An Interview and a Blessing

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Something happened to me yesterday afternoon. It was so small, and my re-telling will amount to nothing as far as writing goes. My children have been home all week due to bad weather so please forgive me. All the creative in my brain is being used to keep me on the right side of civilized.

But as far as everything goes? I think it’s awfully important.

I had an interview to conduct. It will be a piece on Superman’s website, highlighting a local physical therapy clinic. I’m not really comfortable doing these interviews yet. They aren’t like the interviews I do for magazine writing. Really they are, but for some reason they feel different. I have to feign confidence when I walk into them. Maybe it’s because I’m speaking to medical professionals and not firemen or restaurant owners or city mayors. Or maybe it’s because this is yet another new direction my professional writing has taken and I’m not quite sure how I feel about it.

Before walking into the clinic, I prayed. I prayed I would be a blessing. Maybe I prayed more. I don’t remember. I only remember that I prayed I would be a blessing. I also remember that I prayed quickly and that I was cold while I prayed, which may account for the quickness.

The interview went fine–rather uneventful. I was about to leave when one of the owners of the practice asked if he might show me around their clinic. At the end of his tour we chatted randomly about family, living in Roanoke, and…foster care.

And then, for the next 20 minutes—at least—he asked me questions and shared his excitements and concerns about his family’s own journey of fostering to adopt. They don’t have the children at home yet, but they are close. I was honest with him in my sharing. Hopeful…but honest. I gave him our information so he and his wife could connect with us anytime in the future.

This week of having my children home has tried my patience and worked my self-control muscles to near failure—controlling my thoughts, my words…my thoughts. It is always these times—times of dull, needling, constant pressure—that are most difficult for me when it comes to loving my children well. Which made yesterday—of all days—a laughable day to have a conversation about adopting older children, especially with someone excited and fresh in their adoption journey.

I left their practice and it didn’t hit me at first. But soon I realized…my prayer had been answered. I was a blessing. And in an area of my life that is still so tender to the touch.

I’m not sure when I will stop being amazed at how uniquely God answers my prayers. And in the midst of His answering, I realize (once again) He’s been answering my prayers–especially the tender ones–all along.

Copyright 2015 by Shari Dragovich

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