Tuesday, April 12, 2011
ZERO Comments
You have not because you ask not...so I am asking! I need a little feedback. I mean according to the LIVE feed, people are coming by...but I haven't had any comments in eons. So I am asking...if you are reading this. Leave a note. Let me know that I am not alone in this great blogging world out here.
Thursday, April 7, 2011
Happy Court-iversary!
Dear Jacinda,
Two years ago today, someone in the court system in Ethiopia signed a paper that allowed me to become your mom.
It was a Tuesday morning...I woke up, checked my e-mail to see if there was news...there wasn't. I wondered how I could even go through the motions of my day waiting to hear whether or not "we passed." I remember going to turn on the news and check the traffic situation in my little apartment and going back in my room. As a fluke, I decided to check my e-mail...again.
And there it was..."Your case was approved today. Congratulations!"
Six words...but they were the most glorious six words I ever read!
I remember calling Grammy and Aimee and sharing the news with them. I posted on facebook, sent out a dozen or so e-mails. And then I sat on my bed and cried tears of joy. I whispered a prayer of thanks and then I didn't know what to do. I was so excited.
I hope that when I talk about how special this day is that you can feel my excitement. I told everyone I felt like Jello inside and I did.
So many moments have passed since that first one. There have been many moments that being your mom has made me feel like Jello inside. I am so humbled that God chose me to pick up where your first mommy left and let me be your second mommy.
You are an amazing girl who is smart, caring, loving and beautiful. I love to watch you sleep, listen to you giggle and tickle you until you are laughing with everything in you. I love to watch you run, dance and play soccer. I love to hear you quote scriptures, read your Bible and say your prayers.
I love the way you greet me at the door each night and blow me a kiss before I drive away when I drop you off at school. I love the way we make each other laugh, how we pick on each other constantly and how much we love each other. I love the way I can read your expressions and you can read mine. You are beyond what I imagined a daughter would be.
You are my everything, Jacinda Hope Bizunesh and I LOVE YOU!
Wednesday, April 6, 2011
Eight
Eight is the number of drafts I have started to post to this blog. Words are slow to come...in all areas of my life it seems.My best friend lost her father to cancer. She is devastated, her children are devastated, her whole family and circle of friends are devastated.
Her father was an amazing man who touched so many lives. I can't even put into words what this loss means to so many. But I ache for the pain she and her children are experiencing. I can't remember ever being in a position of not being able to comfort someone when they needed it. But I am in that position now.
There is nothing I can say. There is nothing I can do. "Just be there for her," is something someone said to me. Are you kidding? There is nothing to be there for. She is broken...shattered.
I read her writing and it's just so raw, so moving and yet there is nothing to be moved to do. I just can't even imagine how empty she is and I don't want to. I see it and I get it...she's a shell. People keep offering these platitudes of comfort up to her, but I can't. I won't lie to her. She means too much to me for that. I want to protect her, but the most awful of diseases came and snatched the most treasured of people from this earth and there is not a darn thing that can be done.
We are planners, so one time last year when she talked about the future loss of her dad and I told her to let me know how she wanted me to support her when the dreaded day came. She said to let her think about it. We never revisited the conversation and now I know why. I asked a stupid and pointless question. There isn't anything I can do to support her, there was never going to be...so there was no point in talking about it.
I don't want to ask her how she is feeling (I did and then felt like a fool because whoever said there weren't stupid questions really didn't consider this one.) I don't want to ask how she is holding up (I did and once again it was an asinine question that I felt foolish for as soon as the words were out of my mouth.) I don't want to ask what she needs - because this is not a questions she can answer. The only thing I really want to do is to turn back the clock, but that isn't possible.
In my darkest hours she has been there to make the load a little less heavy - heck most of the time - a lot less heavy. And while I am incredibly grateful for that, in this situation I am powerless to help or even begin to make her load lighter.
So I pray, when the words will come. And I accept her...where she is, how she is, who she is and now yes, who she will have to become. And I know for her, at least I hope for her, it is what she needs most from me. Because I know now, it is the only thing I can give.
I am going to hit publish now, or this is going to be draft number 9.
Her father was an amazing man who touched so many lives. I can't even put into words what this loss means to so many. But I ache for the pain she and her children are experiencing. I can't remember ever being in a position of not being able to comfort someone when they needed it. But I am in that position now.
There is nothing I can say. There is nothing I can do. "Just be there for her," is something someone said to me. Are you kidding? There is nothing to be there for. She is broken...shattered.
I read her writing and it's just so raw, so moving and yet there is nothing to be moved to do. I just can't even imagine how empty she is and I don't want to. I see it and I get it...she's a shell. People keep offering these platitudes of comfort up to her, but I can't. I won't lie to her. She means too much to me for that. I want to protect her, but the most awful of diseases came and snatched the most treasured of people from this earth and there is not a darn thing that can be done.
We are planners, so one time last year when she talked about the future loss of her dad and I told her to let me know how she wanted me to support her when the dreaded day came. She said to let her think about it. We never revisited the conversation and now I know why. I asked a stupid and pointless question. There isn't anything I can do to support her, there was never going to be...so there was no point in talking about it.
I don't want to ask her how she is feeling (I did and then felt like a fool because whoever said there weren't stupid questions really didn't consider this one.) I don't want to ask how she is holding up (I did and once again it was an asinine question that I felt foolish for as soon as the words were out of my mouth.) I don't want to ask what she needs - because this is not a questions she can answer. The only thing I really want to do is to turn back the clock, but that isn't possible.
In my darkest hours she has been there to make the load a little less heavy - heck most of the time - a lot less heavy. And while I am incredibly grateful for that, in this situation I am powerless to help or even begin to make her load lighter.
So I pray, when the words will come. And I accept her...where she is, how she is, who she is and now yes, who she will have to become. And I know for her, at least I hope for her, it is what she needs most from me. Because I know now, it is the only thing I can give.
I am going to hit publish now, or this is going to be draft number 9.
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