We said goodbye to Baby last night and boarded a plane for home early this morning.
We will always, always, always cherish this week with him, getting to know him all over again and discovering all sorts of new things about him. He is such a darling, darling boy. There's an unmistakable sparkle about him. Strangers everywhere take note of him and see just a glimpse of what we know about him and it's enough to charm them. Like magic.
We spent nearly every day of the last week with him, early morning to early evening. What a gift it was. More than anything, it let our hearts see that he is okay. He's safe and loved.
The thought struck me on the plane today that along this path we've taken it would have only taken a single "no" to change its course. We could've said no to the idea of foster care. After training, when we realized the challenges even more clearly, we could have certainly said no, this isn't for us. Right? And then when we got that call, we could've said "No, not yet. We're not ready". Any of those no's would've erased him from our life.
And if he were never in our lives, we'd probably still live fairly happy lives, continuing in our little boat for two merrily down the stream.
But we said yes. We shocked ourselves with it. Yes, we can be foster parents. Yes, this is for us. Yes, we'll take care of a little baby with a broken arm.
And with that sweet little word, yes, we forever changed our lives and our hearts. We redefined happiness. Our hearts are swollen with love for one little very special baby.
More than that, our hearts are stretched big. Big and ready to love more.
I have a memory from years ago to share with you. We were all piled in the station wagon, my sisters, my brother and me, picking my father up from work. Everyday at about 4:00pm, after the mill's whistle blew, it was the same routine. My mother drove to the same spot, and, once parked, slid over to the passenger's seat. We'd all look expectantly at the gate, waiting to see him, soot covered in overalls, come over the hill.
One day one of my father's work friends poked his head through the window to get a good look at all of us children piled in and he said "Good God, John, you must have a lot of love to go around." And my father replied simply "You got it all wrong, man. The love's not divided...it's multiplied."
Tomorrow, I have something to tell you. It's a matter of muliplication.