So, we went to the beach with our new friend. His name is Musaed (pronounced Moo-saud) and he asked that I used his real name and has given me permission to share his story, which is pretty stinkin incredible, so the next post will be just that.
But, I need to address something first, something that became so apparently obvious to me in the middle of our amazing day.
There were a lot of firsts that day at the beach. Musaed’s first time at a sand beach. His first time in the waves. His first time eating beef jerky, to which he told me he did not trust me anymore when I said something was really good. He hated it. Uh… sorry buddy. Thank goodness I redeemed myself later that evening with Musaed’s first smore-making experience. Oh yeah, bring on the smores!!!
He had his first time experience throwing a football with Jake and then we all got in on the action until Jake blurted out, “Mom, he throws better than you and it’s his first day!” So not funny, son. My ego was officially wounded.
I watched as Musaed played in the waves with my kiddies and Alex clung to him as he lifted her up and over a wave. Laughing. Shrieking. Grabbing ahold of each other. And oddly, life seemed to make more sense with this boy in it, like this is what it was suppose to look like. Not all of my children looking the same.
What most of you don’t know is that I plan on adopting in a few years. I keep telling people, no, my family in not done. It’s just not complete. I know God has something else in store for me. … and as I watched them all falling over as the waves crashed over them, I thought to myself, could this be what God meant. Could my family be extending to children of all ages, not just to adopt but to whomever he put in my path.
This thought just blew my mind dear friends, because we all need to feel like we are someones children, no matter how old we are, do we not?
Sometimes I feel it more now than I did as I child. I love having my mama and pop around. I love feeling like I am still there little girl at times, that they are watching over me and have a pulse on me. I cherish that even now!!!
But, if we don’t have parents around or if our parents are not capable of loving us the way we need to be loved that does not mean others can’t stand in that space and be our parents. Oh, dear sisters, how different our world would look if we stepped in and parented- loved- cared for- cherished- others more.
We rode back late that night, dropping Musaed off at his dorms and in total teacher/therapist fashion I couldn’t help but ask, Okay, guys on a scale from 1 to 10 how was your day. Alex squealed, “A ten mommy!!”, with Musaed right on her heels, ” a ten point five,” he eagerly shared in his thick accent. I glanced over at this boy sitting next to me and couldn’t help but smile. My eyes danced with delight.
My mama’s heart was full. No, beyond full. Overflowing.
Oh, dear sisters, may we love well this week. Not perfect. Not idealistic. Just well.