Friday, September 23, 2011

"There is a place where the human fails, breaks down, turns to ashes. Hope has not a single foothold. In such an hour there is a perishing of everything unless the soul waits in silence for God only." 
- Amy Carmichael

Praying. Seeking. Waiting.

Sunday, September 18, 2011

my little Josiah

"Children are the hands by which we take hold of heaven." 

- Henry Ward Beecher

Tuesday, September 13, 2011

She places her feverish little head in my lap. And wants to be held. Wants to be loved. Wants Mommy to make it all better.

I stand and smile as he toddles down the hall in his cloth diaper showing off his adorable walk, then I laugh when he notices me watching him, gets embarrassed, starts laughing and turns around to head back down the hall only to turn BACK around and come running into my arms.

She comes running up with shrieks of laughter and giggles when Mommy walks in the front door.

One precious child crawls – CRAWLS! – over to my feet and lifts up hands eager to be carried.

One little one just sits and grins from ear to ear, knowing she will soon be carried.

Another precious child doesn’t know about the laughter taking place behind closed doors, as she takes the ice tray out of the freezer and in complete confusion as to why it is in the freezer and complete disgust at people putting ridiculous looking items in there in the first place, she throws it in the sink – ice cubes and all.

He stands up, then sits down. Then stands up again, then sits down – all the while smiling and laughing at this new found ability. And my heart doesn’t quite know what to do. Part of me wants to sit and cry for hours over the need to even be thrilled about one baby crawling at 2 years old, or about another standing at 2 yrs old, or about one going 3 weeks without getting deathly sick again. And the other part of me wants to just laugh and rejoice over the smiles and happiness and love on each face in my home.

And I stand amazed…just before I fall to my knees in gratitude – thank you Jesus for allowing me this privilege; I cry out in humility – I do not deserve this nor am I capable, but that is when He whispers in my ear, “You are not capable – but I am.” Yet again, bringing me before His feet. One more time, He beckons me to the cross. 

I hear Luganda. Spoken all the time in my house. I walk through and hear women chatting, laughing, children playing, music playing. And I am thankful. I am reminded of where I am. And of who God has blessed me with. In my home. Living with me…I am surrounded by these precious people, their beautiful language, their culture. I am humbled. I pause in the middle of the hallway, smile, and say a prayer of thanks. 

Monday, September 5, 2011

We lay in bed and cuddle. She touches my face…I wake up to the touch of my  little girls’ hand on my cheeks, she rubs mommy’s cheeks to wake her up and then she starts squeezing if I don’t wake up fast enough and play with her. we lay inches apart and I get to stare into her beautiful face her big brown eyes and watch her laugh as we touch noses.
She puts her little black hand in mine and it looks perfect. She plays with my fingernails, and plays with mommy’s hair, and she giggles as I tickle her, and we say, "I love you" about a hundred times. Her eyes sparkle and dance almost as she gets mommy’s attention and love. My little girl loves me. My heart is overwhelmed. This little girl I never though I would see again, much less have as my daughter. Tears form as I thank God and smile into her precious face and she tries to wipe them off of my face confused, but mommy is still smiling, so it must be ok. I am so blessed. Beyond blessed.
I just can’t get enough of her; I drink her in. This precious bundle of blessings. I love her so much. This is truly the child I have prayed for. She just wants to lay on my chest and cuddle. She just wants to be as close to mommy as possible. She lays her little head on my shoulder and rubs my arm. She just likes to lay and rub my arm.
She cradles my face in her two little hands and I hold hers too.

I am beyond thankful. And grateful to God. Grateful doesn’t begin to describe. It doesn’t begin to tell of the emotions of the last year, of the cries of my heart begging God, the prayers going up on behalf of this child…my child. I try to thank God and praise Him for her precious life and all that He has done – for giving her back to me…and most of the time I just end up weeping. It is hard for me to even get out from the depths of my heart how much this child means to me.
Her smile is contagious. Her laugh infectious. Her touch so sweet and warm.
She crawls on top of me and just wants mommy to hold her. She wants to be as close as she possibly can be to mommy.

And I cherish every moment. 

I cherish every moment.