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My friends and I part ways.

“Take care!” we tell each other.

“Be safe!”

I suppose we say these things for many different reasons – most of the time we don’t even think about the meaning behind the words. They are, after all, fairly standard ways of saying good-bye, and I imagine at the heart of it is the desire to communicate how much we appreciate each other.

I love you and can’t wait to see you again soon. Don’t do anything stupid. I hope you stay healthy and accident-free.

The other night, as we parted ways with dear friends who we might not see again for quite some time, they shouted out through the night.

“Be safe!”

I shouted back.

“You, too!”

And the irony of those words became achingly apparent. Because so many of us live that life. The safe life. The controlled life. The comfortable life.

If I would have taken those words to heart years ago, that simple request to “be safe,” Maile and I never would have moved out of our house and taken a four-month, cross-country trip. We certainly never would have crossed the Teton Pass in our big blue bus (and lost our brakes). We wouldn’t have hit the road when I didn’t have any long-term income lined up. I wouldn’t have turned down a job while living in my parents’ basement.

Living a safe life would have stripped the last nine months of so many incredible experiences. We never would have taken the cross-country trip that led to a new friendship that in turn led to an invite to blog in Sri Lanka. We never would have looked into the opportunity to purchase a house that instead led to something way better (more on that in the coming days). I never would have had the opportunity to help so many people share their stories.

There’s nothing wrong with wanting a little security. A little comfort. We each thrive under varying levels of stability or the lack thereof. But if your entire life is dedicated to maintaining security and comfort, if you wake up in the morning determined to further shore up the walls of your castle, you are missing out on a lot.

* * * * *

I’m trying to think of new words to use when saying good-bye to friends. Words that better reflect my own experience of not always taking the safe path.

“Live wildly!”

“Do something courageous and ridiculous!”

“Here’s to your next adventure!”

How do you sign off? More important, what’s waiting for you beyond the “Do Not Enter” sign?

Today’s adoption guest post is brought to you by Kelly Raudenbush. Enjoy!

Just another morning. We were leaning against the warm brick wall of the school, feeling the morning sun on our legs. Kids were filing into the school yard and filling the blacktop with color and conversation as we waited for the doors to open and another day of school to start.

Lydia poked at a dead bug on the ground with a stick, drawing lots of attention from curious kids who gathered around her and bent down to see the ickyness.

We smiled while we watched her enjoy the bug and all the reactions of the big kids.

“Everybody in my class loves Lydia,” Ashlyn told me.

“Yeah, big kids usually like little kids like that,” I said, picturing many class parties we had been to with kids all fighting to get close to Lydia.

“They ask me a lot of questions about her.”

“They do? Like what?”

“Mostly questions about China.”

“Yeah? What kinds of questions?”

“Like what a orphanage is like, if there are any other orphans in China….”

“Hmm. Do you tell them there are millions of orphans in China?”

“Yeah.” She said quietly. “Why aren’t there orphanages here?”

“You know, babe. We don’t have orphanages here for kids really anymore. We have foster care where kids who don’t have parents or kids who need homes live with families and then some get adopted. You know, like your cousin. He was adopted from foster care.”

“He was?”

“Yeah, remember? He doesn’t look different, and he was born right around here. But, he was adopted.”

“Oh…cool.”

The doors opened. I got waves from all and a hug from one at least as they rushed to get in the doors.

“Have a good day – I love you,” I called out to Ashlyn still in earshot.

“I love you too. Lydia, Lydia, bye, I love you!”

“Bye!” she yells as she breaks from her science lab on the blacktop.

And, then I scooped her up and walked home.

Just another morning.

Kelly and her husband live out their passion to encourage adoption and support adoptive families through The Sparrow Fund and We Are Grafted In. You can check out her blog HERE.

If you’d like to submit a post telling the story of a poignant moment that occurred during adoption or foster care, please email your 500-word submission to shawnsmucker@yahoo.com. Thanks!

