Gratitude in writing.

This week Alisabeth has approached both Jason and I to ask the same question in different ways:
"When am I getting the sister I asked for a long time ago?" and "When will my sister and two brothers be here?" Every time she asks my heart breaks, and then it aches.
No we never shared with her about the fact that we were trying to adopt, but that's not a possibility anymore anyway. We did share with her about the baby in mommy's tummy, and how Heavenly Father took it back for a little while, so I'm sure that's part of where this is coming from, but that doesn't make it any easier to hear.
And then I take a look at my life and I wonder how I can be so ungrateful! We have the most amazing job with a company that cares enough so that they come into my office at least once a week to make sure I don't feel overworked; a company who listened to me say "my family comes first" and never questioned me on it; a company who understands that I won't be working for them more than a few years (until Jason graduates and finds a job) and still treats me like everyone else when it comes to promotions and opportunities.
Really? How can I complain.
My husband is doing amazingly in school, he's putting all of his efforts into his classes even when he feels like they're kicking his butt. At the same time he's being a stay-at-home dad, our mechanic, our house fixer, the keeper of our home, our leader, an adoring husband and an active member at church (which requires quite a bit of time since he's a secretary). He's attentive and willing and patient and amazing and he stretches himself daily.
How can I complain?
I've also been blessed by a daughter who's the spitting image of me, has enough energy to outrun a racehorse, plays amazingly well by herself and with others (and even chooses activities because she thinks we will enjoy them). She's teaching herself to read with very little effort on our part.
The other day she came to Jason with a paper full of words she copied off of the cat litter box. Words like urine and scent and scoopable. She wanted to understand the meanings and sat enthralled at her father's feet while he tried to explain.
She also strives to say her "sh" and her "ch" correctly even though they used to all sound like "s." She is self-motivated, self-possessed, self-confident, and a delight (when I'm not exhausted just watching her spin circles around me).
Last week she even gained the ability to set her own bedtime (not at all normal for a four year old). She wouldn't go to sleep and it had become a game in which she would force herself to stay awake until eleven or later, popping into the room and giggling as we became enraged. So finally I pulled her into the room and said "How would you like to stay up as long as you want to?"
Huge eyes
"Go ahead and pick two toys and a couple of books. You can take them into your room and you can play there for as long as you want. When you're done put it all away and then come get us and we'll tuck you in."
Excitement and she was gone.
The first night she was up about another forty five minutes and then she came in and said she was done.
Sadly I didn't believe her, so I told her to go tuck herself in and we'd come in a minute. By the time we got there she was out. The second night she came and told us she was done at 9:30, the third night at 9. Last night she chose to go to sleep rather than play and then merrily sang to herself for another thirty minutes.
Needless to say, she's amazing. How can I complain?
Our life is nearly perfect. We have everything we need and so much more. We have friends that people would give their right arms for. We have family that would give their right arms for us. We have opportunities (like Jason's recent interview for an internship with the church in Salt Lake in their networking department). We have miracles daily, and the hand of God is so obviously in our life that I would never even try to deny or hide it.
There's no way I can complain.
Thanks everyone for making our lives perfect. I am so grateful for you and your touch in our eternity.