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Dear surrogate mama,
If you ever get to read this (which is probably never considering you being blase with anything that has to do with W.E.B.L.O.G.S.), just wanted to thank you for managing to get me hoping in our Lord's plans for my future and yet still get me wanting to smother myself with all that pent-up heartache it's like stuffing a 100% cotton seat cushion down my nostrils.
You succeeded in doing what was previously thought impossible.
The environment helped loads though. Me on the thirteen year old piano bench, and you on that flowery thing you try to pass off as a chair.
It was fabbo. Straight and to the point. You were never one to beat around the damn bushes anyway. We were laughing like little schoolgirls who'd just discovered the joys of lipstick, but still contemptative when we had to be.
I thank God for bringing you through your past circumstances so that you could regal me with tales of you struggling to form that one decision that would shape a future. A future of which you have now, and I can fully see that you haven't had a single regret to this very day.
You're wonderful and I love you. I trust that God would lead me in the way in which we prayed for; the very prayer I'd prayed for 4 years straight coming 5. When it happens, or even when it doesn't, you'll definitely be one of the first to know.
:}
