Based in Cataula, Georgia, Theresa garcia Robertson is a Georgia native. Her posts explore everyday life, politics, and opinion.

Crying over Fried Chicken {and other related thoughts}

I didn't realize how much my heart would ache as I watch my sisters have babies. It has NOTHING to do with my sisters (and we have talked about that). It has nothing to do with how much I love and adore my nieces and nephew. It has everything to do with my own heart, my own insecurities, my own impatience, my own flawed humanity. As Randy and I have walked the long and winding road to adoption through DFACS, in an attempt to complete our family, I have had a great deal of time to ponder, pray, and meditate on what we are doing and why.

As much as I want to deny this, I feel the enormity of this very human need to leave a "legacy". I often look at my life and wonder what legacy am I leaving if there is no child that shares my family name, parented by Randy and me.

I called Randy yesterday and told him I just needed to hear his voice because I was feeling anxious and didn't know why.

That was a lie.

I knew exactly why I was anxious. I was-FOR REASONS ONLY KNOWN TO THE GOOD LORD ABOVE- thinking about who I would leave earthly possessions to in the case of my death.

**insert massive eye roll/face palm**

What in the actual world? 

Last week, I was riding with my boss (who happens to be someone I consider one of my dearest friends) and the conversation got pretty deep (but also, who am I kidding? My life is pretty open and I LOVE deep conversations). We talked campaign, marriage, and kids. I admitted how much I was struggling with not being a mama.

He simply said "You're going to be ok."

And while I know that (and I really really do know it) I have rested in the knowledge, the thought process, and the promise that I am going to be ok more and more of late.

Unless you have felt the weight of waiting, the empty feeling caused by the unknown, the overwhelming grief of empty arms that your heart knows are supposed to be full, it’s difficult to describe what it feels like to wait to be a mama. It's difficult to explain why you feel the need to be in control of something, literally anything, in an effort to keep your sanity.

I CRIED LITERAL TEARS last night because my plans to cook dinner fell through and we had to eat Publix fried chicken instead (not a bad trade out, BUT STILL).

My sister, Caroline, wrote these words a few weeks ago and they resonate deep down in my soul:

Waiting has produced patience, patience perseverance & perseverance the strength to find joy along the way. Our waiting muscles are strong & we are soaking up every moment of this waiting, knowing that sooner or later, all things come to pass & you find yourself looking around the next bend. Life doesn’t happen around the next bend, friends. It’s happens while you’re waiting. It’s not a new thought, but it’s a challenging practice.

Trusting God’s timing is hard. Knowing the answer to our prayer might be “no” is not easy to swallow. But then God allows me to feel His grace and hear Him say “I’ve got your back. I’ll never let you feel empty for long.” His answer might be “not yet.” And it might be “I have other plans for you.”

But He still designed me to be a Mama. I just have to think outside the box and realize “normal” has never been my thing anyway.

How Immigration is Destroying Central and South America (And how it is working to destroy us too)

How Immigration is Destroying Central and South America (And how it is working to destroy us too)

The Robertsons of Cataula {Adopt}