Antelope Island With the Zhangs

 Here is a hodge podge of pictures from my flurry of activity with my friend Kelin Zhang and his wife, Renee.  They came into town for a convention. I had lost touch with Kelin since we were in violin making school 20 years ago.  He tracked me down, and we picked up where we left off.

Not exactly where we left off.  There wasn't a buffalo at the violin making school.  Kelin was fresh off the boat from China, working hard to learn English, building violins at night, joking all the time that he was "President Kelin-ton."  He was a good guy.

Now he runs a successful shop in Dallas, his wife runs a school for the performing arts, and they have two beautiful daughters.  They are a dynamic duo.  Renee was fielding calls in several languages on her phone all day.  She's trying to set up an exchange program at their school.

I wish I could find a picture of us in school, but Kelin, for all his joking, was a serious student.  He rarely joined in on all-night parties at the Rainier or pool games up the street or dollar spaghetti night at O'whatever that place was called.  And in spite of all my socializing, I actually worked a lot too.  School from 8 to 4.  5 to 9 or 10 at Lamb's and 10 pm to 6 am at a bed and breakfast on weekends, then 6 am to 10 am at another bed and breakfast.  Don't worry; I still found ample time to get into trouble (which you're well aware of if you ever visited the Rainier.)  Not Kelin.  He kept his head down and worked.  It was gratifying to see him 20 years later, hugely successful, and more importantly, happy.

Showing Renee the hidden door at the office.

Renee sent me these photos of the previous day, via my new social media addiction, Wechat.  As soon as I signed up, all my Chinese friends' profiles came up.  It was funny.  I guess it's the Asian answer to Whatsapp.  Anyway, the Zhangs were staying in Salt Lake and drove down to Arches for the day on Saturday.  Those are my kind of people, that will drive 3 hours each way for a travel experience.  Antelope Island didn't disappoint, either.  We spent a great few hours driving the island.  Kelin bought us lunch at the buffalo burger place out there.  It was delicious!  I'd never been.

Why the Wanderlust

Spring 2013:  Golda and Ruby had a plan.  They desperately wanted to spend the summer in Europe.  It sounded ridiculous.  In fact, remember how I called that summer Preposterous Plan?  The girls saved every penny they earned and we came up with a proposal for Scott, showing how much we would save with them not being in lessons over the summer, how much money they already had saved up, and all the arrangements they had made with my friends in France, Spain and Italy.  This is what I wrote when they presented their case to Scott for his final approval.

Scott looked over the documents, typed in all caps at Ruby's suggestion.  He finally said, "So are we doing this?"

Golda burst into tears and put her hands up to her face.  Ruby leaped into the air, streaming tears.  Scott and I were teary-eyed, too, as we hugged.  I said, "This is the moment!  This is the moment that will change their lives forever.  Are we ready for this?"

We weren't ready, but it happened, and it was a turning point, as predicted.  This summer, we are getting ready for a repeat of Preposterous Plan.  Golda and Ruby are making plans with their friends, and this time, they don't need quite as much input from me.  They have learned well from Scott and me how to travel light and cheap. They solidified their own friendships in Europe two years ago, and last summer in Utah with the "Fab 5," so they have friends to travel with, places to stay and familiarity with some of the terrain.  I'm excited for them.  They have worked hard to save their money.  I'm also happy that they'll see their friends again.  Chloe, Olympe and Victor were so much fun to have last summer!  As for this summer, I'll live vicariously from my lounge chair at Cherry Hill, knowing that Golda and Ruby are right where I would put them if it were up to me.  My heart yearns to go along, with only a passport, a sundress and a swimsuit, but...it's their time.

Just in case I forget I've had my turn...

 Me, 1986, age 14 in my very own apartment in Paris, eating pastries.  I lived in the Hornabrooks' maid's quarters (my dad's cousin's friends from South Africa.) in Neuilly-sur-Seine.  Really, Mom and Dad, what were you thinking letting me live alone at age 14?  Don't get me wrong; it was INCREDIBLE!!

And then, six summers-in-Europe later (and some at home), I married this guy and dragged him on a week-long drive across the U.S. to New York, then on to spend seven weeks backpacking from Portugal to Turkey.  I converted him.

