expecting brave

and now i know, this is why my word is brave.

because in a moment when a stall door slams behind me and trembling fingers tug silver and paper away,  life changes forever. when stomach is now cradle and fingers now press against soon-taut skin.

because he and me are becoming we.

and this is frightening, in the most beautiful way. i'm not me anymore. it's we, me and little one curled against my innermost parts as He weaves and crochets little eyes and fingers all together.

{via pintrest}

we are expecting a child. 

:: our first ::

and i feel unworthy. this vessel filled, and maybe now i understand my own mother a bit more. because i love this child fiercely, and it still lingers with only six weeks of life beneath my skin and bone. 

we don't know daughter or son, we don't know eye colour or richness of hair. but we know we love this tiny babe growing deeper and stronger. 

and so i press discovering fingers to my abdomen where my little one grows and i whisper of the Lion's song to these developing ears. 

mama loves you already, dearheart. 

and so does daddy.

and so does Abba. 

and i saw the light in my own father's eyes as we held hands today, a grandfather already to the unborn. and i heard the laughter in my mother's soul, a grandmother long awaited. and i heard my sister's gasp of disbelief and cry of joy as sissy turns mommy. 

and i watched my husband's eyes light up with the strangest sparkle as he pressed lips to tummy and whispered sweet dreams, baby. 

september comes fast. thirty-six weeks to go before a ring of fire and blood and life in infant cry. 

and i now know why He wanted me brave. because i'm becoming warrior of a new sort. 

:: mother :: 

resting Christmas :: five minutes

if i'm not careful, December can wear me to the bone.

it's that way with beautiful things. if we aren't careful, we can loose ourselves in the miscellaneous of the year and let the big picture fade into a ruined negative. 

i can become full of calender dates and evergreen, making endless plans and fretting over budgets that never seem to end. 

and when Love comes, my oil is all gone, because i realize that i've forgotten to store up any for myself. and Love is there, and He takes me still as broken and worn. but the blessing that could have been...that's faded and forgotten.

it's fear that brings me racing.

must be perfect

it's Christmas...my perfection.

no more resting until the work is done. oh, how weary, how tired this makes my soul.

i need to remember. i need to take the time to reflect upon another weary young woman, the one who strove through confusion and exhaustion.

the little one with the heart of a King beating in her womb.

the tired pregnant woman who found her rest close to the tiny feet of the newborn Messiah.

whoever dwells in the shelter of the Most High

will rest in the shadow of the Almighty

so i'll join her there, in that place of tears and stable straw. and we'll gaze with wonder and awe. 

this is the right kind of peace.

the right kind of tired.

{linking with Lisa-Jo for these five minutes of Love}

{also, the November giveaway winners will be announced this weekend. thank you for being patient!}

Adopted

Alek and I, 2011
Photo by DramaticElegance

For you have not received a spirit of slavery leading to fear again, but you have received a spirit of adoption as sons by which we cry out, “Abba! Father!” ~Romans 8:15

I'm adopted. 

While to you, this may seem slightly insignificant, it is indeed one of the most intrinsic parts of my life. 


Ever since I was a little girl, I've know that I had another mom and another family. I was told from a very early age that my teenaged birthmother loved me very much, but wanted to give me a better life with two loving parents. 


I'm also part of a growing adoption vein known as "open adoption," in which I and my parents maintain a close relationship with my biological mother and any family members who wish to stay involved. 


I have spent Christmases, birthdays, various holidays, and even just casual summer afternoons with my mother, step-father, grandparents, great-aunts, and the most recent addition of my now-15-month-old brother, Alek. Each and every one of them have remained such a wonderful part of my life...my biological family all attended my wedding, and my step-father even walked me halfway down the aisle. 


My adoptive family is beyond incredible. My parents waited and prayed for eight years to become parents. In 1990, they met my birthmother and adopted me...in 1992, they met my sister's birthmother and grandmother, and adopted my little sister the following spring. 


This afternoon, I traveled with my adoptive mommy to attend my great-grandmother's 90th birthday celebration. It was quite a barrage of emotions and feelings to see each member of my biological family again...as it is every time I visit them. 


I hope they know how much they all mean to me, really. I do my best to tell them...but I'm honestly not sure how to fully put it into words. 


They didn't have to keep me in their lives...but they did with open arms and loving hearts. 


They didn't have to continue to keep in contact with me for the past 20 years...but they have, and have made me feel like I truly am a part of their incredible family.


They didn't have to love me the way they do...but they do, with all their hearts. 

Me and my biological mother, Barb
Photo by DramaticElegance

It continually blows my mind.


I have been blessed beyond all words to have such an incredible adoptive family, and such a wonderful biological family. 


The legacy of faith flowing through my blood and carried strong through my linage is unmistakable, and a powerful blessing. 


I belong to three families. 


One by salvation, one by genes, one by choice.


All by love. 


See how great a love the Father has bestowed on us, that we would be called children of God; and such we are. ~1 John 3:1