Three months after our two foster-to-adopt children moved in with us full time, I am finally sitting down at my keyboard to contemplate the impact of this change.
I've always believed that at some level, a person's child is a reflection of them. This has become quite distressing to me in recent weeks as our two young ones, age five and six, have made some of their true selves known. For the past six years, they have been under the influence of other adults. When I am in public with them, they look enough like me that people assume they are biologically mine. On certain occasions, though, I have wanted to scream, "I am NOT responsible for this behavior!"
We are unwinding years of exposure to things that little children should never experience. This will take months and years. It requires my heart to stretch out in ways I didn't think possible. To love a child who doesn't always not love in return is hard. It requires a constant return to a state of compassion, to grace.
If I drop judgment toward others, I can move closer to these precious young ones. If I treat myself with compassion, I have more compassion to share with them.
Someday I will look back on this time through the mist of memory. I hope I will be able to say that I grew and stretched, and that the world is a better place, at least for two lives.