 Lagos, Algarve, Portugal

 Sleeping through our train stop in Spain, getting off in France and backtracking to San Sebastian.  I kept talking about tapas bars, where you get small portions of different Spanish foods.  Scott thought I said topless.  He didn't say anything, he just kept thinking, "Hey, if my new wife wants to go to a topless bar in Spain, I guess I have to go with her!"

 Venice.  This was all before the internet.  Gasp!  We made our hotel reservations by phone, calling places I found in Rick Steves guides, talking as fast as I could for a dollar a minute and hoping the people on the other end of the conversation understood me.

 Athens.  This must have been the start of a lifelong addiction to gyros.  Actually, it was after we had spent a week in Paris eating gyros for every meal near St. Michel.  It's still my favorite neighborhood in Paris.

 Zeljko there on the left!  And Vladimir, Borjanka and Miroslava, with us in Platamon, Greece.  We thought it was the loud, smoking teenagers that prompted us to get off the train at this unscheduled village.  Now we know we were meant to meet the Mijatovich family there.

 Our itinerary.  I think Scott about died at the prospect of a summer without ESPN.  It's a good thing he was too in love with me to raise a complaint.  :) Now who's planning trips?  Huh!?

I mean, besides this guy.  He does NOT want to get left behind.  His latest tactic, besides being pleasant and adorable, is searching for apartments on airbnb.  I guess he figures if he acts interested, we'll take him with us wherever we go.  Get a job, little man, so you can take your parents to Europe!  Kaysville is great, but the tapas bars are just so much better in Spain.

Year of the Goat

Last Thursday was the first day of Chinese New Year, and Tziporah and I took advantage of the holiday by visiting Sinbad's Market to buy some of our favorite spices:  Iraqi curry and Tandoori spice.  "Belle" wasn't having as much fun as I was.

She perked up when we went to Oh Mai for lunch.  She was pretending to take pictures of her food with her "phone."  So funny!

Next stop, the Asian market on 9th south.  I bought some New Year candy and red envelopes, as well as food for our festivities later.

The party that night was hosted by Scott and Liese Checketts, and it was really fun.  Melanie Scarlett started a playgroup where some of the girls Xanthe's age get together one Friday night a month.  It's fun because they're getting to know each other better, now that they play together more than once a year.  The little guy in the front on the right just arrived in the states.  His brothers are the boy next to him who has albinism, as well as the tall guy in the back.  All the families are so neat, and it's so much fun to be part of their group.  We are blessed by the friendships we have through adoption.

Read at Your Own Risk

I'm going to tell you why I'm so annoyed.  Here it is, and I'm just going to put it out there:  a neighbor came over the other day and said, "I'm trying to be a more authentic person, so I just wanted to tell you that I criticized you the whole time you were the primary music leader, and that wasn't fair because you tried."

"I tried?"

"Yes, you tried.  So it was my problem, not your problem."

"Well, it sucks that you told me that, but OK."

Honestly, I love this woman, and I always have.  I am going to assume that her motives were good, but that doesn't change the fact that it ruined my weekend, and I still can't get it out of my head.

That music job was a calling that I felt good about, given that 1. I have lots of kids, and I know most of the kids in the area 2. I am a music teacher by profession 3. I have 40 years of experience in the LDS church, so I know the music and the doctrine.  Early on in my music calling, I was called in by a member of the bishopric who told me that I wasn't doing a good job and asked, "Do you have ANY training?"  I wanted to quit this stupid "volunteer" gig after that, because frankly that encounter ruined it for me, but I didn't because I loved the children, and I thought I might as well be doing something I was good at as something I didn't know how to do.  Besides, the kids ALWAYS said that music was their favorite part of primary.  So I stuck with it, enjoying my time with the children and trying to push away the feelings of inadequacy the official criticism brought.  I focused on the friendly faces in the crowd, one of whom was the neighbor that just told me that she, in fact, criticized me the whole time.  Wow.  Man, this calling just keeps haunting me!  I'm not even doing that calling anymore and it's still being brought to my attention that I was bad at it!  Can you imagine how people feel who are maybe new to the church and/or feel less than equal to the tasks they are given?

