I’ve had some coffee and I’m thinking about my children. So, here I am typing a blog post at 75 WPM (or something like that). The only reason a blog post ever takes me a while to type is that I’m trying to filter out my thoughts to what’s actually relevant to this blog post. I feel like a poodle on crack. (Cue laughter, because that’s a joke!)
How am I so happy, even though I don’t “get to see” my children? or “get to” raise them?
First off, again, it’s not about “getting to see” them. I chose adoption. Voluntarily, even if my emotions fought against my logic, tooth and nail.
Second, “there is no adoption that only affects one person.” (That’s a paraphrased ‘quote’; Mark Schultz.) … So many people have been affected by the choices made for these beautiful children. So many people feel a love that they didn’t feel before. So many people feel a hole in their heart that they’ll always feel. In 10-15 years, though, these people’s hearts will be filled with love and that hole can be healed with the bandage of reunion.
I wonder if a certain church will allow me to use their “fifth Sunday” room that I continually picture as the room that this reunion will take place in. If anyone knew me as a teenager, you might know what a fifth Sunday room is and which room I’m speaking of. I hope they let me use it. I truly hope.
The morning of that day, I would like a small gathering. The afternoon and evening of that day, I would like a slightly larger gathering, if my children feel prepared to meet more of their biological families.
The smaller gathering will be the adoptive family and the immediate, biological families of my children; the family members that I feel are safe for my children to meet – without emotions being too intense – and without there being an angry tension in the room.
Also invited are the closest of my friends. You will be there to catch me, if I fall to my knees – crying. I can’t imagine not crying and falling to my knees in gratefulness. Even now, I’m crying.
Please, God… heal this hole in my heart – with the bandage of reunion. Someday.