“Are you happy?” my friend Gerda asked the small, crying boy standing before her who could not find his way out of a drowning fit of tears.
“NO!” came his sobbing reply, “I’m really sad!”
“Do you want to be happy?” Gerda asked with a gentle, patient smile.
“Yes,” he quietly let out with a gasp of air between sobs and a little nod of his head.
I have a royal fascination for … royals. Lords and ladies, kings and queens — I love good, old-fashioned pomp and circumstance. I was the girl who was enthralled with Anastasia in my growing up years, and I may or may not have all of Queen Victoria’s diaries downloaded on my Kindle. With a recent royal wedding, I refrained from setting my alarm early to catch the details, but I thoroughly enjoyed snippets of the ceremony later on … when I was intrigued by a detail in the ceremony that deeply resonated with me.
Mike is an introvert, I’m an extrovert. He likes the heat, I like the cold. He’s a night owl, I’m an early bird. He’s logical, I’m creative. He likes things plain and simple, I like them bold and complex. He likes it dark and cozy, I like it bright and breezy. He loves to take risks, I am risk averse. He likes predictability, I like spontaneity. He has three pairs of shoes, I have thirty. He’s thoughtful, I’m impulsive. He can wait, I’m impatient. He likes to joke, I am literal. He likes sweet, I like salty.
I stood in the middle of our finished basement, my heart sinking as I surveyed the ruined floors and damaged walls. All the furniture and decor was in disarray. Our kids’ blankets, clothes, and toys were scattered in all directions.
Nearly three years ago, in early December, the day came that we decided to move forward. A peace had come upon us with whispered assurances from the Lord … start now. After waiting for that peace for nearly seven years, it seemed like a dream; picking up the phone, contacting the agency, and saying, “Please mail me an adoption application.”
When I was seven, my family moved across the world to spend 12 years in Mongolia. I still remember the day our plane touched down and the drive from the airport, drinking in the new sights, sounds, and smells: the Soviet-style apartment buildings, the old women sitting together in their traditional Mongolian coats, the little kids walking home from school with their ice cream cones, the tiny shops along the road that sold everything from Coca-Cola to socks, and the unfamiliar language that grew to be so sweet to my ears.