I could hunker down and fold over in two with real sobbing.
And it's for a crazy thought.
One you might not imagine would bring me to such emotions.
Because it doesn't make a lick of sense. At least not right now.
And yet, it seems so right, though it seems right now as though it's as impossible as me running a marathon tomorrow would be.
Though, when I ponder the analogy I just presented, it brings me to Hope.
Because, there is actually a possibility I could run a marathon tomorrow.
I'd be slow in the second half. I'd hurt for weeks on end, I'm certain.
But, there is a possibility I could do it.
Perhaps it's that *possibility* that keeps me believing in this Hope.
For my whole life I've wanted two children.
And for practically forever I've said out loud that I want to adopt.
I have one of my own. And he's perfect as all children seem to mommies. He was hard-won. It took two losses to get him.
I find myself wondering how I could ever ask for more.
Yet, when I think of adoption there's this swelling that rises up inside of me and with every ounce of who I am, I want to run into it. I want to drop my to-do list and my calendar to splash around in the high tides of this Hope.
I'd clear our well scheduled life out right now to make room for this child who I have no clue is real or imagined.
What I haven't shared before is this *secret*
--how I find myself praying for someone I don't know.
How I feel a sense that someone else's story is being lived out right now. And, the days I live are necessary--for them. Not *him* or *her* but "them". Because, I believe there's a multitude of stories connected to one life and time is necessary for this multitude.
It seems too huge to think of it all in this way.
Thinking outside of my own life and grasping at a bigger story brings me to tears, and keeps me waiting for my turn at this Hope.