It's O.K.

This post is a response to all the somber posts about adoption that I have seen floating around to "celebrate" adoption month.

It is ok.

I may lose some friends for saying that, but if others are preaching the "It's NOT ok" I figure I can throw in my two cents.

I am not an expert about adoption. (Let me clear the air about that one.)

Adoption is hard. It comes from loss and unimaginable yuck. And this person, this child, this soul, is pulled through the knot hole of hard and they are changed. Forever.

And, inevitably, bringing such a soul into your life is going to change you.

Forever.

And if that freaks you out, run. But if you can open your heart to the idea that some things don't develop the way that we think that they should, and sometimes that makes them just a little more special. And if you can readjust your idea of what a perfect day is, then get comfy, my friend, because adoption might be for you.

I went on a field trip with my first grader, Claire, a couple of weeks ago and we went to an apple orchard. They had some special apples set aside. This one grew between two branches. It never had the wide open space to develop the way that an apple should.

But if you look at it from another perspective, it has taken the hard and become extra beautiful.

So, when we are going through the hard it is nice to know that our kid isn't the first one to give the bird.  Or play with knives. Or cuss. Or flop in the grocery store. Or stink at school. Or... well, you get the picture. And it has been absolutely a God-send to have wonderful friends come alongside me and tell me "It is normal" and I am so glad that they followed up with "It is ok."

God has never justified the broken. But He has redeemed. In fact, that is His business.

It is important not to dwell on the negative. At least for me. Because there is so much beauty. And when I read these well-meaning, cautionary posts, it drags me down. And makes me feel a little less tolerant of kid behavior. Especially if that kid has an accent. 

So I celebrate the victories. Mourn the loss. And I yearn for the day that God will restore what has been taken. And I pray for those on the other side of Daniel's story.

And I will hold with two hands to the fact that we had an entire week of smooth sailing. Seven full days of good choices. (Even though sometimes we would have to remind him.)

And I will thank God that He hardwired this child of His for a family. And that Daniel loves us and that when asked by a sibling "Did your Mom die?" he took said sibling by the arm, brought them to where I was sitting and said, "No, Mommy is here. You crazy." I will rejoice that my little blue-eyed boy now lavishes affection and seeks positive attention.

(This is a spontaneous picnic that broke out today in the midst of a fierce pirate battle)

And I will hold these truths to me. 

I will not search for trouble. Today has enough of its own.

But I will search for wonder. And happiness. And blessings. And God.

(And I will be VERY THANKFUL that this little boy who rarely saw a tooth brush prior to July has perfect teeth.)

And I will let myself be happy. 

It's ok.