Today on a Live Stream on Facebook, Glenda Watson Hyatt asked about our “true dream”. That ties in nicely with something I was thinking about as my mind wandered during church… (I’m sure I’m the only person that EVER happens to.) which is the fact that I feel so completely unqualified for the children I have… like I’m the mother who can’t let her walls down enough to love, and I’ve been given two children that everyone believed are not able to be adopted. Everything about this situation feels like a setup to fail… but my dream is that we won’t. That somehow, God will get us through and one day they will be the amazing awesome humans that I see they can be.
Felicia is so deeply broken – but somewhere inside her is the little girl who loved nothing more than going to the special education class in her school to be a helper. Somewhere inside her, beneath walls and shattered dreams and broken promises, lies that same heart. My dream is that one day that heart will resurface.
Fergie is scared, so deeply scared. She has been in home after home after home, she has been the little ears listening to things she should never have heard, and she wonders if there is anyone in the world she can truly trust. Her rages are violent, unpredictable, and cause devastation to the world… but she is in a million ways the best thing that has ever happened to me. She has the most amazing gift of compassion, of reaching beyond herself to those too broken to ask for it. Underneath the fear and anger is the little girl who always made me donate to worthy causes, reminding me that she has benefited from these services and known what it is like to be poor. My dream for her is that she will learn she is enough, she doesn’t have to fight for love because she is worth love just as she is.
Shrek, well,… he has some walls up too, some deep hurts boxed up in a corner, buried, that keep him from being the man he could be. My dream is that he will have the courage to heal.
And me… I’m broken too. I’m still learning how to love children who hurt me when they are hurting. I’m still learning how to love and nurture, when my instinct is to put up walls of protection, so I can survive the hurtful words dished out. (I hate you, you are not my mom, you will never be a mom, you will never be my mom,…) My dream for me is that I’ll learn to love deeply enough to break through my walls.
So now that my dreaming for the night is done… it’s time to work, because dreams require more than a warm fuzzy feeling – they require prayer, hard work, and a metric crap-ton of commitment.
And speaking of work… here is what I’ve been doing as a part of Art Every Day Month!
Preparing beads (made from paper) to be treated… 37 strands waiting for the next dry day to be treated, since humidity makes the treatment sticky. More beads sitting in bags waiting to be strung. It feels a little bit like I’m avoiding true self-expression and true creativity… and I admit that is a thing. But in this moment, putting beads on a string is soothing and calming, and sometimes you just need to roll with that.