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My Overthinking

Philly Area mom, Life forever changed by adoption

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Dear friend… {to my child’s birthmother on her birthday}

3.10.16

Lydia 7 birthday - 1You’ve been on my heart today.

Our girl is 7 today. I wonder if you remembered. I wonder if as you woke up this morning, you paused to consider what that morning was like for you 7 years ago. You could no longer will your child to stay where she was, the closest she’d ever physically be to you. On that day, your body brought forth this child, a tiny squirmy little girl. I wonder what your heart felt and how you coped or justified what happened soon thereafter.

I wish I knew you. I wish I could hear about what it was like to carry her in your womb. I wish we could sit down as sisters and you’d tell me what you did to manage the nausea and how you saw your belly move as she tossed and turned inside you. You endured great pain for her sake; I know the pain myself. You heard her gasp for her first breath; you heard her first cry. Did she change your life? Was every day after that day different for you?

It’s the middle of the night where I’m sure you are right now. Before your body surrendered to sleep tonight, did you wonder about where she might be? Maybe quiet tears no longer fall; maybe they never did; maybe your eyes swelled up and your head ached as much as your heart did. There’s no way we can know; we don’t even know your name.

Words in a language that is not your own that you likely will never read are all I get to share. I knew that would be the case when your child became my child. But, that doesn’t make it easy. In fact, I think it has been getting harder as she grows. She calls me Mama, she’s so fully mine. And, yet, I know she’s also yours, and I wish you could admire her with me—her dimples, her determination, her love for her big sister, her belly laugh when she plays with her daddy.

I’m sorry that you’ve missed the last 7 years with her. It grieves me when I pause to consider how you’ll miss the next 7 and the next 7 after that. The finality of that makes my chest hurt for you. She’s amazing, this girl. Your daughter is truly amazing, and you don’t even know her name. I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry that’s the case. I’m sorry for her even more as she feels that loss; you have to know that it is a real loss for her. And, when I see her hurt over her story, right now in seemingly small fleeting ways, I feel a righteous anger. She did nothing to deserve that hurt.

I love this child. I love your child. She has changed my life, and every day since the day she became mine has been different. The anger I feel over what she has endured is balanced by an overwhelming gratitude and joy that I have the honor endure it with her.

On this day, as we celebrate over her favorite meal and an ice cream cake, as we see her face light up as she opens her gifts, as I have the joy of kissing her goodnight and teasing her about how she better stop growing and stay my baby forever, I want to say something to you but I’m not sure what. I don’t want to thank you—that seems so trivial and doesn’t seem fair. I don’t want to apologize—I didn’t wrong you. Wherever you are, even as you dream, I’ll pray you hear my heart and all the mixed up things within it. You are a part of something amazing, something world changing by being a part of this girl. And, I’ll always make sure she knows that even though she’ll never know you and as she processes all the mixed up things within her own heart.

Happy birthday to all of us.

Kelly

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Posted by Kelly the Overthinker
Filed Under: adoption, attachment, Letters

Goodbye, Ben & Abbey {a letter to two of our best friends as they move}

8.14.15

Ben AbbeyIt probably feels like the last month has just been a string of ongoing goodbyes. We knew our turn was coming; we just tried to think about it and talk about it like it was still a far way off. But, now I’m sitting here trying to put some words together to give to you tonight. It’s our turn to say goodbye.

I’m seeing a pattern in my life lately. God supplies just I need before I even know I need it. I remember when we first met. We sat and talked about adoption and ministry while Lydia toddled around us. I thought God was using me to help give you some ideas and encourage you to step out and do whatever it was God was calling you to do.

It’s been years since that day. Since then, you’ve become family. You have filled gaps we felt and those we didn’t even know were there. You have taken things off our plates so that God could put other things on them. You have cared about our kids as people, uniquely made who God will use right now and as they grow. And, you have cared for us, giving us ideas and encouraging us to step out and do what it was God called us to do.

It’s your turn now to step out in faith. It’s your turn to go into the unknown and walk a path you’ve never been down before. And, as you do, we’re prepared to put aside the sad we feel at the gaps that you’re leaving here and be your biggest cheerleaders. There is no doubt in our minds that God has called you to this new adventure at this exact time. But, if you ever doubt it, we’re prepared to remind you. If you’re finished unpacking boxes and it doesn’t feel like home, call us and we can tell you all the funny things Lydia said that day and what Drew made last out of Legos. We’ll tell you what we’re reading and what we’re learning and tell you what is currently stressing us out. You’ll feel right at home again.

I got these pictures in my email inbox this week. They came to me and were addressed to me, but I think they were meant for you. That photography workshop we did with those children at the orphanage last fall? You ran with that, and the two of you shined so bright there. Your hearts were obviously so full and overflowing. I knew I had been a part of something incredible when I tried to hold my phone still through tears to capture on video when you gave each child the certificates and 4×6 copies of the beauty they created. You served hard there and then came home, holding those images like batons and doing your best to pass them on and keep the significance of that week going now on the side of the world where we live. And, you did that well. But, this week, when these images arrived with some simple, broken English words, I knew that God has used your efforts in such bigger ways.

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photo  (1)

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Seeing how the children had responded to your workshop, the staff at the orphanage created a photography classroom where they have had local, professional photographers come to work with the kids. You started something. God used your gifts and your hearts and He brought you to that place at just the right time and God used you to start something. We thought the workshop was incredible—but this is incredibler.

I didn’t want to just email the pictures to you. We decided to print them for you so that you could put them on your new frig or tape them up to your new wall and be reminded that no matter where you are, God is using you. He’s working in and through you in the place where He has you right then and there, and He’s using you in places where you aren’t any longer. That’s the sovereign power of our God.

