I spend any spare time I have checking up on kiddies who I know, to see how they are doing in their new families. I also check on the progress on some kiddies who I may never meet, but am sharing in their adoption journey via blogs, praying many of the children home.
In my blog reading I came across Katie Davis. A young American girl living in a remote part of Uganda.
An amazing young girl.
Giving all that she has to 13 little girls, she is currently in the process of trying to adopt, but who she has been mother too for some time. Believe me there is a difference. You don't need that piece of paper to be a mother, you just need it for 'some' people to acknowledge that the role of mother is yours.
Whenever she updates her blog I eagerly read it.
It always challenges me.
Challenging my personal journey.
Recently her blog really put into words just what adoption is to me, and how it makes you feel. So rather than me try and explain, let me share a snippet of her blog with you.
'I want her to be a baby so I can strap her on me and hold her there and she will feel secure and safe and protected. I want to be the person who taught her to write her name and how much fun it is to make mud pies, and I want to be the person who laughed with her when she lost her first tooth. I want to know where the scars came from that she can’t remember the stories about, and I want to be the person who wiped her tears when she fell.
But I know that is not how God intended it.
He did not choose me for those moments, He chose me for these. I entered motherhood through a different door, and I get a different kind of stretch marks.
I believe that this is how He has loved us and I do not pretend to know why. But I know that He who did not spare His own Son will also graciously give us all things we need, and so I cling to believing this is for good.
I believe that He held her all the years that I didn’t.
And maybe the missing pieces just allow me to trust Him more.'
Taken from Katie Davis blog, http://www.kissesfromkatie.blogspot.com/
There are days when I think about all the things I missed out on in Lutaaya's early life. How when we talked last night of how heavy a baby was born and how she says, 'don't ask me, I don't know how heavy I was.' How I will never know where her scars came from either or what those small wise eyes have witnessed.
And I could sit and dwell on it, day in, day out.
But I choose not too.
For I see my role as the here and now.
I can't fit in the gaps, but hopefully with new memories, as we explore our world together, the gaps will get narrower.
God chose me to be her mother now.
And every day I am thankful for that.
