I ran with the baby for the first time today. She is finally is doing well enough to be approved for the stroller, as long as she is still in her car seat. It was lovely to be out again, and moving, and relaxing.
I walked and ran and walked and ran, feeling the hot night air blow around me. I heard the summer sounds of birds and geese and ducks and volleyball and squealing laughter. I smelled the honeysuckle, and watched the flirting fireflies.
It felt good to be alive, and strong, and healthy.
That’s when I realized that I don’t even remember last summer.
It was after mom was killed, and in the middle of our miscarriages, and just before fostering began.
What a year we have had.
Maybe tonight felt like a new year.
The baby smiled with gas as we strolled along, and I listened to a podcast about using my agency well and how I can’t blame the adversary or circumstances for my choices.
That’s some legit integrity, to recognize that agency means my choices really are my own, and to take a fresh look at what I really am choosing by the habits and patterns in my life. Hard work, this agency stuff.
Speaking of hard work, my article about the Ordain Women controversy was approved today, so I worked on edits later while the baby slept and after my work was finished. I got the edits submitted, and said a prayer as I clicked on submit. I will share the link when it is published.
In the meantime, I was at baby court today (everything was good: positive and moving forward for reunification with the parents), and received a text from Nathan about how maybe we need to lay off the science lessons in homeschool for Five, or maybe back off the trips to the zoo, because of this:
Yes, those are Lightning McQueen babies nursing on the puppy dog mama.
Also, that’s the puppy dog doll I put on his bed when we got the call he was coming to our house, so I love the fact that he still loves it and plays with it.
It feels special.
Know what else is special? How he can sound out words, and reads more and more every week, and can do so many things they said he could not do.
Know what else is special? The video of these kids screaming “Daddy came home! Dada! Dada!” as they ran across baggage claim to jump on him. I hope someday we can share that video.
Know what else is special? Watching my husband pray each night, tucking in these babies that aren’t mine, and popsicles under a summer moon. It feels good to slowly be done grieving, and to be living again, almost.
It’s happiness, that is.