There are very few moments these days that aren’t filled with dreams.
I’m not necessarily talking about dreams, hopes and aspirations; I mean daydreams. Most moments of my days have an underlying tone to them. A sense that I should be somewhere else, doing something else, communicating with someone else, etc. Sometimes these daydreams are more or less nudges from the Holy Spirit to remind me of other tasks at hand; when I’m miss-managing my time. Sometimes it’s selfishness, wishing that the task or conversation before me belonged to someone else.
Then there are times when I can’t imagine being anywhere else. When the tasks on my to-do list, the friends I’m eager to talk to, the random conversations that I have with myself fade away and I’m left with merely the moment.
Last week, I encountered such a moment. While in NY for a last-minute trip, I found myself tying the bow of a little girl’s dress. Just then, I caught myself searching my inner-being for someplace I’d rather be. And like catching a thief who walked away with nothing, I came up dry. Out of all the friends, locations, craft projects, comfy beds that I could dream up, I wanted to be nowhere else then right where I was. Tying that bow.
Time almost stood still for us: little “Brianne” eagerly waiting for my craftsmanship to put the finishing touches on her outfit, my fidgeting to make sure the bow was just right, the excitement that contagiously ran through her.
After years of hell, this wee girl was plucked out of the most horrid of circumstances and placed in the home of a dear family. That was two and a half years ago. Two and a half years of excitement, trials, pink dollbabies, prayer, frustrations, and joys all culminated into this very day: Adoption Day.
Honored, blessed and grateful to be a part of such a big day in this little life, I sat there tying a bow almost in tears.
I want to share photos and such from the day, but my dear, dear surrogate family hasn’t seen them yet. I’ll save them for a future post; for now, let’s enjoy the moment together.