You Want a Piece of Me?

Everyday I spend time, probably too much time, reading, watching and learning about children who need parents, siblings, a bed, a roof, water. And I think, "I have those things! I will give them to you! Come and live with me!"

And then I shut my computer.

Close my book.

Clear my mind.

And do nothing.

I wonder how long I can do nothing for before the ache in my entire body takes over?

It is thoughts like these that keep me from blogging more regularly. Because this is what I think about all. the. time.

If there is laughter in my house I think about children without family to laugh with and picture them with us. When my babies are lined up in their little beds, sleeping soundly next to each other, I picture a couple more kids lined up with them. When there is chaos and frustration and anger and yelling I think about children who see no forgiveness. no reconciliation, no redemption, no heart training or restoration, and I see them with us. When Mark comes home and wraps his arms around me and the kids all giggle and Ben rolls his eyes and Addison dreams about marrying someone just like her daddy, I think about the children who have no security, no example, no dreams of a marriage like ours and I can almost feel a few more sets of arms wrestling into our family hugs. When I hear the comment, "Wow, your hands are full." I think, "Not really, I have room."


There's a piece of me.