Last night, long after putting the girls to bed, I went trolling through Facebook, looking to see what the people in my world were up to.
Many were still celebrating the Patriot’s win. Some were railing against the hypocrisy of Newt Gingrich’s stand on .. well, everything, Some were posting various articles discussing and dissecting the proposed changes to the DSM-V.
And then there was something else entirely.
A friend had posted a link to THIS.
Please click on the link above and read the post before continuing. Nothing that follows has meaning without it.
I don’t know Susan, though I was honored to be nominated for the Bloganthropy award with her last year – an award that she ultimately, and very deservedly won.
As I read her beautiful, poignant post, tears streaming down my face, a little person came barging into my room. There was an obvious sense of purpose in her stride. She was agitated – on a mission.
I wiped my face clean and looked up at her.
“What’s up, sweetheart?” I asked.
“Betty Lou is lost!” she said, her little brow furrowed with worry. “I need to find her.”
“Well then let’s go, little one,” I said. I picked her up and carried her back to her room. Nearly nine but not yet fifty pounds, I still have the luxury of carrying her.
“I love you so much, my sweet baby,” I whispered in her ear, “So very much.”
And on that short walk across the hall it hit me full force. Just what a blessing – what a privilege it is to be here. To do the stuff that drives me crazy. To search for a lost stuffed animal in the middle of the night. To carry my girl. To tell her that I love her.
We went into her room and began the Search Protocol. I stripped the bed, one layer at a time. I placed everything on the floor – then searched under, over, on top, on the bottom, from side to side. All the while, Brooke was curled into a ball on her floor. “I feel worried about her,” she said plaintively. “I miss her SO much!” she added for emphasis.
I finally spotted little Betty Lou just far enough under the bed that we’d have to move it. Luau came to the door just in time, wondering what was going on. He picked up the bed, canopy and all, and slid it over just enough so that I could grab the doll. I reached down, retrieved her and handed her to Brooke.
Brooke grabbed her as though she’d been away at war. She hugged her and rocked her and kissed her head. She declared her love for her. She had me hug her too.
I tucked them in together, kissed them both and walked away feeling like I’d won the lottery.
Susan, you have inspired so many with your strength, your faith and your love. I wish you no less than a thousand more nights getting your ass out of bed to find a damn stuffed animal.
You are, and will always be, in my prayers.