One year ago I slept in bed next to an empty crib. His clothes were folded and stored neatly; toys organized in bins- the life I planned for him all tucked away on shelves and in drawers- waiting for the day when he would come home. One year ago, I didn't know when that would be, but hoped and prayed so very hard it would be soon.
I thought of him in the crib where he was, at the orphanage across town, and wept. Who kissed him goodnight? Who sat with him when he couldn't sleep? Whose was the face he saw when he woke up in the morning? Answers I didn't have, and didn't really want to know.
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December 15, 2010 was a normal morning for me, running work errands around town- until I got a call. Up until this point, my social worker had never called me. I had always been the one to call her to check how things were progressing- and up until this point, she never had anything decisive to report. I hadn't yet even gotten a real "YES" about taking home this little boy.
She said everything so matter of factly, "Your papers have been signed, you can come get them."
"And so, after I get the papers, I can go get HIM?"
"Yes, you can."
"Like, today? I can go to the orphanage, pick him up, and take him home to stay with me?
"Yes, I said that already."
I hung up the phone and started to cry. They said yes. They said now. As of that day, I would be his mother. He would be my son. Forever changed, just like that.
It's how He works, don't you think? Eternities altered in a moment- though planned and purposed from before time began. Tonight I sit in bed and am so humbled and thankful for the past year. So many challenges. So many joys. So much life.
Here's to one year and a thousand more, my beloved boy. May He be glorified in each and every one of them.
