Now I can add to that list the phrase, "I solemnly swear to be her mother."
The papers are signed and she has no place else to go, even if she wanted to, and neither do I, for that matter. Sometimes we find ourselves in tears, she and I, holding each other warmly while fighting the urge to run far away and hide (because I know she feels it, too). We are both waiting for the newness to fade so we won't mind the smell of each other anymore.
I do so long for the day when she isn't a child I met four months ago. I want to have used up all the pasta that has been in my pantry longer than she has been in my home. I want to be rid of the temptation to idealize the simpler days, before Daniel and I entered into a permanent agreement with a perfect stranger (without her permission, mind you) altering all of our lives forever.
It is toddler adoption. It is the tiny, tangled threads that slowly, slowly, painstakingly build the web of this kind of parent/child relationship. It is "come here" and "go away." It is "why am I with you" and "how did I ever live without you." It is messy. It is beautiful.
It is bringing all of my sin to the very surface. Let me tell you, that ain't pretty.
But in every moment I am learning to trust the One who picked this journey for us; this journey for her. In the end, I hope all of us will know that His ways are always better than our ways. Love is always better than simplicity. Together is always better than not. Coming through on the other side a better person, a better family, is always - better.
"I do,"
for better,
for worse,
forever.
