missing pieces...

I just put Ivy-Ann down for a nap. It's the first time she's taken a nap since we've been home. We are so thrown off from jet lag. Brian and I got up at 4:00 this morning. The girls have been awake since 5:30.

Ivy-Ann has slept in her bed each night. She goes down well and sleeps until morning. No tears, no struggle. But this nap was different. I laid her down and watched through the cracked door as her eyes swept the room. At night it's always dark, and Emryn is in there with her. Today it was light, and she was alone. I could tell she was processing.

Our precious girl has been through so much in the past two weeks, let alone the past four years. She is adjusting so well. She is learning our home and our family-rhythm (whatever rhythm that may be in the midst of jet lag). She is happy and comfortable. She is safe and loved. But she has endured more than any child should have to endure. She was abandoned. She has lived in an institution. She has been in two foster homes. And in the past two weeks, she has been in 3 different hotels, many different buses, crazy-long plane rides and now is in a new place with new people. She doesn't yet know she won't be shuffled around any more. She doesn't know we won't leave her.

A few minutes after I stopped watching her through her door, we heard a noise. She was whimpering like a frightened infant. I ran in, scooped her up and held her close. Our sweet girl may be adjusting beautifully, but she still holds so much inside. I sang to her and rocked her until she fell asleep.

There are missing pieces in her childhood to this point. There is a good chance she has never been rocked to sleep. As I was gazing into her eyes, sometimes she was staring into mine trying to understand just who I am. Other times she was far, far away.

It is hard not knowing her story. She is strong in ways a little girl shouldn't be. She has pain deeper than I have ever experienced. She is braver than many grown men.

I don't know how to raise a child who was orphaned. But I know the One who does. And I will rest in that.