It's interesting when you get negative feedback, how much more powerful than positive feedback it is.  Just because of that thoughtless act by my neighbor, I feel like I am now a harbinger of negativity.  All the energy I put out is black, and everyone feels it.  My ability to contribute anything worthwhile to my life or anyone else's has been completely wiped out.  All my motivation is now sucked up by trying to process that someone who I thought was a friend felt like she needed to tell me that she criticized my efforts in the primary for three years!  I can't get over the thought that probably other people are going around silently hating me, too.  She couldn't be the only one, could she?  At church yesterday, I walked around thinking, "I have absolutely nothing to contribute here."

So if you have any advice about how to get over the bad things that happen, let me know.  I have to put this behind me and get back to being a present mother, wife, teacher, daughter, friend and neighbor.  I forgive this woman for sure, but I'm still destroyed.  I'm that weak.  It's just awful.

Friday Night

Friday night, Xanthe went to a party at Aubrey's house.  Jennie and I were spontaneous and Collin and Freestone ended up having a sleepover.  Scott took Araceli to dinner and a production of Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat.  Ruby stayed home with the littles and recovered from another grueling week of homework, teaching, dance, guitar, and trip planning.  Golda and I went to the symphony.

This was a concert I wanted to see because it included the Beethoven Violin Concerto and a new commissioned piece called Eos.  I am a big fan of new music.  Sometimes it's trite, sometimes it sounds like a parody of itself, but...sometimes it's amazing.  And we were there for the world premiere of this piece, which is really exciting.  When I was in college, all the orchestras at Indiana were required to rehearse and perform new music, written by composition majors in our school.  A lot of times, the notation was difficult to read, and maybe ridiculous or not suited to our instrument.  Occasionally, there would be a note that wasn't even possible on the violin.  So it was a learning experience for everybody.  I ended up learning the vocabulary of new music, the classical music of our time.  I think audiences are unfamiliar with that language for the most part, so the reception was cool yet polite Friday night for Eos.  It was a fantastic piece.  The Beethoven blew everyone away, though, and the audience left happy.  Surprisingly, the Prokofiev Symphony was my favorite, and it was the only piece I didn't specifically go to see.  It was so light and crisp, like a citrus salad.  Yum.

The best part of the night was that Golda and I ran into Julie Watkins at the box office, just as we were about to buy tickets, and she gave us two of hers.  We got to sit in the seats the Watkins have had since Abravanel Hall was built.  I remember sitting in those seats as a kid, when I was lucky enough to be invited by Sarah.  Afterwards, her dad would take us to Fernwood's for ice cream.  I'm still so grateful to have been invited to those special events.  Sitting in those seats brought back memories.

 Hopefully, our kids will remember all the concerts, plays and ballets we enjoy with them, too.  This was last week at Swan Lake with two of my beautiful dancers.  It's so gratifying to share the language required to appreciate the ballet, the symphony, new music, old music, new dance, old dance.  Even if we didn't have the background that enriches our experience, just being out on the town, taking in beauty and watching the crowds would be a slice of heaven in my opinion.

I want my children to know that I value the arts.  I had a beautiful moment when Tziporah was studying this program at my shop.  I heard her say, "Is that my mom?  I think it is.  That's my mom dancing."  I know, she's delusional.  Or you could look at it like this:  She truly sees my heart.

Girls Just Wanna

 Only 2 girls from Dance Comapny got asked to Sweethearts, so a bunch of them decided to go stag.  Their dinner was at our house and the theme of the dance was '80's.  The girls really went over the top with their looks.  We had a house full of Cyndi Laupers!

 We wanted to go neon with the decor, but instead, we used what we had.  Back in the '80's, I was a strange child.  My friends and I were having croquet parties and high teas, and we kinda still are.  I never even had the claw bangs.  I did wear heavy layers of Tender Teal eye shadow with blue mascara, without irony.  So I had my moments.

 We did Wingers salad, the one with sticky fingers.  It was delish.

