Yesterday I posted about a new goal that I am starting. I even bragged that I had started a new habit. Do you know how I know I have a new habit? Do you even want to know? Sure you do.
I use an online program called HabitForge. It is a free program that allows you to set up your desired habit. The program will then send you an e-mail each day asking if you followed-thru the day before. It then has a little diagram showing how well you are doing. I am one that loves to mark things off (to-do lists are my specialty, though I do have issues actually working them). Being reminded each day keep me on track. At the end of 21 days you have the option of continuing getting reminders for the next 3 weeks or ending it.
No, this part is not about Christmas, or even about gifts for just me. This is about the gift we can give our children – the gift of our time. Kat over at Inspired to Action wrote about how to be a rock star to your children with 30 minutes and pink tablecloth.
Then she asked for readers to tell her things we do to become rock stars to our own children. I submitted a few ideas. Not only did she use them in her next article, Be A Rockstar…Today, but she even mentioned my name! I feel like a celebrity! She has 128 different ways to be a rockstar with your kids. Check it out! It really does not take much – but it means so very much to your child, and to your own heart.
The rest of this post is devoted to my youngest daughter and her First Mom. Today our family celebrates that God blessed the world with the gift of our youngest daughter. It is a bittersweet day for me and probably for her as she grows up. I pray for everyone who ever was and is currently in her life. (Written last year on her birthday)
Misty weather in the low to mid 50s.
No indoor heat.
The final push.
A girl – a healthy, perfect baby girl – lots of dark hair, little button nose, chubby cheeks, long fingers and toes.
A decision to be made within the next 48 hours. Not enough time to know who this little person was who had been growning inside her for 9 months.
Did she want to know this little person or was it easier to not know?
Does she cry for her little girl as her little girl cries for her years later?
Does she wonder about the woman who is raising her child as I wonder about her?
Does she wonder how her daughter tilts her head when thinking, or how she skips when she on her way to do something, or her ability to figure out math problems and sound out words?
Does she wonder what her giggle sounds like when her neck is nuzzled?
Does she share a love for all things pink and lavender with her daughter?
Today, as we celebrate with milk shakes after church, our table will filled not only with those of us laughing, but also by the shadow people – the people who gave her the precious gift of life, the people who live in the background only because we don’t know who they are and how to draw them out of the shadows and into the light of the love of our family, but more importantly, into the light of her eyes. They will probably forever live in the shadows because of circumstances beyond their control and our control – the victims of the politcal machine that controls the fate of so many in EBs birth country.
So today I send out prayers for the family who has no idea who this child has become, for the family that had to make a decision that I cannot even hope to comprehend from my warm and comfortable house in a country that does not have the same social, political, and filial pressures as theirs. I pray for peace in their hearts and in the heart of our little girl, for while she lives in my house, calls me Mama, loves me as unconditionally as I love her, she is not just mine, but theirs as well. I will say prayers of thanksgiving that they chose to bring this little girl into the world when her life could easily have been snuffed out.
Our little girl has so much to offer this world of ours. She is incredibly smart. She has a wickedly funny sense of humor. She is sassy. She is loving and giving. She is physically beautiful – saucy eyes, soft hair, long, strong limbs. She has a gentle heart, though it is often hidden by her childish desire to ALWAYS get her way. She loves to avoid manual labor, but will work for hours on an art project. She knows how to push her sister’s buttons and drive her crazy, but will staunchly defend her if someone is picking on her. There is so much of all 4 of her parents in her it is impossible to separate the characteristics that each of us have given her. Together we are creating and molding such a sensitive, wonderful young girl.
So when the flicker of the candles’ light illuminate EB’s face as she makes her wish over her cake, I know I will catch a fleeting glimpse of those people standing in the shadows. Maybe one day the light will reach far enough that they can step out of the shadows and we can fully share and enjoy this miracle that is our daughter.