adoption and the weathered cheeks of god

A few days ago, my sister Amy officially adopted Mia, a precious, vibrant little girl that she had fostered since Mia was still a newborn in the hospital.

The scene was memorable. And while I was mesmerized by the "creation" of a family and intrigued by the perspective of a child being gracefully (and perhaps unknowingly) being accepted into a larger whole that took her solely on hope and love, there was another aspect of the adoption that I felt compelled to search deeper.

You see, the obvious parallel with adoption is our own adoption by an omnipotent God, who rescues us from our personal disaster to cradle us in his merciful arms. But I don't recall ever hearing about the overwhelming joy experienced by the sacrificial parent on the day that the union is made official, on the day that the family is created.

I watched my sister beam through the ceremony, smiling as she struggled to hold back tears. She was so proud. It must have been a moment of incredible validation for her. I cannot imagine the emotions that poured from her heart and coursed through her veins. It must have been overwhelming. And it gets me thinking about the way that the sovereign God must feel (if that's the right word as I don't feel completely right assigning my limited human emotive responses to what God is capable of) when one of "His" (or "Her", no matter to me) children is made official. Do tears stream down weathered cheeks?

I would hope, no matter the possibilities, that the scene wouldn't vary much from the one I witnessed a few days ago. Broken was made whole. Lost was found. Darkness was made light. A child, once abandoned, once homeless, came home.

ridiculousness

I recently experienced ridiculous generosity.

I was given a $1000+ guitar. For absolutely no reason, other than the giver wanted to give it away.

And the giver has his reasons, which are respectable to say the least. But what am I to do? I have a guitar, although it is in the Bronx which makes it difficult to play in Texas. I have toyed with ways to redistribute this newfound wealth. I thought of selling the guitar and plowing the money into micro-loans to help the world's poor. I decided that my friend will instead get my guitar whenever it gets back from its NYC holiday and I will retain his as a reminder of ridiculous giving. After all, it now has a meaning to me that is worth more than its mere frets and strings could add up to. It is evidence of beauty. In him. And potentially in me.

I think we could all use a reminder of how beautiful ridiculousness can be. Ridiculous love is indescribable. Ridiculous hope flies in the face of all that cynicism can come up with. Ridiculous grace can restore anyone in any situation. Ridiculous peace can calm the greatest storm.

I was a victim of ridiculous generosity. Hopefully, I will be the next purveyor of ridiculousness - in whatever form it takes.

emerson on creation

All I have seen teaches me to trust the Creator for all I have not seen.

-Ralph Waldo Emerson

I like this one. It is as if Emerson finds an implied majesty in the life around him, one that points to even more magnificence somewhere beyond his own perception. The glory is everywhere...in everything.

when hope springs from simple existence

I walked in the building, that same building I’d walked into thousands of times. Somehow it was different this time. It was the first time. Back.

Much hadn’t changed. Many familiar faces still smiled my way. Still, it was uncomfortable. It was a mix of relief and grief, a tonic of remembrance with a tinge of never forget. Maybe we’ll unpack all of that someday. Maybe not.

In it all I saw a face that was mired in pain not too long ago. It was the face of the strung-out kid, barely hanging on. I hoped for him back them and loved him for his exuberance and the way that his eyes lit up when he spoke – when someone really listened. His drugs were never really the issue. Now he has a face of absolute beauty to me, a walking piece of redemptive evidence. He eyes light up the same as they always have, but somehow they have a gentler glow. He has been firmly gripped by a love that neither of us understand, a grace that truly goes beyond our ability to understand. He walks freely. He lives unhindered. Exuberant still.

He is not an object of my hope anymore, at least the same type of hope. I no longer hope for his rescue. I now hope for all that lies ahead of him, for the perfect picture of mercy and abundance that he can be to the world.

I cried seeing him there that morning. Same t-shirt. Same scruffy face. Same goofy guy. But his eyes were alight with the unmistakable caress of a real, purposeful life. And I was thankful for him all over again. I was also hopeful again. Maybe there are more like him.

I think he knows who he is. And I think he might read this. If so... My friend, you inspire me to try harder. You motivate me to give more. Your existence gives me hope.

wonka and wisdom

"A little nonsense now and then is relished by the wisest men."

-Willy Wonka

I have found more and more that it is often the triviality of this life, the nonsense, that allows us to so passionately pursue the heavy things of this life. People from all kinds of backgrounds escape from the harshness of this world in all kinds of ways. Starving Africans watch soccer and cheer for men to give them victory in some aspect of life. Bored Americans obsess over Hollywood gossip to the point that many know Britney Spears better than members of their own household. It's all the same. Watching sports or movies. Going to the theater or the pub. Escape. Enjoy a little bit of nonsense. Whatever that is to you.

brain buzz and cai guo-qiang

As I explained, there was something about the exhibit we saw at the Guggenheim in NYC last week that really has me captivated.

The museum itself has always been fascinating to me. To have experienced it with the incredible Cai Guo-Qiang exhibit inside really just has my brain buzzing.

(By the way, I am eternally grateful to our NYC hosts, who showered us with love and quiet comfort. They made this transition home so much easier for us, all while giving us incredible memories that will last a lifetime. It was a "wicked" good time. We love you two!!)

So, anyway, in an attempt to shed some of this burden I am carrying (I want everyone to see what I saw), here is the exhibition - online... I have watched it about 25 times now. Amazing...

Cai Guo-Qiang/Guggenheim online exhibition

Sort of a making of video from the Guggenheim site:

Making of the Exhibit

in nyc - mesmerized by the guggenheim

We're in NYC and will be back in San Antonio on the 11th...

We got to the Guggenheim a few days ago and saw an exhibit there that depicted a car-bomb and had a series of full-size automobiles (with fiber-optic explosions) hanging from the ceiling in the craziest (my ill-informed opinion) and most expensive (real fact) installation in the history of the Guggenheim. Just mind-blowing.

My brain is consumed by it all, so I would imagine that there will be more discussion on this soon.

Here is a photo from the exhibit in another space.