I'm the Crazy Mom. Crazy Woman. Crazy stalker, perhaps.
So, as I told you all Friday, I went to a Living Proof Live conference this past weekend. AWESOME! I have so much swimming in my head right now but until I really have some time to process it all, let it suffice for me to say this: my man was right to make me go. I really needed that. But more on all that later.
Right after the conference, our group had reservations to eat at Calhoun's. When we walked in, who should we see but Beth Moore! I was on the phone with my man when I saw her and I said, "There's Beth Moore!" to my man like he was right beside me and could just spin around and see her. I gave her a surprised smile like "OH! Good friend, I haven't seen you in years!" and waved furiously. She was hugging someone and smiling at me over their shoulder. Suddenly, reality overcame me and I realized she had absolutely no clue who I was. I scurried away, so completely amazed at my own weirdness, that I burst into laughter. Still on the phone with my man, I said, "I can not believe I just did that! I just smiled and waved like I knew her. That was weird." His comforting reply, "Yeeeeeah, that's kinda' crazy." What on earth was that? Maybe my sister's right; maybe I am a stalker! I felt like I knew her. How can you feel like you have a relationship with someone you've never even met? Again, weird.
My Daughters are the Daughters.
I am starting to feel like I can not get enough of them. Ever. I know some people are just instantly head-over-heels in love with their kids. I mean, some people are in love with their kids before they are ever conceived. And some people are in love with kids they can not even have. They so desperately long for and love their unborn children, that it leaves a hole of longing in their love-filled hearts. I am somewhat saddened and ashamed to admit that I do not understand that feeling. When I was expecting my first-born, it was surreal. I did not have a deep bond to the baby growing in my belly. And after she was born, I felt detached. She was beautiful and I loved her but it wasn't a tidal wave of emotion that overcame me instantly. My man's love for our firstborn was like a tsunami; it hit him with a surprising force that he could have never expected. Tears--a very rare experience for him--filled his eyes. For me, it was more like a spring rain. The pregnancy was like the clouds rolling in. The birth brought the first few sprinkles. Over time the intensity of the rainfall has increased. Until now, my heart feels like it is caught in a raging thunderstorm. I love these girls to the point that it hurts sometimes. Even by the time I was expecting my second baby girl, I knew this passionate love. I was anxious throughout the entire pregnancy, afraid that something would happen to the precious little life in my belly before she could ever draw her first breathe.
One of the reasons I did not want to attend the conference this past weekend is because I did not want to leave my loves--all three of them. I had such a looming dark feeling about leaving. When my man made it very clear to me that he was not letting me back out of that trip, I had to do some serious spiritual battle with my fears. They lost, thanks to Jesus.
I want to freeze time. I can not get enough of them. They can seriously bring me to tears just doing normal everyday things. And it seems that just about the time I am starting to realize just how incredibly precious they are, I am starting to loose them. My oldest starts Pre-K in exactly two weeks. She will be gone every morning, four days a week. That seems like most of the day because the hours between noon and bedtime fly by. We eat lunch, take naps, play for maybe an hour, then it's time to start supper, my man comes home, we eat, they play, I clean up supper, then baths, books, Bible stories, prayers, and bedtime. So, morning is my time with my babies. And I'm about to lose it. I have been on the verge of tears ever since we received our papers from the preschool telling us about orientation and open house.
A friend posted a picture of her little man heading off to 1st grade last week; her caption said, "Does this ever get easier?" No. No, I dare say, this will only get harder. Because it seems that our love grows and we want to hold on tighter; yet, we have to loosen our grip. True irony.
Before any of you assume that my friend's little man is the son I was referring to above, no, no it is not. Now I'm sure many of you are wondering who is...
This little family of four just "adopted" a little guy named Samuel this past weekend. Samuel is from the west African country of Ghana. He will turn ten next month. He loves soccer, art, and running. And he lives with his parents in the hillside community of Egotsia Kokodo. Samuel will not be living with us. We may never even meet him, but through an awesome organization, known as Compassion, we will be partnering with his parents to see that he gets the education and medical care that he needs.
I can not tell you how excited I am about this. I have always wanted to adopt a child. I have always wanted to go to Africa. I have always wanted a little boy. And I have always wanted to teach my girls that we are to reach out to others, that we can even impact lives far away, even the lives of people we may never meet. I can not think of a better way to do any of this right now. We may not have the nearly $30,000 that is needed for an adoption right now, but we have $30/month. We might not be able to go to Africa, but we can support the people that are there. We might not be able to have a little boy, but we can help the parents who have one.
We have already been praying for Samuel. The girls have already made pictures to send to him. And today we will be writing a letter for him. We can hardly wait to hear back from him! He doesn't know us yet but we already love him. Crazy little thing called love.
We love because He first loved us. 1 John 4:19