I try hard to stuff down my emotions, to not be overly dramatic about sad issues. But I keep telling myself, what I saw is worth crying over. The children I turned my back on and walked away from are worth crying over. The birth mother who's story we will never know, is worth crying over. But what mom of 3 has time to have a good, ugly cry? So bottled up it stays.
The 21st is Bizi's Gotcha Day. The first day that he was no longer just a picture on the fridge, no longer an orphan. I still remember with heart wrenching clarity the moment the nun brought him to us. He was not afraid, just curious. Dave hogged him WAY to long before handing him to me (we have video to prove it!). Finally, the son that I had cried over, prayed for and waited on was here in my arms. There was no fairy dust or swelling music, but it was more perfect than Hollywood could ever create.
Often I think of returning to Rwanda. There is a need deep in me to do more. I honestly don't feel like I have done anything to help the people. Let's go and build schools for the orphans that will never be adopted. Let's go spend a day rocking babies that don't ever feel the arms of a mama when they cry. Let's just GO. I guess I should just add one letter, let goD. Let God handle the questions with no earthy answers. Let God take the pain in my heart and use it for good. Let God have all the glory for the miracle of adoption.
Thank you, Lord for never letting my life be boring. For letting me experience unbelievable highs, and gut wrenching lows. Most of all, thank you for my children.
Posts
