When I was a little girl I was a tomboy and also a traditional little girl. I liked to play football and kickball with my brother, and I liked to play with my Barbie dolls. Nobody ever told me I had to choose. I always assumed I would grow up and have children the traditional way, of course. Adopting a child never entered my thought process. It never occurred to me that I could possibly love an adopted child as much as a child that I produced from my body. It just didn't seem possible.
God showed me how wrong I was.
After years of failed relationships, of desperately trying to make myself pretty enough, thin enough, agreeable enough, I finally just gave up and asked God for a miracle, on my 40th birthday. I wanted to be a mom. I had failed at becoming a wife, but Mom seemed vaguely possible. I had a friend who had a baby at age 37 and told me all about her trials and tribulations, mothering an infant, which take tremendous patience and stamina. I didn't think I was up for that, not by myself. I couldn't imagine adopting a non baby, however.
By the time I turned 42 I was in the process of adopting my daughter, then age 12. Two years later, I brought home my son.
When we as human beings give up, and think there's no way our dreams will EVER come true, that's when we allow blessings into our lives. I had no idea how I could become a mom. It seemed just impossible. All I could see were obstacles. By turning the problem over to God, though, and getting out of my own way, I was able to turn a huge corner in my life.
The path to motherhood wasn't easy.
The family I eventually got -- two older adopted children and my own mother as a co-parent -- was anything but conventional. Yet we were a happy family.
Skip ahead to today.
I have almost succeeded in selling my house. It's under contract. There will be an inspection soon. It has been a wonderful home. I will dearly miss my yard and my neighbors.
But it's time to move on. Time to downsize.
It's time for a new chapter in my life.
My son is back living at home and will help me with the move, but I'm sure he will be in a place of his own in the near future. That's as it should be.
My newest challenge -- and it's a big one -- is to find the right condo or townhome where I can move to in the next month or so. Right now, because interest rates have been really low for a while, there is very little inventory out there. Nice places are snatched up as soon as they come on the market -- at an alarming rate.
I will not despair, however.
If God could help me become a mom when I couldn't see any possibility of it myself, he can find me a nice place to live out the last years of my life. It's a matter of having faith. It's a matter of getting out of my own way.
This home will forever hold a cherished place in my heart. I have lived here nearly 16 years -- the longest I've ever lived anywhere in my life. My children experienced the love of a mama and a grandmama here for the first time. Cousins and friends came to visit. Kids played in the yard. My mom lived out her final years on earth here. We celebrated Christmases and birthdays here. I was able to write six books while living here.
This old home has served us well. I'm happy it will be a welcome refuge for another family to enjoy.
Faith can be an elusive thing. It has not always been readily accessible to me. However, I have crystal clear memories of Mom reminding me to always trust in the Lord, always have faith. When we can only see closed doors, God can see how to open doors.
God = Love
Love can make miracles happen. It's the greatest energy source out there.
