Tuesday, April 05, 2016

Scribbles and Scrambles ~ Bright Fingerprints

My lil grand bean turned 5 last week. She's been with us for almost 2 years. I can't believe it. She was just barely 3 when she moved in with my daughter. And what a difference 2 years has made. This little "marching to the beat of a different drummer" kid is just so, so delightful. It tears my heart every time I think about what could have happened had she not ended up in my daughter's life. Not to single her out. I feel that way about all of them. But since it's her birthday and I'm bearing the marks of her love on my fingernails I thought I'd just share. Bean had a little girl birthday party on Saturday and she asked to paint my fingernails and toenails. And I let her. Yesterday she came over for dinner and said. "You still have your fingernails painted." with a big grin. I melted. I do that a lot since these kids entered my life. Yes, even though I discover things like the little turkeys can't be trusted with scissors and markers, I just love the heck out of them. 
 Several months ago. About ten in fact I wrote this. It was written with tears and prayers. Approximately one year later I am thrilled that the ink on the adoption papers will be dry soon and they will be ours forever. So those tears I shed, that deep, longing hope I poured out to God was answered in His yes that they could remain in the safety of our family. Thank you, God. 

"My four year old grand-baby is snuggled up against me snoring and drooling against my left breast. She smells like sunshine and soap. Heat is radiating because she's fighting one of those childhood viruses that are inevitable. She was feeling just fine an hour ago until the pain reliever wore off and her eyes got droopy and she climbed into my lap after her latest dose and fell fast asleep.

This is such a normal situation. But it is made poignant by a few things. One of those things is the innocent trust she has gifted me. At just two months beyond four, a mere 1,500 or so days, this baby has experienced life full of abandonment and selfish adults. Tomorrow a judge looks at black and white documentation and decides if it is time for the biological parents to lose their rights or whether to give them another three months to heap more emotionally painful interaction upon their innocent children. 

My heart is heavy with a mixed bag of emotion. Is it wrong for me to hope the parents will lose their rights when it feels like that is the only chance these little ones have in life? How can I, as a foster grandma, want a better life for these children than the woman who felt the movement of life nestled under her heart and who heard the first cry and saw the helplessness of her child? This child who sought my arms as a safe nest to rest in has captured my whole heart. How did she lose her mother's? 

The gift of this trust hurts. Because the price of loving and imprinting and believing is so very great. If a man or woman determines the parents deserve another chance she and her siblings will go back into a life that is nominal. Where nurturing is a fairy tale and self-suffiency is a matter of life or death."