Reaction to Oslo

I noticed that there is a blog reaction in the weekly round-up to the terror attacks in Oslo. I have been thinking and thinking about how to share my reaction in a public way, and just couldn't figure out how to go about it. Well, I guess I just couldn't figure out how to make time during the frantic summer season in the life of a religious educator of trying to fill teacher teams and figure out all the curriculum needs for 40 million classes as well as finding time to run a summer program! Too much, I tell ya! Someone neeeeeds a vacation!

But this Oslo thing. It's been sitting here on my shoulder. I'm half Norwegian. We still have cousins in the Bergen area. If you look at the past prime minister, she looks just like my mom. And I guess she was actually a primary target of the terrorist. Because she's a rabble rouser, just like my mom. It felt like my cousins were attacked. And I guess they probably were.

I was, at first, really heartened by the Oslo mayor's comments about peace and democracy and fighting the hate with love. That's just what we'd say in my faith community, I think.

But there was another thing that crept in to my reaction. Racism. You gotta face the racism. It's not just going to go away with love and fierce adherence to democratic principles. It's just not.

People react in racist ways, people simply are racist. It takes work and education and for goodness sake HONESTY to work through the racism. And I think we've all learned that love isn't enough.

My husband's friends who were adopted from Korea to Norway and the Netherlands tell the story of deep and frequent racism that is completely ignored because--of course--such liberal and educated people simply could not be racist.

But, of course, they are.

We all are, and it's denial that is the biggest most dangerous problem.

Fighting it means naming it, understanding it, and working to learn how to be who we wish to be. It means understanding what it means to be white. You have to come to terms with the underlying feeling that white is normal and everything else is beeeeaaaauuuutiful. Tokenized and marginalized and just not, well, normal.

These are the same things, I believe anyway, that we face in our mostly white, mostly rich, mostly well educated Unitarian Universalist churches. It's not impossible to overcome, but if we ignore it? Then, yes, it is absolutely hopeless.

Go here:

The Mosaic Report

Building the World We Dream About

Oh no.

I can't believe the news out of Ft. Hood, Texas. It's awful.

A shooting, by a soldier, of soldiers. Oh no. And by a mental health professional. A tragedy.

I just learned that a dear friend in my congregation has a step-son at Ft. Hood. He's not one of those directly affected, but of course he'll be touched. We all will. She's got another step-son in Iraq. You think you know what to worry about. Then, horrible things happen.

And then, to learn that the shooter is Muslim. Oh no. It's been so hard to be a faithful follower of Islam here in the states for so long. Islam is a religion with a deep commitment to peace and love and giving. But that's not what most people think. Most Americans think that Islam is a violent religion. It's not. Really, it's not. No.

On Thursday night, CAIR (Council on American Islamic Relations) Executive Director Nihad Awad told a news conference the alleged Fort Hood attacker's motive remained unknown."We urge all Americans to remain calm in reaction to this tragic event and to demonstrate once again what is best about America -- our nation's ability to remain unified even in times of crisis," Awad said. "We urge national political and religious leaders and media professionals to set a tone of calm and unity.

"Unfortunately, based on past experience, we also urge American Muslims, and those who may be perceived to be Muslim, to take appropriate precautions to protect themselves, their families and their religious institutions from possible backlash."

My husband, who is a transracially adopted Korean man, has had a similar experience. When the US is angry at North Korea, people perceive him as North Korean. When the US is angry at China, people perceive him as Chinese.

Our kids, too. They've been asked if they're half North Korean or South Korean. Really? Come ON now people. Come on.

As I work with my LREDA Board commitments to look deeply into Interfaith work, I wonder. Really? Really. Maybe it's time to go spend a night at my local mosque, as a physical show of interfaith commitment to peace. Peace. peace.

Blustery Days

The wind must be affecting the passage of time here in blustery old October. Whooosh, it goes....flying right on by so fast I can hardly sink my teeth into a minute. Off it goes.

On Monday we all changed our names. The whole family. We went to court and stood and raised our right hands and poof.....all the guys have a new last name, and I just have a slightly different order to my string of names. For the little dog we're just going to do a "common law" change, but it's OK, she doesn't mind. The men all now have the 12th most common Korean surname. It means "leader" in Korean and "half" in Japanese. It's perfect for them. And I am so proud of them for doing this even though it is not easy to manage or easy to explain.

Yesterday we celebrated the middlest son's birthday. He's actually turning 15 tomorrow, but he will be off at his first Youth Con, so we rescheduled. We also went for x-rays because the boy is walking like a 90 year-old-man and got pulled from his soccer game on Sunday because he was clearly in pain. No fractures, but bad shin splints and even a metatarsal splint! This is what a boy with big drive does when he's in three sports--too much! Happy Birthday! Poor kid.

