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  • Laura


We were driving today from CHOP when the quiet voice in the back asked to see his family bracelets. Whenever Kai asks this, I know adoption or birth family is on his mind. So I move towards him, welcoming his questions and fears. That part is often the hardest for me. Do I have what he needs in this moment? This is the most sacred of spaces to enter. He asks tender and beautiful questions. When I share the details of his finding and life before us, he hangs on each word. When we talk about how sick he was, he begins to cry. We cry together as we talk about his birth family and so many unknowns. He asks questions about Ella. He cries even more as he considers parts of her story where she may have felt alone or scared.

As we continue to talk, he tells me he can hear the tears in my voice. Why does this make you cry?

Well, sweet boy, this isn’t how life should be. I am so thankful that you are ours but my heart aches for what you have lost. My heart is broken for the mommies across the world that remember their babies and the moment they said goodbye or if they aren’t alive, the brokenness of that reality. I am happy that you are here and so sad for all that you have lived through and lost.

This is what God is reminding me of with adoption and in life. We can hold both the good and the hard in hand. We can live in the tension. We can embrace it.

I couldn’t help but think of this picture I took yesterday of sweet Charlie. How simply (though admittedly incomplete) it represents this tension. The tension won’t last forever. One day, the light will outshine the darkness once and for all. The broken will be forever healed. The tension will melt away and we will only know love and acceptance and joy and peace forever and ever.

One day hope will no longer be needed. Hope will turn into reality. Hope still wins.


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