Sunday, June 12, 2016

DEAR FIKIRTE,

Our boy turned seven today.
SEVEN.
Can you believe it?

Oh how I wish I could sit with you today over a cup of coffee.

I want to hold your hands in mine and hear your life story.
I want to look into your eyes and tell you how much I love you.
I want to hug your neck and thank you for choosing life.

If you could have hand picked a mom to raise your Misikir,
I don’t think you would have picked me.

The me before your Misikir was so full of pride.
The me before your Misikir wasn’t willing to die.
The me before your Misikir loved me more than you.
The me before your Misikir didn’t have a clue.

But God.
He gifted me with your Misikir and we named him Miles.
You gave him life, but I get his smiles.

The heaviness of that truth is not lost on me.
And that’s a reality I will always grieve.

Miles was fearfully, wonderfully and autistically made.
Miles was purposed, adopted, and a gift I wouldn’t trade.


Firkirte-
Since I can’t see you and hug you and love on you today,
I pray that the Lord will comfort you in every way.

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