What the inauguratin means to me. CRB

Obama's campaign asked. I answered.

At the times of George Washington, Thomas Jefferson, John Adams and Abraham Lincoln, our country's future was unsure-but there was tremendous hope. As I've studied these times I've felt this hope as if I was there myself. I knew the potential power to direct an entire country into a culture of liberty and justice was within our grasp.

As I have gotten older, I've watched our country slip further and further away not only from these ideas, but from hope itself. I read and heard everywhere that government is corrupt, that right and wrong don't matter as much as power. I've seen most people give up hope that things could be righted, as if their efforts wouldn't make a difference. Integrity seemed as obsolete as the parchment the Declaration of Independence was written on.

When President-Elect Obama began his campaign I was interested but doubtful. I'd never voted Democratic before-almost always Libertarian. Good spin seems easy to buy with enough money. But I wanted to see what his message was. I guess hope was weak but not dead.

I liked his message. I liked how he inspired others to hope again. I liked how he mobilized us, challenged us, made us realize armchair quarterbacks could not rebuild a nation.

I never believed he could be elected. I knew how I felt but doubted the rest of the country. Regardless, I did my part. The right thing to do is the right thing to do, even if failure seems immanent.

That he was elected smashed my thoughts about the complacency of this country. Out of that cracked dirt the seed of hope sprouted.

What could be more important than that?

I'm a stay-at-home mother of two. We have a warm home and all of our basics needs are more than met. But I've seen our limited budget cover less and less of the diapers and milk we can't stop buying. I worry about those who have less than us, but we’re able to give less to help them each year as our bills go up. I may not be a mover and a shaker, but I know from ground level what the past ideals have brought us to. I also know what's needed to lift us up.

Thank you, President-Elect Obama, for not only restoring that hope but showing us how to make that hope bear fruit.

My most sincere prayers and best wishes to you, your team, and our country.

Blacks won't think he's black enough. Whites won't think he's white enough. To humans, though, he'll be perfect. CRB

You won't find me often quoting myself, but how I explained some aspects of racism to A about J really summed it up nicely.

With the new president-elect -- who is half-white, as my friend Sue pointed out -- a new era of looking past skin color may have dawned on America. And, as Sue also pointed out, that means we have to stop looking at people as half-black or half-white or half-whatever; if we look at them as human first we'll get the best color image possible.

I haven't blogged in some time since the adoption was final. It had to all sink in for me. What I'd like to do now is tell the story of how we started this story.

Each day is a step on our path of life. Sometimes it's interesting to look back on how our paths led to where we are, to how we became ourselves.

Yesterday at Mass the reading was from Isaiah. Fr. Charlie tagged Isaiah as the prophet who was waiting for God, and said that if any of us had been waiting for God we could possibly relate to Isaiah. A and I looked at each other in our pew. The serman went on about Isaiah calling to God (Chapter 64 v. 8)

...We are the clay, you are the potter, we are all the work of your hand.

That, in a way, could mean that understanding the highest we were meant to be means finding happiness, truly becoming ourselves.

And it's true, when I've listened to the voice inside that tells me what I really want to do, and taken that cue, I've been happiest. Like the day I realized I wanted to adopt a child in 1996.

God saw all that He had made, and behold, it was very good.~Genesis 1:31

J. was legally, morally, ethically, practically, and totally made our son today.

'Nuf said. It is very good.

On the day that you were born the angels got together and decided to create a dream come true...~The Carpenters

So they sprinkled moondust in your hair

Of gold and starlight in your eyes of blue

How could Karen have known J would have golden hair and blue eyes?

Our friend Amy sang this song to all of her children when they were born-what a wonderful welcome into this world.

J may not have had such a warm welcome. His birth mother seemed proud of him as 'a little fighter', but admits she feels no connection to him and was never affectionate.

J was transferred within hours from the little hospital at which he was born to St. Joe's, which is the leading NICU in the area. (He was ten weeks early.)

