......revelations of one woman's reality of life, love, and all things hopeful...

Thursday, June 30, 2011

on little purple & pink rosettes...

I don't know if it's completely normal, and I don't know if it's even slightly healthy.


Whenever I'm sick, I miss my Mom.

I've got strep throat. I've not had a good case of strep in more than twenty years, but it's just like I remember it...throat on fire, headache, earache, and backache. Aching legs, aching shoulders. I think even my teeth ache. Nothing tastes good...not that swallowing is even a possibility.

I also remember my mom giving me medicine like clockwork, waking me up at all hours to make sure we didn't miss a dose. You could count on it.

You could count on her.

Sometimes she would even sleep with me. I loved that when I was little.

She's not here.

I wouldn't bring her back from someplace that's far better than any place I could ever imagine, but I neither will I lie...I wish she was here and had never left.

Tonight, I went to my closet to find something warm to put on since the chills are still coming and going.

There it was.

Hanging in the back of my closet was the robe Mom gave me for Christmas one year. It's the prettiest pink with tiny pink and purple rosettes on the sleeves and collar. I don't wear it a lot because it's normally too thick and heavy for my comfort, but I've just never been able to part with it.

I put on the robe, and it was almost like she was here.

I'm glad I never parted with it.

I think I'm feeling better now.

Goodnight, friends.

Thursday, June 16, 2011

on the final decree

My hands trembled just a little bit. I knew what was in it...the thick envelope that the mail carrier left in our mailbox today. The return address was from the attorney's office that helped us with the adoption. It was the "on-paper, read-it-with-my-own-eyes" final decree of adoption.


My hands trembled, not with fear or anxiety, but with sheer joy and wonder.

I can still hardly believe it all.

Do all women sit and stare at their babies the way I do mine?

Are all babies this beautiful?

Do all mommies fall this hard in love?

I can't imagine loving him anymore if I had given birth to him myself.

In fact, I would not love him more had I given birth to him myself. I do love him as if I had given birth to him. That's the very essence of adoption.

The judge told us that our baby now has the full legal standing as a child who was born into our family. He told us that we, the parents, have all the responsibilities, just as if we had given birth to this infant. It's all legal now, according to the documents that caused my hands to tremble.


Somehow, I know it's more that just a legal matter.

It's most importantly Spiritual.

Adoption is a spiritual matter.

"For those who are led by the Spirit of God are the children of God. The Spirit you received does not made you slaves, so that you live in fear again; rather, the Spirit you received brought about your adoption to sonship. And by Him we cry 'Abba, Father.' The Spirit Himself testifies with our spirit that we are God's children." Romans 8:14-16

Although I'm confident that this passage is so much deeper than my mind can conceive, it has resounded in my heart for the last 9 months. When Christ gloriously gave me his Spirit to live within me when He saved my soul, the made the final decree of adoption. I have the full spiritual standing as a child of God. He, the most perfect parent, has the full responsibility of the good Father....Responsibilities that He fully, perfectly, willingly, and gladly fulfills...no matter what:)

I don't know why God chose to answer our prayer for a baby. I don't know why He chose to do it on the timetable that he did.

I don't know why some families wait years for an infant, while we only waited....well, we didn't wait. God just seemingly dropped this little angel into our arms.

I don't know why.

I'm just thankful.

And just in case you're wondering...

MT is now 9 1/2 months old. He had a check-up today, weighing in at almost 27lbs. He is 29 inches tall. He crawls and cruises. He has 2 little teethies on the bottom. He sometimes says 'Mama' and 'Dada' and 'Baba' (bottle). He loves to eat (everything but beach sand, that is). He rarely meets a stranger. He dances anytime he hears music. He loves Mickey Mouse Clubhouse, Special Agent Oso, and The Little Einsteins. He takes 2 allergy medications. He usually sleeps through the night, but wakes up usually once during the night needing his passy.

I could go on and on and on...

...but I won't...