Olympics

I watch and read about athletes all over the world competing to be the very best at what they do. They have descended upon Vancouver the last two weeks with the skill and ability to do what most "normal" people can not. While I gave competitive figure skating my adolescent and teenage years, I never came close to the kind of drive and mental determination necessary to achieve such accolades. But in the last five years, I have determined that bringing home a child through the process of adoption is a momentous feat akin to such an accomplishment. An accomplishment that no one else can truly appreciate except for those who are also training in the same event.

We watch the grace and the beauty of the figure skater as she takes to the ice. As the music begins she elongates her form and her body begins to move as it has been training to do. If the skater is to achieve perfection she has to both stay mentally focused as well as mentally detached in order to get her mind and body to achieve the perfect fusion of technical know how and instinctive response. Too much thinking and she can psych her self out...not enough thinking and she misses her cue.

What the spectator does not see is that to have even gotten to this point the skater has devoted every moment of the last few years in preparation for the few minutes in which she takes to the ice. Very few can truly understand what it has taken to arrive to at the point of glory in which the music fades, she takes a deep breath and finally she knows that the has accomplished her purpose.

The onlookers can try to appreciate what this skater has been through. They can imagine she is a devoted athlete, rising early in the morning, putting in hours in practice, shaping each and every muscle of her body into perfect form for hours on end each and every day.....and they admire her accomplishments.

But it is only the other athletes, the other skaters like her that can possibly understand what it means to finish a performance and stand breathless waiting and hoping.

This is what it is to adopt. We adopters are not "normal" people as we attempt to do what most people can not. And just like in the Olympics there are the athletes and there are the spectators.

The athlete understands terms like referral, dossier, and LID. Only the athlete understands that it is more than just signing up, getting in line, and decorating a nursery. Only other athletes can understand the real meaning of the word "waiting".

Each step of the way there is the potential for victory and the potential for defeat. The athlete rejoices in the small victories of finger printing and criminal background checks and tries not letting a delayed I -171 break her focus of the goal in the end.

The athlete appreciates the nuances of coordinating a roaming notary with a non expiring commission to a temperamental doctor who refuses to understand why he has to create letterhead while still making sure that the date of his signature is not premature to the date of that which the notary signs. And even with this seemingly impossible feat in the rear view mirror it is only the athlete that has the stamina to go through this type of exercise again and again and again.

Keeping your mind focused and your attitude positive requires a mental determination that most days leaves you completely drained and crawling towards the bed at night. In the mornings the athlete will rise and begin her day with the warm ups of email checking. A good day is a batch of referrals or watching another athlete receive a travel date. A bad day is a delayed court hearing or a quiet inbox. While it is a mundane and unappreciated exercise...it is none the less necessary to help the athlete keep her drive and prevent her from just walking away. And while the athlete must continue to live life each and everyday outside of practice, driving the kids to soccer, making dinner for her family, putting in a few hours at the office...her mind never loses site of her single purpose. It is always there...always present. This drive is what impels her through the day.

But she also understands that to achieve her goal she must stay both mentally focused as well as mentally detached to achieve the perfect fusion of procedural know-how and emotional instinct. Too much thinking and she can psych herself out. Not enough thinking and she may forget to pick up the kids from school.

Each step of the journey is bringing us closer and closer to the moment of our victory. We receive approval, complete our dossier, receive a referral, have our court date rescheduled, get our travel delayed. But ultimately we keep pushing forward.

We do it even though we are exhausted. We push through the pain, we push through the tears and we just grit our teeth and we press on....until one day

we stand breathless....waiting....and hoping.

Our name is called. We step up and we know that the entire journey has been worth this singular moment. And the only difference between the adoptive mom and the Olympic athlete is that ultimately.....

we will all receive the gold....

A Confession

Today I have decided to renounce cynicism.

I hadn't realized that I had become cynical. I just felt that I was a realist. Realists are afraid of believing in anything. And that is my problem. I have stopped believing in anything.

Cynicism is like a murky poison. A single drop can infuse and destroy even the most crystalline of waters. Diluting it to the point where it ceases to be toxic can often take tens if not hundreds of liters of fresh water. And after several drops or in the case of the cynic, a steady flow, the poison has pretty much overwhelmed the fresh and the stream is not fit for consumption.

This would be the state of my soul. The poisons of disappointments and dissolution have been coursing through my veins. And I have stopped believing in good. I have stopped believing in anything.

At first the cynic will find plenty of company. There are many others who have tasted the bitterness of its poison. We share in it like we would a fine wine. We know the date, the maker, and the worth of our poison. We compare notes and trade glasses to drink from one another.

But like any poison, it eventually will vanquish the life of the taker. And so the cynic finds that if they are left alive, they are usually left alone. The healthy will not partake of the drink, and so the cynic begins to drink alone. And it is here that the cynic drinks deep.

We often scoff at the optimist. "What a fool!" "How nice it must be to be so blissfully unaware." "They are not living in reality"....but then again neither am I. A poisoned soul isn't reality. And it isn't from God.

We all drink because we thirst. And each of us are given a choice of what we imbibe. "If anyone thirsts, let him come to me and drink. Whoever believes in me, as the Scripture has said, Out of his heart will flow rivers of living water."

Cynicism is cheap and has a never ending supply. But the difference between the healthy and the dying is whether or not you choose to partake. And I for one have made the choice not to drink the Kool-Aide