And yes, I feel I might burst with joy and wonder when I write that. You see, it’s completely amazing to me that this dream that started 35 years ago is finally happening.
When I was a little girl, I played orphanage. I would line up all my baby dolls and take care of my “orphans”. My mom says she knew then that is wasn’t just regular imagination. Something more was going on. God put this calling in my heart. It’s one of the things He created me for. I was made to be a mom.
When my husband left 4 years ago, I thought my dream of adoption was gone, too. In my admittedly short-sighted view, kids must have a mom and a dad. And yes, that would be ideal. A loving family that remains together forever? Every kid deserves that. Every grown up deserves that. But that’s not the way it is in this world. My mom’s dad died when she was 2. My husband left. Life doesn’t usually work out the way we plan.
A year and a half ago, I was talking to a friend about the loss of my dream, and she responded by asking me why a single woman couldn’t adopt. I had no answer for her. And our conversation stuck with me and wouldn’t let go. Slowly the light came on. And I believe this with all my heart:
One parent who will love a child unconditionally, help them become who God created them to be and point them to Jesus every single day is immeasurably better than no parent at all. No contest.
So here I am. Filling out piles of paperwork. Going through interviews and medical checkups. Looking at major fundraising to bring our little girl home. And completely amazed by God.