A reason to go

It had been six years. Six very long years since I have been to Colorado. There was a layover once, where my amazing friends met me at the airport so we could meet each other's babes, but other than that six years have passed since my husband and I took our then only child to Colorado for his aunts wedding. The reasons we have not returned are plentiful. Babies in womb. Babies in arm. Lay offs. New jobs. No vacation time. Funerals using up any extra travel money we may have had. This year though those reasons became fewer and the reasons to go became abundant. A four year old who has never seen snow so he starts making up weird stories about it. Like it exists only as a fantasy. An eight year old who I desperately need to understand when he tries to tell me about his other life. Children and husbands of dear friends who I know only from facebook statuses. A long awaited first paid vacation... ON Christmas Day. But friends... what really moved my tamale laden self to drive 20 hours against the odds of an ice storm, cranky children, and graham cracker coated mini van seats? This little dude. And the years of prayer I've prayed over him.

He was as uh-mazing as I imagined. Feisty, sweet and chill all rolled up into the cutest little self. He played a bit with my boys, but mostly looked at me with complete suspicion. Who would blame him? I am quite intimidating after all ;-). I gave him a stuffed longhorn (only for the Texas reference people.. not the school!!) to break the ice. Just like my 1 year old he looked and then thew it down. No really.It was a classic I don't know you and I don't want your stuff toddler reaction. Perfectly adorable and I expected no different! I couldn't care less how he responded to me. It was complete selfishness motivating my visit. When you pray for rain for months, and the sweetness falls from the sky, what do you do? You run out into it and dance! Or stare from the window and weep. Or drive across state lines just to sit. God is good my friends. He delivers the helpless. He cares for the orphan. Each little life, from the moment of conception matters to Him... and he provides. For Briggs, he provided Becky and Mark... and the rest of their large, loving and happy to have  him home family. 

For Briggs this was the answer. It wont be the same for all of them,the nearly 400 million orphans in this world, but seeing Briggs answered a big question for my husband and I. We have arms. And they are waiting to be filled. Even if every old lady at walmart thinks my hands are full. I have room for another. For a daughter. And I want her. So I'm praying. It could be years people. Many many many years, but we're ok with that. Because we saw the proof. The same proof I see in my little sister. In my niece. No matter how God does it, I know it will happen. Adoption is a miracle, and ours is beginning. If only in our hearts. I wonder sometimes, how it happens. That amazing connection I hear adopting parents speak of. The immediate love. How in four months a little boy can go from an orphanage in Ethiopia to falling asleep holding his Mommy's hand in the back of my mini van. Complete trust. Complete love.  Complete redemption. A baby born in a manger. A miracle. Complete. This has been an amazing Christmas. There is much more to share, but for now, another shot of the perfection that is Mr. Briggs. You can tell how much he adores me, right? That's alright buddy. I'm perfectly fine loving you from afar!