Duty of Delight

Beauty will save the world. 

Fydor Dostoyevsky  

There is the promise of baking pumpkin bread this afternoon, though I have completely dismissed the notion of cooking the two pie pumpkins that have been decorating our floors over the last week and pureeing their flesh for the said bread. Maybe tomorrow. You see today, well today, we at the Johnson house are particularly slow, throwing schedules completely away and embracing a more casual approach. After all, it is Friday. And today, though it is nearly noon as I sit in my pajamas and glasses, I am bent on not beating myself up over yesterday's sins but instead thanking God for the grace to pick myself up off the floor and grasp onto a new day, a day, to quote Anne of Green Gables, "fresh with no mistakes." Today I vow to honor beauty by opening myself to it all around me. I will climb out of my stupor of complaints about chipped paint, ripped sofas, the broken window shades so precariously perched that they inevitably fall down whenever touched, and instead I will express gratitude for all the simple gifts waiting to be received: The sun vibrantly shining through the autumn leaves pressed onto our windows; the brilliant, crimson, tree "wearing a gayer scarf"outside our house (it is truly magnificent); the boy whose name rhymes with "Hustle Bustle" seeing rainbows in the colors of a sunset and who squeezes my face demanding that I smile; his twin brother who announces that mommy will be a coffee cup for Halloween and daddy, of course, will be the coffee; the girl who offers me a pretend cup of peppermint tea with cream and mint chocolate chip ice cream compliments of French Meal (Russell's imaginary restaurant that despite what the name might suggest, primarily serves hot dogs and mac and cheese); and the oldest son, my budding iconographer, who writes icons of the Virgin Mary "More spacious than the heavens" (portrayed with hands lifted in prayer as the Christ child is yet within her), burps his ABC's at breakfast, and requires us to listen to "All I Want Is You" by Barry Louis Polisar, popularized by the movie Juno, until we all have memorized the lyrics. Today I will pray for the strength and courage to fight against the defeating feelings of being overwhelmed by life's circumstances, which snuff out my ability to live in the present moment and squash my joy. Today I will acquiesce to my son's request to smile more, especially in the midst of annoyances and interruptions, because I am pretty sure that it is here that Christ is most fully present. And now, it is time to loudly sing "If I Had a Hammer" along with Pete Seeger, dance recklessly with my children, and bake some bread. Peace and goodness to you.

 

Dorothy Day loved to quote Ruskin, who urged us all to the 'Duty of Delight.' It was an admonition, really, to be watchful for the hilarious and the heartwarming, the silly and the sublime. This way will not pass again, and so there is a duty to be mindful of that which delights and keeps joy at the center, distilled from all that happens to us in a day.- from Tattoos on the Heart by Gregory Boyle

Encounters

Glory to Thee for the encounters Thou dost arrange for me...

from an Akathist of Thanksgiving

You have your birth-momma's fingers, I often tell my little Ethiopian princess. And tonight my daughter's delicate fingers dance gingerly across my face, stroking my cheeks, bouncing up and down my nose, as our heads lie side by side on the pillows of her big-girl bed. My fingers so used to easily sliding through her brothers' hair in moments of affection become quickly entangled in the fury of corkscrew curls springing forth from her head. She reaches for me and croons, "I love you mommy, and daddy too."

Her brothers are asleep and she discovers me downstairs at the computer. "I cannot sleep," she announces and curls her body up into my lap. Together we sit, her, fresh and clean in pink, fuzzy pajamas with brown horses prancing across the pants, me in my standard uniform of jeans worn at the knees and a black shirt grimy with the remnants of our day. Together we watch the homecoming video of her friend Esther Selam, staring at pictures of her native land, her first homes, her caretakers, her first moments with us. Reflected in the computer screen I see our faces, her brown face pressed against my own. "There's where you first lived, baby girl, before us. And there's your friends, Esther Selam, Naomi Kongit, Etagegn, and Reda," because while her story is unique, her journey was shared by many others.

Separately we all left our homes, boarded planes in our respective cities, all destined for one place, Addis Ababa, Ethiopia, where we had children waiting for us. I recognized Wade and Julie Osburn instantly while waiting for our flight in Washington, D.C.'s Dulles airport. For months, I had been following Julie's blog, following the Osburn's adoption story as it unfolded in Tennessee simultaneously with our own in Iowa. Together we received referrals for our daughters, Selam and Ethiopia, within days of one another; together we passed court on the same day and our girls became legally regarded as our daughters; together we received our call to travel; together we journeyed to Addis. And for ten intense days, we, and all those beautiful men and women in our group, shared in emotional, intimate moments as we watched one another meet our children for the very first time; as we sat in a concrete building in the southern city of Durame awaiting the meeting of our children's birthfamily members; as we silently and awkwardly gazed at the faces not so unlike our own, entwined fingers with mothers, and fathers, and grandmothers whose children were now also our children; as we wept because of the loss and pain and the tragedy of it all; as we watched our children's family members, armed with photo albums of their posterity's new families, disappear into the Ethiopian hills. Together we were forever changed. 

Our friendship with Julie and Wade is one created by the story of two little girls born within eleven days of each other in southern Ethiopia. The story of Esther Selam and Lucia Ethiopia Kebedech who ate together, slept together, cried together, lived together, before coming home to our families. The story of two little girls with corkscrew curls, luminous brown eyes, and smiles that will melt your heart.

 

Thank you Julie and Wade, Ellis, Ivy, Owen, Oliver, and Esther for welcoming us into your home, for your outpouring of generosity and love. It was truly a gift to be with you again. 

And while I have posted it before, you can watch the homecoming video Julie and Wade created. Always makes me cry.

Elliot and Owen

Our sassy daughters

Oliver and Russell

Never mind that he kept calling her Sintayehu, Elliot loved his friend Esther. Lots of good-bye kisses.

Thomas made Owen promise that he would write.

The littles with Russell's princess, Ivy

Beautiful girls

Permit a child to join

For Thomas, who endures memorizing Emily Dickinson and Mary Oliver poems

Indian Summer 

Emily Dickinson

These are the days when birds come back,

A very few, a bird or two,

To take a backward look.

These are the days when skies put on

The old, old sophistries of June, -

A blue and gold mistake.

Oh, fraud that cannot cheat the bee,

Almost thy plausibility

Induces my belief,

Till ranks of seeds their witness bear,

And softly through the altered air

Hurries a timid leaf!

Oh, sacrament of summer days,

Oh, last communion in the haze,

Permit a child to join,

Thy sacred emblems to partake,

Thy consecrated bread to break,

Taste thine immortal wine!

Peaceful weekend to you all. I am headed off to Henderson, TN, early tomorrow morning to spend the weekend with the Osburns, friends we traveled with to Ethiopia. Terribly excited to see them again and to meet the rest of their beautiful family.

These are from our trips to Shady Knoll Farm and Butterworth Park. Trying to grab onto every warm day left.

Dancing queen

Why yes Baby Doll, I can help you put on the princess dress.

And can the scarf be a crown for a queen? Undoubtedly.

And can I put on the Mary Poppins' songs and dance with you? But of course.

 

And are you a beautiful queen? Absolutely.