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We all have more strength than we think we possess.

It is miraculous that Ben and I made it through the past eight weeks. Really. Those early days seem like an irritating blur in an alter reality. I'm not sure how we got through it, but we did. This morning, Ben and I enjoyed an early morning snuggle on our back deck. The sun warmed our backs as we watched all three boys don rain boots and bike helmets (the boys wear them like uniforms). Little Miss played on a quilt at our feet and we soaked it all in.

Our property; our kids. Time stands still when I think about the fullness of God in my life. Just a few short years ago my empty arms ached for babies to hold...and, now, I have four.

For YEARS we dreamed of a house on property where the boys could run and shout and catch frogs. Today, we sat in awe at all that God has given us. It's more than we asked for. More than we imagined. But, that's our God, isn't it? The God of so much more.

This was a week of more.

Sweet Boy and I are friendly with one another, but when it comes to affection, I have been traveling on a one-way street. Similar to our experience with LJ, Sweet Boy took to Ben right away and never held back warmth. I'm just the mom. And, sadly, in foster care, that doesn't mean much.

A couple days ago, the boys were watching Cinderella. It was toward the end where the animals are trying to free her from her locked room and the fat cat has the mouse, Gus, trapped under a teacup. Sweet boy was frozen with fear. He looked at me and said, "M-o---o--m--m, will you hold me? I'm scared!"

He often will paralyze at any sign of conflict, but this was the first time he had ever reached out to me for comfort. I held him tight and urged him to look at the TV and told him we'd watch it together. I explained what was happening and told him how the story ended, so that he wouldn't have to fear for the mouse's safety.

Yesterday, I was feeding the baby, and he asked if he could sit with us. He didn't want to talk, so we just sat, quietly, together, with my hand resting on his knee. It was the first time he sought me out on his own, without the other boys around.

Today - oh, today! - he crawled into my arms when I was resting on the couch and asked if he could lay with me. I, nearly, cried for joy. He snuggled right in and I held him as close as I could without smothering him. When I said, "I really love you, buddy," he was quick to reply, "I love you, too."

For the first time.

And, now, I know we're going to be okay.

 

  

We're going to be more than okay.