The Difference of a Year

Fifty-two Weeks.

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I posted this picture on Instagram a year ago.  My caption had something to do with a midnight snack in the nursery.  I couldn’t sleep and I was using that time to pray.  It’s amazing the difference that a year makes.

Fifty-two weeks later, and when I can’t sleep I go pray in another nursery.  We’ve since bought our own house.  Those Animal Fun Alphabet flash cards line the wall above the changing table.  That little monkey sits on a different bookshelf, and that card holder is overflowing with many more notes of encouragement. And that ice cream…I can’t eat it because it hurts my tummy.

When this picture was taken, we were not quite into our fourth month of waiting on Baby B to come home.  I was convinced I wouldn’t have to wait longer than six months at most.  I had no idea how many more sleepless nights I would stay awake praying, pleading with the Lord to hear my cries.

I reluctantly admit that I wish I had chronicled more of those sleepless nights and all of the emotions that this last year and some odd months have brought.  I know that one day I will want to look back at this long wait and remember the tiny details, but part of me knows that it can be summed up with this one picture.  Waiting and Praying.

There are some details that pictures can’t capture.

Like the peace I feel when I know the Lord hears my cries.

The growth and maturing I’ve experienced from having to depend completely on Faith.

And the Hope that I experience from knowing my God keeps His promises.

I rise before dawn and cry for help; I have put my hope in your word. My eyes stay open through the watches of the night that I may meditate on your promises. Hear my voice in accordance with your love; preserve my life, O LORD, according to your laws. My comfort in my suffering is this: Your promise preserves my life. Psalm 119:147-150

It’s amazing the difference that a year makes.