 Haley, Jess, Golda, Ruby, Emily. Hannah, Ashley, Alexis, Lauren and Maddie

 Then there was our bedroom, where the rest of us hung out during the dinner, apparently taking pictures of each other.  Tziporah loves my phone.  After the girls cleared out for the dance, the rest of the family ate up the leftovers and danced to '80's music, curated by our resident expert, Scott.  Ptolemy was bopping around like a little David Bowie.  It was the best night of his life!  Indeed, it was awesome and unusual to spend an evening with the windows open, music cranked and inhibitions abandoned.  We ended up with a lot of sweaty kids, just like those glorious stomps in the high school gym way back when. 

Araceli's Sacrament Meeting Talk

D&C 42:42  -  Thou shalt not be idle; for he that is idle shall not eat the bread nor wear the garments of the laborer

In this scripture, idle means lazy. So, that’s what I’m going to talk about. Being lazy… Or unlazy

A favorite quote of mine goes like this:  “Good things come to those who wait, but great things come to those who DON’T!”

How I interpret this quote is that if you are lazy, you will probably be fine.  The world will probably go on. On the other hand, if you are not lazy, and you make yourself known, and do great things, great things will come to you. So, don’t be lazy, get out there!

Yesterday, instead of being idle, or lazy, I went to an assisted living center where my great grandma, Nana Ruby, lives. I have noticed when I visit Nana that there are activities going on all day, and I thought the care center could use some help, so I sometimes volunteer my time.  I know that some of Nana’s friends at the care center have a hard time getting around, and also they like to have someone to talk to and visit with.  When I got there yesterday, everyone was having lunch. Everyone had someone sitting by them. except for this kind lady. It turned out her name was Val. She looked lonely.  I volunteered to sit by her and feed her, because she couldn’t feed herself. Although she was a stranger when I first saw her, I took the chance to make myself known. In exchange for doing something good, I got something great in return. I got the satisfaction of knowing that I did something to help someone. I also know that I want to go back and help more, and soon!  I feel like I traded in an hour of my life for a new friendship.  That’s an hour I could have wasted, but instead, it’s an hour I feel good about.

Now I understand a little better why Heavenly Father counselled us to “be not idle.”  Each hour, each day he gives us on this earth is for us to learn.  Heavenly Father wants us to understand that our time here on earth is precious.  A big part of our responsibility here on earth is to learn love.  Love for our families, our friends, our neighbors and even our enemies.  Love for humankind, for our Savior and our Heavenly Father.  Learning to love is a big responsibility, and it takes a lifetime.  We can’t accomplish all that if we refuse to do the work that love requires.  

And by that, I mean to SERVE.  Because what better way is there to learn to love than to serve?  Before I spent an hour feeding Nana’s friend Val, I didn’t even know her.  Now I have love in my heart for her, and it’s only because I remembered the scripture, “Be not idle,” and I put my own lazy desires aside and turned a little time over to Heavenly Father.  Next time I go visit Nana, I’ll also visit Val, and so my life has been enriched.  As I grow, I hope I can learn to turn more time over to Heavenly Father, so that I can grow closer to him through loving and serving those around me.  I hope we can all use the gift of time to strengthen ourselves and others.  I am thankful that Heavenly Father has such a perfect plan for us.  I say this in the name of Jesus Christ, Amen

The Sad Parts

 Yesterday because of Chinese New Year, I was going through some of Xanthe's photos.  This is the day we met Xanthe.  Scott and I were introduced to her at the city building in Changsha, where eight frightened and confused little girls were handed over to eight sets of emotional and ecstatic parents who looked and smelled nothing like anyone the babies had ever known.  Xanthe was sick.  She had a cough and probably an ear infection, from the way she kept tugging on her ear.  She reacted tot he trauma by not reacting.  This picture of her lying on the bad was what she did.  Her papers said she could sit up and move around, but her flaccid little body couldn't even roll over.  Now I realize that part of it was the shock of her new situation, but she was nothing like the muscular powerhouse she is now.

 We immediately administered antibiotics, cut her fingernails and gave her a bath.

