KNOWING

My dear friends, I am going to lay something out for you, something you may really dislike me for. I am sorry if you do not want to read this, I do not want to type it, but it has been on my mind constantly for the past 9 months. It is always there. ALWAYS.

Perhaps it is unhealthy, I wont deny that, but what I KNOW is this: once you have seen, you cannot un-see. Once you have heard, you cannot un-hear. Once you know. . .it stays with you forever. You can try to ignore it, move on from it, bury it .. but it will always come back to you, because YOU KNOW. You can try to distract yourself with the hunky Juan Pablo, the quest for more, more, more.. . but once you know.. ..YOU KNOW.

As many of you know, my little miracle Owen burst into our lives 2 months early and tiny as can be. At 32 weeks gestation, he was a 3 lb little wonder. What you may not know is that Evan was born at 30 weeks gestation. I cannot recall how much he weighed at birth and since I cannot read Russian, I have not been able to decipher the information from his paperwork. He must have been teenie. He also, was a tiny fighter.

Owen had parents that loved him immensely, eagerly waiting for the chance to hold him and comfort him. Cheer on his achievements and cherish his presence. Evan sadly did not.

Evan likely spent his days alone in his incubator. His cries unheard. No one to snuggle him or give him the physical contact his tiny body was desperate for. No breastmilk to nourish and comfort his tiny, fighting body.  His achievements and gains went uncelebrated. No one cried happy tears when he was finally strong enough to leave the hospital.

Someone kiss that sad little face!

When he was strong enough to leave the hospital he did not get carefully strapped into a car seat by a mama too nervous to drive over 30 miles per hour despite her desire to get him home and start some serious snuggling. He did not receive the comfort of breast milk, a snuggle or a kiss on the cheek before he was  moved from one lonely existence to another.

From the hospital bed he was placed into another bed, to spend his days fighting to grow and thrive. Eager for any touch, any eye contact that he was given; even if it was an angry look, a rough touch, he craved human interaction. Odds are it was fleeting at best and yet; against the odds he fought on and grew.

at 3 years old, he was wearing 18 months size clothing

For 3 years he held on and fought, finding some joy in his reality, his precious heart still hopeful and protected until we arrived. Indifference is the best these kids can hope for. Neglect, abuse, starvation and the most heinous of mistreatment are sadly common. And yet, they fight on.

But there are more. It is these children, these precious fighting babies that haunt me. Their arms and legs in the air. Their babbles and smiles completely ignored. Their cries of hunger, cries of loneliness that fall on deaf ears until they stop crying and babbling altogether.  It is their eager faces that continue to haunt me.. . so eager to be chosen. To be wanted. The hope so evident and heartbreaking on their little faces.

Babies NEED love and affection to thrive

I hear these cries when I reach to comfort Evan, Opie and Eli. My heart breaks for the many,  many children that suffer indifference.

Never ever should children be treated like this. 

I am so far from a perfect person and an even sorrier excuse for a Mom. I admit I probably have more failures than successes as a Momma, and yet, Evan is growing and healing. He continues to thrive and he just oozes love and affection.

These children don't need amazing parents or families. I assure you again, we are not perfect. They simply need someone to cuddle them. To coo back. To fill their bellies and change their diapers. They need someone to return their trusting smiles. They need to matter because they DO MATTER.

Sweet Zoey passed away last week. She was 8 years old and weighed 10 lbs. Her family was working hard to save her but they were too late. 

Please hear their cries with me and ACT! If you honestly cannot find room at your table, in your heart, in your family, please do not simply ignore them...bury them. I beg of you to count yourself capable. Count yourself worthy. YOU CAN HELP! Share. Pray. Hear them! If you do not....what hope is there?

Some of these children are home, but MANY more wait....

When I was high

I have attempted to get my thoughts down several times and eloquence is just out the window. I mentally wrote this post several times whilst high and dingy on meds and it was at least humorous....without the meds I really cannot guarantee much.

