God writes the most beautiful of love stories. In fact, you could argue that everything He does is a love story written from His heart to ours. But when people say, “I’m letting God write my love story,” we all know what they’re talking about. They are choosing to look at life, and the choice…
**this post contains affiliate links. Read my disclosure here. One of my earliest memories takes place in Jasper, NY at a little log cabin, built by my father. My family is sitting around the living room and Mama is reading. I don’t know the book, just the sound of her voice and the way…
The hallway of the maternity ward was empty. My shoes were squeaking against the waxed tile. My sister-in-law was in one of the first rooms. Her belly was round and she was calmly sitting, watching the monitor as a heartbeat jumped across it. A few minutes later another monitor located the second heartbeat. The twins…
He calls us jars of clay for a reason. We are not seamless jars of iron that never leak. We are clay, that can crumble and crack. We are not made in huge bubbling pots of molten metal, we are crafted with firm but gentle hands. Molded and formed. Oh, we go through fires too, but it’s a…
I’m not an extravagant person. I’m simple and my dreams were simple.
By the time I was in my mid-twenties, I was married to a wonderful man and living in a tiny house on a beautiful farm outside of a little village in upstate New York.
The only thing I needed was my children.
But, as it turns out, my body refused to bear them.
And, as it turns out, every time we’ve pursued adoption, it has failed.
Time passes. Struggles returned. I fight battles I thought were long over and done. In Haiti, little ones were dumped in my arms— “Take them to America?” they would say, “We have lots of babies. You need one.” And my heart would clench as I snuggled them close and kissed soft skin and shook my head….
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