The other night I was talking on the phone with my mom. It was our weekly chat about all the stuff she’s picked up and treasures she’s found for our future foster child. I love that she’s so excited and (on occasion) she does pick some stuff that we really like. Last week she got us a new dia.per ge.nie – sweet! This week I got reports of a high chair – double sweet! I could probably live without the scary circus/clown/balloon nursery hanging….but, of course we’re gracious and accept all gifts. And it overfills my heart to have her support and excitement.
Until she winded down the converstation with: “I’m just so excited. Imagine how excited I would be if it were a *real* blood grandchild!”
Ouch. ::radio silence::
“I’m glad you love all of God’s children, but you know what I mean.”
I didn’t have the heart (or courage) to tell her she probably won’t ever be seeing a “blood” grandchild. The things people say without even realizing…