Oh So Pregnant.

On Saturday I was huge. Pregnant and miserable. Huge. I found myself sitting in the hospital debating whether or not to get checked out. I feared something was amiss and I feared in equal parts that I was simply a hypochondriac about to rack up an insane medical bill for a little peace of mind. When I got up from my indecisive perch, I was heading home. . .and instead my feet led me to the front desk to get checked out.

2 hours later I was in an ambulance headed to a different hospital. A hospital equipped to handle the tiny baby that I was likely to have soon. It did not matter that we were supposed to go buy our mini van that day. That I was not due for 2 more months. That we were not ready at all. . .that baby was not ready. I was shuttling to an outcome that no one was not prepared for in the least.

And then I was high. My vision was scrambled, my mind was in shambles and I was about to meet my new son for the first time.

The whole experience was more than traumatic and I think that I will be working through it for quite some time. My baby boy is tinier than I could have imagined but he is so strong and is showing the world just what he can do and I am blown away by him. He does not seem to be bothered by the change in his plans. He is rising to the occasion and making the best of things. He is showing his Mama up in every way possible.

Looking back I am ashamed at myself. Oh I spent so much time moaning about how miserable I was pregnant. Trust me.. .I was MISERABLE! So very sick. Do not get me started....

I abhorred the sight of my swollen face, avoided pictures and was an all around pain in the butt about it all.

Shame on me. My dear boy was safe and snug in my super sized hotel. If only I could have focused on that a little more and focused on my own discomfort a little less. The outcome may not have changed a bit, but I recognize what an honor it is to care for such a little warrior in such an important way. There are no do-overs as much as I might beg for one.

My first chance holding Baby O. Bliss.

I love you, little man. Thank you for showing me what true strength is. I look forward to watching your amazing progress, I have so much to learn from you!

How is it that such an ordinary pain in the butt like myself can be so blessed with such incredible children? Please dear God, do NOT let me screw them up. They are awesome.

Give that Mama a hug!

I will admit. I did NOT get it. Please do not stone me for this admission. I did NOT understand why stay at home Moms were so different from me. I did not understand why I heard so many complaints from them. I was jealous of them, I thought NOTHING could be greater than spending all day every day with my beloved  children. What could be greater??

And then I quit my job to join their ranks.

It took two years and the addition of another child to make me understand. Stay at home Mamas. . .please accept my heartfelt apology. You work SO very hard, for no pay, no accolades, no vacations, no perks and little empathy from the world.

Now, I know I cannot speak for every stay at home Mom, as every family is different, but I find it safe to assume that the majority of SAHMs work very long hours. Coffee breaks are not a given, and IF you get one, they are not the relaxing, enjoyable events that they once were. Lunch break? Scarfing down pb&j with your kids, trying to maintain some semblance of order at the table and reduce the noise level a few decibels is not really a break at all. Quitting time? Don't even get me started with that. I miss quitting time immensely.

When I worked, I took my paycheck for granted. As nice as it was to receive awards and promotions, I felt I had worked my tail off and earned them, thus also taking them for granted. Now, I know that I will not receive any pat on the back, raise or positive recognition for putting Eli in time out for the 15th time for climbing up the window sill. He does not care that I am merely trying to keep him safe, or that I spent my entire day trying to keep him from harm, and that doing this while also doing laundry is quite incredible. Nope, he is not going to thank me, far from it.

My dear husband works very hard to support his family and to allow me to remain home to raise our family. As much as I try to explain it to him, he is where I was before I left my job, he is on the outside looking in. . how can I complain about how grueling my days are? This is what I wanted! What I fought for!

So, the next time you see a SAHM at your grocery store, at the park, at church. . .give her a MASSIVE high five!

Why?

Because even though it took me a while to pull my head out, I GET IT!

Because odds are she has not gotten a pat on the back in a while.

