Near the end of 2009, as I was starting to consider taking down my Christmas decorations, I began praying about my goals for the new year that was quickly approaching.  I know a lot of people don’t like resolutions, but I adore them.  I love new beginnings, whether it be a new year, a new month or just a new week.

As I was praying, I kept feeling like the word “intentional” was something I was supposed to think about in regards to both MacKenzie and Aviean.  I wasn’t sure how it would play out but, as the first couple of months of the year have slowly passed, I’ve seen quick glimpses of how my intentions towards them as well as about them matter.

Earlier this week, I told you that I got up early and went to MacKenzie’s apartment to pick her up and take her to breakfast before dropping her off at school.  What I didn’t tell you is that, when my alarm went off at 4:45 a.m. that morning, I wanted to go back to bed.  I was tired and sleepy.

But I got up.  I got up and got in the shower and did my hair and left the house before the sun was fully up.  I drove to her apartment, put her booster seat in my car and took her for doughnuts.  I drove her to school, gave her a small pink box with a cupcake inside and kissed her cheek before she went inside her classroom.

I’m not telling you this to make myself sound wonderful or because I have some hero mentality about myself.  I’m telling you this because, right now, this is the chapter being written in my story of life.  This is the chapter where God takes a 25 year old girl who asked Him for a husband and children of her own and instead gave her an eight year old without a mother and a four year old without stability in her life.

As my weeks and months with having the girls in my life go by, I feel like I discover a new reason for their presence in my life on almost a daily basis.  Perhaps the biggest lesson right now is that which I illustrated earlier with the story of how I wanted to sleep a couple of extra hours instead of taking MacKenzie to school.  The lesson I’m learning right now is that it — this story, my life — isn’t actually always about me and what I want and even what I think I need.  Sometimes it’s about getting out of bed and taking that girl to school because she’s never had a day in her entire life when a maternal figure has dropped her off to school, much less taken her to breakfast first.

Sometimes it’s about showing up at the school later that day to have a conference with her teacher so that she can update me on MacKenzie’s progress in class.  Sometimes it’s about the teacher handing me materials to work with her on when she’s with me on the weekends.  Sometimes it’s about teaching Aviean how to count to ten, how to say her ABC’s night after night.  Sometimes it’s about not buying new clothes for myself because I need to purchase clothes for Aviean instead.

And do you know what the best thing is?  Never do I say “sometimes this is worth it.”  Always, every day, every single time I choose to do what I know is right, it is worth it.  It’s worth it whether I can see the effects of my love of these girls now, it’s worth it if I won’t see the effects until I’m in heaven.  It’s worth it when I take them to the aquarium and it’s worth it when I take away privileges.  It’s worth it.

And so that’s what I’m doing in 2010, this year of my life.  I’m being intentional about my love, intentional about my care, intentional about my discipline.  I’m being intentional about driving the miles to pick MacKenzie up for the weekend whether I’m tired or not.  I’m being intentional about letting Aviean stir the brownie batter even though I know it means I’ll have a mess to clean up when she’s done.  I’m being intentional about not favoring one girl over the other and spending time alone with each of them.  I’m being intentional about the way I spend my money so that I continue to have fresh fruits and vegetables in my refrigerator to feed them.  I’m being intentional about losing weight so that I can more easily chase them around the park this summer.  I’m being intentional.

I’m being intentional because, when I looked at the girls as I prepared to take the picture you see above these words, I suddenly felt like I couldn’t breathe.  For a moment, from behind with their hair and long limbs, I saw them at 13 and 15 and 17 years old.  I saw them making decisions and making promises and making mistakes.  I saw them in their futures and I saw that, what I do today, matters more than I could ever imagine.

And so, my love is intentional.