Not for Naught

I'm officially unpacked and settled in "my" room-- the one with the treadmill and stationary bike and mini-fridge and Dad's closet.

And a bunk bed.

But, sadly, there will be no Quasi-sibling to bunk with this Christmas (only a real one named Emily once she gets her self done with school!). Yesterday we found out that Mom and Dad's background checks are under a ginormous stack of unfinished paperwork downtown. If these were submitted in August and we still haven't gotten them back, then Luke and Steph's, which were filled out in November will be a while. Obviously, we can't have a little person up in here during that while.

All of this seems crazy since we thought we were on the fast track to foster care. Our super nice social worker Alice was rushing our home study so that we could have a child by Christmas. She wasn't allowed to even start a home study, technically, without the background checks being finished. So when she showed up and starting taking notes on our life and living situation, we just assumed everybody had been cleared. But now the home study is typed up and finished and there is no background clearance. This is frustrating because if there were anything on Mom and Dad's records, it would've affected their license to practice medicine. Luke became a police officer in July, which would not have happened without a thorough background check.

Speaking of Officer C. Luke Smith, he made one of the largest drug busts in Bryant's history Sunday morning. I know, I know, those of you not from around here are thinking that probably doesn't take much in a podunk little Arkansas town. That would have been a correct thought process back in the day when he made the biggest bust in Cammack Village, a city of maybe 4 square miles. But Bryant is a sizable city and sits on I-40-- a thoroughfare for moving drugs from Texas to Missouri. So no, this was not one of like four busts this year. Luke is just a really good cop.

http://www.todaysthv.com/video/default.aspx?bctid=57203500001

The kind who gets to be the worst part of a bad guys day. He confiscated more than 20 pounds of marijuana from this car basically because he has a good read on people (can you tell I'm proud?). According to his Captain, Luke was just "on top of his game." Somebody is seriously pissed that they don't have their estimated 30,000 dollar delivery. But such is life, Mr. Drug Dealer. Such is life.

And life, for us, goes on as normally as it does for the Smiths for now. I can't even say I'm not bummed that I wont get to meet our kid during this extended break when I could get to know said kid. After all, it was going to be my favorite Christmas present. But, as many of my friends reminded me when I sent the news out yesterday, this is all in God's timing. It has been from the beginning. Not just from the beginning of this process, but from the beginning of time itself. I can't compete with that. And I wouldn't want to. Even if it meant I could be making cookies with a 6 year old girl or singing a 6 month old to sleep or playing basketball with a 10 year old boy, I wouldn't really want my timing over God's.

So the hoping and the praying and filing and the interviewing and the shopping and the prepping has not been for naught. All of it is working towards a child getting a safe and loving home at some point. Until then, I continue to pray for whoever is coming our way, for whatever situation is happening now that will be sending him or her our way. That is not really something fun to think about, but it is certainly worth praying over. And, in the meantime, we can take the lock off of the attic door that leads to where I need to put my suitcases up. I am convinced the door is hiding Narnia the way they have upped the security around it. In reality, the lock is another measure that has not been for naught. Even the fire escape plan continues to serve a purpose.

And though I wont be getting what I thought would be my favorite present, the real gift for now is having the family and the means to host a kid in the first place. I'll soak up my time with them while I have this chance. And praise God for his timing.

Insignificant

It's baaaaack.

Our olympic flashback/forward program is making an appearance after two whole months of nothin.

1980 and Savchenko/Szolkowy (Germany)

1984 and Zhang/Zhang (China)

1988 and Dube/Davison (Canada)

This is the long overdue fourth installment, about the easily overlooked 1992 Albertville olympics. Where? Exactly my point. And, France, by the way. That's where.

I can't say for certain what got me thinking about kickin' this back up. I mean, I know, but I just really can't say yet. I did buy a t-shirt with the olympic rings on it a couple of weeks back and it has been a source of inspiration, for sure.

In addition to this, last Saturday during study breaks, I got a few of us watching some pairs skating and attempting to do some moves in our socks on the hardwood floor of the apartment. We were genius.

