Mopping and Moping

I was mopping my floor today while the family napped (I know it's the Sabbath, but mopping happens to be relaxing for me). Anyway, as my mop sogged the floor, my heart was feeling soggy, too. I hate this state of flux about the possible new baby. And I also hate my own discontent with this state of flux. No discipline that comes from the Father is to be despised, even though it's painful.

So I knew what to do. I called my mom and boo-hoo'd. Ahhh...some things never lose their power to console. (What can I say? I'm diabetic. I can't drown my sorrows in a chocolate shake anymore.)

Afterwards, I received a precious email from my mom, and I wanted to post a few lines here:

Betsy, You are so beautifully transparent—if I were in charge, I'd give you at least 18 more children. I am so thankful for your heart, your mind, your spirit. My tears cloud my eyes as I type. It's the Mommy thing—wanting her daughter to have everything she ever wanted—but the wise woman in me knows that it is HE who is wise and not me.

Our Loving Heavenly Father is listening to his child, Betsy, and HE sees, feels, and knows all of your wants, fears, desires, and questions. And speaking from this end of the family, I await that time when you all know—whether it is the clear "silence" as you speak of or the "go for it, kid; just sign the dotted line, and go for the onesies."

I wait with you. Love, Mom

Thanks, mom. I'm so glad God gave me to you.