Today I can look back with a bittersweet smile when I think of the little boy who was almost mine. Knowing that God had the perfect plan all along, but I just had to wait for that plan. Writing myself a letter a year later was incredibly healing. Thinking of how much joy I have in Xiomara assures me that this little guy is providing his parents with sweet, sweet smiles and joy. My only regret today is not knowing him or his parents. I wish somehow they could know the full story of how God hand picked them, not us to be his parents. That they would know that I still think of him, pray for him, and pray for them. Maybe they know all that already, but I still pray that one day perhaps God would give me that chance.
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Today as I go about my day I'm going to be praying for "R", her son, and his adoptive parents. For every adoption has a story, and mine happens to have a failed adoption as part of it. And I'm thankful that it does.