She ran to me that first day. I will never forget that moment as long as I live.
She didn't really understand what lay ahead...and neither did I.
It was harder than we expected, and I failed her...that I know.
On the days when I tried to love and teach in my own strength, when I relaxed because things had calmed, I failed.
I didn't expect this child, described as always happy, to still be struggling to attach. But she is.
I didn't expect my heart to fear, to wish I had done things better...differently...at this point. But it has.
But God...
He is so faithful.
In my desperation I cried out to Him. "Lord, it would be easier if she had been sick. Her wounds are invisible and I struggle to see them, struggle to understand. Help me."
Help me.
In two years she has not had more than a runny nose. She hasn't needed my comfort since those first days before communication was possible. She has resisted and run and I have wondered how to nurture a child who doesn't want nurturing.
The very next day, she came downstairs where I sat with my Bible open, spending time with Jesus before the kids came down and our typical morning busyness began.
"Can I have some water?"
It was earlier than her usual waking hour. I picked her up to give a hug and oh, her skin was like a furnace.
She was a very sick little girl.
I held her for 24 solid hours as her fever raged, hovering between 101 and 105 degrees. I slept beside her and comforted her as she whimpered and in the midst of it all I thanked God.
Oh yes, I thanked Him for letting her lean into me, for the bitter-sweetness of illness and the bonding that took place in those moments during the night when she was shivering and I prayed health back into her little body.
She sought my touch, sought my skin, nestling her head into the curve of my neck perfectly. She melted into me and I held her tight. Her siblings prayed for her and loved her well.
Was this the turning point? It is too soon to tell. I pray that it was. But even if it is not, I am freshly aware of my desperate need for the Holy Spirit to enable me to mother this little brood. Funny how He has to remind me of that periodically. You would think I would have that engraved on my forehead by now.
Sigh.
Happy Gotcha day, my beautiful baby girl. We are in this together, for the long haul. I pray your spirit opens fully to the security of your place in our family. I pray you will heal in those hidden places, and that your little heart will relax. We love you forever.
Forever.
She didn't really understand what lay ahead...and neither did I.
It was harder than we expected, and I failed her...that I know.
On the days when I tried to love and teach in my own strength, when I relaxed because things had calmed, I failed.
I didn't expect this child, described as always happy, to still be struggling to attach. But she is.
I didn't expect my heart to fear, to wish I had done things better...differently...at this point. But it has.
But God...
He is so faithful.
In my desperation I cried out to Him. "Lord, it would be easier if she had been sick. Her wounds are invisible and I struggle to see them, struggle to understand. Help me."
Help me.
In two years she has not had more than a runny nose. She hasn't needed my comfort since those first days before communication was possible. She has resisted and run and I have wondered how to nurture a child who doesn't want nurturing.
The very next day, she came downstairs where I sat with my Bible open, spending time with Jesus before the kids came down and our typical morning busyness began.
"Can I have some water?"
It was earlier than her usual waking hour. I picked her up to give a hug and oh, her skin was like a furnace.
She was a very sick little girl.
I held her for 24 solid hours as her fever raged, hovering between 101 and 105 degrees. I slept beside her and comforted her as she whimpered and in the midst of it all I thanked God.
Oh yes, I thanked Him for letting her lean into me, for the bitter-sweetness of illness and the bonding that took place in those moments during the night when she was shivering and I prayed health back into her little body.
She sought my touch, sought my skin, nestling her head into the curve of my neck perfectly. She melted into me and I held her tight. Her siblings prayed for her and loved her well.
Was this the turning point? It is too soon to tell. I pray that it was. But even if it is not, I am freshly aware of my desperate need for the Holy Spirit to enable me to mother this little brood. Funny how He has to remind me of that periodically. You would think I would have that engraved on my forehead by now.
Sigh.
Happy Gotcha day, my beautiful baby girl. We are in this together, for the long haul. I pray your spirit opens fully to the security of your place in our family. I pray you will heal in those hidden places, and that your little heart will relax. We love you forever.
Forever.
Beautifully said.
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