Peace.

I feel peaceful this morning.  I got the first decent night sleep that I’ve gotten in almost a week.  I don’t think that what I feel is hope, I think it’s just peace that I’ve fought the good fight, the honest fight.  When the ‘mama tribunal’ met this morning to pray together and discuss yesterday’s events, we all agreed that we felt peace.  We all are afraid to hope that God is granting us peace before the miracle, but we agreed that He might be helping us comfort ourselves in case this doesn’t come to fruition.  The thought makes me sick, but not incapacitated the way that it did last week.  Maybe that’s a sign?  I don’t know, I’m so confused.

My kids.  That’s all I can think about.  The two little faces that are completely unsuspecting and innocent in all of this.  The two little faces that pray their hearts out that they will get to see their “obruni daddy” again, that pray that they will get to finally meet the five brothers and sisters they have come to love the idea of.  These are the two faces that pray for a family again.  I have to keep my eyes on the prize, because that’s what it’s all about, a family.  I hold tight to the promise that I have made to them, that even if I’m on the other side of the planet doing it, I’ll make sure we’re always a family.

–FullPlateMom,
who is headed out for another day of it.  Just pray.  Please.

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