It's after noon and I'm still in bed. Awake, but cozy in my bed. I've been thinking a lot this morning and looking back through pictures, old journals, video clips.
Then, thanks to twitter I stumbled onto this blog - http://www.kevinteast.com/family/fostering-is-saying-goodbye-really-that-hard/ - written by a man at Pine Cove who I really respect. His blog post talks about how his family is coping with the transition of their foster daughter to her new adoptive home.
Today I'm remembering with raw emotion, with joy and gratitude, with longing where I was at this point in 2005.
I found this video clip today of one of the people in my life who has meant more than words can describe and always will. It's simple. Just a regular day at the park. With my little Cassidy.
Cassidy came to us tiny, 3 days old, bright-eyed and shaking with withdrawal pretty bad. My dad picked her up after work one day and I came home from school to find this awesome 4 pound surprise baby sister. Instantly, I fell in love with her.
Cassidy lived with us for 13 months. During that time, I graduated high school, moved off to Baylor, and thought about her all the time. I called my mom almost everyday wanting to know exactly what she was doing, wearing, saying, etc. At night I cried for her, begged God to rescue her, to protect her, to love her. I prayed that He would let us keep her.
After 9 months with us, Cassidy was freed for adoption, but my parents, also in constant prayer for her, knew that we were not supposed to adopt her. They felt the Lord saying clearly that they were taking someone else's place as her parents.
This devastated all of us in a way that is probably incomprehensible unless you have been in a similar place. I was wrecked with the thought that this little baby girl - who crawled all over our house chasing Daisy the Maltese, who looked to my mom and said "mama", who trusted us to feed and provide for her, who giggled when we sang to her, who let me dress her up in every possible outfit I could - would wake up one morning and not know where we were. How could we do that to her? What if her new family was awful, or simply loved her as second best instead of the treasure that she was?
It is through Cassidy that I learned a valuable lesson on trust and submission. My faith was tested. We prayed for her new family, who we had absolutely no influence in choosing. We knew that we would most likely be given zero contact with her post adoption as well. That thought hurt.
Our family began to pray very specific requests for her new family. For example, we prayed that they would have no other kids at the time of her adoption and would have had difficulty getting pregnant in the past. We prayed that they would live within an hour of us and might possibly be open to the thought of a follow up visit. We prayed, most importantly, that they would be believers.
From January until April, we waited. We cherished every single second with her. I came home from Baylor as often as possible to snuggle her up. We made scrapbooks of pictures of her precious life and labeled all of her special things. "Outfit you came home from the hospital in." "Favorite blankie." "Bear you won't sleep without." I begged Jesus to prepare her. To prepare me.
In April we began the 1 week transition to move her to her new family. My parents met them and had the truly priceless opportunity to show them her pictures for the first time ever. Together, they cried, prayed, praised God, and made plans to meet little Cassidy.
I vividly remember that day. Watching them meet Cassidy for the first time was a moment that changed me. I was wrenched with sadness and peace all at once.
It has been nearly 6 years since she met them. In February 2005, I was terrified for her future - terrified that if this didn't end well, I would blame myself and my family for letting her go. Terrified that she would never recover. Terrified that we would never recover. Yet constantly turning her very life over to the Lord.
Her parents are believers. They tried for 10 years to have a baby, and Cassidy was their answered prayer. They live in Frisco, not too far down the road, and they continue to be a unique little part of our family. Each prayer that we prayed for her family was answered beautifully and more perfectly than we could have dreamed.
Cassidy has a new name, a new identity. She is loved and treasured forever by our family and theirs. God didn't take the "gold" our family had shown her and trade it out for a less valuable silver - he gave her both and then some! Such a faithful, sovereign, gentle God.
I don't have a ton of pictures on this computer, but have found a few through the years. This picture is from the first time she came back to visit our house in July 2005. We wondered if she would remember us.
She walked in the door, all smiles, and to our amazement pointed to our dog and said "Dai-y!" She remembered. This is her with a funny face blowing kisses.
Me, Sarah and "Cassidy" (now Peyton) celebrating Christmas 2009. Love her! 
Peyton and my dad, sitting on the porch at the lake house sharing ice cream.
So thankful for the journey!
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