Prior adoption and foster care posts include:

When Things Don’t Go the Way You Expect – Amber Hauser
Open Adoption and Who Gets to be the Mom on Mother’s Day – Ashley Glick
The Problem With Permanent Marker – A Foster Care Story With Jeffrey Lane
Fear and an Open Adoption – Adoption Stories With Rebecca Wenrich
I Saw Our New Son and the Voice Said, “Run Away” – Adoption Stories With Kim Van Brunt
Checking ‘Yes’ to Everything: Adoption Stories With Sonya Judkins
Because Someone Has To: Adoption Stories With Shar Halvorsen
Momma For a Moment: A Foster Care Story, With Tamara Out Loud

In this divisive election season, Democrats and Republicans agree on one thing: voters should be able to cast their votes via the social media giant Twitter. But their agreement goes no further than that, and they are currently locked in a struggle to determine the parameters of casting such a vote.

With 27 million Twitter users in the United States, politicians on both sides of the aisle are analyzing the data surrounding the users’ profiles. Both parties are scrambling to provide various filters as a means of helping their own cause.

Republicans, in a maneuver mirroring the passage of voter ID laws in various states, are pushing for more stringent qualifications on the Twitter vote – they believe the Tweeted votes should be accompanied by a Social Security Number, a Passport ID number, a Driver’s License number, a major credit card number, a secret password, the number of minutes in the voter’s favorite movie, a library card number, and an Instagrammed version of the voter’s birth certificate.

An Instagram official commented that “Photos of birth certificates will be a welcome change from babies, sunsets and food.”

Democrats, believing the Tweet Vote benefits them, have requested only one qualification: all votes cast via Twitter must be accompanied by the hashtag #DemocratsRuleRepublicansDrool. According to an inside source, Vice President Biden preferred #TelepromptersRuleRepublicansDrool but his choice was vetoed by the President.

Experts believe that if the Tweet Vote is eventually approved, each state would be given a certain time of the day during which those votes could be cast, most likely no longer than a half hour, tagged with @TweetVote.

Republicans are hoping that Twitter is down for most of the day as their new party mascot is the Fail Whale.

Here are the steps you need to take if you would like to vote through your Twitter account:

1) Sign up for a Twitter account using one of your eyeballs as the profile pic. Your retina will be scanned to guarantee authenticity.

2) Notify your local voter registration of your intent to vote via Twitter. They will probably have no idea what you’re talking about.

3) Enure your phone and laptop are in your possession on election day. Prank votes will count.

4) Learn how to Tweet. (This one’s for you, mom.)

5) Due to the popularity of American Idol, new Presidential election voting rules allow you to vote up to 8 times! RTs will not count as actual votes. Because of their annoyance factor, Auto-reply-DMs will count as one vote for the opposite party.

Now get out there and Tweet vote!

“Running shoes on but I walk. Turn right out the drive because I am feeling dangerous and left leads out of the neighborhood; I can feel myself, I might not return. So I go right. But I go far. Choose new turns to make the longest way back home.”

* * * * *

“Here’s how I see it: I think Pinterest is screwing with our psyches even if we don’t spend oodles of time in its labyrinth. It doesn’t matter if you seek it out; now it’s showing up in your reader every.single.day. It’s the villain of the blogosphere.”

* * * * *

“Tony’s post overlooks the fact that “human beings and all creation and the world” aren’t only out there. The world is right here at home, too. Men and women who choose to stay home to raise their children are just as missional as men and women who move to the inner city or to tent cities in Haiti or the garbage dumps in Africa. Jesus said that whatever you do to the least of these, you do to Him. He didn’t say “the least of these (except your own family).” “Other human beings” includes our children and our parents, our neighbors, the congregants in our church, the librarian who helps find age-level books, and anyone else with whom we rub shoulders. Jesus tells us to be faithful in the little things.”

