I rarely ever look at the girls.
Ever since I have known about Reece's Rainbow I have always gravitated to the boys. All my Angel Tree babes have been boys. Most of the children over the years I have advocated for have been boys. We are parents to two biological boys and one adopted boy.
Boys are easy in my mind.
Wild. Fun. Active. Easy.
It isn't that I don't want a girl. I've always always wanted a little girl. It's just that they totally terrify me. I don't know anything about bows and braids and princess dresses. My fingernails aren't painted and the only time I ever ever dress up is for weddings, funerals and conventions. I am lost when it comes to girl clothes and accessories.
So whenever I look at the lists... I almost always look at the boys.
But even looking at the boys over the last four years has been pointless. The door has been closed. We didn't qualify.
Until this year.
And this year has been overwhelming and crazy and adoption was absolutely the farthest thing from our minds.
If we were going to adopt again it would have to be next year at the earliest. Because no way. NO WAY could we add one more stressor into our lives.
Then I saw her face.
A little tiny girl with boo boos on her knees.
And my heart exploded.
And the Holy Spirit screamed - SEE HER!
I shared her picture with Rob and I did what I always do - I wrote about her on my blog and I posted her picture on Facebook and I set out to get her account out of the 0.00 department.
And as soon as I did I panicked.
What if someone saw her?
What if someone wanted her?
What if someone wanted her?
What in the world have I done?
I knew we were in trouble when Rob started to ask questions. Serious questions. And we began to consider. And shake our heads. And consider again. All the reasons why not came to the table. All the arguments against. All the rational, logical positions one must take when considering bringing in an almost five year old into your home. We went through them all. Sifting. Sorting. Considering.
And just when we both were ready to look the other in the eye and say go...
She found a family.
Our little girl with the boo boos on her knees.
Praise God for her.
Sorrow for us.
But on that day. When the door closed for her. Another face. Another little girl.
I saw her and again heard the screaming in my heart. SEE HER.
I closed the screen.
I didn't share her with Rob. I didn't blog. I didn't put her on Facebook.
I pushed her deep into my heart and tried to ignore the hammering. The pounding.
Days. A week. More. Her little face in my dreams.
We were weary tired. Writing 16 hours a day. In the midst of it all, we had to travel to South Carolina for a convention. Rob drove. It was work, but it was good. Healthy. Hours and hours of driving meant hours and hours of talking and sharing and dreaming. Aaron between us. Enjoying him. Enjoying each other.
On our drive home our conversation steered. Turned. Became serious. A discussion about faith and how we live our lives. Rob was talking. I was listening. Hearing him sharing his heart and hearing the screaming in my heart. Our little girl with the boo boo knees became part of our conversation. How close. How very close we had come to leaping. A tiny push was all it would have taken Rob said. Just one tiny push and he would have been over. And in that moment I knew. I needed to share. I needed to share with my very best friend in the entire world about a little girl who was robbing me of peace.
Rob, there is another.
..... to be continued.