I’m not sure if anyone is still here… after all, blogger is reminding me that the last time I published something was February 26, 2013. For someone who loves to write, that’s a bit absurd.
Phew… no excuses – except busy-ness. Busy with my beautiful whirlwind of a daughter. Busy with adoption (!!) paperwork. Busy with Scarlet Threads. Not so busy that I don’t have time to sit down and read a good book to my favorite little girl, but busy enough that I fail to write as often as I’d like.
But then Stefanie from Ni Hao Yall asked if I would write through our adoption journey for No Hands But Ours. And my fingers have been itching to write, and I knew if I had a deadline it would be more likely to happen… so I said yes.
And… you can find my first post over there today.
I’ve loved rain for as long as I can remember. Growing up in the drought-struck Panhandle of Texas in a family intimately tied to agriculture (which is intimately tied to annual rainfall), rain was like our manna… necessary for our survival. Except it didn’t come every day.
One of my earliest memories is of praying. Staring out the window of our small trailer, feeling the worry and stress of the adults, I prayed for rain to fill the deep cracks splitting open the soil. I was only 3.
And, predictably, my next earliest memory is of bargaining with God.