It all started with a phone call. The beginning of last August we received a phone call that began like this, “We know that this isn’t exactly what you were thinking but we just found out about this little boy…”.   Those were the beginning words of the next chapter of our lives. A few days later, we met this cute little six year old boy at a park. He was adopted by his great-grandma after his parents fell out of the picture when he was an infant and now she, the only mom he had ever known, was dying of lung cancer. We sat at a park bench and cried as she told us pieces of their story.

The seemingly quiet and shy little boy we met at the park that day would become the crazy, loud, all-consuming whirlwind of a boy that we would call our son.  Less than three months after he moved into our home, the court declared him ours forever.  It was fast and it was crazy and almost a year later, there are days when it feels like our family is still reeling from the change.  We are still establishing new routines, setting new boundaries and developing new rhythms. We are still feeling little pieces of our heart give way to loving this new son of ours.

Our adoption story is what I would call a beautiful mess.  I am my son’s third mom and my husband is his first dad and there are days when our son tells us that he doesn’t want to be part of our family anymore.  There are days when our bio kids ask us what in the world we were thinking when we decided to open our home to another child.  There are also those treasured moments we cling to when he snuggles up next to us to read a book or asks us to lay with him in his bed and sing him a lullaby before he goes to sleep… moments when we feel like a family.  There are afternoons I look out the kitchen window and see my two sons building a fort together in the backyard.  I know just like those broken pieces of wood come together to make a fort, God is using these beautifully messy moments to build our new family.