Whatever a man prays for, he prays for a miracle. Every prayer reduces itself to this: "Great God, grant that twice two be not four."~Ivan Turgene

I have prayed daily for all of my conscious life. There have been times that I've felt connected with God, and have heard direct answers when I've asked questions. I thank God silently feeling the sunshine on my skin, watching the rain water the roses, tasting Ghiradelli chocolate brownies, holding my newborn child. Most of the time, though, my prayer has been a dialog, like Tevya from Fiddler on the Roof.

Something has happened lately, though, and I find myself unable to pray. It is profoundly disturbing to me. When my soul talks it disolves into a dark nothingness. Not even an echo.

I believe it's because of my 'unanswered' prayers, or the ones that were answered with a solid 'No.'. Those prayers haven't been trivial-not for a sunny day on a Susan B. Koman run day, not for my skinny jeans to fit, not for the 4th grade class to like my cookies & cream ice cream torte. The deepest prayers I've prayed were for my children.

Don't get me wrong; I've also prayed for others in the world. I've prayed for the world to stop smoking, even though we've been given free will. I've prayed for the end of wars, for wisdom for the decision-makers who can stop wars. I've prayed for neighbors who've been in pain. I've prayed for family members who are short on hope.

But the prayers that come from the deepest part of me are for my children.

Several years ago, I became very angry with God for allowing bad things to happen to A. I battled the theory that God is non-interventionist-that free will thing again. Then I thought about God sending His son to us; that didn't seem too non-interventionist to me.

I pondered what Jesus would do about A's troubles if He were here. I compared it to what I had done. And I saw myself as Jesus' hand on earth. This was what Jesus had come to teach us to do.

But now, years later, and more pain for A, and now limbo for J, I've reached a new level. Why does God let horrible things happen to innocent children?

I don't have an answer for this. Maybe I should read 'Why Bad Things Happen to Good People'. In the meantime, I've been reduced to feeling foolish for even pretending to talk to a God who doesn't seem there.

It leaves me lonely. I wake in the morning and my mind reaches to whomever, to say Hello! and Please help me be a good person, mom, wife and Thank you for the sunshine peaking through our shades and the husband beside me. I go to sleep at night, ready to talk about the day, laugh over the funnies, cherish the warmth, nurse the wounds.

But those thoughts fade into a darkness. They may still be heard for all I know. I've lost my daily companion, though, and I miss that immensely.

Adam and Eve had many advantages, but the principal one was that they escaped teething.-Mark Twain

J cut two teeth this weekend, one Saturday and one Sunday, the front bottom teeth. This seems early to me; it's either five and a half months true age, or three and a half adjusted. It's one more way of showing me that each child is their own, on their own schedule, with their own blueprint.

J is becoming himself.

I'd hoped hoped that this would calm his spirit; he'd been cranky. Make that CRANKY. But no luck there. There may be more teeth coming in; there's a bump to the left of his front teeth, which again would be off schedule. (We'd expect his top two teeth to come in next.) Or he may just be CRANKY. I understand why doctors prescribed valium for mothers in the past. The good old days...:)

His adoption seems stalled. His mother hasn't changed her mind; she still wants to give up rights. It seems the issue is paperwork and red tape. Sad how a little one's life doesn't tip the scale when weighed against these.

Any other parents out there who've fostered or adopted know this feeling of being terminally on hold. You go day in and day out, feeding, loving, losing sleep, and in the back of your mind is always the thought "What if...". You say, "Good morning, son!" and a little piece of your heart reminds you, quietly but firmly, that in the eyes of the law, he's not your son.

Funny, if we were in a less-advanced country, we could pass a generous amount of money to some official and speed this up. But no, here we cannot bribe. We're simply at the mercy of overworked, overwhelmed people who can't be inspired to move him to the top of their list. We don't look so advanced when you look at it that way, do we?

How many more milestones will we celebrate with J while in limbo?

In our every deliberation, we must consider the impact of our decisions on the next seven generations.-From the Great Law of the Iroquois Confederacy

I receive a daily quote email from charityfocus.org, and this news tidbit was included several days ago:

Dublin -- there is something missing from this otherwise typical bustling cityscape. There are taxis and buses. Every other person is talking into a cellphone. But there are no plastic shopping bags, the ubiquitous symbol of urban life. In 2002, Ireland passed a tax on plastic bags; customers who want them must now pay 33 cents per bag at the register. There was an advertising awareness campaign. And then something happened that was bigger than the sum of these parts. Within weeks, plastic bag use dropped 94 percent. Within a year, nearly everyone had bought reusable cloth bags, keeping them in offices and in the backs of cars. [ more ]

Click on the link above for more details, such as the fact that in January of 2008, more than 42 million plastic bags were used worldwide, and the figure increases by more than half a million every minute.

