Chaos to Attention

And so it begins. Friday was the day it hit. Have you ever felt like you are running and doing as fast as you can but can't keep up and you are constantly getting further behind? And yet, if you stop or quit, you'll just get run plum over with life leaving its tread marks on your backside. Then to top of the day I couldn't go to sleep until midnight. I am not a late night person. I am what is considered a morning person. I wake my children with singing and tickling and get them moving by the threat of more singing. I got some of my monthly grocery shopping done and picked up the last few presents. By the time I picked up the kids, my brain was short-wiring and nerves frayed. The day had not started well, and now I wasn't much more joyful when they had seen me earlier in the day. These are not my favorite kind of days.


God has a way of reminding me of what is important in life by reminding me about the lives He has put into mine. Erin, her dad and I had a discussion about what she had said that morning. She intended to hurt her daddy because she was angry, but the words stung past that and needed to be addresses. She had told her daddy she wanted to go live with her "real" parents. She said she meant to say her birth parents, but regardless, the punch had been delivered. I know it has to be confusing and she's working it out. Erin and I cuddled in her bed, and I talked to her a little more about it. I know every child at some point in time has said or thought, "I wish I had different parents," but adopted kids think they have that option. I explained to her that her birth parents had struggled with the decision they made. They sacrificed and it was the most difficult decision they ever had to make. I reminded her of how we knew that God had chosen her to be our daughter, and I asked her if she knew better than her heavenly Father, her birth parents, and her real parents as to what was best for her. She began sobbing. Her little heart was breaking, and I hated it. All these people loved her so much and she had chosen to act so ungrateful. I held her while she sobbed and I cried tears from an aching heart. She wants to see her birth parents, and I would truly like for her to be able to I just don't know that they are ready to meet Erin. Her birth mom still deals with depression and guilt over it even though she has said on numerous times that we are the best parents for Erin. There are many blessings attached to having an open adoption. Many people fear them, but they fear what they do not know or understand. That night Patrick slept with Erin just to give her that little extra attention.


Since I couldn't sleep after that knot-building conversation, I watched TV til midnight...not my most productive. At midnight, I went to check on everyone, and as I covered Pearce, he stirred. Oh, how sweet he is at night! "I love you, Mommy," he said as I covered him. I moved to turn the light off in the kids bathroom, my heart still aching from the evenings conversation and the longing for her babyhood when I heard more rustling in Pearce's bed. I returned and he was a little more aware. "You want to come sleep with me?" I asked. "Yes, ma'am." He stood up in his bed. I grabbed a stuff animal not knowing which one it was. I thanked God he was still small enough for me to carry, and as he snugged up to my neck he draped his arm around my shoulder. I carried him to my bed. We held hands as I cried myself quietly to sleep.

I wonder how God does it. He never sleeps. He hears every prayer of every person on the face of the Earth -- past, present and future, and yet He can maintain a personal relationship with each person. He's never hurried, harried, frustrated, ruffled, stressed, surprised, or outdone by the things I might say or do. He's ever patient, loving, consistant, gracious and merciful. I just wonder how He does it. The wonder of this Christmas season -- He chose me to love on; He chose me to redeem; He chose me to forgive; He chose me to be called His daughter. He chose me. Hallelujah, He chose to adopt me as His own. He chose me.