The radio and distant voices

Maybe I am crazy. . .

3 January 2001

I'm sitting here listening to Delilah and that Pooh song by Kenny Loggins. Man. Winnie the Pooh. Back to the days and ways of Christopher Robin.

I used to think my brother was Christopher Robin. They had the same sweet face and sandy blonde hair. They both had soft hearts and sensitive souls. Is there anyone who doesn't like Pooh? And Piglet. And oh, Eeyore.

Ugh. Faith Hill. Blech.

Anyway.

So far 2001 is off to a less than stellar start. The 1st was spent watching way too many DVDs (oh, but I love my new DVD player. As Ferris would say, it is "so choice") and drinking too many McDonald's shakes. Mmm, strawberry.

Then back to work on the 2nd. While I'm glad to get back into my routine, I so don't want to be spending my days behind a desk again. I just hate it. I get so bored, and I'm less than passionate about the Brand and my job these days. It's totally a feast or famine position too. Today I got slammed with a handful of new projects and yesterday, yesterday I was dying.

I really should look into freelancing. . . . But they wouldn't have that, I assure you. Although, as the bulk of the associates grow-up - [The Brand is an incredibly young company. The median age is around 30. Heck, the CFO is only 36.] and get married and have babies - there have been more part-timers etc.

Who knows.

It seems like everywhere I turn I hear another story of adoption. Just now a woman called RadioDelilah and spoke about her new niece - a little girl from China.

And Delilah is about as pro-adoption as you can get. Half her kids aren't biologically hers.

I just know this is something I have to do. And I know it extends far beyond just bringing one child into my, as of now non-existent, family. This is something my hands are being pulled into.

A family friend is going on a mission trip to Romania in June. He'll be leading a group of Baptist College students as they volunteer in an orphanage. My god, this is what I want to do.

But then all the doubts swim into my head: money, my career, rent, bills, everything waiting for me in Ohio. All the adult responsibilities I have now. I can't just cast it all aside and go move to a depressed nation.

But India calls.

And everyday her voice rings louder in my ear.

And I'm at a loss as to where to look.

So I wait for a door to open. A window to crack.

And all I ask is that when He closes it behind me, He slams it shut.