One feature I absolutely love about Facebook is the way it preserves our memories. The great ones, the mundane ones, and even the hard ones. It's like a journal we can go back to, a reminder of events we want to cherish, goals we want to reach for, and a tracker for how far we've come.
Today marks an important event for our family, the day Juan David's social worker finally handed him over to us to give us custody of him, a custody that led to his final adoption as our son. A long awaited, long hoped for, gruelly fought for custody that we'd once given up hope of ever having.
I did not realize, however, that several other key events happened on this day in my personal history.
Thirteen years ago today, I started a family blog to document our adoption journey. We had just begun the process to adopt an older girl (not known to us) from El Salvador, but two small pictures of two Colombian children captured my heart and my prayers at the same time. A week after starting that blog, we met those two children and changed our entire plan.
Twelve years ago, my new puppy, Sweetie, died. A foreshadowing of the grief and loss that lie ahead in our adoption story. I originally thought my blog headed toward a celebration coming, but it became an open, public space for me to grieve. A place for my heart to bleed.
Ten years ago, my heart filled with hope as we finally met and nurtured a familial relationship with Julian, the "son" we almost missed. We spent the day shopping for nice, professional looking clothing for him to use for job interviews while buying a Colombian soccer outfit for David. We found purpose in our pain.
Nine years ago, we found ourselves in Colombia yet again, reconnecting with dear friends we made the year before.
Eight years ago, God gave Juan David back to us.
Five years ago, we celebrated our third Family Day in St. Louis with my parents.
Four years ago, Juan David became an official DBU Patriot, where he'd get a great foundation to guide him through such an important stage of life, and where he'd meet his best friend who's stayed close through lots of change over the last four years and helped him find a place to feel like he belongs. He may not have been emotionally ready to continue as a full-time student, but he's still a proud Patriot, working at his own pace, figuring out who he is and what he's meant to contribute to the world.
Today, I cherish this day for all of the memories it holds, the lessons it continues to teach me, and the redemption and restoration it signifies. And my feeble attempt at making arepas for him. "You tried, Mom. That's all that matters."
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