(the last two are sit spins, by the way)

And then after exams Katie Jones and I were watching Sale and Pelletier (they'll be comin up sometime in the near future) mostly because she busts it on the ice like I would if I were competent in the ways of skating, and got the great idea to mesh it with music from Glee.

(For the record, as I sit here writing this, Dad is busy writing the "Smith Evacuation Plan" for in case of a fire... some formality that needs to happen before we can get Quasi-Smith up in this house. This is ironic to me given that I begged this family to practice a fire drill after the nice fireman at Career Day suggested it in kindergarten. The drill never happened and neither did an escape plan or meeting point.

Then, back when Luke worked at Cammack Village as a police officer and fireman, I missed it when he was the officer on duty and the rest of the family walked into his house to find a fire near the back door. The mental images of him jumping in his police car to drive to the fire station, hoppin in the fire truck and driving a quarter mile back to his house as mom screams "do something" and dad points the garden hose in the general direction of the flames is almost better than actually being there, though, I think. I don't believe in karma, but.... I'm just sayin' maybe if we had conducted a drill they could have been more cohesive. I guess sometimes DHS has to say something before it will get done. So now, 15 years later, we have an evacuation plan and a ladder to put by the window upstairs. Here is the plan (excuse the mirror effect of the mac):

It reads:

"1. Leave the room.

2. Go down the stairs.

3. Get out of the house through the front door."

... I know this plan will change your life. You will not find a clearer plan than that, trust me. No. Don't trust me. Trust the Doctor and the Fireman. We don't keep 'em around here for nothin.)

(This is officially another side note stemming from the one above that I felt deserved a new parenthetical clause given the monstrous nature of the first one. In that last picture I have fake glasses on because I am trying to get used to the look because I tried on Emily's new prescription glasses and stuff actually was much clearer for me, too. So I might be getting glasses. What do you think?

Eh. We'll see. Actually, I'll see. Better, anyway. If I get the glasses. I might wait until it's unbearable. The lesson learned, though, is that sometimes you just assume you have perfect vision until you are proven wrong by a much clearer picture. Do I assume I have things figured out or am I looking for better focus? That is about as deep as I am prepared to go tonight, so for now just ponder with me, aight?!)

Listen, I told you it was easy to be distracted from, the '92 games of Albertville. But it is where Kristi Yamaguchi won her medal, so there's some importance. Thus we continue the age old tale of Russian domination in pairs figure skating. Only not really because this was the USSR. Oh, but not really because that officially ended in 1989. 1992 was still a time of transition for Soviet Russia and its socialist nation-state affiliates so the "russians" competed under the name "the Unified Team" at this olympics. Just to give it that western pro-United States ring to it, it seems. Still, the Unifieds (*cough* soviets *cough* russians) were again prepared to stomp.

Enter Artur Dmitriev and Natalia Mishkutenok. They trained in Leningrad (modern St. Petersburg) with Tamara Moskvina of Valova and Vasiliev (1984 olympic gold medalists) fame. In competition, these two never placed less than 3rd. After this Olympics, they skated the same routine at Worlds and scored an unprecedented four perfect 6.0 marks. For those who ask "how can you do pairs and not be a couple?" I would suggest calling up Artur and Natalia, who split up as a team amicably soon after their silver medal win at the 1994 Olympic games (coming right up!). Artur went on to partner with Oksana Kazakova (not relation to Oksana Baiul), which becomes important, oh, around 1998. Natalia married a hockey player and then divorced him and then married some random guy and now they have a 3 year old daughter. She coaches skating in Texas (random?) now, completely retired from performance. Dmitriev, however, is still kickin' with his second skating partner, though he has been married to a russian gymnast/choreographer since 1992 and they have a son, Artur Jr. I call him Artie because we're tight like that.

Before you watch, I do ask that you respect the purple.

I don't know who the woman commentator is, but I think she may be Dick Button's daughter to whom he bottle fed a little too much haterade. "She did not get those rotations in AT ALL!"

A little piece of trivia for you all, the move where she grabs his calf and he holds one of her legs so that she does the splits while he spins is something they created and it is now named after her, called "Natasha's spin."

So now our amateurs, Keauna McLaughlin and Rockne Brubaker of the US of A.

