Apparently, I got ragged on a little this morning at the men's group breakfast for not posting more frequently. I will try to do better. It would be a lot easier if something was happening.
Nothing is really happening right now as we are STILL waiting on Homeland Security. Please say a prayer that things will start moving faster in their office so we can get this party started. Sometimes I wonder what exactly they do all day in their comfy government jobs. Maybe they have a big board where they post all the papers of those who are waiting on them and everyday they choose someone to throw one dart and whoever it lands on is the lucky one for that day. They then process that person's paperwork and make their dreams come true. Please pray that the dart lands on us tomorrow.
I stumbled across a new blog today and found an incredible post about adopting. I have posted it here because I wanted to share with you some of what goes through my mind when I think of the daughter we have not yet met.
Being an adoptive mother is not for every woman. She must possess not only the natural mother instinct but an understanding and appreciation of the situation that brought a child into her arms making her a mother. The adoptive family came to be by choices made, choices made by the first parents and by the adoptive parents. This bond the adoptive mother has with her child grows over time, like the child did within his first mother’s womb. Day by day, touch by touch, with each tear, kiss, and memory made they became a family. Adoptive mothers have that special knack to let love grow.
Adoptive mothers know that she’s a mender of wounds, not just of the physical skinned knees with a band-aid and a kiss, but of the heart. She gives love, acceptance, and permission to ask and talk about the day he was born and of his first parents. Adoptive mothers are embracers, not only of the child with many hugs and kisses, but of the child’s heritage and history. She embraces the facts of her child’s past with strength for herself and the child.
She’s not only a memory maker planning family vacations, activities, and birthday parties, but also a memory keeper. Details of a birth, photos of the hospital, and of the parents who brought her into the world are kept along side the newspaper clipping that announced it all. All these things are kept in a special book that tells the whole story.
She’s a tier of shoelaces and of hearts. She weaves lives together into a tapestry of a new family, with many different brightly, colored threads showcasing their individualities and family origins. Together they create one unit attached to each other.
Adoptive mothers are experts at finding lost objects, but understand and validate the profound, deep loss left by adoption. She allows the tears to fall and grief to be felt, allowing the mourning of the mom not there. She is secure in knowing that she’s not a replacement, but a finisher of a race for someone who, for whatever reason, could not run any longer.
This role is not for the weak of spirit, or the easily wounded. Loving a child not born to her but calling him her own, but this is what she does, it is her calling.
She is a mother.
I have read many things about adoption the last few months, really years, and this says it better than any I have read.
Adoption is not Plan B for us; it is Plan A. God has known it all along and He has tried telling us for years. I am thankful every day that we finally became still and heard His voice, His beautiful, beautiful voice. He has been guiding us to us our second daughter since before Tony and I even met. I know she is waiting for us and I cannot wait to bring her home.
