I am just sitting down to feed the baby, her
eyes getting heavier with each sway of the rocking chair, when the phone
interrupts my peaceful moment with it’s shrill ring. A phone call in our home usually means
something important is about to happen . . . a new placement, an update on our
children’s case, a new or rescheduled appointment, someone who needs something
from me. Whoever it is will just have to wait, I think to myself. That’s
why we have voice mail. I’ll listen to the message in a few minutes,
after this sweet thing is asleep.
I must admit that this is one of my favorite
times of the day, a brief respite of quiet and calm, when loving her is the
only thing on my mind. Oh, how precious
she is to me! She has this habit of
looking at me with her deep brown eyes, as if she is looking into my heart,
begging me to love her. Everything about
her is miraculous and beautiful and breathtaking. She frequently touches my mouth, as if to
say, I don’t just want to hear your
words; I want to feel them. She
snuggles up to my neck in that sweet place that children know how to find, and
there is nothing else I would rather be doing.
Nowhere else I would rather be. I
feel like the luckiest person in the world; every day I get to experience the joy,
the sheer pleasure, of loving her.