And the ramp up to LREDA Fall Conference is in full swing. It is going to be such an exciting event this year, with Unitarian Universalist Association past president Bill Sinkford receiving the McLean award, and current UUA president Rev. Dr. Peter Morales attending for a while, and our fabulous presenters: Rev. Dr. Thandeka, Rev. Dr. Peter Steinke, and fabulous musician Kevin Tarsa--well and all the regular in house talent we have with our Religious Educator Colleagues, too. So much!

And we just go on....and on...

Fearless Love and Faith

I'm fascinated; what's going on here? There is a lightness around me, I'm feeling all springy. Something is very, very different.

I think the fear is lifting. I know I had flashes of it on and off over the last six or seven years. It was fear that what, my husband would leave me? But then, at one point, I moved out from him for six months. Fear of what might happen when he went back to Korea? But he did go back, he went back for a week before I'd move back in with him. And he came back in great shape. I don't know what it is, honestly.

Maybe it's fearless love. Somehow something happened and now it can be a fearless love. I have faith again. He's home, all is well. We can begin the next adventure of our lives together.

Faith is a beautiful thing.

Good News

My husband is coming home. It's all good.

The God Thing

Do you hear the screeching? EEeeeeeeeEEEEErrrrrrccchhhhHHHKKKkk!

Don't worry too much, it's just different parts of my life colliding. What? Religion and adoption and how each affects the other? Hoo boy, bring it on!

Or let me tell you what I think and feel, something more like that I guess.

Today on Harlow's Monkey, there was a link to a post from the "blog carnival" I was in this weekend (by the way; no rides OR cotton candy, I was robbed). It was this amazing kind of a list from "Peach" at "Neither Here Nor There" called 'Things I wish I'd Known"

What Jae Ran at Harlow's was struck by was the statement by Peach that her God would not have proscribed all this loss and all this pain so that she could be adopted.

Now I'm not going to speak for other people (Hey! I LOVE to try to do just that!) but I hear this! I really get this! I cannot believe in a God that would have as a part of the master plan all the pain I've had in the aftershocks of my husband's adoption. And I'm a minor player in this story! No way! This is not my God!

Yes, yes yes. I'm a strong and committed Unitarian Universalist. Our current beliefs teach us to value the inherent worth and dignity of all beings. And our history teaches us about a God of Universal salvation and the divine life of each being. My mother brought me up in our secular humanist Unitarian Universalist fellowship to be a good strong atheist. Sometimes I'm sure that she's as disappointed in my belief in some higher power as a Mormon mother would be in her daughter becoming a devout Wiccan, but she goes with it. Being a UU means you accept a lot of diverse opinions and beliefs. A LOT!

But no matter which of my life's beliefs I'm embracing, or even which of the "Great Teacher's" (that's what I call Jesus) beliefs we're talking about. None of it is supported by believing that God had a plan for a person that involved as much pain as the one transracial adoption that I'm close to has held. Really? God thought this whole thing up? I'm just not buying it.

The god of my knowledge is really just a huge glowing pile of love. Love of each other and self and our earth and our universe. Love that transcends the troubles of money and class and just powerfully bonds real people together in their real lives with real love. Abiding love. Really, how is anything more powerful than that? Nothing in my 40 some years ever has been. This love is huge! Have you ever sat in a room full of people and all focused your "god selves" in one place. Yes some people call this prayer, but whatever you call it, it's so powerful! It's so amazing! And it is so real, I've felt it.

This love-God-thing would not create the pain I've seen. It just wouldn't. Case closed.

And on a non-God note, I heard from my dear husband this morning. He called me at almost 24 hours to the minute from the time we left our home to go to the airport on Sunday. Man, getting to Korea takes a really long time. He'd been dropped off in the dark at the bus stop he needed but with no visible sign of the hotel....yes, at midnight. But he got to the hotel and checked in. He called as I was walking the little dog. And yes, he said all the right things to make me feel safe. Good job Dear Husband! You rock! He really does. You have no idea. ROCKS!

That right there is a pretty big "Thank you prayer" if I've ever heard one! Sure is.

Amen. Thank you. and oh yeah! AMEN!

Korea bound...

My husband left for Korea this morning. Between all the teen boys having to go a million different directions and the fact that I work for a church and today is Sunday, we almost missed it!

OK, not really. But it wasn't the only thing happening this morning, that's for sure.

Today I let the oldest drive his brothers all over the place. It's something I'm still getting used to, but I trust him and he's a good kid, and that accident he had a year ago was really good because it made him pay attention in a whole different way. Teenagers. Driving people around. How did THAT happen!? But there were soccer games at the same time as church. No dad around. We've hopped soccer teams so much we don't even know where anyone on the team lives, much less know them well enough to make them come pick our kid up. Nope. This one had to be an inside job. All family. And the oldest is almost 18. Almost a grown man. OK, again, how did this happen?

I'm having a Geritol moment here.

It's funny. This life is so strange. I want to talk all about my husband's trip and what he's doing and what it means. But it's his story to tell. I can only tell my story. Which of course is all Kudzu vined in with his! Tricky business.

