Friday, April 22, 2011


My husband is the best.
I have been having a slow meltdown. Not the kind that hit's all at once, the kind that slowly leaks for about two weeks. Until there's nothing left, you know the kind?

He brought me these last night.

He knew it had all leaked out yesterday, I was dry, there were no more tears, no more emotions, no more anything.
He also took me to lunch. I told him I felt like I had attended a funeral that morning.
You know how you are just emotionally exhausted after a funeral, and your face is swollen, and the world has changed forever, and you are overwhelmed with the shortness, and importance of our days, and you're just a mess?
That was me yesterday.
He said, "You did attend a funeral, your sense of control has died, and you are mourning."
He's right.

At least I have these beautiful flowers:)

My meltdown began two weekends ago, we attended the Karyn Purvis conference. She is a genius, she wrote the book, the Connected Child, it is a must read for any parent in my opinion. But she speaks specifically to foster and adoptive parents about how to help their children heal. But we returned home, each night we came home, and I had to keep on keeping on. You know,
"Keep Calm and Carry On" I have this poster in my home for a reason:)

But then last weekend David and I went out of town, and I had a few hours (48 actually, but I think I slept about 40 of them:) to digest things, I had a few hours to freak out.
Then I came home to some huge emotional things.
Heavy news about our little girl.
Scary news about Nugget and Lulu's case.
And D's adoption next week.

And I started leaking.

I always knew in my head the gravity of our kiddo's stories.
I always knew in my head the responsibility we have undertaken to completely give of ourselves in order to help in their healing's.
But I think now it's in my heart.
And that's why I was leaking.

But I'm done now. No more leaking.
I'm back to the grindstone.
And more dedicated and resolute than before.

D's adoption is not the end.
Nugget and Lulu still have mountains to climb.
And we know we are doing this not in our strength, but in His. The heaviness, the scars, the hurt, the pain, the stories, they are all in spite of His resurrection. And today is a great to day to be reminded of that.
So we are moving on, more ready than ever to commit to these kids and what it means to be their Mema, to help them heal, to help them make sense of unconceivable things, to bring them joy in the midst of their pain. We're ready.

And on a much more upbeat note...
I've always wanted to do this.

See my little girl in shorts and sandals.
It is beautiful!

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