“Dear Child, It is now official. We have been assigned to be your forever family. I’m ready to jump on the next plane and fly you home, but adoption doesn’t work that way. The wait is agonizing, but considering you’ve been waiting for 12 years, mine pales in comparison. I’ll just have to wait a little longer. Isn’t it all divine timing? You will soon receive our family book, which will inform you that you have a family. And I wish I could be a fly on the wall the moment you hear the news!
Will you say, ‘A family for me?’ as you look at our picture? Or will you be stunned and unable to express yourself? Will you have a big grin on your face, or will you smile sheepishly, unsure of what you should be feeling? I’m curious whether you’ll proudly carry the book around to show your friends, or if you’ll tuck it away to read privately. Will you fantasize about who we are and whether or not we are nice? Will you examine our faces, your surroundings, and the images on the pages?
Will you ever wonder what it means to be a part of a family? Maybe you’re wondering what kids in America are like. I’m not sure what you’ll wonder, but if the pages of that book could speak to you, they’d tell you that our family portrait is incomplete without you in it. It would tell you that your mother can’t wait to tuck you in at night and that your father can’t wait to cook for you.
(Whenever your brothers request McDonald’s, daddy likes to joke that he will take them to McDaddy’s and then feed them spam and rice at home. That’s how he is.) Those pages would tell you that your siblings are loud, and I’m sure you’d chuckle to yourself because you grew up in an orphanage full of brothers and sisters. It would tell you that everyone deserves to feel loved and safe in our home, so we will always check in with you to ensure you feel both.
It would say that I’m not sure how you measure love, but if you could see inside my heart, you’d see that there’s no measuring cup in the world large enough to hold my love for you. It would tell you that we will honor those who have loved you before us and walk alongside you as you go through your grief. It would primarily tell you that you are not forgotten, that you are loved, that you are deserving, and that you have hope and a future.
And now what? You now have a family as well.” “Dear Child, It is now official. We have been assigned to be your forever family. I’m ready to jump on the next plane and fly you home, but adoption doesn’t work that way. The wait is agonizing, but considering you’ve been waiting for 12 years, mine pales in comparison. I’ll just have to wait a little longer. Isn’t it all divine timing? You will soon receive our family book, which will inform you that you have a family.
And I wish I could be a fly on the wall the moment you hear the news! Will you say, ‘A family for me?’ as you look at our picture? Or will you be stunned and unable to express yourself? Will you have a big grin on your face, or will you smile sheepishly, unsure of what you should be feeling? I’m curious whether you’ll proudly carry the book around to show your friends, or if you’ll tuck it away to read privately.
Will you fantasize about who we are and whether or not we are nice? Will you examine our faces, your surroundings, and the images on the pages? Will you ever wonder what it means to be a part of a family? Maybe you’re wondering what kids in America are like. I’m not sure what you’ll wonder, but if the pages of that book could speak to you, they’d tell you that our family portrait is incomplete without you in it.
It would tell you that your mother can’t wait to tuck you in at night and that your father can’t wait to cook for you. (Whenever your brothers request McDonald’s, daddy likes to joke that he will take them to McDaddy’s and then feed them spam and rice at home. That’s how he is.) Those pages would tell you that your siblings are loud, and I’m sure you’d chuckle to yourself because you grew up in an orphanage full of brothers and sisters.
It would tell you that everyone deserves to feel loved and safe in our home, so we will always check in with you to ensure you feel both. It would say that I’m not sure how you measure love, but if you could see inside my heart, you’d see that there’s no measuring cup in the world large enough to hold my love for you. It would tell you that we will honor those who have loved you before us and walk alongside you as you go through your grief.
It would primarily tell you that you are not forgotten, that you are loved, that you are deserving, and that you have hope and a future. And now what? You now have a family as well.”