The Night the Lights Went Out in My Heart-Momentarily.

One Saturday night, I logged into the adoption website. I entered Hanna's code and waited patiently for the search engine to locate her, like a diamond in the rough. Search empty. WHAT????? My stomach turned. I must have put in the wrong numbers. I tried again, and again...nothing found. My heart was pulsating in my throat. I closed my eyes and talked to God for a brief moment...

"God...please put a white light around my heart, because I think it might break into a million tiny pieces."

I took a deep breath in and collapsed into a heap on my couch. Hanna had been adopted. Tears, warm and uninvited, flooded my cheeks. I cried for hours-- for the little girl who snuck into my heart and took up residence. I felt like I had been the front-runner in the Olympic marathon and then an expert runner joined the race last minute and swooped the gold medal from underneath me. I was devastated.

When I was able to collect myself and my thoughts, I remembered that this journey had started so a little girl could have a home...a place in this world to be loved unconditionally, and now she did.  I had to remember that from loss there is gain, and I would embrace the lesson in this experience.

Hanna will always have a special place in my heart; she is the flame that ignited my spirit and I shall never forget her.

A Room for Hanna

Like a grunion hunter waiting for the tides to recede, I anticipated the moment when I would commence the foster-care process. I meditated on this notion and in January, as the full moon transitioned out of its cycle-- I oriented myself to the beginning of the beginning.

I learned that I would have to have a room for Hanna, a room all her own.

I searched neighborhoods and online ads for the increase in square footage that would allow my dreams to take shape.

On an educator's salary, my options were limited; but I found a suitable place-- near a good school, and it didn't break the bank. In March, I packed my life into boxes and left my solitude behind.

Inside my newly rented four walls, a fresh coat of paint enhances the room where beautiful Hanna will sleep. On the pink iron bed, shaped with curves and hearts, I place Oliver, a bear that my grandmother passed on to me before she died. This bear had been my grandmother's companion since she was three years old, and my confidant since I was seven days old; he is an excellent guardian and secret keeper. 

Oliver will be patient with Hanna, and will protect her from imaginary monsters while she is sleeping, as will I.

She will be safe here in her new home, in the room all her own, just as safe as she is in my heart.