As I was dumping all over, I mean talking with a friend today we were breaking down why it's still hard for me when my husband goes to Asia, even though so far this time I only have fear about it being hard. This time so far has just been freaking busy. But I think there's a physical fear, a memory of what's happened before. And there's some funky completely irrational stuff. When he first stated going to the adult adoptee events when we lived in Minnesota, even when he went to his very first KAAN conference in 2002, I remember thinking "please don't leave me because I'm white! I can't help it".

Now, with what I know about the profound white privilege I experience every day, I know that's a gigantic gloss over. Every day my husband experiences losses because of his race. To think that I shouldn't have any repercussions from being white is a white supremacist point of view. I know that, I've learned. And yet, even now while he's still in the air I find myself thinking "don't leave me because I'm white, I can't help it" I can't help thinking it. So, if he leaves me because I'm an insane and irrational person or because I'm completely a different religion than he is or because I will never, ever get rid of that box of antiques in the garage that drives him crazy, is that OK? "Oh well, if you're leaving me because I'm crazy, well then that's fine, as long as it isn't because I'm white then, okey fine."

No!

I just don't want to lose him or our family. We have a good thing. It's not worth chucking overboard. And the white thing is just one piece of a very long string of story beads. OK, it's like a dozen of the beads, but it's sure as hell not the whole story.

Maybe there is some onsite spa that would let me stay for the next four days while we wait this thing out because OK, yeah. It's kind of scary. Just a little. You know, just a little.

What No One Told Me About Adoption

I missed a "blog carnival" at Grown In My Heart with the topic "What No One Told Me About Adoption". OK, truth is I've never even heard of this blog or a blog carnival, but today when I checked in on "American Family", the post was fantastic. So I clicked along. Interesting stuff.

Of course, my experience with adoption is really different from those in the adoption triad. I'm not an adoptee or an adoptive parent or a first mother. I'm the wife of a transracially adopted man. But there are a whole lot of things that no one told me about adoption. We're on the front end of this movement to adopt transracially in some ways, maybe no one really had thought about it yet, and back in 1987 when I got married, there was no easy way for adoptee spouses to connect. Our experiences are probably very different anyway, but it's so good when we do connect to hear that in some ways, the journey is very much the same. So what do I wish I'd known?

Things I wish I'd known about being married to a TRA.

Race does matter, it just does. It's a part of identity and soul and how we all view the world.

As the white one, I'll never really understand what it's like to be a transracial adoptee. Never.

Coming to terms with his racial identity was the hardest thing my husband ever had to do, the pain was huge, bigger than huge and there was really nothing I could do but stand by and watch.

Gatherings for adult adoptees are dangerous places for committed relationships.

There is no support equal to that of other adult adoptees.

Having children who look like him has been a profound joy for husband. And for me.

Racism is everywhere. Everywhere.

Raising mixed race kids breaks your heart a little. Especially when they tell you that they feel like "freaks of nature". Even at Korean Culture camp, they don't fit in.

Looking like Keanu Reeves is a good thing for teenaged boys. Can you say "The Matrix?"

I wish someone had told me that I will never feel safe when my husband is in Asia. And did I mention he leaves for Korea tomorrow?

Celebrating Loving Day is very cool.

There is no support like knowing other spouses of transracial adoptees. And finding them is almost impossible.

We have a good life, we've built a good family. But my God, it was not easy, and for a while there it hurt so much that sometimes I had to breathe through it like labor pains. Sometimes I didn't even want to breathe through it.

We're off to buy trinkety gifts from Seattle for the people my husband will see in Korea. And we're going to try to stop picking fights with each other, which is what we always do before he takes a trip to Asia. It makes it easier for me to think about him coming home and telling me he wants a divorce. But he's not going to do that this time. I know he's not. We're a happy old married couple with crazy busy teenage boys and a nice little dog. We're so far past that crushing part of the journey it sometimes seems like it never really happened. But of course it did, and there's a bit of a PTSD kind of thing that happens when he heads off to Asia again. Maybe I'll do better this time. And maybe someday we'll even get to a point in time that it's not hard at all, that we just breeze right through. I hope so.

I really hope so.

Attention and it's deficit

I've joked with other Religious Educators about how to do this job and enjoy it, you have to have a nice sturdy case of ADD. That's me for sure, so come with me and follow the bouncing brain....

A voice from my childhood is gone! Mary from Peter, Paul and Mary died yesterday. Puff the Magic Dragon! I'm Leavin' on a Jet Plane (although I swear I thought it was I'm Leavin' I'M a Jet Plane) and Blowin' in the Wind! Oh, I remember being a little girl and riding around in the back seat of my mom's station wagon, hearing those songs. This was before the days of "always using seat belts" but my mom and I would practice. If she was going to crash, she'd yell "hit the deck" and I'd throw myself to the floor of the car, safe from flying out the windows. I remember practicing. "HIT THE DECK!" And I remember sliding around in the back seat when she'd go the "wervy way" to get downtown. Peter, Paul and Mary are the soundtrack to that movie of my childhood.

