Reality Check

Today is one of those days when I'm struggling.

Actually, this whole month has been one of struggling. Struggling with myself, struggling with life, struggling with circumstances, and struggling with God's plan in it all.

As I write, our two youngest are happily biking, pretending that the garage is a barn and the yard is a farm. They're feeding invisible animals and having a marvelous time.

I found myself thinking about how my daughter was only outside on her way to the hospital during her first three years of life. She has so much freedom now to run, and play, and learn. She's surrounded by love that waters her thirsty heart and gives her grace to grow.

While watching, I'm reading blogs about kids in the Ukraine and in China who are locked away. Literally tied to their cribs and left in dark rooms for expedience and to protect orphanage workers from "catching" whatever special need they may have.

And it breaks my heart.

For the past six months, I've struggled to know how to deal with all of the hurt and pain and suffering I see. How do I change it? How do I fix it?

And most recently, how do I make peace with my "easy" life when so very many struggle just to survive.

I think of our precious M and how she might not have survived long in China had she not been adopted. And I know how many more children need that same love.

And yet for the past year, for some reason I have yet to understand, I've wrestled a heart condition that keeps me battling to breathe on some days. Why? Why would God break my heart for others and leave me bound from helping? Why?

How can I make peace with my suburban existence when little children like Monroe (http://www.nogreaterjoymom.com/) so desperately need a family?

I hear my kids happily giggling. A bittersweet reminder of all those who are not. And I can't help but wonder....Why? And how will God use me now? And when will He return and heal the broken?

Dancing

This morning, in my attempt to get my sandals from the closet quickly, I ran my toe into the legs of the ironing board...HARD. The kind of hard where you jump up and down and use all your self-control not to say bad words. Especially because your daughter is standing right there watching the whole thing.

As I jump up and down yelping like an old hound dog, Sugarplum says to me,

"Mommy need to go potty? You do the potty dance?"