Garrison, our oldest son, was two years old. I was standing in my bedroom holding him one morning when a little toddler girl from China caught my eye on the television. The show was called Life Today, and they were doing a special on how many girls were orphaned in China because of the country's law that a family could only have one child. Most families want males which fills the orphanages up with discarded baby girls.
My heart was gripped forever.
I think that was the first time I really paid any attention to what went on outside of my country. Sad but true. I was 22 years old.
I looked at my son in my arms, thought about how much I loved him and wanted him. I thought about how special each and every child all over the world is to God...about how precious every single life is.
I knew that someday, someway, our family would be part of adoption. It wasn't a wish, it was a confident knowing.
I am a researcher. I study. I plan. But God said no; I was not to do that with this. I was to wait and to trust.
So I tucked that dream away very close to my heart. I don't even think I told my husband for quite some time.
That was thirteen years ago.
That dream has never died. It has only grown stronger.
As I met families who have adopted, it grew.
As I watched more adoption stories on T.V., it grew.
As I traveled to foreign soil and held orphans in my arms, it grew.
As I raised my sons and saw what a loving family can do for a child, it grew.
This desire feels like something I must do...that I am supposed to do.
But...what about my husband?