Because her job pays very little, has no paid time off and the uniform SUCKS. Odds are she is working harder than she ever did for a paycheck.

Because she is not perfect but she tries so very hard to do her best for her children every single moment. Her job pushes her buttons unceasingly and attacks her self confidence more often than she will care to admit. Mistakes are just part of the territory, they do not make her a bad mom, they make her human.

Because even though she may think about quitting her job every single day, odds are, she won't. She loves her job far too much to actually quit. Odds are she takes this job far more seriously than any other job she has ever held.

Because maybe she learned the hard way, that staying home with your children every day is not easy or simply filled with cuddles and giggles.

Because diapers do not change themselves.

Because her daily soundtrack would make you shudder. (One can only listen to Sesame Street, Caillou, Thomas the Tank Engine, Wild Kratts, Word Girl or any other show and theme song for so long before wanting to stick your head in the oven.)

Because her child may be the teen driving behind you when you are out for a Sunday drive.  If they gun their engine to pass you and your 80 year old self, they likely have more unique ways of handling their frustration other than flipping the bird. (Eli is already mimicking some of my road rage antics. It is pretty entertaining and so very PG.)

Because taking her tantruming and annoying children to your grocery store may be the only outing she has had in a week.

Because everyone needs a pick me up every once in a while. Winning at Words with Friends only goes so far. . .A DQ Blizzard goes a little further as a boost but still. . .As a society we are not good at looking out for others anymore. I personally think that should change. Community. A smile and a pat on the back goes a LONG way and it is simple enough to do.

Because I am the MOM and I said so!

My version of quick takes. . .

I am working up to seven so I can play with the big kids.. .baby steps for me.

----1----

How is it that I can go to the same person, with the same picture and the same head and walk out with a DIFFERENT haircut every single time? What in the world am I doing wrong? I am about to pull a Sinead O'Conner. . .

----2----

Painting with my son used to be SO fun! Oh, the colors and the shapes, so pretty. They always had a place on the fridge or the wall. Recently, he prefers to mix all of the colors together to create this beautiful poop color. . .. I am sorry but I just dont want to hang that anywhere. Surely I am offending an artist somewhere, but I just miss colors. .. .plural.

----3----

I am eagerly awaiting for the very last piece of paper for our adoption. . .before the real waiting game begins. BRING IT ON!!! We are ready!

----4----

Ralph and Oliver have matching grants. ..haven't you always wanted to double your money?? Make it go twice as far? Ask and ye shall receive! Every single dollar you donate to one of these boys will magically turn into 2. DO IT! It is amazing to participate in!

Ralph

Oliver

----5----

I am on strike today. I am not making dinner tonight. I didnt make dinner last night either. I went to bed at 5:30. .. . and YES! I say that with pride. I might do it again tonight! Sleep, my dear friend, I am so sorry I have been neglecting you. I will try to make up for lost time. .. .if you let me.

----6----

Angels are everywhere. It is amazing when they pop in and save the day! Thank you to the angels that came to our rescue today. . ..MUCH APPRECIATED! Enjoy your weekend everyone!

Feeding sheep

When they had eaten, Jesus said to Simon Peter, 'Simon son of John, do you love me more than these others do?' He answered, 'Yes, Lord, you know I love you.' Jesus said to him, 'Feed my lambs.'

16 A second time he said to him, 'Simon son of John, do you love me?' He replied, 'Yes, Lord, you know I love you.' Jesus said to him, 'Look after my sheep.'

