Spotlight on a blogger...

I subscribe to only one blog, "Ripples from Rachel." 
It is the most important blog that I have ever read because it is written by a woman whose life I wish to imitate.  I came upon Rachel's blog via my mother's good friend, Gail.  Rachel is Gail's niece and she lives in Uganda as a nurse... who happens to now foster several orphan babies and toddlers with one another nurse.  She is only 28 years old.  God speaks to me through her. I feel him tugging at my heart with each post.  I don't know what this means but I'm listening.
Here is Rachel's most recent post, one that emanated with me in a very deep way, as a woman who longs to be a nurse, travel (& perhaps live) in Africa and be the kind of woman my mother is...

to be like my mom
Life with two extra moms in the house is just about perfect.  Granted, I’m no longer the mom getting up in the middle of the night with AR and EH is still with a friend.  The ratio is almost 1:1. Our house stays clean because our moms are vigilant with doing dishes and keeping the floor clean.  Not to mention that they take MM to the potty, change dirty diapers, and give babies baths. They make breakfast, lunch, and dinner, as well as homemade bread and apple crisp.  They remember to bring wipes and diapers with them wherever we go.  They let me sleep in and work on my two classes.

How did we do it before they got here?  How will we do it once they are gone?
The longer I parent, the more I realize that in the non-essentials I am just like my mom.  I say stuff that she used to say to me.  I have picked up her habits and her mannerisms.  I want nothing more than to be like her, but I don’t think I’ll ever measure up to her.  Her words are never unkind.  She will always find the good in someone and never assumes the worst about anyone.  Our house may not have always been tidy growing up and I know it drove her crazy for us to leave our stuff all over the place, but she always made time to read out loud to us, cuddle us, give tea parties for the neighborhood kids, drive us to our many activities, and NEVER FAILED to put a homemade dinner on the table.  What a hard act to follow.

She said yesterday, “I hope I am not driving you crazy with my cleaning and organizing. This is what my mom did for me when you were young.”  I can’t believe I’m at the point of life where my mom comes and takes care of my kids and leaves the house MUCH cleaner than when she found it.  I’m 28 and I still feel like I’m playacting and that tomorrow I’ll end up back in my parents’ home, and my home, my permanent address.

And yet, next week, she’ll be gone, back at home, caring for those who are still there, and who still need her to read to them and make them dinner and help them with their Spanish homework.  And I’ll go back to being an adult, caring for my kids, getting up in the middle of the night, going from one pile of dirty dishes to the next, and wishing she was here.
When I was little I knew that all I wanted to do when I grew up was be a wife and a mom.  That is still my goal in life. But now that I’m an adult, I realize just how special of a childhood I had, and just a little bit of me wants to go back and be that little girl again, pretending to be my mom by putting R2, R3, R4, L3, L4 or L5 in my doll bed or doll stroller and take care of them like they were my babies and not hers until I got bored, or they needed a diaper change or needed to be fed, and then I went back to reading my book or playing hide and seek until my mom called me into dinner.  I had an incredible childhood and I’m so thankful for my mom, who did much to make it safe, and happy, and carefree.

And that’s the kind of mother I want to be, for the kids who will hopefully someday share my name, and for the kids I have right now who belong to someone else.  I want them to be secure in who they are and to know they are loved and cherished and safe.