Feeling a little Horse...

You know the feeling, your voice is a little scratchy, you save your words in order to conserve volume for the really important messages like, "please put your shoes away kids" or "the wet towells don't really belong on the carpet...". Since returning from Vietnam I've kind of felt this way about blogging. I'm not quite sure of my voice just yet, and want to conserve the volume for things that really matter.

When Lucy and I touched ground in Salt Lake City I expected to absolutely fall to pieces with the emotion of a journey ended. We've been living with her on the radar screen for around 5 years, with the surprise addition of our MOlly By Golly in the interim. It has required so much thought, so much emotion and so much faith thatI felt sure I'd just collapse with the end of it all. But instead I found myself-while elated and excited to be home again-also feeling like I needed to just find my legs and start running; and keep running because a house of 6 children was waiting for me, with an adoring and supportive husband who, until the end of the Christmas season, needs to BE supported. The realization that I hadn't thought a ton beyond GETTING Lucy to RAISING Lucy (and all the other Grahams) hit me as I walked from the airplane to the greeting area of the airport. For one split second the thought of facing a family of 6 tempted me back toward the little aisle seat on that tiny commuter jet that had brought me home from far away, but then my kids came running toward me, and I felt sure I was where I belonged, and that I could survive it if I could use all of the lessons I learned these past 5 years, and especially in the last 5 weeks.

Then Sunday came.

Kids cried, and fought, and "love at home" was dashed momentarily throughout the day. I had to do laundry, pick up after people and cook (not lots of cooking mind you, my wanna be chef husband takes Sundays for the most part, and mom Graham surprised us all with a delicious peach pie...). I realized with the coming of the school week there would be a need to purchase soccer cleats with 4 children in tow and also the need to go into the local mall with my "stay at home" crew of Porter (4) MOlly (2) and Lucy (5months and counting). Then there were teachers at the elementary school I hadn't yet met and a PTA responsibility that I completely dropped to travel to Vietnam, not to mention a little cub scout troop that had been without its den mom for a very long time. Gotta get back to it all, with a new one who takes a bottle every few hours (a 20 minute exercise comprising a total of almost 2 hours of the day) and has not had to be restrained by car seats or stroller straps until her introduction to American safety standards (can you say screaming baby all the way through Dillards Department store???). It will take a bit of getting used to, I guess, to create order out of this chaos. Giving up control has never really been my thing, and right now I am absolutely NOT in control.

But, I just came out of 5 weeks where I couldn't control, and it was one of the greatest learning experiences of my life. I think the difference now is the illusion that because Im back on my own "turf" that I should be able to command the elements around me to become what I need them to be. But there in lies the rub, for the choice and agency of individuals is one of the supreme gifts of this life's experience, and here on my "turf" I am surrounded by small lives who wish to invoke that gift on a minute to minute basis. So, perhaps it is for me to accept my inability to control, and instead to learn how to roll a little. Perhaps in letting go I'll actually find I have more command of me, which is the only thing I should really work to control in this life anyway.

so, maybe as I find my legs are truly under me I'll also find my voice is truly with me, and I'll have more value to the things I might share here. My voice might just return with the giving up of my need to control, will just have to wait and see if its left with any volume!