A wise old bear once said…
“If ever there is tomorrow when we’re not together, there is something you must always remember: You are braver than you believe, stronger than you seem, and smarter than you think. But the most important thing is–even if we’re apart, I’ll always be with you.” -Winnie the Pooh
On Sundays–I lay with him after church.
Lunch is put away. I get all the others settled with reading and quite. And I carry him to my room. It’s our sweet time resting together…me and my new one.
We sing softly with both of our heads on my pillow. And then there is quiet.
I close my eyes and pretend to be asleep.
And he rests…talking himself to sleep. But I listen. And often my heart melts in these moments.
Yi, er, san…
He starts counting.
In his first language.
And I hold my breath. Remembering how young he is. And how brave. Oh so brave.
Si, wu, liu…
Almost 6 months together. Yet–2 years of his life. Years that were not mine…but years I will forever long for…to hold–to treasure–to have been there. If you are a mom, an aunt, a god-mother, a friend to a 2 year old…then you know how many memories make up the days…day after day of a 2 year span. Days gaining trust. Maybe losing it too. Over and over and over again.
Skinned knees and fevers. Milestones and cheers. I wasn’t there–yet he trusts me. He doesn’t know yet that I would give anything to have been there. And that all those memories and years…are stories I will not be able to retell. Yet…each day more and more…more trust…tighter hugs.
Yet in the quiet. He counts. To himself. Quietly.
What is easy for him. Surrounded by so much hard…new language…new faces…new everything. And I melt all over again. He is one of the bravest boys I know. And I…
I get to be his mom.
I remember a time when we were “done”. My first two babes had been surprises. Such gifts–but such surprises;). We married in June–discovered we’d be parents in December. And he was born the next August. When this colicy wee one was 4 months old, we discovered another was on the way. At each passing growth spurt–I quickly gave aways outgrown clothes. Because we were “done”. Little did I know the great things the Lord had in store for me. So blessed.
Each day…one day at a time…with 5 little sweet ones under age 9. Rich and I are in a season where we truly take one day at a time for tomorrow has enough worries of it’s own–but although today is full–it’s filling also has such blessing. And as I lay there listening to my fifth little blessing count…I held my breath. Thanking God for the miracle of letting me be a mom again and again and again…and through the miracle of adoption…you truly see a miracle.
Our hearts are connected. I wake more often at night to check on this new one than I ever did as a first time mom. And I’m so thankful how every day–this little love takes risks. Risks to love and be loved. And having seen so many little loves so afraid to take these risks…I realize what a miracle it is. This morning I held him in worship at church. Holding him in my left arm–I couldn’t help but raise my right. Praising God for all He has done. And I opened my eyes to see my little love raising his hands singing too. So free. So full of joy.
And it amazes me. The days and years I missed. Yet the Lord heals. He connects us. He helps gel together as mother and son…and I’m overwhelmed with thanksgiving.
Never underestimate how the Lord can give courage to the smallest of loves. And never underestimate all He can do to heal and connect…to make up for missed time. May your Thanksgiving ahead be full of sweet connections with your loves and family.
A few of my favorites from our house…(we tend to get a little festive at every holiday over here;)
Happy Thanksgiving Week!