I found this picture of my oldest son Michael on the UUA website. He's calling the question on Peacemaking. Wow. Read more about what is happening as this picture was taken in the current issue of UU World.

This one: how is is possible that I just learned that Mary Pipher is a Unitarian Universalist. What? The author of Reviving Ophelia? I have read the book and been assigned the book in Psych classes and Women's Studies classes. It's a must read for all parents and people who work with teens, really. But I had no idea she was of my faith. Then, also in the current issue of UU World, there is this great article, and excerpt from her new book "Seeking Peace: Chronicles of the Worst Buddhist in the World". It's a fantastic piece, and I will buy the book. Don't know how I missed this, my Psychologist friend on the Religious Education Council knew she was UU. I read my UU World every month, but I've missed this! I'm glad to know it now.

Finally; my husband is going to Korea on Sunday. He's a Korean Adoptee, this is not just a pleasure trip. It's his last chance to go on his "fly free" benefit, but he's also going for a very specific reason. This is his story to tell, of course. But I'm already shuddering every time I think about it. Uhhhh! This is so much bigger than when the guys all went to Japan! I wish I could go with him, but how do you launch a church year and responsibly parent teen aged boys and up and hop across the ocean for a few days? Nope, one parent has to stay home and the Religious Educator cannot just step out. Too bad, so sad. I have to figure out how to really use skype. Or just wait til he comes home, maybe that's a better idea.

The brain bounces on.....walk the dog in the woods so we can smell the forest smells, get the youngest to school, do work work work, drive into the office, meet with teachers, mop the floor (what janitors?), make dinner, clean up dinner, do the laundry, do the dishes. This is a full life. And it really is good.

Sad News

Today when my husband logged on to his computer, the top story on CNN reported that the Guatemalan army had taken babies from families to be adopted internationally. They were refering specifically to abductions that happened back in the 70s and 80s.

He just shook his head. "Yep." he's an adult TRA (transracial adoptee) and while we know enough of his personal story to know this isn't what happened to him, it's hard for him to hear. It's hard for us to hear.

Every morning I read blogs for my news, I mean, after CNN reported gun shots from someone saying over a radio "bang bang bang" I think it confirms that sometimes news organizations exaggerate. One of the blogs I read every morning is Harlow's Monkey, which has stories like the one on CNN more often than you'd think. He just shakes his head at me "are you trying to make me angry every single morning?". So I don't think that CNN is blowing this story out of proportion. Unfortunately, I think we'll just begin to hear more and more about the ugly parts of the transracial and transnational adoption industry.

My question is, what do we DO once the ugly bits are really known? How do we help the families who are in place, dealing with this horrible mess. Other people can figure out how to deal with the adoption industry. I want to help with the families that are affected by adoption. Families like mine. Yes, the adoptee in our family is an adult, but we dealt with some of the same issues that I think will affect families with children who are adoptees. Surely if those children are adult children, some of the issues will be the same. What do you do when the people you love are in pain? When the stories don't match what you've always understood to be the truth? With wave after wave of new and increasingly painful feelings?

I don't have the answers, but at least, I've already asked the questions myself.

Parenting Tip No. Five

When you choose a place to live, if you have school aged children, be sure you have chosen an area with some significant wealth so that your local schools will be good schools.

Now please, don't freak out on me. It's true. We all know it. If you live in a poor area, your schools are more than likely to be poor schools. If you live in a rich area, your schools will have good art rooms and fine computer labs and teachers who fight to get into those classrooms.

In our years we've had both.

When we moved across the country and to the house we live in now six years ago, it was at the height of the absolute destruction of my marriage. My husband had just come to terms with being an Asian man, a transracially adopted man, a Korean Adoptee, or rather, he was in the throes of that process. We'd decided to get divorced, decided not to, gone through absolute hell and then, as any two completely insane people would do; decided to move across the country together. Really, it was both of our inner wise selves saying "get the hell out of here, go start over, NOW!" But at the time I can't say I was totally in touch with that wisdom.

When we pulled up in front of our home I told the realtor "No, we don't even have to look at this house, I don't want to live here. It's like a neighborhood from the movie 'The Truman Show' no way. Let's see the next one." And we did. We saw a bunch of homes, and then my husband said "let's just see that two story, just to see what they look like inside" so we came back and the minute we walked in the door, I knew he'd want it. It's nice, open, vaulted ceilings. A fine house. I figured we wouldn't be here six months much less long enough to have school districts or the lack of a yard or basement matter. "Fine, let's buy it"

Now you know, of COURSE this is the house we've lived in the longest of any our homes. Six years so far. It's that damn Karma Fairy that Meg Barnhouse is always talking about. "Hooo ho! Think you've got it figured out, do you? Well, here you GO!" wham.

