LL: "I have a secret diary."
Me: "I have one, too."
LL: "Can I see it?"
Me: "No, then it wouldn't be a secret, silly!"
LL: "Where is it?"
Me: "It's online." (THIS blog, which you have no knowledge of.)
LL: "Aren't you worried about people reading it? People can read anything online." (YES, I'm worried about you finding it and reading it, actually.)
I've often pictured LL stumbling across this blog when she's a teenager or an adult...someday when she's curious enough to Google our names. I've thought about what she'd think about my ramblings.
Will she be grateful that we documented it all? Will she realize how much we loved her and how we truly wanted nothing but the best for her? Will she feel violated and deceived? Will she be completely weirded out and wonder what kind of people we are that we would secretly write about our happenings each day? Will she be grateful for the pieces we can put together for her during the most tumultuous time in her life?
In the event that she does find this blog some day, I'd at least like to have a chance to explain myself. And this is my blog, so I get to make the rules, I guess. Here it goes...
To our Little Lady,
We made it through another day. Another day without your mom. And your dog. And everything else you left behind.
You've made it through 116 days in our home.
Each day has held great sorrow, pure joy, forgiveness, rage, and so many other emotions. We've been on adventures together. We've laughed so hard that food flew out of our mouths. We've cried together as we held each other tightly on the couch. We've sat next to you while you've screamed and kicked and begged to see your family. We've watched you gain confidence and self-management skills. We've watched you transform right before our eyes...the same girl who used to run up to the counter and demand a side of gravy will now wait patiently at the table and ask the waiter for something while using words like, "please," and "may I," and "thank you."
Along the way, we wrote everything down. All of it. We wanted to be able to look back and read about each moment we had with you. The good and the bad ones. We knew from the very beginning, even before we knew you, that we would fall in love with you. We also knew that if we ever had to say goodbye to you, we'd want to be able to hold on to a piece of you after you left. After your last teddy bear or t-shirt is taken from our home, after we can bring ourselves to wash your sheets and towels, and long after we run out of the last drop of milk that your hand will ever touch. We knew we'd need a way to get back to you.
This blog is our way back to you.
We've done our best to reflect on our time together each day. While it is therapeutic for me (and exhausting and heartbreaking for Mr. Brian, which is why he doesn't write that much) to write each night, this blog isn't really for us. It's our gift to you.
I hope you find love and hope and peace and joy as you flip through its "pages." I hope each story, and each memory, causes your heart to fill with happiness, or sorrow, whatever the case may be.
I hope you find Jesus here.
That's all we really want. We want you to see Jesus. His never-stopping, never giving up, always and forever love.
We love you, sweet girl.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I've often pictured LL stumbling across this blog when she's a teenager or an adult...someday when she's curious enough to Google our names. I've thought about what she'd think about my ramblings.
Will she be grateful that we documented it all? Will she realize how much we loved her and how we truly wanted nothing but the best for her? Will she feel violated and deceived? Will she be completely weirded out and wonder what kind of people we are that we would secretly write about our happenings each day? Will she be grateful for the pieces we can put together for her during the most tumultuous time in her life?
In the event that she does find this blog some day, I'd at least like to have a chance to explain myself. And this is my blog, so I get to make the rules, I guess. Here it goes...
To our Little Lady,
We made it through another day. Another day without your mom. And your dog. And everything else you left behind.
You've made it through 116 days in our home.
Each day has held great sorrow, pure joy, forgiveness, rage, and so many other emotions. We've been on adventures together. We've laughed so hard that food flew out of our mouths. We've cried together as we held each other tightly on the couch. We've sat next to you while you've screamed and kicked and begged to see your family. We've watched you gain confidence and self-management skills. We've watched you transform right before our eyes...the same girl who used to run up to the counter and demand a side of gravy will now wait patiently at the table and ask the waiter for something while using words like, "please," and "may I," and "thank you."
Along the way, we wrote everything down. All of it. We wanted to be able to look back and read about each moment we had with you. The good and the bad ones. We knew from the very beginning, even before we knew you, that we would fall in love with you. We also knew that if we ever had to say goodbye to you, we'd want to be able to hold on to a piece of you after you left. After your last teddy bear or t-shirt is taken from our home, after we can bring ourselves to wash your sheets and towels, and long after we run out of the last drop of milk that your hand will ever touch. We knew we'd need a way to get back to you.
This blog is our way back to you.
We've done our best to reflect on our time together each day. While it is therapeutic for me (and exhausting and heartbreaking for Mr. Brian, which is why he doesn't write that much) to write each night, this blog isn't really for us. It's our gift to you.
I hope you find love and hope and peace and joy as you flip through its "pages." I hope each story, and each memory, causes your heart to fill with happiness, or sorrow, whatever the case may be.
I hope you find Jesus here.
That's all we really want. We want you to see Jesus. His never-stopping, never giving up, always and forever love.
We love you, sweet girl.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
LL's quotes:
- "I'll do your homework for you. I. can read big words like preparatory and constitution, so it'll be fine."
- "One time I was dancing like a fashionista on the couch." Ummmmmmm what???
*******************************************************************************************************************************************
About Us:
We began our foster journey in mid-August 2013. We finished our classes in October, had our home study in early January, and we were licensed on February 7, 2014. After seven calls from CPS, we received our first placement, a 7-year-old girl (our Little Lady, or LL for short) on April 3, 2014. Thank you so much for taking the time to read about our journey through the craziness that is foster care. Most importantly, thanks for your prayers, love, and support. We hope to encourage fellow foster/adoptive parents as we document our ups and downs each day.
About Us:
We began our foster journey in mid-August 2013. We finished our classes in October, had our home study in early January, and we were licensed on February 7, 2014. After seven calls from CPS, we received our first placement, a 7-year-old girl (our Little Lady, or LL for short) on April 3, 2014. Thank you so much for taking the time to read about our journey through the craziness that is foster care. Most importantly, thanks for your prayers, love, and support. We hope to encourage fellow foster/adoptive parents as we document our ups and downs each day.
Key Posts:
No comments:
Post a Comment