My littlest fella this morning said the sweetest thing. He said, "Mommy, you look cute today." My heart melted. In a puddle. Right there in the car. I closed my eyes and prayed to God that I would never forget that moment.
In the extreme joy of the moment, I am reminded of my precious friends still waiting on their prayers to be answered. I share this moment with them. And I pray to a merciful and compassionate God, whose timing is always perfect, for their prayers (for children, husbands, etc) to be answered quickly and for them to be steadied in the churning sea of life.
I love each of you and am praying big, God-sized prayers on your behalf.
Thursday, August 16, 2012
Tuesday, August 14, 2012
Oh blog, I don't know what to do with you anymore.
So, where to begin?
Life is so not about me anymore. I kinda chuckle at the previous post. I am pretty sure I haven't done my nails since then. And I am ok with that.
Last Spring Stephen and I took a leap into the unknown. We signed up and after going through a lengthy process, are licensed adoptive/foster parents with DHR. The chain of events that took place are quite divine and I must write about them here sometime. Even our social workers kept saying, "this never happens".
We welcomed a little fella into our home in May. Followed by a little older fella in June. This summer has been about transitions. Painful ones. Joyous ones. Emotionally taxing ones. Expensive ones. It's also been about learning to trust God. Everyday. Every minute. Every second.
Going deeper with God requires greater risks. Greater risks means more opportunity to learn about God's character. Learning about God's character means holding a mirror up to the ugly parts of my character and choosing to die to myself. It also means choosing to die to my own plans, ideals, and yes, sometimes even dreams. It's exhausting but it's exhilerating. God is always enough.
“When you have come to the edge of all light that you know and are about to drop off into the darkness of the unknown, Faith is knowing one of two things will happen: There will be something solid to stand on or You will be taught to fly” Patrick Overton
Teach me to fly, Abba Father. Teach me to fly.
Life is so not about me anymore. I kinda chuckle at the previous post. I am pretty sure I haven't done my nails since then. And I am ok with that.
Last Spring Stephen and I took a leap into the unknown. We signed up and after going through a lengthy process, are licensed adoptive/foster parents with DHR. The chain of events that took place are quite divine and I must write about them here sometime. Even our social workers kept saying, "this never happens".
We welcomed a little fella into our home in May. Followed by a little older fella in June. This summer has been about transitions. Painful ones. Joyous ones. Emotionally taxing ones. Expensive ones. It's also been about learning to trust God. Everyday. Every minute. Every second.
Going deeper with God requires greater risks. Greater risks means more opportunity to learn about God's character. Learning about God's character means holding a mirror up to the ugly parts of my character and choosing to die to myself. It also means choosing to die to my own plans, ideals, and yes, sometimes even dreams. It's exhausting but it's exhilerating. God is always enough.
“When you have come to the edge of all light that you know and are about to drop off into the darkness of the unknown, Faith is knowing one of two things will happen: There will be something solid to stand on or You will be taught to fly” Patrick Overton
Teach me to fly, Abba Father. Teach me to fly.
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