Hello, World!

Hello, little fambly! 

          First, I must say, I miss you terribly. Since I didn't stick around for many 58 Lawn bonfires, evening strolls along Kettle Cove, or Red's ice cream adventures, it feels as if summer is still ahead of me - like everything way back up north is in limbo, suspended and waiting for me to return. This is the part where you call me a little brat, Elly. I know, of course, that you've all gone on with your lives. That summer has flown, that the leaves are making their way from thriving green to those warm reds and golds, that the days are getting shorter. It's fall in Houston, so it's most definitely fall in Maine. I know that life has gone on as usual, whether marvelous me is alongside you or not. But I do miss you.

          In part, that is why I decided to kick off this little blog. I had a blog while I roamed around Central America, and another for my brief stint in South Africa. I had one in Budapest, too, but mostly for scholarly purposes - thus the obligatory "Thoughtful post!" comments from my fellow students every week. It seems like the easiest way to keep you guys updated on my riveting life. You know, if riveting is discussing different kids' bowel movements with the rest of the foster moms. I am also starting to feel really strongly about sharing the stories from this incredible organization. Every single day, I am in awe of the people I have met here. Even more, I am in awe of the kids who have made their way here. Unfortunately, sometimes that awe is built on sadness and anger - mostly directed towards the biological parents of these kids. Most days, though, that awe is much happier, built on the resiliency of human nature, and these kids in particular. I'm not writing for any feeling of self-indulgence or a pat on the back. I'm not writing to appeal to your sympathies, either. Rather, I write to settle a bit of this pain in other places. Like the giant rainbow parachutes we seem to continually be dragging to the backyard here - it's much easier to see and to breathe if there are enough people to hold each handle and drag the fabric upwards, catching in the air. With only one person, it just sinks down around me, wrapping me up and closing out the light. I want to share this journey, both the pains and the positives. 

          At the least, I just want to talk to you guys. My free time is often unexpectedly interrupted with impromptu trips to the doctor or grocery store. I rarely get the opportunity to talk to you guys very often. Even when I do, I forget which stories I have told to which people. I tend to go straight for the shock and awe story of a kid's poop smearing all the way up to my elbow. (Yes, I did freak out. Yes, I did have to have Monica come stand watch over the diaper table while I zoomed to the bathtub to scrub it all off.) Despite traveling halfway across the country, I am not going through this journey alone. Every day, I borrow the strength, the humor, the patience, and the courage that each of you taught me one way or another. A little piece of home, always with me. 

          So here goes nothing. I may be three months in already, but I have plenty of stories to catch you up on, and the knowledge that there are hundreds more to come in the next nine (or more!) months ahead. Buckle up, I can assure you that it's going to be a bumpy ride - but so, so worth it. 

          xoxo G