..."Brackish and Incandescent"...: Three Years Ago

At the time, our two oldest were out of the house...

We had four girls living at home, all aged seven and under.

We became convinced again that we were being Called to adopt. So naturally, we thought "a girl" would be the logical placement. As Daddy said, "we have all girl gear, it is easy to bring another girl home."

I secretly wasn't so sure. I had a strange feeling that perhaps it would be a little man who would join our hearts and lives.

Dutifully we searched through the listed children. Daddy even considering twin-two year old girls briefly (when then would have had four 3 year olds) because his commitment to the logical placement of a girl was so strong.

Being "open-minded" we looked through the boys listed. The boys outnumbered the girls three-fold, reminding me of the huge obstacle boys have in the adoption world. There simply is a bias/strong preference when adding a child through adoption to bring home a girl...boys linger, and linger, and linger on lists often with little activity on their files.

Later that night, as we were climbing into bed, I asked Daddy, "did any of those children touch you, connect with you, in some special way?"

He simply said, "yeah, the little guy with one eye." I chuckled and said, "me too."

But there was a problem, of sorts.

He was after all a boy and Daddy and I both believed strongly that our next child would come from the same province as our daughter, Potato (adopted the year previous) had. This was due to some significant relationships we'd established there, as well as a strong sense of "connection" to the provincial capital city. (The very city from where I write this post to you today.)

And, the little guy with one eye was not from this province, according to the web profile on him, he came from a similarly named province to the Northeast.

I am so thankful for the openness of my husband's heart for so often when I would shut the door to some sort of thinking, of pursuing a possibility, he is always the one that says, "press on." And he did. He said, "well, perhaps we're mistaken about the province thing? Why don't you go ahead and request the boy's file."

The next mid-day, I had an email, with the full file of the little guy. Described therein as "clever, outgoing, who loves to jump" they further added, "maybe he will grow up to be a high-jumper someday?" This cracked me up.

Daddy was a work when I opened the email. And in the first sentence, my heart exploded with a shot of adrenaline...there was a typo. It said he was fostered in THIS province, the one we felt a "connection to." I suddenly had that feeling, like some women experience when they "know" they're pregnant...I knew he was my son.

I called Daddy on the phone and attempted to be very casual, not even mentioning the file or the boy. It was obviously on his mind though as he asked me quickly, "did you get the file?" I answered, "yes, and the funny thing, there was a typo."

Daddy laughed this KNOWING sort of laugh...and said..."He's in (our province) isn't he?"

"YES!" I exclaimed, and then thought, how did he know that? I just said "typo," that could have been ANYTHING on that report. But, Daddy had been let in on the truth by the HS it would seem...and then he simply said, "well, that's our son."

And, he is. Bub is our son.

On this day, three years ago, we waited for him at the Civil Affairs Office to arrive. He was scrubbed up, wearing some darling little clothes and stared at us wide-eyed, and bravely. Then the tears came, a torrent...until the first matchbox car was offered...then we were okay. I think everyday since that day he's had a matchbox car palmed in one of his fists.

We went out, climbed in the van, and he fell asleep on my lap.

I could have never imagined how he would capture my heart and make me his Momma so completely, so quickly.

He is a incredible joy to parent and I cannot imagine how we could be so blessed to been allowed the chance to call this boy our son.

He is an enormous, athletic boy, who loves the ladies and is ever so thoughtful of his Momma and sisters. Just the other day as we got into the elevator to go to school he said (as he does often to his sisters), "Potato, you sure look pretty today!"

Or he will come over to me, rub my back and say, "I love you Momma, you're so beautiful, and your the best cooker!"

Such affirming words are a daily event with Bub...his skills in charming EVERYONE cannot be understated...

He wanted to dress just like his Dad to go to school this week...he so loves his Daddy...he crawls up in our bed and tries to joke with his Dad, often asking, "hey Dad, isn't that SO FUNNY?"

His laughter is contagious. His loving heart unsurpassed.

He was taught how to dance "with a lady" by his Gramma J this summer at his Uncle's wedding...he talks about it constantly...and how "you and me danced Momma, wasn't that great? But I couldn't get the sisters to dance!"...oh my, how they missed out on a memory that will last me a lifetime.

How thankful I am that we did not allow our "thinking" of bringing home a girl, the "logical" choice, to lead us...but instead allowed our hearts to rule. Today there are hundreds of boys who wait, simply because they are boys...and you reader, you are missing out on the incomparable miracle of bringing home a boy...give those boys a chance!

I'm going to go make Bub's favorite scones now, snuggle him up on my lap so that I can selfishly hear him say how much he loves me...and so I can tell him that one of God's greatest gifts to me, was him. He'll then get up, bound around the house, leading the New Guys in some adventuresome game, while self-styling a new song to sing...then will turn to look for me, dozens of times a day, just to flash his phenomenal smile...