Celebrate....

March 4th... It does get easier. "They" are right about that whomever "they" are. But snowy March and a chilly fall day in September are still hard. My arms feel empty, my heart breaks all over again, my mind wonders; 

Who is she today? 

Is she safe?

Is she happy? 

Does her mama know what a gift she is? 

I remember the weight of her tiny body on my chest, her newborn baby smell, the breeze blowing through the soft dark hair on her head. 

I mourn

I cry

I bake cake 

I light candles and sing "happy birthday"

I celebrate 

You see this mama heart not only aches for the daughter that God gave me to hold for a short time and know for 6 months and love for a lifetime. It celebrates;

I'll light the candles in honor of a 4 year old who stole my heart, who was named and loved. 

I'll also celebrate 

The gift of prayers answered in ways that seemed opposite of what I wanted, but are exactly the answers I needed. 

The gift of babies to love for a short time or for their whole lives. 

The gift of foster babies reunited with their mamas

The gift of the laughter of waiting children in orphanages 

The gift of tiny babies in the womb whom never took a breath on earth

The gift of wombs full of life and wombs that are empty

The gift of babies born at home in water and those born in hospital rooms, the very definition of what strong is. 

The gift of babies that pass through my hands into their mothers arms 

The gift of an 11year old who were not supposed to be able to walk or live to be 5, riding her first bike. 

The gift of a strong little boy who beats the odds every day with each beat of his super heart. 

The gift of big grinned boy born on the day of peace, that is the definition of living fully into the beauty of bittersweet. 

This year as the wax drips and melts the frosting-purple this year because she is 4. I celebrate the gift of motherhood. I honor those who have mothered me and those whom God has given me to mother, if only for a moment. Because it matters.

"the word mother is more powerful when used as a verb than as a noun. All woman are not mothers, but all women are called to mother. To mother is to nurture, to train, to educate, to rear. As daughters of Eve all women are uniquely gifted to help others in their lives become more of who they truly are -- to encourage, nurture, and mothers them toward who they truly are" -Stasi Eldredge, Captivating. 

Happy Birthday Isabella Esperanza Maria! 

Whose name means "God is my oath and hope in this sea of bitterness" 

(Type Isabella in the search box to read more about her story)

Peace...

 If we have no peace, it is because we have forgotten that we belong to each other.  

~Mother Teresa

September 21st is known as International Day of Peace. It was established by a United Nations resolution in 1981, "Peace Day should be devoted to commemorating and strengthening the ideals of peace both within and among all nations and peoples…This day will serve as a reminder to all peoples that our organization, with all its limitations, is a living instrument in the service of peace and should serve all of us here within the organization as a constantly pealing bell reminding us that our permanent commitment, above all interests or differences of any kind, is to peace"  

Peace day is an important day in my book, a day to unite and make strides towards peace within the world, our cities, our neighborhoods, our families and our homes, but September 21st holds a special place in my heart for a few other reasons. 

September 21st 2010

 "The Lord has given life to a sweet little boy on this day of Peace. Strong lungs and a thick head of hair, ready to face surgery tomorrow" -ckb 2010

Sweet baby Gabe is two! A walking, talking, bright eyed and funny little person. My heart overflows with love for his sweet family, and with gratitude to my amazing God. 

Gabe's Poem

(written on his first birthday)

Ask me what peace is and I will tell you

Peace is the Steady Beat hiding behind the whooshing sounds 

Peace is Faith beyond what the tests reveal

Peace is found in prayers full of tears 

Peace is the sound of that first squealing cry

Peace is in healing and heading home

Peace is Hope at each small twitch of little feet

Peace is the feeling of you in my arms for the first time

Peace is that sweet baby smell I can never seem to get enough of

Peace is the power of seeing you stand

Peace is the blessing of watching you grow

Peace is what I feel holding you tonight, 

one year later

bigger 

stronger

Peace is a toddler who rests deeply

unaware of the tears that glisten in sun-bleached hair

who still (barely) fits in my lap.

To read more about the amazing Gabe click here 

*****

September 21st 2010 

"I cannot find the peace in the reunification of a baby, who was abandoned at the hospital, nameless, motherless, who became loved, named and cherished..." -ckb 2010

September 21st also reminds me of how sometimes finding peace with a situation can be tough. My heart was broken two years ago by the fb message telling me that my baby would never be mine. 

I have come a long way since then, my heart still feels the connection to her, and sometimes my arms still ache to hold her close and feel her tiny heart beat against my chest. But, I am finding the peace that I could not find two years ago. I am holding tight to the promises of the God who is holding her. 

and although the image brings tears to my eyes and a hurt deep in my soul, I can almost picture her, two years old, spunky and sweet, long jet-black hair, piercing auburn eyes, laughter like sunshine... Running into her mother's arms.

“When life is sweet, say thank you and celebrate. And when life is bitter, say thank you and grow.” 

― Shauna Niequist, Bittersweet

Love…

I have been thinking a lot this weekend about love. The kind of love that makes a woman a mother as she pushes her child into the world. The kind of love that makes a person stay up all night to drive out to a hurting friend. The kind of love when someone lives on hospital food and sleeps on a waiting room chair just to spend as much time as possible comforting a loved one in the hospital. The kind of love that causes a parent to get up in the night with a scared or sick child. The kind of love that causes a pastor to pray for someone. The kind of love that a teacher shows when she will not let a student fail. The kind of love that is mittens to a homeless child and food to the orphans belly. The kind of love that causes strangers to share and pray for each other’s hurts in the blog world. The kind of love that is in a baby’s laughter and complete trust in his caregiver. The kind of love that is in answered and unanswered prayers.

