Adoption Story, Part 3

Our youngest blessing

“Little D” came home in 2006, our surprise blessing from South Korea. At nearly three-years-old, he was so tiny that he wore size 24-month clothing, all rolled up. He had very little speech in any language, so little facial tone that he was prone to drooling, and a tendency to disassociate when he was frightened, which was often. He was also absolutely beautiful, hungry for love and a perfect fit for our family. Again, fear? Yes. We didn't know what the future would hold for our littlest one, but we knew he belonged with us. Again, God was the reason we managed to do anything right.

Our older children took “Little D” under their wings, and in our homeschool, we incorporated his speech therapy and sign language in games and activities. A speech therapist visited the house twice a week for several years, and was amazed at the progress “Little D” made in the first year alone. We all, literally, watched him blossom, and we gave thanks for another front-row seat to miracles. He's a bigger guy now, who taught himself to ride a two-wheeler the Mother's Day of the year he turned four. He's a daredevil, a tap-dancer, a train lover, a reader and a gift to our family.

The thing we’ve learned, time and again, is that kids are kids, regardless of their labels or needs, and they all need a family to love them. We have also learned that we needed them too. We have learned patience, waiting for a frightened child to bond and accept us as parents, watching a little boy take his painstaking but joyful first steps on new legs, and another child learn to speak and to trust. We have learned incredible gratitude for the everyday miracles we get to take part in, for the joy and laughter of children not born to us, but very much our own. Most importantly, we’ve learned that it’s not by our own strength that we have done anything worthwhile, but by the God who stands by us and has adopted us as well. For all of this, we are grateful.