Sounds of Hope

I’ve got so many thoughts floating around in my head.  I sometimes use this blog to lament.  I think some people see it as whining… but to me, it’s a lament.  I’m trying to learn to have a bit more filters in my life and maybe become a bit superficial.  How do you feel about that?  Yes, I guess it would be easy to see that as a rhetorical question and since I do screen comments, I guess only I will know if you honestly answer me.  But I do wonder and think I would like to know. I used to feel that having people say I was real was a compliment.  Now I wonder.  I try to be very real. I hate phonies… I mean I really can’t stand them.  You know the type – everything is wonderful and lets stroll through life with a song in our heart.  It gags me. Now some of you are the more spiritual type.  That’s great… seriously, it’s really, really great.  For those of you like that, you seem to have this deep faith that everything will...

My research project has become my baby.   I am not sure that the baby has been delivered or if it is in the need of a skilled obstetrician with forceps.   Nevertheless, it is my baby.   As a mother, I know that your baby is your baby from the moment it is conceived.   It is yours – you love it, you dream and hope for it… It’s that way with my research project.   I have agonized over this project.   Like Sarah in Genesis, I have watched surrogates get their degrees and launch.   I have waited - barren.   When my Abraham produced his research project, it was I who for countless days sat at a kitchen table pregnant, entertaining other children, cooking, cleaning, laundry – typing on an IBMSelectric typewriter – delivering page after page of charts and data.   It was I who labored over that research project as if it was my own.   And it has… it was the surrogate that produced jobs, income, and success for our family.   It has borne mu...