Is anyone out there?

Isn't it just a little bit strange?

To blog for no one?

All the words, dredged from deep within, thrown out into the nothingness of cyberspace...for only me?

I suppose I can look at it as therapy.  The idea that just laying the words down, putting 'pen to paper' in the tradional sense, or typing frantically at the dirty keyboard on my cluttered desk, will actually inspire anyone but me is ludicrous.

I am just me.

All alone here.  It does feel a bit strange, but I still feel proud that I have done it.

yes, just a little bit strange.

Hope

A year has passed. 

Still no adoption. Still no matches.

Hope lingers on.  It has to. If it doesn't, then I am not alive.  I would be a mere shell, empty inside.

Hope rises and falls, like the waxing and waning of the moon and sea. Rising up towards the crest, frothing with excitement as I push the 'send' button, rushing our home study on to flooded caseworkers, then falling into depths of despair as I open up the OARE site and find the child I longed for went from "active" to "on-hold."

Countless faces of children in need. I could embrace them all. Compromise makes me keep my searches within boundaries. I don't like those boundaries, but I gave my word.

Their faces swarm before me, eyes full of hope...crooked smiles of trepidation.  I want them all.  Would that I could be all of their mothers, drawing them to me.

Hope causes me to keep moving forward, even after they seem dashed by no answers.  No matches. No committees.  Hope moves me towards my goal, one foot in front of the other...just keep swimming, just keep swimming.

It makes me reach out my hand in the darkness, eyes squeezed shut...feeling my way with my heart.

Hope lives.