Life will go on here. Church will keep meeting and growing. The girls will keep sipping coffees in the wee early morning hours every Wednesday. The kids will keep growing. Mark and I will keep looking for how He wants us to be serving. It might be hard for you to know that things are continuing without you. I want to tell you right now that the gap you are leaving is a Leaman-shaped gap, and we’re fully anticipating you coming back and wiggling right back into that spot. But, I also want to tell you that the impact you have on our lives and all the lives of those people God has put in front of you is not ceasing as you leave this place. He is going to continue to multiply how you have faithfully served us and others and ultimately Him, just like He multiplied how you served those children in China. And, when He gives us glimpses of it, we’ll be sure to tell you. That’s what cheerleaders do. And, maybe He’ll somehow use those moments to do what I wanted to do in the beginning, to encourage you to press on and continue to do whatever it is God is calling you to do.

May He bless you abundantly and fill every gap in your lives, even the ones you don’t know you have, as you start on this new adventure, trusting Him to go with you with every step.

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Posted by Kelly the Overthinker
Filed Under: Letters

A letter to my grieving friend

4.9.15

11060328_10206113330463310_4975613135505002252_n

Dear friend,
We know what today is. Your baby would have celebrated her first birthday today. We can’t know how you feel today and for the last month leading up to today since the Lord took her home. We can’t know how you will feel moving forward from today and everyday after. We can’t relate on that level. Our vain attempts to imagine being your position fall so obviously short. Even still, though we do not know the loss you know, we know the God you know.

He is present, never distant.
He is active, never still.
His vision is way bigger than the small glimpses we are able to see.
He is the only author of peace.
He loves you.
He loves your marriage.
He loves your family.
You are His.
He is good–but not only good–He is good in you, for you, and to you.

In those times when you may find yourselves looking at each other and unable to even speak, unable to put words to your hearts, may the Holy Spirit who is in you preach those truths and others to you. May they take solid root in your hearts, and may they fill you even in the depths of your being that seem unfillable.

We are trusting in the God we know to provide healing to all of you in a way that only He can. It may look very different that you may expect or even want right now, but we trust that He will build you up in time as you press on and that in so doing, you will see Him in ways others never will.

We have not forgotten your sweet daughter on her birthday today. We have not forgotten you. But, more importantly, He has not forgotten you and will not for a single moment. We pray that the impact of Avery’s life would go on and on and that you’d experience those blessings personally and see glimpses of ongoing blessings of her life to others all of your days.

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Posted by Kelly the Overthinker
Filed Under: Letters

A letter to my daughter on her 11th birthday

1.29.15

Ashlyn bday Today is celebrating you. It’s your day. It’s the day you met the world. Remember that celebrating you today isn’t simply about streamers, balloons, presents, and candy apples. It also means creating space to think about your life, who you are, and who you want to be.

I have dreams for you, my lovely daughter, wishes for you that birthdays bring to the surface. I have messages I want you to hear from me, sometimes very clearly in word like today but always very clearly in my ordinary conversations and interactions.

I want hope for you. I want you to know that you always have hope no matter what, that you are never stuck where you are, hope that there is always another opportunity, always a way, that there is not simply always a “better” but there is always a “best” that you are moving towards.

I want meaning and purpose for you. You were created by God with His purpose in your very spirit. When you wonder and you wander, I want you to remember that there is never a day—never a moment—that is without meaning and purpose for you.

I want joy for you. I want your heart to be filled with joy to the point of overwhelming. And, when it is not, I want you to choose to go to the One who can fill it again with expectancy in your heart knowing that He is able to do just that.

I want connection for you. You were made for relationship; it’s how you are wired. I want you to fill your life with others to both serve them and be served by them. Within those relationships, I want you to experience beauty over and over and a picture of what it means to be in relationship with the One who made you.

I want inspiration for you. I want you to be able to stop moving and stop doing long enough to be notice the amazing around you. I want you to not feel like you are competing with others but that you are inspired by them to press on in the unique path set before you.

I want kindness for you. I want you to seek to do good towards others without cause or reason not because it’s the right thing to do—though it is—but because you know what it feels like to receive undeserved kindness and that your response to the kindness you have been shown both from others and from God would simply give you a spirit of kindness towards others.

I want victory for you. I take great pleasure in having a front row seat to your success, my love. And, I know you will succeed in so much. But, you will taste failure at some point. It is what we call inevitable; life isn’t life without the experience of failure. You are not perfect; and, therefore, failure will come in the context of performance and in the context of relationship. It’s unavoidable. But, I want you to experience God in those moments. I want you to see your need for Him. And, I want you to redefine victory, to see it not as the world sees it as meaning that you win. I want you to see victory as knowing when you need to learn from a failure and press on and when you need to step back with humility and encourage someone else to step up. Both are fully victorious.

I want gratitude for you. In all situations, every day, when things are hard, when things are not, when you are energized and excited, when you are tired and feel unable to go on, when you cannot help but smile, when you want to rest your head on your arms and not move, no matter what, I want you to be able to call out the good and see that you are blessed.

These are the messages I want you to hear as we celebrate you today and dream about the young woman you are becoming. And, you know what? They are the messages I need to hear too. Listen to them now. Read them over and over until you know what each word means. And, then I am inviting you now to remind me of them when I need reminding. I may seem old to you, and maybe I sort of am. But, I’m not too old to want big things for me too, to not only be better but be the best I can be too. And, I think God gave you to me to help me get there.

birthday collage

No related posts.

Posted by Kelly the Overthinker
Filed Under: Letters, why can't they just stay little forever

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I overthink everything. This blog is a prime example. Make yourself a cup of coffee and sit down for a read. Actually, make that a pot of coffee. There’s a lot of overthinking here.

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