* * * * *

“On August 16, our daughter’s number on the high school waiting list opened.”

“On August 17, she began attending Tulsa School of Arts and Sciences as a freshman.”

“On September 5, the school building was in flames, and we were riveted to the TV as we saw it burn.”

* * * * *

“The silver fox on the grass clearly had no time for convention. He would run in the grass if he darn well pleased. I was kind of jealous. He was having fun, and I was being all serious and intent on my stupid path.”

* * * * *

“It’s Wednesday night. I should finish packing for a long weekend out of town. Instead, I rationalize other activities. Like Twitter. And eating more Brach’s Autumn Mix candy corn (it’s back, y’all!) And reading a book. Heck, I might even start cleaning.”

“I don’t know why I procrastinate when it comes to good things in my life.”

* * * * *

“If it’s that bitter edge of indignation that leaves the bad taste in my mouth, it’s the richness of having a voice that keeps me coming back for another helping. I’m thinking that as long as I include helpings of wisdom and grace, I should be able to balance these complex flavors. But what do you think? What should we do with our indignation?”

* * * * *

“I read their status updates and their tweets and I’m genuinely happy for them. It is exciting to see a dream realized and they are my friends, after all. I read their writing, it’s good, and I want more people to have the opportunity to soak in their words. Any time you seek to make a living doing something creative, it’s a risk and it’s a joy to know that risk is working out for people who I like.”

“Sometimes I worry that my congratulatory comments don’t sound as sincere as I intend for them to be. Because let’s be honest, while I’m happy for my friends, I a little bit hate reading those updates.”

* * * * *

“It explains why I have to send him to his room, where he flings himself angrily against his door again and again. I lie on my bed, watching the ceiling fan go round and round murmuring over and over again, I can’t do it God. Help me, help me, help me. I cannot do it.”

It’s a strange transition, going from a week in Sri Lanka to my family’s annual week at the Frederick Fair in Maryland. The mornings are chilly here, and there are no palm trees. No Indian Ocean. No mosquitoes carrying malaria or Dengue fever.

We sell ham and cheese sandwiches from our food tent just off the midway. A lot of people walk away with five at a time because for every four sandwiches you buy you get one free. That costs $19.80.

Or a week’s wages for someone in Sri Lanka.

We also sell a lot of soda under our tent (or “pop” for you Midwesterners). In order to stock up our tent at the beginning of the week, we bought a pallet of water and a lot of cases of Coke. In fact, our first order cost us $766.00.

Or 153 days wages for someone in Sri Lanka.

It’s a strange world, where the equivalent of one person’s six months of hard labor can be consumed on the other side of the planet in three or four days by people having fun. Drinking sugary drinks.

* * * * *

For about the first week after I got back from Sri Lanka, my body clock was so screwed up that I was wide awake by 3:30am. I got a lot of work done on those early mornings, but it was also kind of fun because many of my fellow Sri Lanka bloggers were awake at that time.

We’d send each other early morning messages on Facebook while most of the rest of our world was sleeping. We unofficially debriefed our experiences. We laughed about the old inside jokes and threatened reunions.

Then, one morning towards the end of the week, I woke up and groggily picked up my phone to check the time. 6:30am. No more jet lag. No more middle-of-the-night conversations with my Sri Lanka blogger buddies. It felt like the trip had finally ended.

It was the saddest morning I’ve had for quite some time.

* * * * *

I miss jet lag. I miss being ravenously hungry at 3:30am. I miss the new friends I made during that week. I miss feeling connected to a country on the other side of the world that I never thought I’d visit.

Then I see the photo of the little boy in Sri Lanka my family is sponsoring. And it’s such a little thing. Such a miniscule thing. $35 a month. I wish I could do more.

Will you join me in supporting World Vision by sponsoring a child? Click HERE for more information. And watch this awesome video put together by Matthew Paul Turner with pics of the kids we met on our trip: