But still I feel compelled to say, I do not make my choices lightly or on whims. OK, maybe I do when it comes to my hair or picking a bottle of wine but never when it comes to my family, my kids.
There is a part of my life that happens behind the scenes. Intentionally. When I pray or discuss with my private circle or cry over a decision I have to make, it is not taken lightly.
I do not ever take a child into my family on a whim. I do not wear blinders when it comes to The Little Mr.'s and Little Miss. I have not sacrificed them or compromised them or shorted them to benefit a strangers broken unwanted kid.
It isn't like that. It never was. It won't be. It can't be.
I take them in only when I believe that in the end, it will be OK.
Perfect?
No. Never. There is no such thing.
Am I some great mom? Something special? Out of the ordinary?
No. Not at all. I mess up big stuff all the time. I do the best I can with what I have and what I know, just the same as every one else in this parenting game.
I can tell you this, I have big dreams.
I have big dreams for all my kids. The forevers and the part timers. I have big dreams for them. I dream for them to chase their dreams.
I have big dreams for myself. I plan to have big dreams for myself until I am no longer able to dream them. I plan to chase them that long too. I may never get all the way to the realization, other things, life and people, may get "in the way" of those dreams, but they are the color in the life I live and I wouldn't want it any other way.
Bringing home Mr. Monkey tonight was, to say what I always say, bittersweet.
It was a bitter moment for me to be on the other side.
Almost exactly a year ago, I made a similar parking lot exchange of a little boy. The only difference was this time I was the chosen person. I was receiving the little boy instead of giving him away.
I stood in a cold, dark parking lot and hugged another mom, one I barely know, and cried with her. I promised her I would take good care of Mr. Monkey.
I know she cried all the way home.
I was the "lucky" mom who got to bring him home, and I cried all the way.
Tears of my loss last year, knowing it was the best thing possible for Little One, tears for her loss, knowing she will see Mr. Monkey again. Tears of plain frustration that we are passing a child back and forth in a parking lot like a drug deal.
Tears for these kids. There are so many.
I had to turn one down this week. I don't know where he will find a home, or if.
It's National Adoption Month. Saturday, 11/19 is National Adoption Day.
Foster to adopt is not a bad thing. But it is not an easy thing. Reality is, no adoption is an easy thing. It is loss clothed in joy. Forever bittersweet.
Consider opening your hearts, when you do, you will find room in your homes.
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