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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