I am not a good blogger; I have come to that acceptance after blog surfing and becoming green with envy. I could be a good blogger, but I need motivation, a cheerleader of sorts. But in order to do that, I would have had to have my blog seen in the first place right? So my pets are going hungry, and every now and then I can hear crickets on my blogs page. (Sarcasm of course)
I've started a book, and that's about all I have done with it. Writers block suck, along with bottomless ideas. My brain is at it's limit of bursting, and yet my fingers are going no where. I'd write a book about my life, but that would take volumes, and if I can't get one measly book done you can pretty much forget a library, trilogy, or even a sequel out of me.
How are the children doing you say? Allahu Akbar, is my answer. Never have I felt more blessed, masha Allah. Isma'eel is back home, although his stay has been determined indefinite, I like to think of it as "for a long time".Blessings are everyday, there is no way to actually think things happen by accident, or just by chance. It's not just by chance that I love the craziest kidnappers this side of the globe. No; that's something special, something only a mother can understand.
To be programmed to love, protect, and sacrifice for a person the moment you meet them, has to make a believer out of anyone. It's powerful, even more powerful than falling in love with your own parents. With growth, a baby falls in love with it's care giver, but how do you put into words the feeling you get when you hear the first cry? Allahu Akbar.