Is it just me or have the last few years been absolutely crazy? The Sadness. The Joy. The Pain. The Fear. The Love.

Gabe, Stellan, Abby, Tripp, Julia, Harper, Hailee, Elianna, Isabella, Denise, etc…

Saturday morning I attended the funeral of Professor Mary DeYoung, “MDY” as she was known to her students. 58 years old, a short battle with cancer. A woman who loved. Deeply loved. Everyone.

Oh how i struggle with this daily… To love, and to let myself be loved… by others and by God. who are we to decide who gets love? Who are we to push away the love of others and deem ourselves unworthy?

We have left so much undone at the close of each day…

“Most merciful God, we confess that we have sinned against you in thought, word, and deed, by what we have done, and by what we have left undone. We have not loved you with our whole heart; we have not loved our neighbors [or] ourselves.”-CBP

Story time….

Below is the story of Isabella… I wrote it during my senior seminar…


“The risk of love is loss, and the price of loss is grief. But the pain of grief is only a shadow when compared with the pain of never risking love”-Hillary Stanton Zunin
She arrived in an ambulance, sirens off until it pulled up to the heavy iron gate. The ancient van transformed into an ambulance crawled up the hill and the children dusty and sticky with sweat in the midday sun ran along beside it. A woman stepped out of the back clutching a tiny bundle of blankets. She entered the building that served as the kitchen, cafeteria, and gathering space. Tita Carol looked at the tiny bundle and cooed, then pointed and told the woman in Spanish to hand the bundle to me. I took the bundle from the woman and saw the smallest little nose peeking out from the blankets. I carefully pulled the blanket away from the baby’s face. I had never held a baby so tiny before. I was told it was a girl and when I asked her name Carol said solemnly, “no name”.
The sweet infant I held in my arms surrounded by children and others who had traveled with me to the Orphanage in Guatemala, was motherless, abandoned, alone, and without a name. Time seemed to stand still. I carefully unwrapped her and took a closer look at her tiny features. She opened her eyes as she was removed from her toasty cocoon. Tita Carol told me to give her a name. I didn’t stand a chance.
Isabella Esperanza Maria became known that day. She was given the name Isabella because she smiled when I said it, Esperanza because it was a group of Hope College students that surrounded her that day and Maria because the baby room staff did not get the memo that she had a name. Isabella Esperanza Maria, it means God is my oath and hope in this sea of bitterness.
I was told by somebody very wise that I was a mother mourning, and that was the best description I have heard to date about how I feel being so far away from the baby girl who spent her first week out of the hospital laying skin to skin on my chest. She needed a mother, and I needed her. I am no stranger to loss.
I was friends with a girl whose aunt had foster kids. My family would provide respite care for them occasionally and when I was old enough I would baby sit. I fell in love over and over again. Then lost them over and over again. Their names and faces haunt me still. Ciara. Cordelia. Devontae. Kiara. Alleya. Children have always come and gone in my life. It comes with the job as a baby sitter and a daycare worker. Kids grow, families move, I went away to college.
I know how to love and let go, but for some reason, I cannot let go of Isabella. As soon as I returned to the states I began planning on how I could save and get back to her, praying for Guatemala to allow international adoptions again, for all the kids that sat in waiting at the orphanage, each day making them older and less likely to get a forever family. My arms ached to hold her.
However, it was not meant to be, Isabella’s mama came back into her life six months after abandoning her at the hospital. The judges gave her back to her. I will probably never see Isabella this side of heaven again. My daughter is gone, I am a mother in mourning. Was it worth it? I may never know for sure, because it happened, I can’t undo my love for her, I just patch the weeping hole in my heart and try to move on. Knowing that loving her has changed my entire life.
 

One…

Happy Birthday

To You

Happy Birthday

To You

Happy Birthday

Dear

Isabella Esperanza Maria

Happy Birthday

To You

“For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the LORD, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future” ~Jeremiah 29:11

Untitled…

Broken and Beautiful…

My heart is broken and restored at the same time…

The Lord has given life to a sweet little boy on this day of Peace. Strong lungs and a thick head of hair. Ready to face surgery tomorrow to repair a hole in his spine

but….

I cannot find the peace in the reunification of a baby, who was abandoned at the hospital, nameless, motherless,

Who became loved, named and cherished

   

Is going to live with the very one who left her…

tomorrow…

forgiveness is hard sometimes….

peace is hard sometimes….

Lord Bless, Isabella Esperanza Maria

Continue to be our “oath and hope in this sea of bitterness”

missing…

My Guatemalan Princess…

as the first one to hold her upon her arrival at Fundaninos from the hospital she is a part of my life forever, My sweet Isabella Esperanza Maria then…

and Now…

Come on Guatemala…

open international adoption back up! I want to bring MY baby HOME!!!!

Remembering

   

No More…

No More Orphans

No More Abuse and Neglect

No More Poverty

No more Struggles

No More Cancer

Be careful what you pray for…

“Lord Let my heart be troubled by the things that trouble you…”

you may never sleep again without being haunted by dreams….

Most pics mine... first 2 by : http://brittanystrebeckblog.com/

Isabella...

Meet
Isabella Esperanza Maria

Abandoned at the hospital, less than 5lbs, so tiny,
named by our group Isabella (she smiled when we said her name)

Esperanza for Hope College

And Maria by the baby house staff

Her name means: God is my oath and hope in this sea of bitterness

Whoa...