By Christina Robinson, Restore Network Foster Mom & Monroe County Director
781 days ago, two adorable babies were dropped off at our house. We didn’t know we would love them so fiercely; didn’t know we would celebrate 1st and 2nd birthdays, didn’t know God was writing forever on our story together. Many times over the past years I wished things went differently; wished I was in control, wished others would fight for them, wished I could spare them pain, wished we could change the timeline of forever… but God being rich in mercy and perfectly in control has been creating beauty out of the mess.
The night before adoption the hallway looks like we’re packed to leave for the delivery room. The dining room seems prepared for a birthday; the fridge ready for breakfast and snacks waiting to be grabbed.
It’s an interesting feeling as tomorrow, in many ways doesn’t change much, yet changes everything!
We will come home together, and they’ll give bear hugs as we put them to bed. We will share meals around the same table, snuggle up to read in our favorite chair, chase and play across the floor that we’ve shared for the last 26 months.
We will return not as part of a broken puzzle…. tomorrow the difference is they belong.
Those beds and boxes of clothing will no longer wonder how long they will be needed; the table will host many more years of celebrations and crafting sessions. That favorite chair will be enjoyed for hundreds more books and the carpet will continue to be worn thin with the pounding of sibling’s feet playing together.
There will be no prefix, label or description needed; they will be our sons.
In this new normal we pause to shed tears at the reality that this happy event that aims to redeem a past of hurt and brokenness falls short. Our sons will likely not remember the faces of those that caused them pain, but I will remember the hurt in her eyes when I look into my sons. When I stroke his forehead, and it reveals one that’s just like hers I will wonder if someone has stepped into her life and shown the way to the only true Redeemer. When his hair is wet and reveals red undertones, I will think of the dad he gets those from and pray the Lord sends someone to show what real love and patience looks like.
We pray daily for this family. As we teach our sons to know the writer and redeemer of their story there is hope they can be part of the healing that penetrates a family once broken. Prayerfully the ripples of what once carried hurt and destruction can, through the gospel, carry healing and eternal redemption.