I’ve been thinking about this little blog here.
It started out as such a simple hobby a few years ago and grew into a platform to advocate for orphans with special needs which led to documenting our own family’s adoption journey. What once was a place where I shared pictures and stories for my family and friends (hi mom and geneva) has become a place where people from all over the world come to read.
Here we are today, home and in a new chapter of life. I know many adoptive families go silent after they arrive home; if they kept up a blog during the adoption process they might post an update every 6 months that usually goes something like this: “aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh adoption is beautiful and painful and ugly and we will write when things calm down.” Six months later, another post comes up that says the same thing again. Living that life now, I totally understand those posts because yeah, adoption is beautiful and painful and ugly and it’s nice to imagine that someday out there things will calm down and I can write happy little posts about these days, but not when they are so raw.
So I was all ready to shelve this blog for a few months (or years), work through hard things, and come back. Yesterday something changed my mind.
My cousin Allison has been blogging about life in the aftermath of her husband suffering major injuries, including a traumatic brain injury, after being hit by a truck. Yesterday she shared the news that they have come to a new chapter in this journey, the hospice chapter, which will most likely be pretty short. Reading her blog is hard, it’s beautiful and painful and ugly, just like adoption, just like life. Few people can take their day to day life, filter it into words, and share with others the way Allison can. And the fact that she has shared their story has been a gift for many people. For family members scattered around the world it’s been a way to keep in touch and keep in prayer. For people who have lost loved ones in similar scenarios it has been a way to work through grief and feel less isolated. For everyone who has read it, it is a glimpse into a family’ life that is working through grief, pain, healing, hope and faith.
I come from a family of musicians, artists, and storytellers. While I am not a musician or an artists, I am a storyteller and I can tell a story of my own family living our daily lives which is beautiful and painful and ugly because in the grief and pain there is healing, hope, faith and love. The greatest of these is love.