Since a year ago, my excitement of finally having children has wobbled. Not in a bad way, it just seemed sooooo far away. And of course with Sean's accident, issues at work...it kinda fizzled out. But it's building back. I'm not sure when it happened...maybe when I was putting all the docs together to take to get apostilled and it hit me! Oh my goodness we will have children very soon! Maybe even before spring! I guess part of me wants that impending excitement feeling that other women get when they're pregnant (or what I always imagined it to be anyway). Since adoption has no time frames or timetables, the "air of expectancy" sometimes goes out of it the longer one has to wait.
But excitement is unfurling in my heart again. :)
It's a miraculous thing; being expectant and hopeful. A friend was talking about hope the same way. Hope doesn't stop; even when one is in the midst of trials, there is still a little ember of hope deep down. Thinking one day this trial won't affect me as much, or maybe next fall we'll be able to take our kids to get pumpkins, or maybe the next Mothers day I'll be crying tears of thankfulness and happiness instead.
And so I'm reminded of a poem by Emily Dickinson that I memorized in 6th grade:
Hope is the thing with feathers
That perches in the soul,
And sings the tune without the words
And never stops at all.
And sweetest in the gale is heard
And sore must be the storm,
That could abash the little bird
That kept so many warm.