My Walls are Full

When my 17 year old leaves a note on my nightstand, I know to expect a missing scarf or a pair of boots. At least she includes a heart or an “xo” to remind me that she loves me as much as she loves my closet.

If my 14 year old sends a text, I can plan on skipping whatever lunch plans I had because he wants to go out to Subway together and tell me everything that happened in whatever game he last played.  Play by play.  Even though I was there.

The 12 year old writes everything in Hebrew because she never stops being creative and knows that nothing looks better than “My Beloved” or “Unfailing Love” in Hebrew.

But then there’s this little girl, who technically isn’t so little.  My little one that turns 15 today.  The one that asked for a story about her…

When I first met her two years ago, she left me with a note that I carried around for an entire year.  It was all I had left of a little girl that I loved from the moment I met her. 

She had been in America singing with His Little Feet for a year. She asked for one last lunch before heading back to Ethiopia, and even though I knew it was going to break my heart to say bye, I went.  I asked by girlfriends for prayer and headed out to give her one last hug.  I fully expected that this date would be the last time I would ever see her.  She owned a piece of my heart, and I knew I had given it away carelessly. I just didn’t know what to do about it.

At lunch, she yelled at me, tears streaming down her cheeks, making a scene and leaving me speechless.  She was begging me to be her mom and all I could promise her was that God had a plan for her life.  She didn’t want to hear it.  She wanted me to say I would come for her. 

Ten months later, I jumped out of a van in Addis Ababa and called her name at the entrance to the orphanage.  I cried at the sight of the gate.  I knew that God had given me one of the greatest gifts of my life… He was allowing me to keep I promise I knew better than to make. 

But He knew. 

She came running.  I held her.  Knowing that for the rest of her life, I would be the one to protect her, teach her and love her more than she ever knew was possible. 

I had no idea what was coming. 

The teenage girl that I brought home was not what I expected. 

I thought I would teach her how to love.

     She loves me without fear.

I thought I would model trust.
     She takes me at my word and expects me to follow through.

I thought I would provide strength.

     She believes that we do anything as long as we are together.
Mostly importantly, I thought I would teach her about the love of Jesus. 

She shows me how Jesus loves. Completely. Without fail. Unconditional.

My walls can no longer hold her precious notes of affection. 
She has written too many.
But what she has written on my heart can never be undone. 

She speaks the same language as me… Words. 
Just give me words and you have my heart.

She has my heart.

Happy Birthday my love.