Three years ago when our oldest betrayed all sensiblity, or um, I mean decided to stop going to our little homeschool school and go to a real high school, the school district with the attendance line that is two houses to the south let him in. I said the right thing to the principal's secretary or waved the right test scores or they'd had good experience with homeschoolers or something and he got in. People were shocked. This school NEVER let any out-of-district kids in. But they let him in, and they let him in again for his sophomore year. He lettered twice, went to dances. took great pottery and web design classes. Had fun.

He had a perfect GPA and was an excellent student, and then he came to his senses or um, I mean decided that seven hours a day of classes was a crazy idea and decided to take advantage of the state paid early college program in Washington called "Running Start" and get a start on college classes instead of being a Junior. Good thing, because the nice rich, I mean um, well funded district to the south got too full and wouldn't let him in for the next year. Fine, our little homeschool school welcomed him back to "administer" his Running Start years with a big hug, all was well.

Then our middle son lost his mind, um, I mean decided to go to high school (what, have they never SEEN those high school movies? Come on!). There were no other options, it was the local high school for him. "Oh well" we thought, the oldest didn't really learn a lot in high school that he hadn't already had at our little school. He always said that in high school he'd read some books, learned some math and had a good web design class. No biggie.

But oh my gosh, the difference three miles can make! We actually live closer to the school that's not in our district. But they are a thousand miles apart. The campus of the school our middle son goes to is dirty. The classes don't assume you can afford a calculator much less a programable TI four million or whatever it's called. There is no demand to go out and buy exactly the right composition book (which I searched ALL OVER the city for, and finally found for about $20 for the oldest). There is an assumption that things at home may not be rosy, which I fully support, I think it's good. But the books coming home are books that any library would deem "unlendable". The text books are ancient, and I'm not talking dead sea scrolls ancient. The halls are, frankly, kind of scary and any student bringing a bandana to school is immediately expelled.

We are not in freakin' Kansas any more, Toto.

Why is this OK? Why is it acceptable for a rich district to have clean, neat schools with new textbooks and a nice performing arts center while three miles away a poor district has a performing arts center that was last new before every current parent of students was born and every book is at least a decade old? How is this right? How is this just?

Now I'm not so worried about my kid. He has almost enough credits to be a Junior this year, although they were kind enough to let him be "called" a freshman and be with his age peers. And we seem to have done some good service to the karma fairy because we've gotten an absolute saint of a counselor who thought to tell Peter that the Cross Country team goes to state every year and is coached by the honors history teacher. Bless you Ms. Lumsden; he LOVES the Cross Country team.

But what about the kids who don't have 12 credits already? What about the kids who didn't read Moby Dick last year with the best english and history teacher who ever walked the earth. What about the kids who didn't learn math and science from a woman who will most cerainly come to their grad party as well as their wedding and who has known (and, shhhh....ADORED) them from third grade til now. What about those kids? How does it feel to go to a school with a couryard filled with leaves and trash from the last fifteen years? Where everyone has kind of given up?

Don't even talk to me about the fact that the country club and golf course and entire golf community is very nearly across the street from this school, but that the attendace area for the "good" school swerves violently to include them.

How is this fair? How is this just? What is wrong with this system?

It is not fair, it is not just and nearly everything is wrong with our system of funding schools.

Score

Yesterday our family went to a AAAW (Adult Asian Adoptees of Washington) picnic. Our teenage boys got to hang out with the other teenagers they know from KIDS camp. My husband got to see what he always refers to as "the guys"; a group of over thirty-year-old men that hangs out at the montly gatherings at the bar and talks cars and jobs and guy stuff. The little dog got to meet some nice dog friends and some of her favorite creatures; small children. And I got to sit with another white wife of an adoptee. Wasn't it just one week ago I got to email with my first KADWW(Korean Adoptee white wife)?

Score.

We found ourselves at a picnic table overlooking the beautiful sound with a group of "first wave" adoptees. These were people in their 50s who were adopted all of them from Korea early on in the transracial adoption wave. My husband, at 42, is usually the oldest person at these adoptee gatherings. So, for me it was really great to hear their stories. I've mentioned before that it seems that the adoptee community is so hungry for time together, that often the spouses are not invited. I try to think of it like someone bringing their husband to a "Girl's Night Out"; the conversation at the table is just different when there is a guy at the table. It's the same thing, I am guessing, for the adult adoptees; they have to be a little careful, a little guarded when we're there.

So, being invited to this picnic was wonderful for me, the white one. And sitting for a couple of hours with another white wife was wonderful. This couple has had a different experience than we have, they've lived all over the world, including six year in Korea, and they don't seem to have had some of the other identity stuff impact their marriage like it impacted ours. But it was still wonderful. Her husband is hapa, so her children, while grown now, are even fairer than mine, which is saying a lot since I'm half Norwegian which aparently trumps any melanin, sorry kids. But it was still powerful for me to sit in a space with a woman who shares a connection like this. I'm so thankful.

