What did you think of Unexpected Tears?

No matter where you joined in on the blog, I'd love to know what you thought of Unexpected Tears.
Please click on this link to add a review on Goodreads for me. I sure would appreciate it.

Just sign in with Facebook, mark it READ, rate it, and go from there.

https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/26233135-unexpected-tears--trusting-god-through-a-painful-adoption-process

You can also go here to leave a review for me on Amazon. Reviews really do sell books, and I'd love to get this story into so many hands and hearts that really need it.

Just click on Reviews, rate it, then click on Write a Review.

http://www.amazon.com/Unexpected-Tears-Trusting-Adoption-Surviving-ebook/dp/B014C6VHUE/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1456605392&sr=8-1&keywords=unexpected+tears

Thank you so much for joining me on this journey. I hope you'll check out Painful Waiting, as it picks up right where Unexpected Tears leaves off. The part I love the most about Painful Waiting is that I had no idea a sequel was in store when I wrote and published the first book.

Introduction to Painful Waiting

A closed door. One earlier slammed in our face. Did we dare turn
the knob? Did we actually consider trying to walk through it again?
Our family attempted to adopt two siblings from Colombia in
2008, a seven-year-old girl, Viviana, and her eleven-year-old brother, Juan David. We blindly walked through the entire adoption process for them, as long and tedious as it was (not to mention costly), only to run straight into a wall, a dead end. 

Shock, bewilderment, humiliation, and guilt followed us for nearly a year afterward.We made all preparations for the arrival of those two precious Colombian siblings in our home, yet only empty rooms and beds remained. Closets full of clothing selected specifically for each child silently screamed in our faces every time we walked by them. 

Their absence left an awkward hollowness in our lives, one that no one understood, considering they were never our children in the first place. We still grieved as if we’d experienced a death in the family, even though they never even lived in our home.

Our seven-year-old biological son, David, responded with
incredible anger—toward Colombia for allowing its professionals to so misjudge his parents and toward God for not letting his siblings come home. Only three years had passed since God took his only biological sibling home to heaven via a miscarried pregnancy.

In the midst of our grieving, we found grace in the most
unexpected way. We found the son God meant us to find: Julian,
the older sibling of the two children we lost. He found his way into
our lives at the age of sixteen, and we finally met him face to face
in Colombia soon after his eighteenth birthday. As much as we loved his siblings, we knew they still had a chance to join a family. He didn’t. His age prevented him from finding a family of his own. He saw nothing but a bleak, lonely future—without his siblings, without his mother, without a soul to claim him. I say we
found him, but he actually found us. We both experienced a miracle
when God divinely crossed our paths.

We accepted it as our story. Embraced it. I recounted the
entire experience of grief, loss, grace, and healing in my first book,
Unexpected Tears. God prepared to write more in our story, though,
showing us that closed doors mean nothing to him. We never
dreamed how he would use that divine connection he’d given us
to Julian.

Only by turning the knob and walking through the door again
could our family finally find closure to that painful, bewildering
chapter of our lives. After we obediently took that first step, we let
God take us by the hand for the remainder of the journey where
he led us from the mountaintop to the valley and back to the
mountaintop again.

What we let go, he gave back. And more.

He indeed restored the years the locusts had eaten

(Joel 2:25).

For the rest of the story, check out my sequel, Painful Waiting, at http://www.amazon.com/Painful-Waiting-Leaning-Adoption-Surviving/dp/1943004072/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1460918555&sr=8-1&keywords=Painful+Waiting.

Thank you to my faithful blog readers. I will not be blogging any more of this book, but stay tuned for special offers at ABHBooks.

How would I know?

How would I know?

This story documents our journey to Julian, someone we will always love as our son even if we can never officially adopt him. He calls us Mom and Dad, and he refers to our biological son as his brother—interestingly, a brother the same age as the little sister he lost and with the same interests and passions as his younger brother who will soon be adopted away from him.

This story also demonstrates God’s love for the orphan. Julian embraced the opportunity to start college for at least a semester, and he definitely became quite the artist. Juan David plays on a soccer team, and Viviana now has a teacher for a mom. God did not abandon any of them, but He instead placed them each with a family who could meet their individual needs. (In addition to His provision for these three siblings, God also led the couple we sat with at the Adoption Conference to domestically adopt their daughter, while my new friend from the El Salvador online group eventually adopted four siblings from South America.)

However, this book also reveals my own journey of faith, intimately describing how God broke me, molded me, taught me, and guided me along the way through our entire “adoption” experience. Our story travels through grief and loss, hope and healing, obedience and trust, and God’s ever sufficient grace. It follows a family trudging through an adoption process and then trying to survive the valley when that adoption never came to fruition.

 I learned more about Christ and grew closer to Him throughout this particular journey than any other time in my life. I cried so many unexpected tears. Tears of waiting. Tears of grief. Tears of joy. Yet if He never led me through the valley, there is so much about Him I would never know. When I finally reached the top of the mountain and looked back over the valley, I could almost hear God gently whisper in my ear.

“See, my child? Didn’t I tell you it would be worth it? Didn’t I tell you the view would take your breath away?”

If I had never been there, I could not know what I do now. Experiencing Colombia itself didn’t take our breath away, but the spiritual journey getting there did. As I look back down over the valley we traveled, and recall God’s obvious footprints beside each of my own, I realize I found the greatest beauty of all.

Scripture tells us He is our great reward. I may not have gotten the two children I set out to adopt, but I got so much more.

I got Him.

Nothing else, in all of life, can compare.

How would I know?

How would I know of Your provision
if I never found myself in desperate need?

How would I know of Your healing
if I didn’t see You heal my bitter heart?

How would I know of Your restoration
if my life never crumbled before my eyes?

