Skip to main content

A Beautiful Broken Miracle

So much has been going on in our lives lately. I've been wanting to blog about things for a while now but I've held off simply because there is so much I want to say and so much I can't say!

Last month we were officially approved for foster care through CSV! Such a blessing to have all the paperwork and home studies finished! We had about one whole day to take a deep breath and relax before we got THAT call! Crazy huh!?
So, here we are, a month later, building a family from the broken pieces of each of our lives. It's been an amazing month, and an extremely challenging one.

I want to scream at how unfair life has been to both of us. 
I want to show Little One that there is a way of life far different from what she has known and teach her the forgiveness and grace of an amazing Savior. 
I want to convince Little One that a new pair of shoes or a new jacket does not mean she will never see loved ones again, or that we are replacing someone. 
I wish Little One's heart didn't break when she cries out for someone who cannot come. 
I want to show her that the emptiness we each have in our hearts can only be filled by a Heavenly Father who has never left her or forgotten about her. 

I also wish my heart did not break every time Little One's does. 
I tend to think that my heart has had enough breaking for my lifetime. 

But The Lord has graced me with something that flows through me as naturally as oxygen. A mother's love. 

It is a completely irrational love.
Love, despite knowing that my heart will be broken, still loves completely. 
Love, despite knowing there is not always love in return, still loves wholely. 
Love, despite being pushed away and yelled at, still loves forgivingly. 
I love, because it flows through me. It may not be easy to love, but it is what I have been created to do. 

No midwife in a gown handed her to me, wrapped in a blanket, but a case worker, in the middle of the night carrying a terrified Little One, placed her in my arms. 
And she made me a mom. 
What a beautifully broken miracle that has swept us off our feet. 

We know it's not forever, it may not even be for long. But, it is who we are to love her, to make her a part of our family for however long. 


Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Adoption Hurts

  "Is adopting her harder than you thought it would be?"      I think, when I weighed the options back in 2021, before I brought my 12 year old daughter home, I knew how hard it could be. I accepted that it could be brutal. But, honestly, I hoped it wouldn't be. I hoped maybe, just maybe, trauma hadn't sunk deep into her bones and colored everything she did.  Some people may have different perceptions on how prepared I was, since I did jump into it pretty quickly. But I think that I did acknowledge, and accept, how hard it could be. But the reality of life is that there is no real way to know how hard anything actually is until you're living it. Meaning, I knew how hard it could be...but had no idea what that level of hard would actually feel like.  Because it hurts. Raising a broken teenager hurts. It hurts my daughter. It hurts me. It hurts our relationship. It just hurts.  But just because something hurts...does that mean we aren't called to do it?  I t

Through Him

  I was raised by a Christian father who, though far from perfect, loved his family. I had a front row seat to his relationship with my mother and loved being his daughter. Through him I learned that I wanted to find a man like him in all the best ways. I married my first and only boyfriend when I was 19 and spent 13 years growing up with him. Through him I learned that I was a valued (and treasured) partner and that life is unbelievably special when you adventure together...and when you love unconditionally. A doctor met me one time and performed a dozen tests on my body. He was unkind and judgmental and his indifference made me cry in shame. Through him I learned that I might not ever be able to have children. My only son was born after years of infertility. He never took a breath and his death took my entire life by storm. Through him I learned that joy and grief can exist side by side...even when, or especially when, it is hard to find the joy. My father-in-law loved two children w

I’m so sorry, John…

John, I know you’re probably busy living your very best life in Heaven. I can’t imagine that earthly happenings matter much to those who’ve left us.  But I want it to matter anyway. I want to imagine that you can still care.  I’m sorry that I stopped reaching for you in the middle of the night. It was a slow and painful process of retraining my brain and body. After 13 years you just weren’t there anymore. And I had to remind myself over and over and over again. “He’s dead, Katharine. Dead. You’ll never find him when you reach for him anymore…one day you’ll have to just stop reaching”. And one day I did. I can’t remember when it was. When muscle memory and instinct faded away. But suddenly I didn’t have to remind myself anymore…my body finally accepted that you’d never be there anymore.  I’m sorry I got rid of your things. Your books and projects and broken treasures. You had such plans and dreams for all these things in your garage. And I threw them away. I sobbed and yelled at you fo