this thing

there was this thing when i came home from Africa after the first trip that i really can't explain. 

it had to do with loving children on 2 different continents, wondering if our boy was hugged 

that day, hearing he was sick & that one of his little buddies had died. it had to do with 

trying to reconcile our too nice, too comfy, too much life to the life i saw there.

it had to do with the fact that as much as i could hurt when i read about a child that had 

been abandoned or orphaned or was starving or couldn't get medical treatment...it wasn't the 

same hurt as it was now that it was my child. [and for the record, i don't think my selfishness 

at being more hurt because it is my child is necessarily right. i want my heart to be 

broken to action for all of them. all the time.]

and now that Clayton is home, there is this other thing. i'm beyond thrilled that our family 

is together now. i'm thankful that the girls have seen such a great blessing come from 

something we have prayed about for so long. i am in love with having 5 children. our days 

truly are full of joy and it just feels right. [sure they're full of bodily fluids and some 

crying & discipline mixed in. but, i'm an optimist at heart.] 

but, there is still this thing inside of me.

the thing where we'll never know about Clay's birth family. [oh, how i would hug his mom.] 

the thing where people suddenly think it is okay to ask the most inappropriate questions. 

where i want to do more for the hurt, the poverty, the being lost. where i hurt for our son to 

not have a baby picture when he needs one in school. where i want people to understand 

that we have been blessed just as much as him. where i want people to understand that 

despite their fears and the "obstacles," they can do this too. they can make a difference 

for one. the thing where i logically knew all this would be part of adoption, 

but it is not the same as feeling it.

whatever this thing is, i wouldn't trade it for anything. this boy? what a gift from God.