I kept thinking if I waited a little longer, I might have more words. But I’ve learned over the years, that most of the time, words don’t come (at least the right ones) until my fingers hit these keys. One of our pastors said on Sunday, “Vulnerability always comes...
Back in January, I felt God begin to whisper to me about a baby coming. Even though we’re still believing for healing in my womb, this was a surprise to me, because I felt this baby would be through adoption. And at that point, we knew we would be adopting our foster...
Growing up, my elementary best friend was our pastor’s daughter of a very large church. Everyone knew who she was and treated her special because of it. My best friend all throughout middle and high school had the best dad ever. He was a very prestigious and well...
I get it. You probably haven’t seen anything like this today. In fact, I’m sure the world has told you otherwise. Boss babe and side hustle are more like the hashtags you’ve scrolled through. There’s this idea that if we work hard enough we can get the life that...
I was seven days late.
It’s only happened twice in my life. The other time was three years ago. The week before our foster son came home.
I woke up every morning, believing the “in due time” had finally come. That after all of these years, it was our turn. I was certainly going to see my belly start swelling in the next few weeks. I had calculated the due date and thought through every way I would tell my husband, family, and dear friends. I had imagined the look on their faces, like the ones standing around Lazarus’s grave.
Even after all the hoping and all the disappointment, I knew this new season our family has stepped in, has looked so different from the old ones. He’s doing a new thing in us, something He’s never done before. And hope never puts us to shame (Romans 5:5), so I wasn’t afraid to hope. Because my hope isn’t in a miracle, it’s a person, my Jesus.
This was the third test I took that week. All the other ones said the same results. But I wasn’t going to believe it wasn’t true, until I knew. And I knew on day eight.
Right before we looked at the test, Brandon said to me, “You know this doesn’t change a word out of God’s mouth about this.” And I knew that. Still do.
I’ve been his mama and he has been my son now for almost two years, minus the two months he went back.
When I think back to that first summer he came, all I can remember is the rash that covered my body for six months. I used every cream and ointment you could imagine. I quit gluten and dairy. It didn’t matter what I did, the rash stayed. It was my body’s way of telling me it was too much.
I remember laying on my face every morning in my office, asking Holy Spirit for just enough grace to make it through that day. In those first days, it was minute by minute. I didn’t know how to be a mama to a then seven year old. And he surely didn’t know what it was like to live as a true son. He wasn’t used to boundaries and bedtimes, structure and routine. Love felt uncomfortable, like dipping cold toes in to warm water, it burned.
Although we have quite the journey ahead of us, sorting through so much trauma, and growing together in love, we’ve found our place together. I am his and he is mine. He’s settled in nicely to his place in our family. And we’re hoping one day it will be forever.