17 Then he said to him a third time, 'Simon son of John, do you love me?' Peter was hurt that he asked him a third time, 'Do you love me?' and said, 'Lord, you know everything; you know I love you.' Jesus said to him, 'Feed my sheep. Oh, I whimper on and on about adoption brain and the paperchase. . .the stress. SHAME ON ME! I apologize, heartily. I am thrilled as heck to be on this journey. I am humbled and excited by the gift at the end of this journey. I seriously could jump out of my skin with how eager I am to meet this child. .. . to love him for the rest of my life.  Despite my exhaustion and stress. . .I have met a number of people that seriously follow the Bible passage above. I have been tended, and well fed by the love and support that seems to effortlessly flow from these amazing people.  I would like to publicly thank a number of these people right now. . .because I personally think that feeling appreciated NEVER gets old. ... and I truly appreciate so many people! Annie T- serious thank yous for all of your auction expertise. You blew my mind!! And really I am sure there are  oodles of future thank you's headed your way because of your supreme awesomeness.  Kara M- you make me laugh almost every day.  .you boost me and encourage me when I need it the most. You join me in tears. . . .Your prayers and friendship are really, really appreciated! Thank you for shouting with me and introducing me to Twitter! I don't know how I ever got through the day without a dose of your humor. . .. NOW GET ME SOME COFFEE!!!!! Please? Kim J- Your willingness to step up to help anyone. .. your fierce love and commitment to your faith and these children is amazing. Opening your home to the OARR group was incredible and the results are boggling my mind. Your family is precious and I am thrilled to see where God is going to lead you all! Thank you for your friendship and your support!  Amy B- You could be my sister! We are drawn to the same children and have a similar sense of humor. Your encouragement and friendship is amazing! Thank you for your prayers and understanding. .. and the next time you are out this way. .. .let's get together! Leila M-who rallies the troops better than Leila? Who is the first to shout for a family or orphan in need.. . who is willing to speak the truth loudly enough to be shut down by Facebook? You are so brave and inspirational to me. .. .I am thrilled to know you and to witness you in action! Awesome! Tamarina- From high school years to now... . amazing to still be in touch with you. Thank you for sharing these kids and my fundraisers. Thank you for not turning a deaf ear when I post one too many children.  . .your compassion and generosity are brilliant! Sylvia -What an example you are of a Mom that will do anything for her children! Your determination, creativity, generosity and tenacity are incredible! Never stop . . .ever. I am sure you get frustrated and discouraged but you are influencing and moving people in ways you will never know. Inspirational!  Jannie- Across the years and the miles. .. .you are a phenomenal friend. I cannot thank God enough for that fateful meeting in Kenya. .. .who would have known that life long friends would emerge from that experience!! You are so supportive and so lovely. I just adore you and cannot wait to see you again so I can give you a massive hug! LOVE YOU! Really everyone at CC4RR- you are amazing beyond words. . .your prayers are moving mountains!!  There are countless others. COUNTLESS others.. ..friends and family that have been amazingly supportive.  YOU HAVE FED AND TENDED ME WELL! I thank GOD for all of you! Pasha will be told about the legions of people that have helped us get him home! What a blessing! I assure you that hearty thanks will be headed their way soon too!!

Raising Funds

It's how Politicians become President and how this family will bring Pasha home. If you choose to donate, I promise there will be no drama. . no Supreme Court involvement.. .I will send you a thank you card once sweet baby boy is home. . ..

Believe me, I know. . .fundraising is NO fun at all. It is really misleading to have FUN anywhere in that word.. .but I am trying to make it fun and easy for all involved. Here is the deal. I know there are people that may not agree with fundraising for adoption. I get it. I would have never asked anyone for help paying for Eli's Birth, or any of the medical costs associated with Beckett. So why would I even ask for help with this? It is really quite simple and I will state my reasons and leave it. I will not preach.
Simply put, I firmly believe that these children should not be left to languish in an institution simply because of money. It is wrong. Not everyone wants to make the commitment to bring an orphan home. I understand that too. It is really simple to help those that DO want to see the orphan crisis end. .. and it can be as easy as spreading the word about an adoptive family, praying for them and donating.. .every single dollar helps.

Because it doesn't have to be this way...

Lucky for us we did not have to spend $25k to bring Eli home. I know if you add up our co-pays and insurance premiums. . .blah blah blah..it still cost a fair chunk, but it was not a lump sum of cash straight out of our account.
Our adoption is flying. ..we should be able to submit our paperwork next week or the week after. . .We have been working for a little over a month on this. Racing to get to Pasha. .. to make up for the past 6 months. Six month with little (if any) cuddle time. Rationed food that likely left his tummy grumbling. Six months of having his diaper changed only once or twice (if he is lucky) a day. See why we are really pressing ourselves?
Coming up with $25k in 7 months or less is daunting. As I stated, I cashed out my retirement to help cover costs. . .but it does not cover the entire cost. DOH! Keeping that in mind, Pasha may come home with larger medical needs than we are anticipating. It would be prudent to have some of that retirement fund sitting there when we arrive home to cover his medical care. Just as an example, if each of our Facebook friends donated $20 we would be half way funded. We could cover the rest. Done. Not all of our facebook friends will donate and that is totally okay. I just wanted to illustrate just how simple it could be. Every little bit does add up.

We have an ongoing fundraiser through 147millionorphans.com. There is a handy dandy button to the right.  .use that link to purchase some lovely advocacy apparel.

Lolasitas!

There is also a fundraiser through Lolasitas awesome shop on Etsy. A portion of every sale will go to our adoption fund. She has awesome blankets that would be perfect for gifting! Make sure you use our name when purchasing.

One of our AWESOME Auction Items. .. 

We will have an online auction on Facebook. Click here to access the auction.We (mostly Annie T, Annie I am SO grateful for your help!) has gotten some amazingly cute items to bid on. .. so simply put: Look at cute pictures. Give us ALL your money. Convince your friends to give us ALL their money as well. Pasha will come home and we will be so grateful. Seriously, bidding on the items will start on July 20th at 10am Pacific time. Shipping will be included unless you live out of the country and then I will negotiate with you.. .perhaps I will cover the extra shipping costs. Please do share with your friends. This auction will last one week only. . so check back often to make sure your bid is still the highest. All the donations have been generously offered by shop owners trying to make a living .. .so please note the links to every item and visit their shops! If your bid is the highest, then you will donate the amount of your bid here. Here is the BONUS. .. you have scored a cute new item AND your donation is tax deductible. . WIN-WIN! See, it is kinda fun. Right?

I will be throwing an 80s Dance Party Fundraiser (there's the FUN!) in August. I will post more when it gets closer to the time. . .I know you are on the edge of your seat.

Thank you so much for your time and for giving us your support! Pasha and I appreciate it more than we can say! If I haven't said it before, I don't expect anyone to donate, but I hope and pray that this adoption can be completed without acquiring a large debt. If you cannot or will not donate. .. I still love you and hope that you will keep us in your prayers!

The Time-Space Continuum

I should be ready to pop about now.

But I am not. Life goes on. I never forget Beckett. He is present for me every day but I do not wallow. I do feel blessed for the time that he was here with me. .. and I feel blessed that he is in heaven, advocating for us (hopefully...) Part of me wonders if he is embarrassed by me sometimes. . .when he sees me at my most awkward or clumsy. When he sees so clearly how imperfect his Mama is. Most everyday I am at peace with the  fact that my sweet baby boy is not physically here with me. (I know this is hard to believe because I don't blog about it.) But really I am fine. Able to function and take care of business. Able to enjoy my time with Eli. Fine! Totally fine until the radio plays this: (I know most of you have heard this song, but really take a minute to wallow with me. okay so I am wallowing a little bit but just right now. and whenever this blasted song is on... the words are perfect.)

Even Eli calls it the Beckett song. . .and I cannot help but bawl. The words are perfect. "I just wanted to hold you in my arms." Doesn't seem to much to ask. . .right?

I was talking to a friend yesterday when it dawned on me that my estimated due date is literally days away. It is such a strange realization and makes me a bit introspective and melancholy. I have faith that everything does happen for a reason and had it not been for dear Beckett, I may have not stumbled upon Reece's Rainbow and if I had, I may not have been so moved by it. I would like to think that I would, but honestly, I had never really spent much thought on life with a special child until Beckett. I think that is really the way life and God operates. Sometimes it takes an earthquake to change our perspective. To rattle us out of our comfort zone. .. to really make us sit up and take notice. 

I have made some amazing friends in the past couple of months. I have watched miracles unfold, literally before my eyes and I am humbled to be  spectator! I honestly feel very blessed and when I think about it, I am ready to pop. .. bursting with excitement and hope! I cannot stand how excited I am at the prospect of meeting Pasha and bringing him home. We are getting closer!

In the meantime, I cannot STAND that Porter has been lost. It does not have to be that way! Please spread his sweet picture and horrifying situation to anyone that will listen and then to those that will not. Something has to give for this sweet boy! In honor of Beckett's due date? Please find Porter's parents! 

Read more here: http://happyhartmanfarm.blogspot.com/2012/07/it-finally-hit-me.html

Adoption brain and the 10 lb block o'chicken

I cook, but not willingly and not well.
I think, but not willingly and again, not well.

I am doing my best at the coupon game, still a little new to it and still a little too lazy to be really good at it. However, I stumbled on an awesomely spectacular deal a little while ago at a local butcher shop (EW.) I got a 10 lb back of chicken quarters for 7.90. Now, I admittedly don't like to use my brain, but that seemed like a wonderful deal so I hefted that bag of chicken into my car and happily went home to brag of my find to my husband.

Several nights later chicken was on the menu and my husband agreed to cook.. ..yay! He took that bag of chicken out the the freezer. Looked at it. Looked at me and shook his head. "I know! Unbelievable deal, right? I SCORED! You are so lucky to have me around to find such awesome deals for you." He grimaced and shook his head again. Then he dropped the entire bag of chicken on the kitchen floor. Thud. The house shook. He picked it up and threw the bag back to the floor, with force. Massive thud. He looked down at the bag and then at me.

The bag was then picked up and placed on the counter. Husband started rummaging around and I went about my business until the grumbling and strange racket became impossible to ignore. I walked into the kitchen to see my husband with a hammer in his hand, repeatedly whacking the chicken. . ..with increasing force. This went on for a while, yet I did not venture any further into the kitchen. Hubby turned to me with irritation, "nice 10lb chicken ice cube you have here Becki. GREAT DEAL! We are having Pizza for dinner." Uh-oh.

I walked over to see the chicken glacier. There was no evidence of the beating that ice cube just took. Not a dent. Nothing. I can see how that could irritate someone. . .. so I put the chicken in another ziploc baggie and placed it back in the freezer.

What the heck was I going to do? Obviously it has to thaw out. But once it thaws, do I have to cook it all at once? I am pretty sure I have no need for 10lbs of chicken at the same time. Can I thaw it and then just re-freeze it? Am I going to poison my entire family with this silly block of chicken?  What the heck am I going to do. Google failed me, in an epic way. I refused to admit defeat, still believing in the deal of the century. . . .and I sang, "she's a young thing that cannot leave her mother. ..  "

A week later my brain stumbled on the solution and again, I was a genius. Order restored! Father's Day BBQ! Invite the family over, it will be fun! Most everyone agreed to come. .. perfect! On the menu? CHICKEN!
So, the night before the BBQ that big block o-chicken was once again resurrected from the freezer and set on the counter to thaw. Before falling asleep we commiserated together that perhaps I was out of my mind.  A BBQ for 13 people? Why do seemingly simple tasks seem overwhelmingly impossible?? We have never BBQ'd anything other that hotdogs and burgers. . . .we fell asleep wondering if tomorrow was going to work at all, but comforted by our abundance of hotdogs and burgers available as back-up.
On his Father's Day morning, dear Hubby was greeted with a river of bloody chicken juice and goo all over the counter and floor. Serious gross out moment. Being the awesome man that  he is, he cleaned it up and disinfected the kitchen, so when I woke up all I saw was his grimace and a sparkling clean kitchen.

An hour before the guests were set to arrive, Husband looks at me with a grin, "I am not sure about this today. That chicken looked sad. Every chicken leg was broken. When I was transferring them to ziploc baggies, they just flopped around. One piece looked like the meat was on the outside and the skin was on the inside. .. is that even possible?" I looked at him with disbelief. "What are you talking about? And whatever you are talking about, could you have talked about it any earlier?" His response: "Uh, remember the hammer? I thought that it hadn't even made a dent. Uh. I was wrong."

The laughing began and didn't end until we both had tear streaked cheeks. On the menu? Hammer tenderized chicken. Pulverized chicken pieces. Awesome.

Somehow our mini BBQ gave those broken chicken quarters a new lease on life.  They were DELICIOUS!

Totally wonderful metaphor for our adoption! It is an awesome deal, to bring Pasha into our hearts and family, but it takes time. It may not always be pretty, we may feel pulverized. We need to wait for everything to thaw out and resist the urge to take a hammer to it. .. and as with most things, it is BEST when shared with friends and family. I know this is super belated, but honestly that IS how I roll, I hope everyone had a blessed and happy Father's Day!

What an honor to introduce. .. .

...my beloved Aunt Karen. She has been blogging for a little while here and without fail her blogs make me laugh. And sometimes cry. I think she is such a gift and has a wonderful way of sharing her life with the world. Her post today made me cry and made me SO grateful to know her and call her family. She has brought so much to my life that I asked her if I could share. .. so without further adieu:

The Miraculous Poetry Machine

This is the miraculous poetry machine. I found it today on Front Street in Issaquah.  

What you do, is this: you take a piece of paper, you write five random words on it, you slip the piece of paper in the slot on the side, you wait, and presently out pops another piece of paper on the other side. The new piece of paper has a poem freshly penned, using all five of your words.

TaDA!

Miraculous enough in itself, but there is more. Let me start at the beginning.

I have been in the dumps for a week or so now, and realized that, with this Friday off from work and free from family obligations, I had the opportunity to take my sorry self out for a me-date, and perhaps refresh the old amygdala.

This is the first Friday of the month, and that means it's the night of the Issaquah Art Walk. All the shops on Front Street open their doors and invite local artists to show their wares, either on display in the shop itself, or just outside the door.

I arrived just as the artists were getting in place. I settled down on a bench in front of the old Shell station that is actually an arts shop, housing a number of photographers' wares. There was a three-man band set up in front, calling themselves the Trainwrecks and doing pretty good covers of the Eagles and assorted new country singers. I watched them for a good half hour, enjoying the music and their ease with eachother. Which was fortuitous, because for at least twenty minutes of that half hour I was pretty much their only audience. They didn't seem to care all that much about how big the audience was, or wasn't - they simply were laughing and singing and playing and generally having a great time. It reminded me of the truth of art - you don't wait for an audience to make art, you make art and share it if anyone shows up.

Then I wandered off to the chainsaw carver and checked out the pine gnomes. Next to him was the guy who makes garden stakes with flowers on top, the petals made out of spoons. Across from him, the woman who makes purses out of old clothes and the other woman who makes hats out of old men's slacks.

I wandered into an art gallery and checked out the pottery, the paintings, the mixed media offerings of cats on couches, dogs on beaches, birds flying across landscapes, city scenes, still lifes, portraits. I cradled a clay sparrow in my hand and enjoyed the heft of it, so unlike its real counterpart.

I people watched for awhile; a grandfather with his granddaughter and their very old, very much loved dog. A woman with pink highlights. A man with a grizzled beard and a fedora. Ten year old boys in a small herd, grazing down the street. An Indian man with his young daughter in a stroller, her hair all touseled from napping, the curls across her forehead tangling through her fingers as she wiped her eyes.

