A Walk to Remember

My Jesus... I remember.

I remember the depths from which I came, redemption from life so dark.

I remember the weight of chains now broken, in bondage no more.

I remember the lonely wandering in the shadows, as now my soul finds relief in sweet communion with You. Walking in the Light, never alone again.

I remember Your rescue, Your mighty work in my life. I remember the miracles You have performed on my behalf. I remember Your comfort, Your embrace of security. Your words, the breath of Life.

You are my Great Redeemer - of my soul for eternity, of the life I live now on this earth.

Not only do I remember, but to keep You near, walk with You daily, I speak of what You have done. I share Your story, Your redemption of me. I seek transparency of soul that all may look through me and see only Your magnificent glory, that they too might have hope- knowing what is possible through You.

I walk my path of rememberings... lest I ever forget. And if that should happen I pray others will remember for me, and remind me of all You have done, that I would be brought back into sweet communion with You. My Mighty Savior, My Rock of Salvation, My Great Deliverer.

"Give thanks to the Lord, call on His name; make known among the nations what He has done. Sing to Him, sing praise to Him; tell of all His wonderful acts. Glory in His holy name; let the hearts of those who seek the Lord rejoice. Look to the Lord and His strength; seek His face always. Remember the wonders He has done, His miracles..." (Ps 105:1-5)

My Jesus ~ I remember, I remember, I remember.

Surrendered

O to live a life surrendered
To rid my heart of that which hinders
From all this pain and calloused soul
From life's injustice and wounding's hold
To dig down deep and peel away
All hidden secrets all layers of shame
To break away from all that binds
Shed desires that aren't Divine
To surrender all but trust in You
Open up let life renew
To run with freedom flowing down
Wear joyous Love as glorious crown
To uplift my face with humble praise
Seek Your grace all my days
O to live a life surrendered
Walk unchained, unbound, unhindered
To live the price of Calvary,
A child of God ~ bought, but free.


Abba, Father, sometimes my prayers find their voice best poured out in poem. May this be lifted up to You today that You would continue to complete in me that which you began. Thank you for never surrendering me, as I seek to surrender all to You.

Love is a Feather... from God Small Enough

Crisp, cool breeze whispers through open window, gentle colors begin to peak through green foliage, as Fall arrives. Soft rain falls down, and tears slip silently as grief falls upon me.

It is so hard to be in this place... this house.

Memories creep up and bruise soul like grey and purpling skies.
This house of my childhood... but never home. Place I wanted to flee, place of unrest, place of anger, place of bitterness, place of sadness, place of lost innocence, place of deep wounding, place of chaos, place of bondage ~ house of loneliness.

Even so, my Lord has brought me back here and I know why. My Great Redeemer wants this place too. This part of my history that I thought would never be restored. He wants to break the legacy of this place - but O the fear that my children will be swallowed up in the darkness of my past.

And yet... I know He is here ~ my El Roi ~ The God Who Sees Me. (Gen 16:13)

I have always had the deepest longing to be understood - that our Almighty, Omnipotent, Omniscient, God would be small enough to meet me in the most hidden places of my soul. Calloused over places, ugly, messy, decaying. And He has met me there.

So it comes as no surprise He has brought me to this place too, this physical reminder. He has brought me here to clean house. And I am struggling, wrestling to release all.

Seeking refuge from these oppressive walls, wee ones and I walk through wet leaves, finding beauty in the season, and wondering at His creation. I speak of Him... to them, in everything we see. We collect small treasures to make into art ~ leaves, pine cones, flower petals, dandelions, acorns, bark. And then a small request, more a quiet wish from small lips... "how I wish we could find a feather mommy, to add to our basket".
"Pray about it jorja-girl, God will hear you."

We walk on... marveling at other delicate works of art, speaking of His greatness, and yet my aching heart so heavy, I fight overwhelming emotions as each step brings us closer to the place without peace.
And then I see her run through the grass, and pluck from it's blades, one dainty, perfect feather, placed there just for her, just for me, for different reasons, by God Small Enough.
"Mommy, He did it - God gave me a feather - He answered me!"

