Deep thoughts from the shallow end

Two years ago we started out on a journey, our hearts full of the desire to add a child or two to our family. We could have created another child, carried him to term and delivered him into our family. This is something I knew how to do, had experience with. Instead, we felt that we were so blessed that we wanted to reach out to a child or children who actually needed us. We wanted to do something to make the world a better place, and also to fill the hole we had that only a child could fill. With excitement and happiness, we began.

Our son found us first. Five pounds of Godly glory. The eleventh child, 8th surviving, of a struggling mother. She had made a careful birth plan. The child was born in the hospital and went directly to the orphanage. We first saw his face when he was 9 days old and he captured our hearts. Each month new pictures revealed a child with corkscrew curls and a calm manner. He grew and grew and grew until he was at the top of the charts. We visited and he was every bit as delightful as we could have imagined.

Then our daughter found us. On the day she was born we were inexplicably led to her and knew she was ours. Tiny and petite, happy and beautiful, everything again that we could hope for. Her case flew along, passing hurdle after hurdle where his had always failed. This was our repayment for the other pain. We felt so deserving of an easy case. It was our due.

But then the dreaded PGN sucked in our daughter and held on tight. The great black abyss refuses to spit her out. For the third time I am doing all the paperwork. It is like a comforting old friend now. Notary, apostille, authenticate, translate. The tasks give me the false sense of doing something, but in reality it is just one more hoop for this trained clown to jump thru.

So you might be wondering why I am writing this almost-poetic tale of our journey. Something happened last night that made me think. This is not about me and my pain. Or even two kids living in Guatemala when they have a loving family here. There is a bigger picture and it took a small boy with white-blonde hair to show it to me. Here is how he did it.

After work, I rushed home, read the mail, let the dogs out, etc etc. Then grabbed levi and headed to the grocery store for a few essentials. The store was packed, I couldn't find what I needed quickly, Levi kept stopping to marvel over the pickles or mustard or something. The checkout lane was long and slow. I could feel my anxiety rising, and the frustration was overtaking me. We got to the car, I loaded the groceries and Levi was supposed to be getting his straps on to his carseat. I got in and he was still farting around. I told him to get his straps on. Again. And again. That's when he said it. The words that caught me up short. He said,

"OK, Mrs. Whiner"

That is who I have become. Mrs. Whiner. Out of the mouths of babes.........