And then I came across the Poetry Machine. It looked more like a voting booth, red, white and blue folded panels with plastic bunting taped on the top, and peacock feathers for good measure. A chalkboard sign on the front, with stick on letters that said, "I love writing. I love the swirl and swing of words as they tangle with human emotions: James Michener"

It was pretty easy to see the two women inside, sitting on stools and writing on small notepads. Even though an MP3 player tapped out the sound of an old typewriter, the pieces of paper that came out with finished poems on them were all handwritten.

Nobody cared. Kids hovered around the front of it, clutching notepads and chewing pencils, trying to come up with five good words to feed into the machine, so that a poem would be ejected back to them. Mothers giggled as the kids asked for advice. Some of the parents took up notepads of their own.

I took a notepad and wrote five words on it: Paleological. Laughter. Resurrected. Squirrelly. Victory. I passed it through the slot and waited.

And waited.

And waited.

Poems popped out the other side. A poem for Matt. For Angela. Tony. Chris. But not mine.

I waited.

And as I waited, leaning against a telephone pole, a woman approached me and told me I looked like an angel. Which is weird, unless you think of angels as being 60 pounds overweight and dressed in jeans and tee shirts from the Museum of Jurassic Technology.

I smiled, leaning against the pole further and extending my arms out in front of me, striking what I hoped was a beatific pose. She said I reminded her of someone she knew who was gone. And then she complimented me in ways I don't even remember. I thanked her and added, "And all of it, of course, covered in milk chocolate."

And that's when she burst into tears.

"I knew that's what you would say, " she said. "It's exactly what she would say."

And she fell weeping into my arms.

Sometimes you go someplace because you have a random idea, or because you are bummed out and need distraction, or because you're bored, or because if you stay home you'll eat ice cream and blow your diet. That's usually the times when God decides to make something really interesting happen.

I started to think maybe I understood why I had gotten in the car and schlepped down to Issaquah from Maple Valley, on a whim. I got a better idea of why my poem, of all the poems, was so tardy. I got an inkling as to the importance of this particular telephone pole. I was meant to be here when she came by. Sometimes they shoot the messenger; today, the messenger was hugged. I hugged her back and told her that her friend loved her very very much, and that I was sure that's why I had been sent there, to wait for her and tell her just that. I felt her cry and shake against me and hung on tight, rubbing her back, pressing my palm in her shoulder blades, feeling the ridges of her spine. She thanked me for being there. I told her I couldn't take the credit, I only did as I had been told. We both laughed. "Yes," she said, "she would be bossy, wouldn't she?"

My poem popped out. We read it together, and it was yet another affirmation for her. This is what it said:

Victory
I hear my own laughter
ring in my own ears;
a squirrelly sound;
a good sound.
I hear my triumph
resurrected from my fall
and I feel paleological as
I am of the oldest times.

She gasped, laughed, then cried some more. I held her hands. I kissed her cheek. More laughing. She told me she loved me, and I said I loved her, too. I know that she was talking to the woman who had died, and I allowed my voice to say what I knew that woman would have said. It was the most natural moment in the world. What I was saying was true. I told her it was time for me to go, but that she would know she was being watched over, taken care of, and always loved. I turned around and walked away. We lost sight of each other in the crowd, just as it was meant to be. Amygdala refreshed, mission accomplished.

Sometimes I think my words don't count for much. Sometimes I feel restless, uninspired, invisible. But in that moment, I did not feel invisible. I felt transparent, free, with someone else's light was shining through, the both of us feeling its warmth, andthat was certainly visible, on both sides of the veil. I felt lucky to be chosen, grateful and humble.
A gift all the way around. A paleological resurrection. A miracle in front of a poetry machine, as delicious as milk chocolate. A very, very good day. 


See what I mean? She is really that awesome!