It happened again this afternoon.
In a crowd, being Mama.
And I noticed them noticing--
Wondered if their thought-words were:
"white mama, black baby"
Unspoken questions.
I held my baby-not-a-baby close and rocked her as she pretended she was sleeping,
Almost forgetting our game of "wake up".
Is this hard love?
It was a risk to go down that adoption road again.
But as C.S. Lewis says...risking a heart broken is the only alternative to creating a heart unbreakable.
(or so I paraphrase)
And I want to keep that tender, feeling heart.
Because building safety walls is much too dangerous.
My love for her is strong love, real love,
Lay-down-my-life-for-you-kind-of-love--
The hard love I have for this God-gifted child.
But--as I hold her and think of days before--
Before my heart knew her,
I do think of the
Hard love.
The really hard love,
That carried her close, even closer than I pull her in now.
That young mama, who chose
Life--
For this beautiful child that cracked through all my safety nets and layers of heart protection.
And so those questioning glances...
The ones trying to figure it all out.
I want them to know just how loved this child is.
By me.
By her.
By our God who knows the hard-love-cost
of giving of Himself,
for another.
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