|Now picture this in the middle of two large adults on a|
I woke up just after midnight early this morning to my almost 40 lb. three-year-old crawling over me to get “in the middle” between me and daddy. What he really meant was that he wanted to sleep near daddy—it just happens to be in the middle next to me. He is a daddy’s boy for sure. I lay there for a few minutes wide awake, torn between taking him back to his bed or letting him stay. But, that only lasted for a few seconds, before I was swept up in his sweet presence, and I put my arm around him as he quickly fell back to sleep. Sleeping with this child is like having a noisy windmill in bed. Arms and legs everywhere, teeth grinding, occasional snores. But even with those possibilities, I was caught up in his face this night, lying there peacefully dreaming of who knows what—bikes, monster trucks, chocolate chip cookies, jumping off the highest thing he can find. I noticed how angular his face has become with the loss of baby fat, and touch his beautiful, shiny, silky jet black hair--the thing that garners the most comments from other people. It occurred to me in that moment that everything I held most precious in this life was gathered together on that mattress. An approximately 5’ x 6’ space on this vast earth held everything that makes life the most joyful for me. This last week, through a few different experiences, I have come to accept that this may be my family. I had hoped to have a big family, and as every year passes, and the number in my head slips farther down from what I had wanted, reality has begun to set in. I have been fighting it. We hope to adopt at least one more, and I have been hoping this last time through the adoption process would bring a sibling group of two. But, I have started to wonder if I am fighting something that just isn’t meant to be. And I have started to wonder if there isn’t something else out there I am supposed to be doing. I have been praying to have more children for as long as I can remember. But, this past week, it struck me that that is not the hand I have been dealt. And it’s not a sub-par hand. It is just a different hand.
Which means there is something else out there that will fill in the gap. Something else I am supposed to be doing that is not meant for a friend with five children. It’s not better. It’s not worse. It’s just mine. It’s my own, individual mission. And the longer I push for something that is not meant for me, and ignore the gentle pushes to pursue other things, the longer I keep from enjoying the blessings that will come from that other pursuit--the one meant for me. And the longer I will look to my little family gathered on this small mattress in the middle of the night, and not feel it is enough. And it is enough. We still plan on finishing this second round of adoption, but this will be the end of it, and I will be happy no matter what. And in fact, I look forward with a fresh excitement as I let go of old dreams, and open my mind and heart to new ones. “Come what may, and love it.” (quote from Elder Joseph B. Wirthlin)