The last couple of weeks I've been weighing the decision on whether or not we should make a big deal of Ty's official adoption day, coming up on February 9th. I don't know why it even weighed on my mind because in the grand scheme of things, does it really matter? I don't think so.
I was leaning toward acknowledging it as a great day, but not getting all crazy special about it. Mostly, because we've been loving and praying for this boy the day we found out about him, in Rebekah's womb. The fact that he legally became a part of our family on the ninth seems irrelevant.
If you read back to that post, you'll find that finalization was more of a rainbow day for me, as God reminded me of our journey together and the sign of promise he delivered through sweet Ty.
When I thought about our future family, however, I realized that adoption days will become much more significant. For a minutes-old baby that knows me as mom from the start, an adoption day is formality at best. But, for a 10 year old girl who's never experienced God's version of family, adoption day is a big deal.
I, recently, met a woman who was adopted from foster care at age 12. Her story is so appalling, yet, compelling that God used her to rev the engines of my heart.
We are needed in this God-desperate, people forsaken arena called foster care.
As I thought through the many scenarios and faces that will one day sit around our dinner table, I decided that adoption day is a day of proclamation. A day to rejoice in the goodness of God and the uniqueness of each thread that is woven through our family tapestry.
What a joy this little thread has been to our family. We gladly celebrate his life and adoption, next week. God is good!