Do You Know?

As Mother's Day approaches, I find myself thinking about you a lot.  I sat behind a girl in church last week who reminded me of you, and ever since then, I can't get you out of my head.  It's been two years and four months since our little guy was born.  I've written letters, trying to capture every milestone, every cute thing he does, every new personality trait that seems to emerge daily.  We haven't heard back from you even once and it makes me wonder...

Do you know how incredible he is?  Do you know that I'm sure he is the cutest little boy to walk this earth?  Do you know that he cracks me up - often - every day?  Do you know that he is my little friend?  Do you know that he is starting to show some sensitivity?  Do you know that he adores certain people in this world?  Do you know he has that little freckle?  Do you know he has a few cowlicks on his head that drive me insane?  Do you know that I love him more than myself?  Do you know he has the most amazing eyes?  Do you know that his lips and cheeks are irresistibly kissable?  Do you know that he's off the charts in both his height and weight, yet he's as fit as can be?  Do you know that his hugs and "wuv yu's" can melt my heart faster than anything else?  Do you know that he remembers things that I have completely forgotten?  Do you know that he loves to sing, ALL the time?  Do you know that he is the best thing that has ever happened to us?

There are so many more things I wonder if you know, and I often ask myself why I am so concerned with this.  Isn't my life "easier" because you are not around?  Some might suggest it is, but I'm not so sure.  I'd love to know more about you, your family, your history.  He's a part of you, and I'd love for you to know him.  I know he'll have questions when he gets older, just like I did as a child, and I'd love to be able to answer those questions for him -- or at least to be able to send him to you.  Instead, the only consolation that I can give him is that I can somewhat relate.  At least we have that in common; I actually treasure that.  I hope and pray it reassures him when he gets older and begins to ask questions.  You're missing out on so much of his life and I know that you would be blessed to know him, but it's not my decision.  I just have to sit back and trust that you know what's best for you.  I may not understand it, but I have to roll with it.  Maybe some day you'll change your mind -- for his sake, and ours, I sure hope you do!

Train

This train belonged to me when I was a little girl.  I'm not really sure when I got it, but I totally remember playing with it.  My son absolutely loves it too.  I love to watch him play and imagine myself doing the same things as a child.  (Little did I know back then that my own son would be enjoying it as well!)  I got to looking at it today and began to notice some obvious wear and tear that comes with age.  It occurred to me then that this train is a lot like life...

See the blue car on the right with the red wheels?  It's missing a post.  It broke off long ago, we tried to glue it, but it obviously did not stick.  How many times in my life have I tried to glue something back together, only to discover it wouldn't work, so I had to let go of that piece?  It's a part that will never be returned; a part that will forever be missing, but the car still remains in tact.

I mentioned the obvious wear and tear.  You can't really see it in this picture, but the paint is worn off on the edges of a few cars.  As we go through life's trials, don't we come out feeling a little more worn?

Then there's the most obvious one -- the yellow car in the middle with the missing wheel.  One might say this car is broken.  I say that yes, it's broken...but still functional.  Circumstances in life have broken me, but I'm still able to roll along smoothly.  Being broken doesn't make you useless -- it makes you special.  It shows you've endured.  It shows you've survived and that you're worth saving because you can still function with the rest of them.

If I had to guess, I would say this train has got to be about 25 years old.  Even so, with all of its flaws, it still works like it's brand new.  I sometimes look back on my life and wonder if I have any regrets so far.  Have I done enough?  Am I where I thought I would be at this age?  Are there things yet to be accomplished?  I think I could answer both "yes" and "no" for most of those, but the thing I need to realize is that no matter what age I am, I still work like I'm brand new.  I have SO many years ahead of me to fulfill any remaining dreams I may have, even if I'm missing a post and have a broken wheel.  Thankfully, I do not have to go at this alone, for as Psalm 89:8 tells us, God is entirely faithful and I know He will see me through.

God's Greatness

While I was reading this blog this morning, this line really got my attention:  "...my thoughts were focused on my circumstances (things of this world) and not on God's greatness."  Granted, she's referring to things in her life that I am not going through, but it still made me stop and realize that's exactly what I've been doing for the last 24 hours.

Rather than focus on the opportunity God has specifically chosen us for, I've thought back on my years of heartache, wondering why it's come to this.  (That last statement sounds harsh, but I don't intend for it to!)  Rather than focus on the new life we are moving toward, I've selfishly wondered if one is enough and we should let it be.

My mom reminded me not too long ago that the grace will be there when it's needed...I obviously have some time, so why do I bother getting myself worked up and wondering if I can do it?  Of course I can.  God is the giver of life.  If I believe He has chosen for me to bring that life into this world (I do), you bet He's going to give me the grace I need.  He's absolutely going to give me the strength and (most importantly) the patience I didn't even know I had.

My mission for today will be an attitude adjustment; a mental and emotional adjustment; a heart adjustment.  I'll be singing this song again, for it brings me His peace.  I'll be reminding myself of the miracle that is to come of this and not dwelling on the long road it took to get there.  I know that some day that long road will be a big part in telling everyone about our latest miracle, but I'm not ready to think about it yet.  For now, I focus on the prize.