We talked about how I love God above all else. I was relaxed and my demeanor oozed of joy and faith. I said I love God more than Daddy and her, and more than anything else in the world. Because that’s where I draw my strength to love her (and her Daddy) well. She smiled with her cute frown smile. I told her that God is my Father. He adopted me as he adopted her as well. And anyone who believes in Him.

She got a sad face and said…
⁃ But you weren’t adopted by your mom and dad. I wish you were adopted by your parents or dad was adopted by his parents.
⁃ So we could have adoption in common?
⁃ Yes…

I told her I didn’t choose my family, or my life. But God doesn’t make mistakes. I told her I’m sorry we don’t have our birth story or adoption in common. But I am so happy I could adopt her and be her mommy. And that she is perfect to us. But I feel her sadness. And it’s valid.

We talked about the 50 thousand kids who don’t have a mommy or daddy to tuck them in at night, and many go to bed hungry and cold. And Tomorrow I go to this confrere about adoption and I’ll tell about her story and maybe be an encouragement to others to adopt and give vulnerable kids a family.

She is starting to understand what adoption is about. And that most kids are not adopted. Her astute awareness, her wisdom are a reason to celebrate, though it comes with the pain of reality and the journey ahead of processing it.