A Week from Today

A week from today, where will we be? I think we'll be on the airplane to Hong Kong, but I'm not sure with the time differences if that's true. As I say goodbye to my students for the Thanksgiving holiday, I realize that I won't see them, or my colleagues, until we return with Emily. What changes will occur in our family between now and then? I wonder!

My thoughts wander more often to Emily than ever. What's she doing now? Where is she? At this time in China, I think she'll be having breakfast, maybe even a mid-morning snack. Is she healthy? Does she have the sniffles? Does she play with other children? Does she miss her foster family? Does she have any idea that we're about to take her away from everything - and I do mean everything - she's ever known?

We participated in a conference call a couple days ago with other members of our travel group. (Our adoption agency groups adoptive families into group, all of whom are adopting from the same province. This provides a support network and immediate playmates for the children.) Hosting the conference call were the founders of our adoption agency, Josh and Lily. What a heart-warming welcome they gave us as adoptive parents! Although we're on the adoption agency's speaker's bureau, this was our first opportunity to hear from Josh and Lily directly, and they were charming, direct, and honest. They made us feel like we are part of their extended family. Read about the founding principals of CCAI and take a look at Josh and Lily's own adoption experience. I think you'll be touched at their honesty, warmth, and genuine love for China, Chinese adoptees, and adoptive parents.

They asked us to reflect on the greatest gift we have to offer these children: steady, unwavering, unconditional, and ever-present love. Abandoned in front of candy stores, police stations, hospitals, and orphanages, these children's first semi-conscious experiences are of unmet needs. Affection and constant care are rare; an orphanage does its best on limited funds with limited staff, but how can all the needs of all those children be met? A foster family, perhaps like Emily's, can offer more care and support, but the experience is short-lived and certainly traumatic - abandoned, in an orphanage, off to foster care, back to an orphanage, then a car or train or bus or taxi or carriage or - what? - ride to our arms. Foreigners who look different, smell different, speak different, sound different, and simply don't understand. But we love. And that's what wins them over. Strangeness subsides as needs are met, affection is showered, and plenty replaces want. We won't leave. We won't abandon them. It begins to sink in. We love them. We love her. We love you, Emily.