Represent.

With any luck, they will represent America in Vancouver. They are the current two time US Championship gold medalists (but, uh, placed 11th at 2009 Worlds. If I remember correctly, she had had the flu. Unfortunately, Katie Jones, none of the flaws in this performance involve skate in the face. Shame.) and at 17 and 23, respectively, have a while to go in their careers.

This is them winning the 2009 US Championships: (beware, Emily, you are not going to like her teeth)

And here is their most recent short program, skated at the Russian Cup last month to "Unchained Melody" (may Patrick Swayze rest in peace):

For the record, Keauna is totally wearing Ekaterina Gordeeva's costume from her 2006 performance of All I Want For Christmas is You. I feel like I should include it since it is that time of year...

As to whether or not they are a couple, it's just hard to say. She is a senior in high school in Colorado Springs, while he is at the University of Colorado. I don't know how much say so a six year age difference has on their being together or not, but these pictures seem to indicate that it doesn't have a lot:

(please note that she is completely horizontal!)

Yeah, yeah, I guess they are just doing their job, really (I wish that was my job). Oh well. besides, the real reason I'm posting that many pictures of them is so that it doesn't seem as obsessive when I put so many of Gordeeva and Grinkov when their turn comes up. What I can say for certain, since wikipedia has informed me, is that the name Keauna is Hawaiian for "feminine wind running through the forest." My name feels so insignificant now.

... not to mention my skating skills.

And still seeming insignificant after all of this?

Albertville.

And Dad's escape plan.

The Help

The fact that this time last week I was in a very different living room with a much heavier heart is not lost on me today. I have never been so overwhelmed by the fear of failure.

I mean, I was okay with being the least coordinated kid in the children's choir. Piano recitals? There was never any way around them, so I learned to oblige and make my peace with the nerves. Very rarely have I thought "what if I just don't do this" and felt so overwhelmed to the point of truly believing I couldn't. I don't know what it was about last Monday and that test, but I felt so defeated before any testing had even begun. It was really only a couple of hours of absolute restlessness, but it scared the snot out of me. For good reason, though, I think. Feeling so out of control of my emotions brought me back to how futile emotions actually are. Frustration, exhaustion, sadness, happiness, love when its treated like one. And, ultimately, how out of control I really am.

I knew the test wasn't the end of the world, nor should it have been the entirety of my world. But that helpless feeling is frightening. Running to the help does mean the world. Was it stupid to freak about about some test? I think so. But it got my attention. Just in time for vacation, when the temptation is to sit back and mindlessly relax, God reminded me, "Sadie you need my help."

I am not in any less need of it today as I was one week ago. And God is not any less able to offer it, either. In a world of changing emotions, that steadiness is striking to me.

Our pastor yesterday said something along the lines of how it's not God's height that makes the difference, but how far He is willing to bend down.

The nativity seems so ordinary to me. Common and overlooked.

Jesus was born common and overlooked. But He was striking.

I'll Be Home For Christmas

More like I'll be boarding in a few minutes, really.

But I felt like if BWI was going to be so kind as to offer free wi-fi over the holidays, I should at least put it to some kind of good use. (Does this even count as "good use?") I was reading over my Airport letter and cannot believe that was only thirteen days ago. I used to read about the Cuban missile crisis and think "it was just several days." I would now believe John Kennedy if he told me those were the longest days of his life. Actually I wouldn't because I feel like November 22 would take the cake. Technically though, it was a pretty short day for him.

For the record, I do not recommend stream of consciousness writing within the first 48 hours coming out of exam week.

I must say, though, Katie Jones wrote a fabulous stream of consciousness essay on going green and sea otters (or should I say "hotters") in the hours after her last test. It involved an otter saying "peace be with you" and her responding "what are you, Jesus?" Then he chased her and said "live long and prosper" to which she responded "what are you, Spock now?" And something about how now she loves to recycle whereas she used to choke the hotters with plastic 6 pack things. Her dramatic, if abrupt, ending was "You're welcome. K, Bye."

Sadly I cannot share this essay with you as it was removed from the Time to Hope website. Haters.

