Will spring ever come?
Oh, wait I don't know the answer to that one. Let's try again.
Will we adopt again?
I know! That is a good one right?
The answer I have depends on the day.
Most days I look at my son and I see the miracle that God has placed in our life. A living breathing reminder of His sovereignty, His grace, His goodness. I think about the extreme transformation that has happened in David's life and I am in awe. He has adapted like the survivor that he is. He can speak fluent English. He is quickly catching up on skills like cutting, counting, and problem solving. He is hilarious. His smile lights up a room and his songs fill our ears.
He is a brother.
A son.
He is absolutely precious.
And I think how can we NOT do this again?
We have learned so much.
I mean look at us-don't we look amazingly blessed?
(Partly due to the miracle of great editing)
And I am over the moon thrilled.
This family picture is like the answer to a thousand prayers hanging on my wall.
My sister and mom took these pictures as my birthday gift this year. They are so amazing, and we are so blessed to have access to such amazing photography. (that we totally couldn't afford otherwise!)
And then my sister surprised me with a huge canvas for my Christmas gift. Its really big. But it just seems so fitting and perfect. Because having David home and in our family is a HUGE deal. A miracle we weren't even sure was possible.
So why the split personality?
Because these feelings of awe are the way I feel most days on a good week.
But lets be honest we have our days.
Days like today when said miracle dumps half a bottle of cologne on his head when using the bathroom.
When he writes all over the hard wood floors with permanent marker while your trying to fix big sister's hair for her concert that you can't go to because another sister has pink eye in both eyes and the hubs in working the late shift.
(Thank the Lord for magic erasers, a Gramy who can go to concerts and modern medicine. Can I get a mama amen out there?!)
When half the bath water (remember the cologne) is flooding your bathroom while you are trying to read with the sister with pink eye.
And it reeks of cologne. And your floor is covered in pieces of a disintegrating magic eraser from its popular use as of late. And your bathroom is flooded. And your husband is working hard and you are sending up the desperate prayers. And this day is so far from the one you planned on having.
And all I can think is how in the world do people do this more than once? How do they have a precious brood of grafted in little ones without their house falling apart?
And then Satan begins to spin the lies. Its just you. You aren't enough. Your home is chaotic. Your kids are crazy. You aren't worthy of the ones you have let alone the ones you still may want.
And here I sit with my post adoption split personality.
Because I'm finding again that motherhood, all motherhood, is about giving it up and letting it go.
And with each child we've added to our family I've had to let go. Let go of my pre-pregnancy body, of my uninterrupted night's sleep, of going to the bathroom by myself, of organized toys, of puzzles with all the pieces, of daughter's with fixed hair, and sons with shoes on the right feet, of holding it all together and of worrying about what other people think when I definitely don't hold it all together.
(Well, I'm trying on that last one. I thought that was supposed to come with your 30's but I'm a late bloomer so maybe by 40 I'll finally give the people pleasing a rest.)
So remember the huge canvas of our family photo? Up until this week it was still sitting in its protective cardboard box.
Because as you can tell from the above description of our day pretty things need protection around here. And because truth be told I just couldn't find a spot on my wall where it fit.
(Yeah, its the end of February and we are just now finding places for all our Christmas gifts. Your judging. I'm trying not to care, remember?)
Until this week. I found the perfect spot. My little white box. Remember this?
It was still hanging on my wall untouched. Because I kind of get attached to photos on my wall of my babies when they were little and I hate to update them.
But, I knew this was the perfect spot.
And it was.
Because I had to let go of the old to find room for the new.
And for me so much of motherhood is learning to let it go and being willing to let God redefine.
So in a few years will I be taking this photo down to hang a new one of the Humiston family seven strong with more than one little set of dark eyes?
I have no idea.
I know that mothering this crazy crew has left me sobbing on the floor of my bedroom in the middle of the night while my husband sleeps. Begging God to make me see. See the truth that he has ordained me to be their mama and he didn't make a mistake despite the marker on the floor, and the dents in the drywall, and the repenting again and again for harsh words spoken in exasperation instead of love.
But I'm no longer just desperate for an orderly life.
I've become more desperate for the Holy Spirit to develop His fruit in me than any other thing I've ever done. And I wouldn't trade that or my four precious kiddos for anything.
This quote from a blogpost of an adoptive mama pretty much sums up my feelings on the question at hand.
"I'm not going to say our family feels "complete" now. Our family feels FULL but our commitment to going where God leads remains...and it may lead to creating more space in our home and our hearts for kids who need it."
And I know that isn't really an answer, but its my heart.
