A Mother's Special Day

The curlers cling a little tighter to my daughter's thick hair than I anticipated. Last night I had spent almost an hour rolling her heavy locks for a special activity later today. Each time I pull a pink foam roller from her hair, a dark blonde curl snaps back to her head. She is beginning to look like the orphan Annie.

As the last curler releases it's grip, my daughter looks up at me with a huge smile. She is ten years old, soon to be eleven. "How do I look?"

I fight the urge to soften the curls by combing them out a bit. She looks adorable and I need the image to last for at least four hours. Time spent playing in Sunday school this morning would surely help relax the golden locks. "You are beautiful!"

I mist her head with some hairspray and send her on her way. Then I tackle my own curls with trepidation. I don't normally curl my hair this way, but with three kids to get ready in the morning I knew I would not have time for an iron.

It could have been worse, but combing a little helps bring some order to the long dark strands. Both my daughter and I are excited to look like "twins" for our activity later this afternoon. It is a way we can connect as mother and daughter. Our eleventh-month relationship is still tender.

I remember when she stepped off her foster mom's minivan with her two younger brothers. Six eyes peak up at two adults they had never met before this moment. "Don't forget your hats and sunscreen." A heavier set woman with dark hair and glasses reminds them to protect their skin from the sun. She hands me some papers and then rolls out of our driveway.

That's it. No turning back. This is how our life together began.

After a small tour of our home, we sit at the table and have a snack. Nervous energy fills the room. As two young and inexperience parents, we sip red Cool-Aid with three youngsters. What were we supposed to do now?

We deliver some gifts to each child. Take a walk to the park. Kick a soccer ball around. Eat dinner and then read a Bible story before bed. Tucking each child into bed after an exciting day together makes all the hours spent filling out paperwork and going through interviews worth it.

We are exhausted yet exhilarated by three precious children sleeping under our roof tonight. Is this really what God has planned for us? Is this what our family is supposed to look like?

The week passes quickly and our hearts grow deeper in love with three beautiful little human beings. When it is time to say goodbye, tears fill our eyes. Would we ever see these children again?

Their foster mom backs the van down the driveway for a second time as we wave. They are gone. Our fourth anniversary is spent in solitude after the most life-altering experience of our marriage up to that point.

I snap back to the present when small arms wrap around my waist. "Mommy-moo!"

My just turned nine-year-old clings to me with a fierceness I am used to by now. He looks up into my face longing to know he is seen and accepted by me. I hug him back, knowing that he will not release me until he is sure he has my undivided attention. His possessiveness concerns me, and makes me aware of his significant needs after suffering from years spent witnessing domestic violence.

"We're ready." My husband looks handsome in a dark blue-striped Sunday shirt. Our ten-year-old son stands near him in a lighter blue-striped shirt. Both are neat and clean with nicely combed hair. My heart is filled with overwhelming joy. Is this really my life?

It's hard to believe that nine days from now I will be making a legal commitment to provide and care for my three babes forever. There were days I wasn't sure we would ever make it this far. But here we are.

My son finally let's go of my waist as my husband signals him to join the others in the living room. I run to grab my purse from the bedroom and return to find my loved ones assembled in white, black, shades of blue, and a touch of yellow.

"Happy Mother's Day!" My heart soars. Most mother's do not hear this spoken by their children on their first Mother's Day. I am blessed.

"Do we look good for the pictures?" My older son aims to please. His blue-covered Bible gripped tightly in front of him for church. After church, we would head over to take our first family photos together.

"You all look absolutely wonderful." I remember how hard it was to make it this far. For the last year it felt like many dark forces were working against our union. Yet I knew this was right. I am called to be my children's mother, their second mother, but a mother none-the-less. Despite my own shortcomings, I am the right person for the job at this moment.

I am amazed at God's goodness to us. I dream about five years from now and how amazing it will look. Little did I know how much God had in store for a our young family. But that didn't matter now. All that matters now is that I am right where I am supposed to be.

Happy Mother's Day!