All I'm saying is that I love an airport. Always I do. When I'm looking at 2 weeks of nothing but work or I'm sittin on the flipside, I love chilling against the wall at a gate, with my bags surrounding me, watching little kids dance and parents wish they had a leash for said dancing kid. Then there are those parents who actually have leashes. I love that usually it's just me and the Airport. And, of course, everyone else. It's a time for detox. This is my time to let it sink in.

I'll be home for Christmas.

I'm proud of the work I put into the past couple of weeks. But man, I am so over it. Thank you, thank you, God, for the strength.

Okay now I have to go because I am all up in the way as the pilots are lining up to get on the flight. I feel like I should move, because they are fairly crucial to my getting home.

For Christmas!

White Finals

The title made more sense in my head, I assure you. Basically, it snowed on Saturday (in Arkansas we call it a "wintry mix"). And while it wasn't necessarily a white Christmas, it sure felt like Christmas for probably the first time this season. Just in time for finals. Just in time to remind me that there is much more to right now than finals.

And He is beautiful.

Calling it a Night

Talking to mom always helps.

Even when she tells you that the stress doesn't get better. ;-) No really, it helped.

Some people don't even have that. A mom. Indeed, my situation could be much dire-er (go with it). I know that. But it wouldn't have been an anxiety attack if had been thinking rationally. I'm going to bed confident that I've done what I can for tonight. Here is the kicker:

"Then I thought in my heart

'the fate of the fool will overtake me also.

what then do I gain by being wise?'

I said in my heart

'this too is meaningless.'

For the wise man, like the fool, will not long be remembered;

in days to come both will be forgotten.

Like the fool, the wise man too must die."

-Ecclesiastes 2:15-16

Not exactly the exam week pick me up I was looking for, you know. Like when your mom basically tells you life doesn't get easier from here, anyway, so deal. (it was nicer than that in conversation, and she did assure me that she'd be on the first flight here to help me deal. If she wasn't, you know, dealing with her own stuff).

But read on.

"What does the worker gain from his toil? I have see the burden God has laid on men. He has made everything beautiful in its time. He has also set eternity in the hearts of men; yet they cannot fathom what God has done from beginning to end. I know that there is nothing better for men than to be happy and do good while they live. That everyone may eat and drink, and find satisfaction in all his toil-- this is the gift of God. I know that everything God does will endure forever; nothing can be added to it and nothing taken from it. God does it so that men will revere him." - Ecclesiastes 3:9-14

Revere Him tonight, I do. Because without it, without him, there is zero satisfaction in typing 20 pages of notes and reading hundreds of pages about the honor system of Latin America and revolutionary motivations of the working class during the 18th Century. Ziltch satisfaction.

But he makes everything beautiful in its time. Fabulous essays tomorrow or not so much, what God does is what endures. I'm not adding to it.

Or. (this is what brings me peace). taking from it.

God brings significance to my work, not vice versa. I cannot fathom what He has done. He, meanwhile, sits ready to honor what I have done if I choose to revere his omnipotence.

And so, God, I do. And with that I'm calling it a night. What more can I do?

Lost It

I'm waiting for my study partner in a basement that reminds me so much of my freshman year. Tonight I parked in the parking lot I wasn't allowed to have a car in back then and pictured the first time my parents came to Fredericksburg after dropping me off. I walked the brick sidewalk that I can remember walking the day they left me here when I thought for the very first time "this is it. Four years. In four years I'll be walking this same sidewalk." I remember feeling what I was up against and wondering how much work I really had ahead of me.

I guess anxious was the word. But mostly just uncertain then.

Today I was anxious. I couldn't sleep, I couldn't work, I couldn't even eat. Feeling like I hadn't been doing my best and that there isn't enough time to get everything done. Feeling like I'm not going to do well this week. Worried about my grade. Feeling like I'd lost it.

Thinking what I had to do. How much time I had to do it in. How badly I physically felt. How empty I spiritually felt. Exhausted but not able to rest.

I'm better now. But still struggling. I know God's got the big picture. But right now I feel like there is a lot of responsibility on my shoulders to do well. Or at least do my best. I have not lost my ability to do that.

And God? He hasn't lost it. Ever. So that's good.