saturday afternoon (perfect break for my introvert spirit) I was with extraordinary people all weekend.

And, you know, I'm a believer that all people are extraordinary in their own way, but then there are the ones that just seem sort of extra-shiny-amazing. I have this theory that it's because they also live like they think everyone was made extraordinary - more on that another time perhaps. The point now is, I think I only saw all those glittery brilliant type people this weekend and it was magical. What a gift.

One group in particular just shake me to my core every time we're together. They've become some of my nearest and dearest -the friends you can be most yourself with and your most ridiculous with. They are the friends I never thought I'd be cool enough to have. (I'm still not.) The ones you laugh the hardest with. The ones that you're so confident will pray for your heartbreak and celebrate your victories. I love them individually, but when they all land in one place, be still my heart. I spent Friday night and Saturday morning through brunch with this collaboration of amazing. (Yes, we had a sleepover. Don't judge with your jealous selves!). I still consistently wonder if they'll get tired of me soon. I often think: "how on earth am I allowed to hang out with these bright stars?" I sort of hope that never stops echoing in my mind. I want to always be in awe of what absolute rockstars they are because it's true. And it's better than any movie to have an insider view of their lives unfolding.

I had an Epiphany epiphany (ha.) this weekend. It was striking and not entirely new, but too frequently forgotten. If you slow down - really slow your mind, your feet, your heart - time stretches out. And from the moment I left work Friday to falling into bed Sunday I remember so many perfect moment details that it seems impossible it all fit into a single weekend.

Instinctively, I want to try and list them, because it seems unconvincing to just say it was all goodness and nothing else. I won't list them though. As much as I am a giver of evidence and prover of things, I don't want to share them. I want to keep them - all mine - like the gift they were. Not all mine, just mine. All mine and ours. They've already been shared just right and resharing might confuse or limit their sweetness somehow. Words just aren't always enough for everything.

I'll just say thank you though. If I saw you this weekend, thank you for being extra-shiny-amazing in my life. Thanks to the Creator of you all. And, I'm so thankful for the perspective to recognize and dwell in the warm embrace of it all. A year ago, my heart wasn't anywhere near this, find happiness and cling to it, place. It's good and light and I do not take it for granted. This weekend was a glimmer of eucharisteo. The wonder I believed in, sought after, raved about. Those beautiful words I read over and over are, beyond my most hopeful expectations, even cozier lived out.

Default Emotions

In the last year or so, I keep being reminded how often I assume a default emotion. I actually have all the emotions, it's just I don't want people knowing about them. I mean, it's not like everyone has emotions. I don't want to seem weird. Ok, fine everyone has all the emotions - none of them are bad - only our responses can be. For whatever reason though, I just like to hide mine like some sort of weirdo in denial. So, too often, I just front with my go-to emotion: anger. I don't seem weak with anger. I do seem like a jerk/weirdo/spazz (easy to forget that part it seems).  At least I'm not vulnerable though (lies! we tell ourselves...).

For example...

I'm heartbroken that Russia has banned intercountry adoption and taken an opportunity for family away from children. Rage. Rage. Rage.

I'm confused because someone responds in the exact opposite way I would: "Grr. WHY! Grr!"

I'm afraid that if I question something I'll be rejected. "Why don't they just do it the way I want?"

I have a creative idea and am afraid to be rejected so I don't speak up."Why didn't they ask me? Jerks. They don't care what I think!"

Right - are we seeing a theme here? (Where I'm the problem?) I see a theme... (Where I'm possibly a little crazy.)

It's ridiculous of course. Particularly since I really value communication - in theory anyway. In law school, I was always a fan of the things that involved talking it out instead of litigation - things like mediation, negotiation, and policymaking. I still prefer those routes. So, I am, theoretically, a fan of overcommunicating. I'm trained and equipped to help others have healthy conversations and problem solve. I didn't get to do too much of it formally professionally, but I thought I was learning to be relatively effective at it. And when I remember that it's an awesome and useful process, it totally helps navigate in life still. 

I seem to be sort of bad at doing it for myself though. And maybe that's why I was so drawn to it. I needed to learn the skills and I was especially sympathetic to those in need of the skills - since, I was them. Oh humans, we're all so unique. We come at things differently. We really need help understanding each other. I really need to lose the "safe", stupid default emotion, figure out what I really feel, and say so. We all do. We're a beautiful mess. Dig in. The payoff is worth the risk. (Or so I'm trying to convince myself...)

Truth and Mystery

I think it's crucial to understand that faith comes filled with truth and with mystery. I think that's why I can feel so very at home in two such drastically different churches. For me, it's easy - instinct - to cling to and treasure the Lutheran beliefs and traditions I grew up in. It's also incredibly comfortable for me to participate in my less conventional, mission loving, small group emphasizing, experiment encouraging current church. It's funny that this is easy for me. I'm an answers girl. I like things to be clear cut, but God has pretty clearly shown me He is not, so apparently my mind has given up on complete understanding And that leaves me to settle in to celebrating the diversity of His followers. I have a set of core beliefs that ring loud and true from childhood, but the things that are "the great questions", I don't often have a strong desire to take a side on and I don't think many of those things are so essential to understand. Against all odds, my "answers please! answers now!" personality let's it go on this front. I'm with Augustine - unity in the essentials, liberty in the non-essential, and charity in all. Charity - disagreeing in love - in the rare moments disagreement is necessary can disarm the most ardent reactions. 

Anyway, In the last week or so I've been reflecting on 2012 and there are some truly precious memories - great experiences with friends, countless blessings, but I also remember some really hard moments. Lessons learned and hurt felt. It wasn't all bad, but I'm not sad to see 2012 behind me. I remember gathering this time last year with friends and talking about what I wanted in the year to come - nothing outrageous, just sort of the reasonable, hopeful, what's next in life thoughts. And mostly, they just weren't what the year would hold at all.   (Silly me, thinking I have any control. Or that I'd be any good at making the plan if I did.). There have been some unexpected other positives, but in many ways, it felt like a treading water sort of year. I wasn't drowning and I'm stronger for it, but it sure wasn't anything I hoped for. 

As 2013 approached, I set aside a few hours to think about goals and hopes for the year. I've never been much of a resolution maker. It seems so cliche and so bound to fail. I do like the idea of goal setting though. It's just not typically a new year thing for me. In church Sunday the concept of having a theme or verse for the year came up though. I thought that was something I could maybe get on board with. Something that could serve as a lens to see the year through. And then I remembered a story from the Christmas sermon in Michigan that had been sort of replaying in my mind since I heard it. It was one of those moments where you feel like he has totally crept into your thoughts and wrote a public response. Creepy and wonderful. And I knew instantly that story held my theme and I knew instantly a verse that really needs to be perma-stamped on my heart and mind. 

Isn't it funny how my church worlds, which I love equally, but are so different I'm sometimes nervous to introduce them to one another, work together for me. That's unity and liberty in action. God is in the center of both places and he somehow - while managing all the hundreds of others milling about - notices me and tells me what I need to hear.

And that's the beauty of mystery. I have no idea how it all works. I have no idea how I'm so confident God is in both places and I need to be in both places sometimes. It's been good for me to learn to live in the tension of loving both places, being blessed by both, needing both to find myself better connected. I'm finding myself fiercely grateful for the beautiful mystery of it all.