Every time we receive a donation receipt there is always a personal message. "God bless your family" "hope this helps" "I'm saying YES to love!" or "wish it could be more".
I read each of these well wishes with a smile on my face and a grateful heart.
All of you with our daughter's name on your lips. All of you with her picture in your minds. All of you with her life, her future, he well-being engraved in your hearts.
Goosebumps are breaking out just writing that last sentence.
I love that in that capitol of Bulgaria, in a cold concrete building, is a little girl who waits. And all around this little girl, unbeknownst to her, are people. Prayers. Well wishes. She has a family with a Mama, Papa, three big brothers and a little sister. She has a future Godmother praying for her every day. She has a church community, an online community, a wider community all wondering about her.
She has people. Lot's of them. Doing lots of amazing things to help bring her home.
Our church prayed about us last night. They asked for prayers for the Pope and then the Bishops and then the imprisoned the unemployed, the oppressed and then little old us and our girl. I cried.
I wonder if some small part of her knows. While sitting in her "chair" (this is the place she feels most comfortable her reports have told us) does she feel something different in her life. Does the monotony of institutionalized life get broken up by these moments of awareness? By awareness that something wonderful and really big is happening?
There are times during the day while taking care of my kids, or washing my dishes, I pause. My daughter. My daughter. What will you smell like? What will your skin feel like? What will your smile look like when I make you giggle? And daughter, I so long to make you giggle.
All those lips with our daughter's name on them. Our hearts out in the world.