Then, I found this blog with a post called "Emergency Code Whitey" oh my gosh. I spit coffee all over, laughing out loud. This is how I feel, write it sistah!

I'm walking around my house, pumping my fist in the air yelling "SCORE"! You just never know, ya know? You just never know.

The Impossible: Turning 13

My family has returned from their grand adventure in Japan. They played the "stand-by" game, came home, ate some dinner and voila, it was as if they had never been gone.

Don't most people at least have a little jet lag? Nope. Not this group. Do the laundry, unpack the presents you brought home, catch up on facebook and there ya go, all settled back in.

I walked into the kitchen yesterday to find a huge pile of dishes, and food and spilled recycling. Oh, thank God! My family is home! We're back to normal operating procedures! Life is so good. I happily tidied up, and only yelled at them to take care of their own messes a little bit.

Yesterday our youngest became a teenager, turning 13 which is impossible because he was only born six months ago, after all. But somehow he's managed it. He tried to play angsty teenager, but cracked up every time he tried to sulk. OBNOXIOUS teenager he's got down pretty well, but angsty; not this one. He's too darn cute.

I grew up with no siblings in the house; my brothers being much, much older than I am, so I've always been concerned about how my children fight; pulling out every nasty punch and cutting remark against their own brothers. But yesterday, even after a little too much togetherness for a week in Asia and traveling, I saw an amazing thing. The older teenagers were kind, even sweet to their little brother. There were video games chosen by the youngest, specific favorite episodes of "Friends" and even a date cut short for a birthday dinner. Wow. They love each other. They really do. Amazing. They drove home together from our dinner out, picking up the ice cream cake on the way home. They are becoming men.

Hold on, I may have to lie down for a minute here. Men. Oh my gosh.

But the good news, aside from a momentary thought that I could squeeze in one quick trip to see friends in Minnesota, quickly abandoned because, hello? FAMILY NEEDS AS SCHOOL STARTS ARE HUGE, not to mention the fact that my job takes exactly 40 billion hours a week in late August and September; I think I'll keep on living with my family, with my husband, with all of our ugly past and our hurts and our different races and our profoundly different learning styles and working styles and way of being in the world. No running for the cellar, no twister is coming. Or if there is a tornado, well then; bring it on. We've survived worse.

Cliche, I know. But hey, Life is Good. Life is really good. Too true, too true.

Upper Deck

My family is coming home! They flew into Atlanta from Tokyo; that's where there was space to go. They got to fly on a 747 on the upper deck. This is fabulous for two reasons: my husband worked 747s for 13 years; many engines are securely attached to their wings because of HIS work on that plane, yes, the EXACT plane they flew on. (this is why I am not afraid to fly, I know the kind of people who keep them safe) The other reason? In the hierarchy of shi-shi flying there is first class, and then there is World Business Class and then; upper deck on the "whale". My children, upper deck. Oh yeah.

I have been ready for them to come home since 8:14 this morning, the time that the Seattle flight landed. No call. Then the Portland flight at 8:21. No call. Then the Detroit flight at 10:08. No call. Luckily my friend called to distract me from the waiting. I hate waiting. Hate it. Then at 11:21, bingo! A call from Atlanta! Then they had the longest wait at customs ever, ever, then off to wait for flights back to Seattle. I got one call with the plan: if there was one seat, Michael would come home because he's old enough to fly alone. Hell, he's almost old enough to vote and be drafted. In a few weeks we'll have two sons who can fly alone. But the gate agents were saying it didn't look good and the guys were looking at other options; a later flight? Detroit? Minneapolis? Salt Lake City?

Then, while I was at the grocery store buying meat so the omnivores would have something to eat when they get home, I got the call. It was fast, I mean fast: "boarding passes as the door is closing, we're all on! 7:30, we'll call when we're in!"

I paid for the steak, and deli ham and big brick of cheese and came home.

The little dog and I don't quite know what to think. I'm so happy that they are coming home, I can't wait to see my loved ones, all of them. The little dog is clueless but will be a tail-wagging-thrilled little girl when they walk in the door. I'm so grateful that my husband took the kids on this trip, it's one of those trasformative experiences in a teen's life that make them who they are. At the same time I feel like maybe I should just pick up and run from this life I have here and go home to Minnesota to my people and lefse and the state fair and tornadoes and safety.

Uh, yeah.

Maybe I need to wait a day or two to make any decisions!? Probably a good plan. Good plan. Tornadoes and safety? Well, at least I can laugh about the hard parts, at least I can see that maybe there are some very complicated things going on here.

And I am grateful for all the wonderful people in my real life and my cyber life who have held my hand during this week. I am one wildly lucky woman. And I know it. Y'all rock. And really, I'm sure all will be just fine once we're all in the same airspace again. At least I sure hope so.

A long, long week.

My family is in Tokyo playing flight roulette. The flight to Atlanta is full, turns out Delta upgrades elite passengers--yes it's a big syndicate. The flight to Portland that looked good isn't. The Detroit flight that was the absolute sure thing totally tanked. And the flight to Seattle has never looked good.

