God's Gifts

I have wanted for so long to write about my family's story, from the beginning. Problem is, where exactly is the beginning?

June 11, 19whatever, when I was born?

Maybe the night I met Big Daddy? (It was in a bar!)

Or the day he proposed to me? (In New Mexico)

What about the day we were married? (In a barn)

Oh, maybe the day our first house burned down.

Then there's the day we discovered I was pregnant,

Or the day we learned the pregnancy had ended.

I could talk about our long, on-and-off journey to foster care,

Or the death of our best friend.

I remember the moment I first laid eyes on my Pooh, who was 5 at the time. (I cried)

And oh, so much more about that first weekend when we visited our daughters-to-be in a children's shelter. (Tink was sick.)

Oh, and the day we legally became a family.

I think I will definitely write about all those things - and soon.

But right now, I think I'll tell you about my Pooh (8yo), who is patiently reading a book to Toddler I Babysit.

You know what, Pooh probably didn't have anyone to read books to her when she was a toddler. I don't know where she was at that age, and I can't think about that too much or I'll fall apart. I do know that as soon as Tinkerbell was born, Pooh became a caregiver at not-even-two years old. And those nurturing instincts are still in her.

My Pooh has her baggage from those first 5 years of her life, that's for sure. But she is an incredible young lady who loves people, loves helping, loves her family and loves her God.

And I am eternally grateful for the gift I've been given in her.