 I have to admit, Scott and I were freaked out about the shape of Xanthe's head.  It seemed to have two bumps at the crown, one on each side, and as you can see, it was extremely flat.  Xanthe, as we know now, is an observer, reticent to jump in until she knows the lay of the land.  That trait doesn't serve one well in an institutional setting, where the squeaky wheel not only gets the grease, but has a better chance of survival.  Xanthe had, however, acquired the skill of drinking very quickly.  The orphanage was on a strict schedule, and feedings were 4 hours apart.  That's a long time for a baby to wait!  Xanthe at first wouldn't take the food we put in her bottle, a mixture of formula and rice cereal, until we served it literally scalding hot.  Then she sucked it down in 4 or 5 second, the whole bottle.  The orphanage cuts off the top of the nipple so the kids can eat faster, and Xanthe was a pro.

 The other thing we were shocked at were the little scars on her thighs.  Later, when we visited the orphanage, we saw that the crib sides were only about a foot high.  Then we understood the explanation that the babies' thighs were tied to the cribs so they wouldn't fall or climb out at night.  IT seems barbaric to us, where we have so many luxuries, but what is the alternative if you only have what you have?  The most shocking thing about our new little baby, even more so than all the crazy things we observed in the first hour, was that Xanthe seemed to have dark bruises all down her spine, on her tailbone and on her ankle.  As soon as we saw the bruises, we rushed out into the hall of the hotel to get someone to document that we had not inflicted these abuses.  Other parents were out too, looking for our facilitator.  Only then was it explained to us that most Asian children have birth marks known as "Mongolian spots," which look a lot like purple bruises, especially since Xanthe's pigment-rich skin was so pale at that age.  The spots are usually on the torso, mostly the back, and fade over time.  I wish I had taken a picture of Xanthe's impressive Mongolian spot on her tailbone that first day.  It completely boggles my mind that nobody in the adoption process mentioned to us that our babies would have these spots!  We couldn't have been the first parents who were unnerved by this discovery!

 This is the front entrance to the YiYang SWI.  Xanthe's finding place.  She was found on April 14, with a shirt, a hat and a bottle of sugar water.  Her birthday was decided as April 10.

 A few days later, Scott had figured out just how to get this beautiful smile out of our solemn little girl.  She loved to be thrown in the air.  And she loved it when Scott stuck his tongue out at her.  For the first couple of days, the only sign we had that she was "in there" was when Scott would stick his tongue out and Xanthe's little tongue would cautiously sneak out of the side of her mouth in imitation.  That was our only communication, until Scott got those smile out of her.

 After we gave her a bath that first day, pulling on her ear.  Honestly, she was pretty dirty.  The orphanage hallways are outdoors, so obviously there is no heat in the building.  It's cold.  I'm sure there are cultural opinions about not bathing babies when the weather is cold, since they could die of the cold.  They wear layers upon layers of clothing, out of necessity.

 Xanthe's friend Abigail, Tim and Courtney's baby.  The Atnips were our partners in crime in China, since we were the only two couples to fully venture out and see all the sights.  Some of the first-time parents had their hands full!

So these are some of the more sobering aspects of Xanthe's story.  Her Chinese history is rich and without end in its depth.  She will spend her whole life exploring what it means to be Chinese, Chinese-America, adopted, and everything that goes with that.  There are happy parts to her story, too, like the wonderful nanny who took care of her, the comparatively good conditions she lived in, and the fact that we were able to bring her home when she was so young.  Then there are all the other babies and children who are still there.  After we came home, I had this daydream I would play out in my mind, over and over.  "If we were able to bring home one hundred children from China, could I find families fora ll of them?"  I would play it out in my mind, time after time, going through all the people I knew who would throw open their doors for these imaginary children I would bring home from China.  I would also envision how many Scott and I could carry on the plane.  Maybe we could each carry two, three.  Maybe four each, and other people on the flight could help us hold them.

I guess I had those fantasies as a coping mechanism for knowing that we were leaving behind so many perfect little children, dressed in their layers and layers of clothing, tied to their cribs, the light fading from their bright little eyes day by day.  I couldn't stand the thought of it, and I still can't.  There's no way to spin it so it's OK.

I'm just thankful that Xanthe was chosen for us, and that we listened to the spirit that told us it was in the stars, and that we found her.  We found her and she's home.  That is something.  That is a miracle.