Thankful
I just got back from my first run of the season. Yes, that means I am a fair-weather runner. I can’t quite bring myself to run in the cold, especially when I might risk breaking my neck on the snow-covered sidewalks. (And with my natural bent toward clumsiness, you all know I’d be likely to wipe out on the ice, repeatedly.)
At any rate, I didn’t hop on the blog to write about running. It was the thoughts racing through my mind during my run that prompted me to finally break my recent blogging silence. It’s been busy around here, trying to find the “new normal” of life with a new person in the home. Obviously, I haven’t made the blog much of a priority in recent weeks. But today, I’m just feeling… thankful. Blessed. Filled to overflowing with God’s love. I guess I just felt it appropriate to let it pour out a little here on this tiny corner of the Internet. (God knows the Internet could use a little more of his grace, right?)
So here’s what I was thinking about today. First of all, it’s hard not to rejoice when you live in Michigan and get to enjoy your first tastes of spring. I started my morning at the coffeeshop (a little editing work to do) and watched an employee take down the winter wreath on the wall and replace it with a cheerful spring swag. I swear the flowers winked at me as she hung them on the wall. Then, as I left my morning Bible study, feeling blessed by the sweet community I shared with my small group, I heard birds chirping away all around me. After lunch, I headed out for a wagon ride with Noah and Annie, and much to my delight, I got to stop and point out the first crocuses poking their hopeful purple heads out of the ground.
I guess that’s all to say I was feeling pretty darn blessed even BEFORE I got to my run. After successfully getting both kids down for a nap (another reason for deep gratitude, to be sure!), I decided to head out for a run. My first since early December, when the cold wind finally blew me and my running shoes into the house for the winter season.
As I started feeling the familiar rhythm of my feet on the pavement, I started thinking about all the many times I went running last year. All the many times I prayed as I ran. (I pray a lot when I run: Being a mother has forced me to multi-task.) I especially thought about all those prayers for our child in Ethiopia.
Last spring, we’d never seen her face–or even knew if she was born yet. Late last summer, we got our first glimpses of her sweet smile in our referral pictures, but still knew little about who she really was. We had yet to hold her in our arms or watch her toddle across a room. We knew about her, but we didn’t know her. And so all I could pray was that God would hold her for me–keep her safe, keep her healthy, help her feel loved, even though she was thousands of miles away.
Much of our trip to Ethiopia feels like a blur to me. It was such a whirlwind of activity. There were so many emotions swirling around my heart and mind. And since I only managed to get an hour or two of sleep each night, I simply became exhausted, emotionally, physically, mentally.
Amidst all that haze, I have one vivid memory. We were sitting at Shalom–the orphanage/home where Annie had lived during all those months. It was the day before Ethiopian Christmas, and all the children had received small trinkets to play with. The air was filled with the happy sounds of children’s laughter and play. The weather was gorgeous. Sunshine and a soft breeze wafted into the home’s courtyard, where the Bethany staff had set up a going-away party of sorts for the families who were there to adopt their children. Within minutes of our arrival, one of the nannies asked me if she could hold Mulu (Annie) again. And soon she was whisked away into the home, where the nannies began to playfully “fight” over who would hold her. The staff served us some simple refreshments and of course, traditional Ethiopian coffee was roasted and brewed for the occasion as well.
I just remember looking at this home–Shalom–and realizing that I was looking at the answer to all those prayers. This was a beautiful home: A lovely two-story house with indoor plumbing and a kitchen in a city where most people live in shanties and cook outside. The children had blankets on their beds. And the nannies seemed to have plenty of smiles and hugs for the children. Annie was loved there. She was safe. She was taken care of. Just as I’d prayed about so very many times.
So back to today. And the realization that my prayers have changed pretty drastically since that last run in December! No longer do I pray for someone else who is watching my child: I pray for the love and wisdom to care for her myself. No longer do I wonder what her personality is like or how she’ll respond to her new family: I now get to watch her at play and listen to her say “Mama, mama” as she walks my direction. I tuck my little girl into bed for naps now. I sing her silly songs and dance with her in the kitchen. I know that she loves yogurt and hates mashed up peas.
Do you understand why I started wiping away tears during my run this afternoon?
There’s much I have yet to unravel when it comes to processing this whole adoption process. The experiences we had in Ethiopia are simmering in my heart. And I have yet to master all the puzzles to this process of adoptive parenting. But for today, I just want to say this: I am thankful. Awed by God’s answer to all those many prayers I lifted up while my feet were hitting the pavement.
I admit that sometimes I feel ungrateful. There are days when I whine to Brian and just long for a break from being “mommy”! And other times, I start to doubt. To feel unsure about my ability to be a good wife or a good mom. To wonder how all the pieces of my life will fit together.
But this I know: God has always been faithful. And when I really open my eyes to the ways He’s been at work in my life, I can’t feel anything but gratitude. And renewed strength to keep running this race He’s marked out.