I feel as though living in a house with 140 precious babies should always afford something to write about. And it often does; whether it's a story about one of them, or something God is teaching me through being with them. But again, sometimes words cannot fully express the feelings that are surging inside. Whether they are feelings of love, adoration, fear, pain, joy, excitement. Or all of them simultaneously.
I read this quote last night, written in a friend's blog:
"Sometimes seeds have to grow a while before you can harvest them. This is also true of thoughts and words. We live in such an instantaneous age. Everyone is slinging content around, trying to be louder, righter, insightfuler...I am trying to think about where my roots are right now and not be so concerned about my branches." -Jamie Laslo
I think I feel a responsiblity to write. I have been shown overwhelming support during my time here, and with that I feel comes a responsibilty to share what is happening. And I want to share.
I have wrestled much lately with the thought that "this is not the way it is supposed to be"...yes, I love that I get to be here, I love that our children are loved, cared for, and receive wonderful medical care. But this is not the way it is supposed to be. They should be with their mommies and daddies. Yes, we are here, and we love them dearly; but we cannot keep them forever, as a family should. At some point we have to let them go and trust that they will continue to be cared for. And sometimes, there are no words to describe those feelings. It's not that they aren't present, they most definitely are, but it's really difficult to find the words to express those feelings, because they run so deep.
A picture I took a few days ago does a good job of illustrating this..
This is the view from a 6th floor window in our building. On a clear day, we have an amazing view of the city skyline. But on many days, this is all we can see. Even though I cannot see the city, I know it's there, because I've seen it before. The buildings are there, I just can't focus through the fog enough to grasp a glimpse.
And so it is with these feelings and trying to fit them with words. They are undoubtebly there, but often it's difficult to grasp them, to really paint the picture of what you want to see before you in writing, what you want others to see.
But I also know that the fog won't be there forever and that possibly tomorrow, possibly next week, I will see those buildings again. And so it will be with these words. Possibly tomorrow, possibly next week, possibly next month, the words will come once more.
But for now, as Jamie said, I will try to "think about where my roots are right now and not be so concerned about my branches."