open book open heart

My life is an open book.  Open in the traditional sense because I’ll tell you anything but also open in a smack-in-the-middle, unfinished sense.  We Mormons have a saying about  life, “Endure to the End.”  My hubs and I decided when we were first married, we’d buck that tradition and endure to the middle.   So, here I am, in the middle; the middle of my life, the middle of my story, the middle of my book.

My life is also an open book because I believe in living heart-wide-open.  Picture me standing in the middle of a daisy field, arms outstretched catching whatever beauty I can, whatever blessings I can, and then cherishing all that comes with the beauty and blessings including the ugly and the trials.  My life could be full to the brim of beauty and blessings and I’ll still be out in that field, arms outstretched for more.  It’s how I roll.

Some of the right-now beauty and blessings include my larger-than-life husband, all 6 foot, 9 inches, and 200-something pounds of him.  People who don’t know him refer to him as “a big dude.”  People who know him refer to him as “David” because that’s his name and because he is the most proportionate man who ever lived, big in spirit and size.  He fits his frame.  When my mom first met him, she could not get over how he “kept coming up the stairs.” Since then, she has become accustomed.  You will too.

Together standing in a daisy field, we have had children fall into our open hearts.  One who is stuck with us through adoption, two who WILL be adopted soon, and others who come and go through foster care.

We adopted 12-year-old Joey when he was two days old.  But I think I have loved him my whole dang life.  My Joey is laughter, movement, goodness, and intensity.  After Joey, we thought we’d fill the house with siblings for him but it took ten years of standing in a daisy field, catching other blessings before then 14-month-old little DJ fell into our open hearts.  DJ is mischief with a touch of the biggest melt-your-heart brown eyes that make you forgive the mischief part.  He walked straight into my heart. Lala is our, we never even dared to hope for one, little girl. She is a sneaky trouble-maker and understands fully the power that comes from being the only cute girl in town. She has each and every one of us wrapped around her little finger.

Maybe the daisy field is the wrong metaphor.  Don’t get the impression I’ve been standing idly by, waiting for blessings.  Because, especially when it came to those kids, there was lots of scrambled, frenetic, intentional searching and praying and, boy-o, the paperwork!  So, maybe still picture the daisy field but with me tripping over my once-white, flowing skirt, diving to catch any blessing that remotely looks like it could be mine.

What else would you like to know?  That I’m a Mormon?  That I collect big words?  That I am an edacious reader? (Look that one up, you won’t be sorry, it’s a good big word.) That I have a Master’s Degree?  That I owned a business?  That I professionally advocate for children in foster care, specifically about their education?  That I paint my toenails once a year?  Go ahead.  Ask.  I’ll answer.  I’ m an open book.