I'm in awe of Ireland (the bag-tax edict is enforced throughout the entire country) and hope they get more press and kudos for their change.

Now, I believe, like Thoreau, that the government that governs the least governs the best. But this is one example of an intervening government that actually did some good! I'm having a hard time reconciling those facts; it's uncommon.

On a personal note-we reuse a number of our bags for doggie and kittie cleanup. But we still have many more bags than even that requires.

Can this be done here?

Love does not consist in gazing at each other but in looking outward in the same direction.-Antoine de Saint-Exupery

Happy Valentine's Day!

If we step back to look, our house is filled with love. Kisses, hugs, hand-holding, notes, songs, talking, listening-amid the hurry of daily life, the spaces are filled with these.

If what Saint-Exupery (he wrote 'The Little Prince') says is true, what direction are we looking?

At a world...

With no wars-between countries, friends, neighbors, family.
Where we cherish our resources creatively.
Overflowing with the labors of the arts, in books, paintings, sculptures, plays, music, and so on.
Where the past is lovingly excavacted, studied, and learned from.
That embraces all of its children, homes and hearts open.

On that note-Mrs. S. just called, the mother of an friend from Dominican. She was checking on the adoption of J. I'm so very touched that she - and countless others - are thinking of him and us.

In a future post I'll give a little background on the whole family, but for now, I want to just briefly touch on J. He's our foster child right now, but we're hoping to adopt him soon. We got him straight from the hospital in October-all 4 lbs. 11 oz. of him. He was 10 weeks early, born at a tad over 3 lbs. With strawberry blond wavy curls and blue, blue eyes, and his non-stop stream of chatter, he's a charmer. He loves to kiss. He has a bit of a temper, for example, when he can't make his little arms do what he wants. He laughs out loud when we sing to him.

We'd hoped he'd be ours by now, but 'tis not so. We await paperwork filings and court decrees, and wonder if God hears our prayers.

We'll comfort ourselves, this Valentine's Day and on, with the love in the house, and the love from the world that pours itself in. But still we'll hope....

A lot of people like snow. I find it to be an unnecessary freezing of water.-Carl Reiner

For those not in the Midwest, we're currently getting slammed with another winter storm. It shows Nature at her most unrelenting; it's been snowing for almost 24 hours and it doesn't look to end until later tonight. If I was a kid I'd be reveling in the snow piles. Now, as an adult, I just rubbed Matt's sore shoulder from creating all those snow piles.

Last Friday, while Matt was at work, J rolled over from front to back for the first time. Saturday was his first from back to front. Now he gets frustrated when he can't get himself over. This kid has a will. Watch for posts when he's a preteen for more on this.

Yesterday we took J to the doctor to check for an ear infection. He was clear. The theory is his recently-reactivated severe reflux is aggravating his ear canals, causing him to rub his ears often. His new movements may be causing the reflux to act up again.

He's 16 lbs. 10 oz.! Most babies are twice their birthweight at 5 months. He's more than 5 times. He's a good catcher-upper.

People will accept your ideas much more readily if you tell them Benjamin Franklin said it first.— David H. Comins

Our friend Scott starts his blogs with song titles. I like the effect. I may not start all of mine with quotes but when it's appropriate I'm going to throw them in.

Tonight was a night of inclusion.

J & I met my sister Cyndi & her husband Chris at St. Bernard's (their parish). Tonight St. Bernard's hosted a Spaghetti Dinner (pasta by Bartelotta's) and that's what we were there for. As I walked into the church I saw the priest giving out St. Blaise blessings with the candles.

Just today I studied Candlemas on the net. It's a celebration for being exactly between the winter and spring solstice. It all seems to be filled with light. Pagen rituals-carrying candles as Ceres carried candles looking for her daughter Persephone in the underworld. Christianized it becomes the 40th day after Jesus' birth, the day he's presented in the temple and Mary is allowed back in to be purified; candles are lit and carried for Mary, and it becomes Candle Mass. Then Europeans start looking for shadows on Feb. 2. The legend of Groundhog Day is based on an old Scottish couplet: "If Candlemas Day is bright and clear, there'll be two winters in the year."

I wanted to receive the blessing. Who couldn't use more blessings? So I got in line with J. As we waited, at least 4 people talked with me. At dinner, several people greeted us and made warm small talk.

Afterwards, I went to Scott's parents home. Scott is on the East Coast for work. Amy & the T's were there, with another family friend, all to celebrate Candle Mass. (Scott's mother was born and raised in France; I believe this celebration is more common in Europe.) They herded us in, poured some wine and let me pass the baby. The highlight of the event is making crepes. I was informed that everyone had to flip a crepe, holding a coin in your hand. If the crepe flipped, you would find luck. We all did it-me, their youngest at 5, everyone. The coin was special-a silver dollar from 1944. And the crepes were magnifique!

I could not have felt more welcomed.