Beautiful Things

       God is so funny sometimes. He is always so ready and willing to answer your fears and doubts, if you'd just be willing to open your eyes. Over the past few weeks, I've been somewhat mourning my dreams of being an actress, of performing and making beautiful things. It has been a bit painful, too, seeing as that dream consumed me for most of my high school years. And, well, I'm surrounded by people who perform. Constantly, people in my life are getting to showcase their gifts and be recognized for how they've grown and learned. I used to be that way. But now that I am a History Major, no one really asks about how I'm doing, or even what I'm doing or learning about, and let me tell you, I'm doing some pretty neat stuff. However, I know people don't want to see me perform a history lesson or showcase my knowledge of Roman Slavery or something.

     Honestly, I'm just vain enough to miss the lights, the makeup, the costumes, the immortal words I would spend months of my life cultivating into something for people to see. And I miss the praise and recognition of my talent. I'm vain enough to think I was pretty good. Also, there is something so therapeutic about stepping out of yourself for a while and putting on someone else's shoes. Don't get me wrong, I am not shutting the door on acting all together. I hope to be involved in a community theatre or something when I can, and I'm still minoring in theatre, but right now my life is just not going in that direction.

   Last week on our way back to school, I was finally expressing my fears to Ethan, that I am no longer making anything beautiful with my life, and God was really quick to answer me on that one. As soon as I finished telling him this, I got an email from another birth mother who had found this blog and thanked me for what I had written. BAM! As I cried into my chicken nuggets at McDonald's, I knew that God was with me on this one. It's nice to know that writing down my feelings in a somewhat public forum counts as a beautiful thing. However, that doesn't mean that I don't want to take this a step further. I would really like to be able to write a book, or several, or just keep my eyes peeled for opportunities to talk not only to other birth mothers, but other women of God as well. I'd like to find a bigger platform to speak from. In the mean time, I'm grateful to live in a time where I can express myself here, on a blog. No matter how small I think it is, it means the world to me if it just helps a single person on their walk with God. Lord knows how much this blog has helped me.

Birthday

        So today is my little one's birthday. It is such a surreal experience. I found myself unable to sleep last night, haunted by ghosts of labor pain and that old enemy, grief. Birth parents are warned constantly that birthdays, Christmas, mother's day, all those sorts of holidays are going to be hard. And yes, they are (I had a pretty rough Mother's Day), but they're also sort of relieving. I'm honestly a little proud that she is a year old. Perhaps it's because I look so much better now than I did. Maybe it's because I've lasted a whole year with this in my life. It is a bit of a milestone, I suppose. It could be that I am proud that I was able to ensure a life that lasted so long, in that weird base instinct sort of way. Historically, if a child made it past their first year. their mortality rate would get better.
        In a strange way, I now realize how much I wish we celebrated mothers on birthdays. I feel like they deserve some recognition. I mean, they did all the work, all the birthday kid did was get born! I labored for so long. Where is my cake? Seriously! People really need to start remembering mothers (and birth mothers) on birthdays. Thank them for working so hard to get them here! They deserve more appreciation. "Hey, thanks for giving birth to me and then cleaning my excrement for several years so I could live this long." How hard is that? I don't have the best relationship with my mother, but that woman was on bed rest with me for seven months. Seven months! She worked so hard to get me here! And then on my birthday she would run around and make sure that I was the one who had a good day, as with all the other mothers in the world. They deserve cake, too!
      Okay, birthday, back to that. I found myself sad that I won't be able to kiss my girl today, give her cake at exactly 7:32 this evening, and celebrate with that family over the life of this girl. But logically, it's not my place to be there. Her parents celebrate with her. They're the ones who cultivate her traditions and celebrations. I would feel out of place if I were there, in that private celebration of God's blessings. I should celebrate on my own. I would skip class and rest if I could. Spend my day in a bubble bath relaxing and giving thanks while I read and eat to my heart's content.
     I am so grateful that she has been here for a whole year. It's so amazing to me that time has flown by so quickly. I find myself looking forward to when she is even older, running around, talking a million miles a minute, knowing exactly who I am. At the same time, I am sad. But of course I am. It's been a year. I am no longer in charge. I left a hospital empty-handed a year ago. And that is still hard to swallow from time to time. And it will never stop being hard. That is just how it works. However, God, is that awesome signature style of His, has prepared me for this my whole life. I am supposed to feel sad. I am supposed to mourn. I am supposed to not be able to sleep and be haunted by sad thoughts. Especially at regular intervals such as Holidays. He does this because He knows that as soon as I am aware of this, I call him to my side to cradle me like the child I am, in the dark as I have a little cry, a perfect mixture of happy and sad. I will never be able to stop singing His praise, but that was sort of the point, wasn't it?  I find myself constantly mentioning the adoption, how it has changed me, the instrumental part God played in it, and I realized recently that this is it: my ministry. I feel uncomfortable talking about God with people, but when it comes to the adoption, I could ramble on for days. I mean, I even blog about it! And then give the address to people who seem interested! It is such a strange thing, this ministry that has bloomed over the past year. I love it with all my heart, though. I am so grateful that I got an easy way to minister to those around me. I don't have to draw on anything but my own experiences. How wonderful is that? I guess what I am getting at is happy birthday to my Ministry for God, as well as my girl. Such a blessed year. Quoting what we said constantly during my pregnancy and immediately after: "Hallelujah. God is so Good."