Miss me?

I haven't blogged at all in what seems like forever!  These past days, since the 14th, I have spent all of my computer time emailing or checking updates of my dearest, closest and bestest friend's time with her soon to be officially adopted son in Ethiopia. I have been writing apparel orders for fall, taking the boys for "real" haircuts at the barber shop, getting ready for the women's retreat that happened this past weekend at church, and of course attending to all 3 of my now sick kids.  Sometimes it feels as though all I do is attend to sick kids, especially this time of year.  I wish that we could just skip the in between grey time of winter/spring and just head to the technicolor life of spring/summer!  I need life in full color, bursting with life around me. At least the first wave of strawberries are at the grocery stores. Strawberries equal summer days, not too hot, with the windows open, the breeze wafting through the house, my gardens bursting with growth and flowers, longer days and dinner on the grill.  Again, like so much of lives, we wait.

My friends have been waiting to bring their son home from Ethiopia since this whole adoption process started with their homestudy, 1 year, 9 months, 2 weeks and 2 days ago.  It hasn't been the smoothest, easiest, journey. There have been many bump and bruises along the way.  There have been many tears of joy and sadness shed.  It has been bittersweet.  Right now they are getting ready for the most bittersweet part, saying goodbye to their son, before they come home to the States, while they wait for the red tape to broken and the Embassy to process the rest of the adoption paperwork, so that they can go back and bring him home, where he belongs. I can't even begin to imagine what both of them are feeling.  

I feel like so much of this adoption process has been hard for me to relate to.  I have never had trouble getting pregnant or dealt with a miscarriage.  I have never had to wait as long as them for their child to come into their world. All I have been able to do is listen, hand out kleenex when it is needed, give help when it asked for and pray.  I feel like nothing I have done is tangible, something that can be hung onto, used to help make this road easier.  My emotions have been kept in check, most of the time.  I haven't been where she is, felt what she is feeling and it is hard not to be able to say, "I've been there and it does get easier."  She has friends who fill that role, who have been where she is and have done what she is doing and that is hard.  It is hard to have to share her with others.  I have learned that I am stingy with my friendships, who I call my friends, who I let into the deepest recesses of my heart, mind and soul.  She is the first, true-real best friend I have ever really had.  I had some good friends come and go through out my life but for the same number of so called "good" friends I have had just as many have hurt me and left scars that are still broken wide open from time to time.  Our friendship started when we were both broken and coming apart at the seams.  I like to think that we helped heal each other and that is what bonded us but no, I really think it was the fact that my son had "red" hair.  From that day and the days to come I spent more time at her house than I did my own.  I ate and prepared more meals in her kitchen than I did my own.  For the first time in my life, I think, I had found a friend (besides my husband) that accepted me as I was, not for what I had been or would be, just as me, faults and all.   I don't know where I would be without her, probably checked in at some place for "crazy" people.  We walked through a hard year when I was pregnant with my youngest, because he was supposed to be her baby and not mine, I wasn't supposed to be pregnant, she was.  But we came through it and as cliche as it is to say, with a stronger friendship.  Our lives are intertwined in ways that might seem weird and odd but isn't that is what friendship is? She and her family-her husband and girls and soon to be son, are our soft place to land, our family.  They have helped us grow our roots, become the people we are and now as I live five houses down the street from her, I never want to move.  I have dreamed about living on the same street as my best friend since I was a little girl living on a dirt road where neighborhoods looked like wide open spaces between houses.  She is the one who has been with me at the hospital when my kids are really sick and someone needs to be at home with the other one(s).  She is the one who I give my credit card to when I need it to disappear.  She is the one I call when I'm in crisis and need a clear head, she has talked me off my ledge a million times.   My mother-in-law has this saying that people come into your life for a reason, a season or a lifetime.  There is nothing sweeter than when those reasons turn into a season and then turns into a lifetime.  She will be in my life for a lifetime, that I know.  So now as we navigate this latest experience in our friendship, her adoption, I want to offer her something tangible, something that weaves our lives together more.  I don't know what that is but I am willing to wait, watch and learn.  For now all I can offer you my words, my prayers and my love.  Come home, friend, we can't wait to have you here but even more, we can't wait until you go again and come home with God's promise to you, your son.  You have taught me so much about patience, strength and perseverance through this adoption and I hope that it has taught you things that you didn't know about yourself but are finding out.  I hope that you let these things transform you into a woman that inspires those around you to reach outside of themselves and dive into the life around them to experience the richness that it has to offer.  As I told you this week, "Save one life. Save the world." and that is what you are doing. I thank God for you everyday. All my love!