He clung to that doorway like his life depended on it. He screamed like he was being kidnapped, which is probably what it felt like to him. He cried and cried and cried.

She talked. Talked and talked and talked. On the drive home, she counted to 100. Twice. She tried to ignore the sobs and sniffles of the little brother sitting next to her. She put on a brave face.

The other two just watched. Stared in wonder at the drama unfolding around them. Gave up space in their rooms to allow another person to live there. Shared their toys and clothes. Shared their mommy and daddy.

This is how my story merged with the story of adoption. Dramatically. Traumatically. Saying yes to the call to adopt was the best, hardest thing we have ever done. Prior to that yes, we were living the ‘American Dream.’ Living in a nice suburb on a greenbelt. Two kids, one boy, one girl. We had it all.

Then God flipped our world upside down.