St. Joe's has a program for these little ones that is gifted with 'nurturers'-volunteer adults, usually retired people, who come in on a regular basis. Their only job is to hold the little ones, sing to them, rock them, walk with them-to love on them, basically.

These angels saved J from a barren first month. He was so loved that first month, even before he had parents.

He had two main nurturers, Diane and Lee. We were blessed enough to meet both.

Diane kept a log for J, so we have a written record of this seemingly lost time. St. Joe's titles it 'Footsteps to my Future'.

"He was gripping my finger with awesome strength. Our little "man of steel" he is!"

They must have nicknamed him from that as the nurses and staff all called him "Mr. Man."

Lee was his other nurterer, a great bear of a man. The last time we saw him was when we were there to pick him up. He asked me if I'd gotten plenty of sleep as I wasn't going to get any for a long time. I said no, I was too excited. He said he didn't either. When I asked why, he said "I was sad I wasn't going to see J anymore. But I'm so glad he has a family now."

Today is J's first birthday.

We're so glad you were born, J.

I thank You God for most this amazing day~e.e.cummings

I thank You God for most this amazing day
for the leaping greenly spirits of trees
and a blue true dream of sky
and for everything which is natural which is infinite which is yes
e. e. cummings

The final adoption date for J has been set for September 5th.

We are overjoyed, grateful, relieved, elated, happy, and a little prepared for a snafu to occur.

He turns one on September 4th; adopted on the 5th; and we'll have him baptized on the 6th. There's going to be one big party on that night!

You will never understand bureaucracies until you understand that for bureaucrats procedure is everything and outcomes are nothing.-Thomas Sowell

A very disappointing day in court.

The birth mother moved. Social services knew, but did not share the info. DA tried to serve with official papers, but failed as the birth mother had moved. Neither side talked.

Case adjourned.

It does not matter that the mother signed off on rights months ago. It does not matter that she has no interest in the child, still. It does not matter that the child is in a stable, loving home, and has been since he left the hospital.

We meet again on July 7th. The process won't even start until then-and who knows if then. That means the court won't recognize J as our son until after his first birthday in September.

There are those who say this doesn't matter; he's in our home, and it's not likely he'll be removed from it.

There are those who say that due process must be served, to protect his best interests, so no one can come back at a later time to challenge his family-ness with us.

There are also those who will say this is a total waste of taxpayers' money, a waste of Social Services, Court, DA, & GAL time.

There are those who will say this is an open-and-shut case; the birth mother does not want the child, and we do.

I had a goal of not writing with disdain on the system too much, as this was the system that was giving us our son. For that, I am truly grateful.

But when a system will not unite a family, will not find ways to expedite the challenges that do indeed come up, and does not feel any remorse whatsoever that it lacks the skills and desires to do so-then, for this post, at least, I protest.

I protest, I protest, I protest.

And I wipe away the tears that fall on the head of my sleeping son.

The question is not "To be or not to be," it is what we should be until we are not.-Soren Kierkegaard

And tomorrow is a big step in who we want to be.

Tomorrow we have our first court date for J. From what I understand, this is to find 'grounds'; grounds to terminate parental rights, even though J's mother is voluntarily giving them up.

The next step will be 'findings'. Hopefully the judge will 'find' that J belongs in a good adoptive home-preferably ours, since he's known no other and seems to be thriving.

The last step will be the adoption, complete with a party at the courthouse and balloons and champagne.

All of this could be finished within sixty days-or six to seven months. Not knowing J's father puts uncertainty into the court system.

But speaking of thriving, our youngest is 'scooching'-getting around doing a form of an army crawl. He's fast enough to get into trouble, but not so fast that we don't have time to finish baby-proofing. He's eating more table foods-not a one he doesn't chow down on. He's getting a little Buddha-belly. And clapping. There's our update on his progression.

What we want to be is a family-and that's what we've been being. Our last task is to convince the court to acknowledge us as what we are.