Monday, April 20, 2009


This is a short apology to the handful of kind readers who have contacted me and expressed concern over my blog silence. I know it has been quiet around here for awhile, and it may continue to be. It is not that I have dropped off the earth, or ceased to do what I do. It is not that I am buried in some crisis, though there is never any shortage of them, if you must know.

It is because I have reached some sort of saturation point. I have absorbed as much information as I can find, and although a fresh perspective is sometimes helpful, I am turning up nothing new. Likewise, I have lain awake enough nights thinking, crafted enough blog posts and emails, that again I feel saturated. Like if you squeeze me, the same old stuff will come trickling out.

There are no new ideas in my head, only unexpressed ones, because they are just too private, or painful, or "unPC" that I would hardly dare speak them to my sister, much less air them on a public blog. We have some sayings in our house, that we try to teach to the children, and put into practice ourselves. Sayings like, "Every thought that goes through your head does not need to come out your mouth," or "If you haven't got anything nice to say..." Well, you get my drift. And the same applies to my blogs.

The only fresh topics of discussion in my brain are not particularly upbeat, entertaining, or uplifting. Recently I have encountered blog posts written by veterans in the adoption world, who question if the adoption community on the Internet is helping or hurting adoptions in general. True, it is easy to reach out and find support, but are we scaring people away from adoption with our brutal honesty? Yet, on the flip side, are we leading good families down the road to destruction by censoring our accounts, and focusing on the heartwarming?

I admit to having no answers, but I am fearful of erring in either way. And I am tired. At the end of the day, I am really bone tired...too tired to try and put my experiences into words. What I am doing, does not leave much energy for the telling of it. And maybe that is right after all. Maybe the telling comes much later, when I can see the forest more clearly.