Yes child, and He answered me as well, even though I didn't ask. Once again tears flow down as I am remembered by my God Who Sees Me. He has brought Himself into the small details of my life and that of my daughter's, and Love overwhelms. He has met me beneath the deepest need. Comfort comes.

I watch her prance ahead, answered prayer in tiny fingers, and hear the most beautiful words she has ever uttered...

"I love you God."

Eyes brim, spill, but heart smiles, soul breathes, knowing ~ God Small Enough will never leave me... He is there waiting in that place. Ready to redeem, renew, and revive that house ~ making it finally, my home.




*answered prayer... will be saved, put away, brought out as reminder of All Mighty El ROI, who sees, understands, remembers, redeems, and makes Himself Small Enough to bring Love in form of feather.

Mother's Day

I love Mother's Day... now.
For years it was one of the most painful days of the year. It is so hard to explain to those who have not walked the path of barrenness, what a day like "Mother's Day" does to the hearts of those with empty arms. And while now my arms are full to overflowing, there are three other women whose arms are now empty, missing the daughter that I now hold.

One of the blessings of open adoption, is I have been able to talk with all of my children's 1st moms, and all of them express confidence in their decision to choose adoption. But I can't help but imagine that their their hearts must experience the pain of their decision every Mother's Day no matter how at peace they are with the outcome.

The Saturday before Mother's Day is national Birth Mother's Day. On Sat. we are going to attend a ceremony and celebration at our agency for all first mothers. We will have the honor of attending and spending the day with Jubilee's first mom and older sister. I look forward to being able to honor her and every other first mom on that day. But even still - establishing a national holiday for first moms can't begin to take away the sting of actual Mother's Day, and my prayers will be abundant on that day for them. I would hope you will join with me in praying for them.

Many years ago, after we lost our only biological child to miscarriage, I wrote a poem on Mother's Day. I have never shared it before, but after reading it again, I can't help but think some of my emotions expressed in this poem may in some way reflect how first mothers may feel. I know many of them feel they have to hide their adoption story, and go unrecognized on mother's day as mothers. I believe they have every right to that title, and deserve to be honored as such. So I am including my poem in the hopes that it will be a connection between myself and other first moms that may feel like Mother's Day does not include them. I know what that feels like, and I will be praying for you all!

Almost Mother's Day

I write this on my first

"almost Mother's Day"

I write this for all women

who like me

were almost a mother.

We have no pictures

of our children to share.

We have no toys

littering the floor of our living room.

There are no small voices

calling us Mommy.

We do however have hidden away -

tiny shoes,

shirts,

hats,

and blankets-

folded up like our hope

unrealized but not forgotten.

On this Mother's Day,

my grief is overwhelming.

Well-wishers are all around me,

saying to one another

"Happy Mother's Day"

exchanging a knowing look, or smile

that does not include me.

And my heart constricts again and again.

I'll never know how many others

suffer through this day.

We mourn our children

silently, invisibly, alone.

No one remembers,

I was almost a mother.

No one remembers the life

that was almost my child.

We are not deserving of the title "Mother"

even though

like all mothers, today my thoughts dwell

on my baby - who would have been

seven months old.

Our almost children don't count.

I have a mother's love preserved inside my heart,

but that is not enough ~

I am still just a woman,

almost a mother.

5/12/02

I praise God for His deliverance - I praise God for making me a mother - I praise God for easing my pain.

"He gives the childless woman a family, making her a happy mother. Praise the Lord!" ps 113:9

A Mother's Love Liberates

"A mother never forgets her child."


I have been thinking alot about this phrase the last few days, and the faces of the many women who embody the statement.

On Tues. night, the baby and I drove up to visit with D. (jubilee's 1st mom) It was D's 22nd birthday, and it was also birth-mother support group night for our agency and D wanted me to go with her. It is just one of the many wonderful services our agency provides life long for birth families. Adoptive parents are welcome to attend, an invitation that both humbles and amazes me.