The joys of the non rev game; flying stanby.

I'm sure they'll be home eventually. Yes, the adventure may include sleeping in some airport someplace, on some continent some where. Part of the plan is always the potential for Hawaii, but I know that only the youngest brought swim trunks.

We'll just see. The last email said "guess I won't be able to check in with you until we're in the states" which can mean 8:30am tomorrow mornining in Seattle, or Portland or LA or San Fransisco. Or it could mean Atlanta in the afternoon or Detroit who knows when.

I'll just keep my phone with me. It's only 15 minutes to the airport. We'll figure it out.

I have had a really long week and I am ready to go back to a regular routine, with regular chaos and the regular people that usually live here with me.

But I wonder if this is exactly what I needed; a week to sit with life, sit with my realities. Sit with who and what and how things are. Having my family in Asia was hard, but it was hard like driving by the intersection where you had a bad crash a few years back. It makes your heart beat fast, there is anxiety. It's hard. But it's old and once you've gone past it, it's gone. Maybe I can really leave some of the TRA(Transracial Adoptee) spouse trauma behind, now.

I thought I'd have gotten a million things done; the garden sorted out, the shopping for birthdays all done, life all tidy and organized. But no, there were some bigger fish to fry. Sturgeon, big salmon and some caribbean swordfish. Big fish.

And I think we had some nice panko and that we fried them up but good. Well done, it turned out to be pretty well done.

So then I guess the truth is that things work out just the way they should. They really do.

And all will be well. Just like Dame Julian says. All will be well. All will be well, all manner of things, will be well.

Amen

Being the wife of a trans-racially adopted man

OK, pray with me people, Breathe in peace, breathe out love. Peace--Love. Peace--Love.

P E A C E

and

L O V E

It's been really hard having my whole immediate family in Asia. It scares me. I worry that they will all decide that having a white wife and a white mother does not support their identity as Asian and Hapa men.

Yes, this is garbage thinking. Excuse me while I slam it into the trash can.

But it's not totally unfounded. Lots of us, the spouses of trans-racially adopted (TRA) folks, get some of the blow back of the identity trauma that hits our beloved partners. We hear awful things that may even be directed at us that are really just the consequence that comes from being raised in a family that is a different race.

And at least when my beloved husband was learning about who he was as a powerful Asian man the systems in place to support the coming to self were horrible in supporting an existing family. Meetings in bars, long weekends for "mini gatherings" at far away hotels with late nights and lots and lots of drinking. I know that many marriages didn't survive that gauntlet. Mine did, but just barely and just because my husband is simply amazing. I'm deeply grateful.

But what about all those other spouses. Those people who married a person who then went through a radical transformation as they came to a new and much more real truth about who they really were? Where are they, those spouses? Who are they? Are their stories like mine? Am I crazy or are there people out there who would nod and smile a sad smile and understand because they, too, had been through this?

If you are a terribly astute "chalice spark" reader you may have noticed that there is a site revision in process, new template, new gadgets, and a few new "good read" links along the side of the current post. One of those new links is to "Harlow's Monkey" This is a blog that I stumbled across a few months ago. I was very impressed with the warm and wicked-sharp writing. I liked that she was not willing to wear any mask that anyone tried to put on her, but instead fiercly stood by her beliefs and views, even though they didn't easliy fall into pre-set "pro" or "con" and "angry" or "happy" camps.

Yesterday I realized that I know who this person is, from my brief contact with the KAD (Korean Adoptee) community in Minnesota. Yes, in six years a person can earn a degree and enroll in a PhD program. Yes, time does not stand still. That connection was an interesting thing to figure out, but more intersting was the round about way things happen and the email to email (almost face to face) contact I have had today with another person who does that nod of the head, who has experienced almost exaclty what I have. Another wife of a trans-racially adopted man. A KAD.

I am not the only one. And even though the shell shock is a half a decade old, it feels very, very fresh having those I love best in Asia right now. And someone to say "I know, it's hard, you're not alone, you're not crazy" well, it's meant the world to me.

Never doubt the power of another person, a flesh and blood human being, saying "yes, I hear you; yes, I understand; yes, it was like that for me, too" it is bigger than just about anything else that can happen to a person.

Peace and love

Amen and blessings, big blessings

The Hard Part

I just celebrated 22 years of wedded bliss with my dear husband. We were together for six years before that. Yes, we were children, yes we've spent almost our entire lives intertwined, yes it's a long time.

And some of that time has been everything but bliss.

We've hurt each other in places that no one else on the planet could ever touch. Only someone you adore and trust and cherish can hurt you in ways that we did. Both of us, no doubt. For a while there we had a superhighway back and forth of pain. High speed, efficient destruction of faith.

