I held her sweet, brown little hands, turning with her in slow circles as she laughed, swayed back and forth and bobbed up and down. Not to be left out, her arms began dancing along, too. Her elbows taking turns swinging back, my arms following their lead.
After more than a year home, the tears still always seem to be ready and waiting at the gate.
Today they flowed.
From the day you were born And took your first breath You opened your eyes and in came the light He was watching you But all of your life you couldn't shake the lies in your head Saying you're a mistake Oh but you were made By a God who knows your name He doesn't make mistakes
You are wanted To every broken heart, He stands with open arms You are wanted To every searching soul, look to the rising sun If you're lonely, hurting, gone too far To the outcast, you come as you are For you, you are wanted, you, you are wanted You, you are wanted, you, you are wanted
Let this be the day that joy takes the place Of all of the years that shame tried to steal away He is calling you Lift your eyes to see His face Come run into the arms of grace
You, you have been marked You're set apart And He calls you His So you don't have to search Don't have to look for where you belongIt is a holy moment indeed when when you can look into the glistening eyes of a child, fully alive, having endured 7 1/2 years of living hell. To know, because you truly know her now, that she is healing. God is healing her day by day. And she knows it! She knows joy. She knows love. She knows HIM like few of us can say we do. And she knows, I truly believe she knows she is wanted.
Tears of joy flow for my Sam.
Tears of longing flow for my Tony.
I received a precious gift a few weeks ago that I so wish I could share with all of you.
The first a BABY PICTURE.
Oh, but he was perfect. Absolutely perfect. He's lying on his back, his head tilted slightly, his right arm stretched behind his head in true DS style (i.e. impossible flexibility).
Upon further inspection, I notice in the upper right-hand corner of the picture a faint, round, blue stamp. As the story unfolds, this picture was not lovingly saved by a staff member from the baby house who loved him (a mama can hope). No, this stamp tells me that this picture is from his file. It exists because my boy was listed for adoption. As a baby.
There's another photo of him at 10 years old. The size of a 1 year old, if even that. Same blue stamp.
12 years old. Stamp.
In one week Sam and I will celebrate our Tony's 14th birthday.
It would be oh so easy to let the flood gates open wide and wale and mourn and grieve those fourteen years. And truth be told, I'll cry on his birthday. Guaranteed.
I know the real truth.
The truth is, Tony has always been wanted. Our Father has always loved him. Wept over him. Sung over him. Rejoiced over him. He has ALWAYS wanted him.
And I get to be the one to tell him.
And you can tell him, too.
You can shout from the rooftops that Anthony David Knuth is wanted.
You can pray with ALL BOLDNESS that NOTHING will hinder this adoption process, and that he will finally, once and for all be home, loved, in a family. Our family.
You can help to ease our family's burden by donating, in any amount toward the cost of his ransom. Every little bit helps. And as a big thank you, and in celebration of the big 14, for every $14 you donate, you can be entered in our 14 days for 14 years giveaway.
Thank you, from the bottom of my heart, for journeying with us and sharing in our excitement.
Lots of love to all of you.