From what I've been told, these meetings can some nights be fun and light-hearted, and other nights they discuss weightier issues. Tues. was a weighty issue night. The pain those women carry seems overwhelming. Not just pain about their adoption plan, but pain from a life full of damage - some inflicted by others, some inflicted by self. To witness their wounding was in a word heart-wrenching.

One young woman there had only several months ago placed her three-year-old son she had been parenting with a family. I happen to know the family, as the adopting mom helped facilitate our adoption at the hospital. I had seen pictures of her newest son, and heard parts of their adoption story. When we arrived and had all sat down, another bmom handed this woman a picture of her son, the same new pictures I had seen at the hospital. She immediately started crying, and holding the picture near to her heart. She was unable to speak and could only hold her son's picture and cry.

I have heard many callous and IGNORANT statements made by those outside of the adoption triad, about how first mother's can't possibly love their children with the "right" kind of love or else they would never place for adoption. THese statements infuriate me, and ANY person that has such thoughts, or expresses these opinions should sit with these wonderful, amazing, broken women, for ONE night and hear their stories - be faced with their pain.

As I looked around the room, at the many faces - some older than me, some younger, some the same age, all from different backgrounds and stations in life, some who had already placed children for adoption, others just getting ready to, and some only weighing their options - I was struck with how much these women love their children. To suggest their love is some-how less than the love parenting mother's have for their children is completely false and offensive. The love they have for them does in fact require of them something I myself am not willing to give. It is the love that recognizes they can't provide for their baby what they deserve and therefore it is a love that requires them to allow another set of parents to raise their child - another set of parents to be called mommy and daddy - another set of parents that will experience all the things that they themselves may only hear about through letters, or phone calls or witness from afar in pictures and videos. I don't believe I personally possess what it takes to be that selfless, that loving.

One of my favorite quotes - given to me on a picture from my oldest daughters birth-grandmother says " A Mother's love liberates" - maya angelou


I find myself struggling with this very thing as my Jorja Grace get older and is preparing to enter school years. But I think this statement is so true and representative of what my role as a mother is. And that is to best prepare my daughter for all things in life and then allow her the appropriate freedom at the appropriate time to be who God has called her to be. It is the kind of love that places other's needs above self, no matter the pain, no matter the fears, no matter the outcome of being left-behind. I believe this is the kind of love a first mother has for their babies-the willingness to release them to a life they believe will be better, a life that will allow their child to become who God has called them to be - but it is a life that will forever change the role that they could have had in their child's life.

There are many things that I had to "miss out on" not having biological children - pregnancy, birth, seeing mine and my husbands physical features in a baby, and many more... but that was not by choice. When I consider all of the things and experiences a first mother must choose to sacrifice I am humbled and incredibly grateful. I will never fully understand making a decision of that magnitude and am so thankful I will not have to.

These women LOVE their children and should be given nothing but the highest honor and esteem for loving their children in a way no one else can. A mother never forgets her child.

I hope I will bring my girls up knowing how amazing their first moms are to me. And how much they are loved by ALL their family.

Beginnings...

Okay... here it goes. It is with much trepidation and excitement I attempt to enter the blogging world. I have only been reading blogs for the past 6 months or so and am amazed at how invested I have become in total strangers lives, especially when it comes to stories of infertility and adoption! I only wish I had this kind of outlet when I was struggling with my own infertility and adoption journeys. But alas, I guess it's better late than never.

We have already been blessed through the adoptions of our two beautiful daughters, and are now embarking on our next adoption adventure. The main purpose of this blog will be to walk you through the ups and downs of our journey to add another precious life to our family. I only hope to provide as much encouragement and inspiration to others as I have experienced through reading the amazing stories of adoption on this wonderful thing called blog-land!

My other hope is that through sharing our story you will be drawn closer to the One who has and is designing our family. For apart from my Heavenly Father and all He has done, I can't imagine where I would be, or what, if any, family we would have.

I can't wait to share this journey with you all!

xoxo,
aimee