All In!

As we continue to wait and wait and wait for our certification process to be complete I wanted to share some things with you.

Waiting is hard. I think all of us have had to do it in some form or manner. I've had to do a lot of waiting in my life: waiting through infertility, waiting to see the sun through a Pittsburgh winter, waiting to get to move home to Texas. I've waited a lot and tend to be pretty good at it but for some reason this waiting was seeming really easy (not like cake-walk easy but only cry or get emotional once or twice a week easy)

But I think it is about to get harder.

Why?

Because I'm all in, every breathe I have I'm going to be praying for mountains to move. Every moment I am dedicated to praying my child through, praying the birth family through. I have drawn my circle and am standing here. I will not be shaken.

The Bible says that if we tell the mountains to move that they will move. Right here, right now, and with every word I can muster I'm telling mountains to move, in Jesus name. I'm praying for my child to not be away from me for one more day than he or she has to. I'm praying that their situation is only as hard as it has to be to bring them to me. I'm praying that God is surrounding my child with my love, my voice, my smell so that when my son or daughter is placed in my arms they are home.

Home is not a building, the same way that Church is not a building. Home and Church both are lived out through the people that occupy the buildings (or tents or teepees or wigwams or log cabins)

Cherokee lesson (I thought that this would be fitting for today's post): igatseliga (ih-gah-tse-lih-gah) ᎢᎦᏤᎵᎦ  this means "we belong to each other"

We belong to each other. I belong to my child and my child belongs to me: we belong together. Therefore I will travel where ever I need, move any obstacle in my way, scale what needs to be scaled all to wrap my child in my arms and say "I'm here. Gvgeyuhi (I love you). I will not leave you, baby Martin."