Birthday Letter to My Girl…a week late

When I think about writing this letter to her so many things go through my mind. So many things that I won’t actually say to her. All my insecurities about being the mother come flying to the surface. The other day I was asked if I feel like she’s my daughter because she’s adopted. I don’t know how to answer that. I never had a daughter before and I didn’t have a mom when I was her age. I have many worries about her. I wonder if she feels loved enough. Do I give enough of myself to her? Or because of my own hurt over the years and all the similarities I see between the two of us I wonder if I push her away somehow. Do I laugh enough with her? Do I make her laugh? Will she always feel as I did growing up? Left out, different, terribly alone? How do I, as her mother, help in the healing process that God wants for her? My mom died when I was 9. I don’t know what kind of mom she was. I have very few memories of her. Because of all this it is difficult to write a letter to her without it carrying my sense of guilt. I want so much for her. I want her to love Jesus, be educated, not have get pregnant or have any children out of wedlock. I want her to dream and pursue those dream, to never ever give up. I want her to never find herself trapped in the welfare system. Well, maybe I should just get on with that birthday letter!

Dear Dusty,

I can’t believe that it has been 10 years already. It doesn’t seem possible, does it? Well, to me it doesn’t, but to you it probably feels like a long time…like it’s a whole lifetime. I was only 24 when you were born. Wow. I am so glad I was able to be at your birth. It was a pleasant surprise. You decided to come into this world on the day I had a break from taking care of my dad. Your head was covered in dark hair. I remember crying when you were born. So much emotion was flooding through my heart. I was incredibly thankful that you had arrived safely and completely in awe of God for this incredible process of being pregnant and having a baby. I cried for all the great things the world has to offer you and I cried for all the hurt it offers you, too. I remember looking at you as you were being born and praying for your life to be different. For you to rise above the women who have gone before you. I think we all want that. Us adults, that is. We look at the children around us that we love so much and hope that they are better than we are. Not in a bad way. But in that way that we have blazed the trail before you and learned so many things that we want to pass on to you so that you may get further on the trail than we have.

You are a beautiful girl. I love the way you look when you laugh uncontrollably about something so very silly. Isn’t it the silliest things that get us laughing so hard we have to hold our bellies in to keep them from bursting? I love how you have a love for babies. That is a gift. Not everybody is like that. You are very nurturing and playful. One day you’ll make a spectacular babysitter! Ah, you’re also a young business woman. “Mom, can I have a sale today? Can I sell kool-aid? Can we have a garage sale?” You’re always thinking of ways to make money, aren’t you? It is that kind of spirit that will keep you going and growing when things around you get tough.

When it is Bible time you are always asking to read. I love that in you.

There is so much you want to learn. So much you ask me to teach you. I will teach you what I know. Let me rephrase that, I will do my best to teach you what I know.

Dusty, you and I are much alike. We both know loss and hurt, but we also know joy and love. God brought us together for a reason. He has a plan. His plans are us are what? Yeah, I know you memorized Jer. 29:11. Thank you for letting Him use you in my life. You have shown me much about my own heart. Things I would have never learned without you. I love you. I truly and deeply love you. I love you to the moon and back a quadzillion times. {and yes ‘quadzillion’ is a word so don’t argue about it}

Love,

Your mama

A Hymn of Faith

Though the fig tree may not blossom,

Nor fruit be on the vines;

Though the labor of the olive may fail,

And the fields yield no food;

Though the flock be cut off from the fold,

And there be no herd in the stalls-

Yet I will rejoice in the LORD,

I will joy in the God of my salvation.

The LORD God is my strength;

He will make my feet like deer’s feet,

And He will make me walk on my high hills.

Habakkuk 3:17-19

Upon reading this my mind simultaneously went to 2 things. The first thing was a conversation I had with a friend earlier this week or last about trusting God NO MATTER WHAT. No matter if my children are killed, my crops are destroyed, my body covered in boils, my friends chattering on about something they know nothing about, and my spouse telling me to curse God and die. No matter if my bills are due, I’m low on gas, low on cash, and my change oil light is on. I will praise Him in every circumstance. Even when I feel so very alone in raising my kids…especially my teenage son. Even when I am so tired I can barely think and all I want is time to myself. No matter that I have a birthday girl on the 20th who wants an ice skating party or a horse themed party.

Funny that this should even come up. This month I thought I had all my finances under control. I have every penny spent on paper. I was feeling good about it. Then, guess what? I am not babysitting like I have been doing [consistently] for months and my other job frequently tells me she doesn’t need me. I made my budget out in accordance with the expectation of this income. AND I had just told a friend that trusting God for finances was something I had under my belt. I have, after all, seen Him provide for me in amazing ways.

Me and my big mouth.

I will trust the Lord. It is the only logical thing to do, after all.

The second thing I thought of is the poor crippled girl, Much Afraid. Do you know her story? It is an amazing one. It isn’t just her story, it’s our story, too. You can read about it in Hind’s Feet on High Places by Hannah Hurnard. She embarks on a journey with two companions Sorrow & Suffering. Her journey is a difficult one. She and her companions are transformed. I won’t tell you what they were transformed into, I don’t want to ruin it for you if you haven’t read it. However, I highly encourage you to read it. I think I will read it again. I’ve read it a few times, but more from the perspective that I was Much Afraid. I am not so much like that anymore. I, too, am being transformed. As are you. The Shepherd could see what was going to bloom in Much Afraid. He called her out of her fear into something great.

A Year Ago Today…sort of

I wrote this on the morning of the July 4th, but apparently didn’t publish it. I guess it’s due to the insane migraine I had.

I woke up to this gift. I cannot begin to express my gratitude for this. I have looked at this gift over and over and over to remind me why it’s worth getting out of bed.  I find this sentence amusing, it’s the first line in the post I linked to, “It has been 3-1/2 months since my husband left. I feel like it should all be a distant memory, but it isn’t.”  Really? Wow. Well now I can say something like, “It’s been 1 year & 3 weeks since my husband left and it still isn’t a distant memory.” I still think about it every day…several times a day, in fact. I don’t feel bad about that at all.  I think I’m beginning to understand and maybe even embrace this journey I’m on. There are still days I’d rather sleep than deal with life, but I don’t stay in bed so much. Anyway, I’m up with a migraine and I had this memory. So, go see the love of a friend poured out on me: Reasons to get out of bed each morning.