-C.S. Lewis
My house (as it is on every typical Saturday) is a red hot mess.
I took a quick iPhone camera inventory of the evidence of mass destruction before I came slinking back upstairs, coffee cup in hand, to sit here, type to you, and avoid cleaning it up.
Reviewing the camera roll inventory, I see:
- three stacks of thank you cards Justin still hasn't filled out for his birthday gifts.
- about five scattered flash drives containing anybody's guess.
- an equal number of TV, VCR, Wii, Tivo and Roku remotes...if nothing else, we are a well-wired family.
- far too many scattered wrappers from those delicious chocolate coated granola bars they sell at Trader Joe's, which should be outlawed by reason of sheer calorie count alone.
- one sleeping bag, one beanbag chair, and four pillows per child, all bunched up in a giant pile on the living room floor. That's how they slept last night; somehow buried in the midst of all that, and all power to them, because they didn't wake us up until 7:45 a.m., a veritable vacation in our book.
- a deck of well-worn sight word cards.
- a pair of pink Barbie doll bicycle gloves.
- a purple kippah left over from somebody's bar mitzvah, mazel tov.
- a bunch of packages of some horrible candy called "Juicy Drop Taffy," which, if my horrified observation is accurate, is eaten by squirting said taffy with a super-sour gel pen full of juice and eating said pieces of jaw-clenching bitterness in a solitary gulp. How do they do it, I wonder, as I quickly leave the room and hide, leaving toothpaste duties to Adam.
- two Green Bay Packer bracelets, half a box of crayons and two Kindles on the coffee table with enough sticky fingerprints on the screens to start a new layer of mantle, crust or outer core.
- a counter I can't even see anymore, because it's buried under homework folders, a recently de-virus'ed laptop (welcome back, old friend!), and a bag of something that are either hair scrunchies or things Justice uses to bunch up her long t-shirts in the back (or both).
- the usual assortment of socks, underwear and other dirty clothes that prove without a doubt a seven-year-old boy lives here.
- and, in a rare moment of peace, a used copy of "The Garden of Emuna," a book on faith that just arrived from the Amazon used bookstore because, truly, even when you kick back, settle down in the reading chair and get your God on, it never hurts to ask for a discount.
I've been listening over and over to a song - a prayer - a blessing of gratitude - on one of the kids' Jewish music CD's that came in the mail. (God bless a really cool place called the PJ Library, which sends Jewish kids free books and music CD's, once a month, for keeps, forever).
The song I've been listening to over and over is by a guy named Todd Herzog who is an amazing singer-songwriter. He has a website of his own, and you should go check him out. Todd took a well-known blessing from the Jewish prayer service, the Shehechiyanu blessing, the prayer we use to thank God for sustaining our lives so we can experience times and moments of great joy.
At this special hour in our lives
We take the time to recognize
The things that we have seen and done
In this moment shared by everyone
Our hearts are filled with gratitude
Our sense of purpose is renewed
And words of blessing roll off of our tongues...
Shehechianu, viki'imanu
Va'hi'gianu, la'azman hazeh...
"Thank you, God," it says, "for granting us life, sustaining us, and allowing us to reach this occasion."
My friend Starrla, somewhere in Houston right now, is making us a video of this song, full of pictures of me and Adam and the kids, chronicling our first amazing year together, in the way that only her considerable video montaging skills would dare to attempt. I'll post it here when she finishes it, but don't hold your breath for a quickie. Poor woman, I sent her about eight million pictures and told her to pick her favorites, so it could take generations just to narrow down the playlist.
Anyway, while we wait for the clip and the inevitable heartwarming boxes of Kleenex it'll undoubtedly use up, I sit here listening to Todd Herzog's song and think how truly appropriate it's been to our first year:
Through challenges we've overcome
Our many dreams have merged as one
This life we have created
Is both precious and appreciated
We thank you, God, for blessing us
Sustaining us when times were tough
Allowing us to reach this sacred day...
I can't even listen to that verse without crying over how true it is.
It has been such a magnificent, enormous year. Complex and beautiful and drop-dead exhausting, and yet here we are, 12 months later, first anniversary in hand, and we're a family.
Justice's new birth certificate came in the mail yesterday. The courts seal the old one after an adoption and a new one is issued. I'm listed as the mom, in case you're wondering. Nevada's Department of Vital Records was prompt with the paperwork, but their forms haven't caught up to the world of 2013 yet. That's okay. They will someday, and Justice will have a cool, antiquated, silly novelty to hold onto. Something that'll make all her friends' jaws drop open when they see it, and make them go, "Seriously? The world did that back then? Listed one guy as the mom because they didn't recognize the full humanity of two dads yet?" Someday, that'll all be just plain silliness. Like the signs that used to tell black folks to drink at different water fountains.
Justin's birth certificate isn't here yet. He was born in Pennsylvania, and Lord only knows what that red state will do with our information. I'm not sure what we're expecting, but I'm sure it'll be a corker.
But,
Shehechianu, viki'imanu
Va'hi'gianu, la'azman hazeh...
here we are.
And without sounding like a hip-hop star scoring a Grammy, I'd be remiss if I didn't give a shout out to Hashem (which is a polite and Jewish way of saying "God," which we sometimes spell "G-d," for equally respectful reasons). I'm not sure God and emunah (which means "faith") were the only factors at work in this highly challenging, incredibly rewarding first year with the kids -- there were a whole lot of plain old common human beings who threw blood, sweat and tears into this endeavor as well -- but faith in something above human limits, more often than not, also came into play -- and continues to do so -- as we hold on dearly to both our strong foundations and our houses of cards, knowing no matter what, solid or fragile, things are still heading in a good and right direction.
"It's different now, isn't it?" Rick Hollander said to me after Friday night services a couple weeks ago. I was walking outside, coming back from the car, and I just caught Rick and Donna leaving for the parking lot.
"Yeah," I admitted, "it really is."
"They've come so far from where they started," he said. "And that's all you guys."
"Us and them," I told him. "We've all come far."
Us, them, faith, emunah. Allowing us to reach this sacred day.
I wonder if anybody knows how grateful I still am? Grateful to my friends and my family and to God for all of this.
There's another blessing I found Friday night in our prayer book, and I bookmarked it so I'd remember to write it down here when I wrote about this incredible year and our first anniversary:
Even if our mouths were full of song as the sea,
and our tongues full of joy in countless waves,
and our lips full of praise as wide as the sky's expanse,
and were our eyes to shine like sun and moon;
if our hands were spread out like heaven's eagles
and our feet swift like young deer,
we could never thank you adequately, God,
or bless your name for a ten-thousandth of the times
you granted favors to our ancestors and to us.
That's how grateful I am for everything that's happened this year. For all we have grown. To be given this chance, these kids, this life.
365 days and my house is a mess. My living room's trashed and I may never see my kitchen counter again. And all I can do is look at it and smile, because I am so blessed. And I am so happy.
Happy anniversary, kids. Here's to our second year which begins today.
Daddy and I wouldn't trade it for anything else in the world.
