Stories

   Lots of nights after we say prayers, Zeke loves to hear "his story."  I usually say something like this (with each sentence giving him a Eskimo kiss):

"Mommy hoped for you. Mommy dreamed for you. Mommy prayed for you. Mommy worked for you. Mommy wished for you.  Mommy got on a plane, across the ocean, to get to you."

  Truthfully and unfortunately, many nights Mr E doesn't get the same warm bedtime tuck in because our day often doesn't end well.  We always, always tell him how much we love and want him no matter what.  Every night we tell him no one loves him more than us except God.  Most nights, he plops his thumb in his mouth and rolls over, away from our snuggles.  In the past, if I tried telling him the same bedtime routine as Zeke, he turned away or started interrupting, talking about something else.  But for the past few days, it has been weighing on my heart a lot that he needs to be forced into hearing this affirmations even if he thinks he doesn't want to.
  So last night wasn't different than many other nights.  We'd discovered some "art work," and some lies.  We were bummed because it stinks to end a fun family night that way.  After praying with us, I asked Etienne if he knew what mommy and daddy did to get him home.  He shook his head no.  This is the story I told him..

  "Before you came home, I was in school during the day and at night, when the rest of the world was sleeping, I signed up for extra hours to deliver babies.  During the quiet hours, I filled out every paper in the world that I could find to bring you to me faster.  I stayed awake to find ways and people and papers to help us get to you.  Then when  I got home, I sat in my blue rocker and I could feel my arms hurt because you weren't in them.  I would pray that someone else was making you feel safe until I got to you.  I would read about Hannah, who longed for her son, Samuel.  I felt like I knew her longing so well.

"The day we found out about you, Daddy was in Oregon and I was in the clinic, the last one there except Eloise.  My phone rang and when I picked it up, a man told me to open my email. I sat down, you know where, at my spot in the corner.  And there was your face on my computer screen.  I cried and cried and I couldn't stop smiling.  I hugged Eloise tight.  I called everyone that loved us to tell them that I get to be your mama.  We celebrated that night and began to pack up our bags to go get you."

"A few weeks later, Daddy and I waited in this tiny room with a window at the orphanage.  We held onto each other because we were so excited. We stretched our heads, looking for you.  Soon one of the nuns came up those cement stairs, holding onto you.  We ran to you.  I couldn't pick you up because Daddy already had.  We cried and laughed because we were so happy God let us  be your mommy and daddy."

   The whole time, Etienne didn't turn away from me.  He listened closely, with his thumb in his mouth.  Than he said something so sweet, I will never forget.

"That is a really happy story, Mama."

  Thank you, God, for the little things that mean so much.  For another little piece of Etienne's heart closer to mine.  Maybe, just maybe he felt a little bit of our love.