There were many reasons we fell apart, but what we now lovingly call the "A-Bomb" was my husband's discovery that he was Asian. Now of course, he's always been Asian, I knew it, he knew it. Anyone but the blind knew it. He's Korean, adopteed as a toddler to the plains of Minnesota, but he'd been running like hell from it for his whole life.

Finally, at about 35, it caught him. Or really, he turned around, opened his arms, lifted his chin and walked into it. Most people are not as fast or crafty as my dear partner and it catches them earlier, when they don't have a white wife and children and a mortgage and a minivan.

He tried very hard to end our marriage, but we'd been best friends forever. And we needed each other to get through this. Sometimes I wonder if it would have hurt less to rely on other people to get through it, but we just coudn't. Thank God we couldn't, because what we've discovered is that again, we choose each other. We treasure each other with the real, beat-up, old foggie selves we've become.

The very worst moment of the whole experience, well, actually the very worst moment of my life happened when he came back from Korea after his first visit. He'd seen the orphanage he'd lived in. He'd faced his fears and his identity. And then he came home, done with all that had been our life together. There had been trips to Asia before, and there have been trips since, but now every time he goes to Asia, the panic rises in me. Maybe it will happen again. Maybe he'll come home and tell me it's all been a horrible mistake and the precious details of my life will be thrown into the air, again. And maybe this time they'll be so shattered nothing can piece them back together.

Today, that dear man will take our sons from Nagoya to Tokyo. And I will live in his house and do the dishes, and shop for birthday presents for our youngest son, and work, and write. And yes, I will worry. I'll try to trust that things happen the way they need to, and believe that we've come through the hard part. Or at least that hard part.

And a little "David Wilcox Therapy" never hurt, either.

Hey it's good....

...to have my kids back home. It turns out that they all had the very best week of their lives ever...

Well that was good to hear.

What a week. The combination of two adult adoptees coming to supervise the camp who are Danish and rappers and the wild mix of kids made for the most singing and dancing I've ever seen from these boys. "Mamma Mia", fully choreographed. It was hilarious.

They were like rock stars at the final camp presentation day. And like very goofy teen boys. Which of course they are. Both rock stars and goofy boys.

The identity piece is always a little tough at camp. Almost everyone who goes was adopted from Korea. There are now about five teens, including my three, who have parents that are adoptees. One mother at camp actually asked us why our kids come to camp if they're not adopted. It's not all about the adoption, some of it is of course about living with a racial identity that is marginalized in our society.

But being Hapa at Korean Identity camp is also, once again, not quite fitting in.

Good thing they have each other I guess, at least it's something. And if they all grow up to be criminals, well, at least they can dance!

Letting go so that the prayer may begin

Freedom is great, kids at camp; amazing. But stir into that mix two people who work from home and feel passionately about their work, and the days can get long!

I have been fuming a little about a couple of things that are happening in the UU blog world. Not the people saying them, just some of the "stone skipping over water" depth given to a comment or two swirling around out there. This makes me stop mid teacher-recruitment-email and say to my husband things like "what are they thinking?" I mean really....?" he types a few more words, then pulls his gaze from his screen to my face and says "What?"

"Oh never mind, just....you know. Ah!"

I am headed out for a long walk, whenever I put together our teacher teams for the upcoming year for our Sunday morning programs I do some deep prayer about who will be the best fit, both with the age group of kids and the other adults on the teacher team. I've found that a good fit can make for an amazing experience for the children and the adults. Even though we have no building and we tuck our classrooms into every dingy spare corner we can glean from the Masonic Temple we meet in, our classrooms become holy places. Our children are holy beings, our teachers, holy guides. We make it so just by coming together. The prayer helps.

But I have two comments that I just have to put down so I can let them go:

White people have a different experience of race than do people of color, at least living for the last 25 years with my husband (an Asian American) has led me to believe this. He says in this country he wears his race on his face every day, the white among us don't. He tells me it's different. We dishonor his experience to say so. And yes this comes from one tiny comment in Peace Bang's rant from yesterday: "When I visit a Methodist or Episcopal or UCC or Baptist church, am I looking around to see how many half-Jewish people of Eastern European descent there are? What is up with that?"

Maybe she's not, but the racial mix of the group does matter to my husband. He can tell you exactly how many non-white folks there are in our congregation each time he visits. No he doesn't care what the race or ethnicity of the UUAs president is, but he sure as hell cares if that Latino man is in our seats.

OK, only one comment. The other one doesn't matter as much now that I've laid that one down.

Now, off to walk the path with the clouds and drizzle. Holding the dear faces of each of the children I know from our ministry in my heart and my hands. It is good work, if you can get it.

Loving Day

In my family we have a dadand a momand three kids

and a little dog.

And because of the supreme court's decision in Loving vs. Virginia (1967) we can legally marry in any state. We have the legal advantages of marriage, and more. Our basic human right to marry the person we love is protected.

And our children can't give us a hard time about being rebel-hippies, although sometimes they still do that.

Happy Loving Day. Cupcakes for all!