How would I know You are my refuge
if I never wanted to run away and hide?

How would I know of Your constancy
if I never watched my dreams slip away?

How would I know of Divine Guidance
if I never found myself utterly lost?

How would I know of Your hope
if I never felt all hope was gone?

How would I know of Your comfort
if I never felt such crushing pain?

How would I see Your light
if I never had to walk in the dark?

How would I know You hold me together
if I never lost every ounce of strength I had?

How would I know of Your redemption
if I never lost something so close to my heart?

How would I know of Your power
if I never needed nothing short of a miracle?

How would I know You alone can satisfy
if I never felt such an incredible void?

How would I know You are the answer
if I never had to search so frantically for one?

How would I know You are always with me
if I never felt completely alone?

How would I know I could trust You
if I never had to take a leap of faith?

How would I know I could confide in You
if You never had to wipe away my tears?

How would I know how much I need You
if I never felt I couldn’t take another step?

How would I know You like I know You now
if You never allowed me to go through these trials?

How would I understand inexplicable JOY
if I never felt it amidst the deepest heartache?

How would I know how to carry others’ burdens
if no one ever had to carry mine?

How would I know the testimony You gave me
if You never put me through a test?

How would I know I could love You

if you never passionately pursued my heart?

How would I know You could sustain me
if I never found myself too weak to survive?

How would I know how much You love me
if You never gave Your life for me?

How would I know who You are

if I never had to find out?

How would I know of your constant grace

if I never shed so many unexpected tears?

How could I see the beauty of the valley

if I’d never been to the mountain and back with You?

“Look! I see another mountaintop from here! It’s even more beautiful than this one!” The possibility tempted me, but I couldn’t deny the huge valley separating us from the beauty.

Did we dare?

(Check out the sequel, Painful Waiting, now available on Amazon. The sequel we had no idea God still had in store for our family. Oh, the foreshadowing that took place in Unexpected Tears was beyond my imagination. Only an Author like God.)

You be the judge

We witnessed miracle after miracle before our eyes over the following thirteen days of our trip. Like watching a movie, we saw God plan out our every moment. Our meeting at the orphanage with the social worker and psychologist amazed us. They couldn’t thank us enough for what we did for Julian.

“This whole experience is like a dream come true for Julian, a dream he never believed could actually come true this late in his life. He always wanted his siblings to find a family, but he thought it was already too late for him. Your relationship with him motivates him to keep trying to succeed in all he does.” His psychologist explained how we became his driving force, taking on the inspiring role of parents.

Because Julian demonstrated such a gift in the arts and already accomplished so much academically for his age, they allowed him to stay longer so they could enroll him into college. In that meeting, we witnessed how hard his social worker pursued the best opportunities available for each individual child in her care.

Both the psychologist and social worker suddenly talked freely about the impact we also made on Juan David and Viviana. We did indeed matter. Although we no longer maintained contact with them, no one could erase the impact of the memories we built. That relationship mattered, and it had purpose.

I walked away so impressed by the support these three siblings received while in this orphanage. The very title that scared me the most, the psychologist, actually made us feel the most welcomed and appreciated with her warm, tender heart. In fact, she invited us to spend an entire day sight-seeing with her and her son as our guides, and later we enjoyed an authentic Colombian meal together at a famous restaurant near her hometown. No longer the feared psychologist, she quickly assumed the role of a dear friend. I will always remember her with very fond memories.

We arrived in Colombia still feeling like someone slapped us in the face for even thinking we could parent an adoptive child. Now we could leave Colombia feeling embraced and appreciated for changing an orphan’s life and making his dreams come true. We also knew he changed our lives as much as we changed his, if not more.

During our two weeks in Colombia, we experienced one adventure after another. We visited Rachel’s ministry, took lots of pictures, and we thanked God for the opportunity to expose Julian to this beautiful ministry in his own hometown. We visited the Christian school and met personally with the director to discuss future possibilities for our family to get involved in the ministry by using our own God-given gifts and talents. Julian never even heard of a missionary before, and now he had the opportunity to meet many of them.

We finally got in touch with the man who used to pastor the Spanish service at our church back home. As we spent a beautiful evening with him and his family, Julian witnessed what the family of Christ looks and acts like. Our friends even offered to take us to the airport for our flight home, also promising to get Julian back home safely after our departure. We knew basically no one before arriving in Colombia, but because we made so many contacts with fellow Christians on our journey, we gained many new friends, and they treated us like family.

We filled our days with adventure and ate out more than we should have. We got quite familiar with the mall, met a lot of people and spent nearly every evening with Clarita and her roommate. But, more than anything, we spent time as a family, giving Julian the experience he missed over the last eight years. We made popcorn, curled up together on the futon, and watched movies on the laptop. We played games and held Connect Four tournaments. David and Julian, determined to play together, always found ways to communicate with their very limited Spanish and English.

Julian was eighteen years old, nine years older than David, yet he still resembled a child at heart. We learned in our pre-adoption training that an adopted child often needs to revert back to the age they lost their parent, making them need the affection a child of that age needs. Interestingly, that took Julian back to David’s current age. No wonder they both got along and connected so well. No wonder he took so quickly to the affection we naturally showed him.

Julian warmed up quickly. After the first two nights, he stopped sleeping alone in the office. Instead, he stayed up late listening to me read to David, though not understanding a word, before he fell asleep on the futon right across from David. When he didn’t listen to me read, he read a little New Testament in Spanish he found in the office, the only reading material he could find in Spanish.

 We shared many long talks, usually in the mornings while Mike and David slept in. I found out he met Christ at the age of nine. He could explain the gospel clearly and understood it well. Now, he read Scripture every night and then explained what he read, showing me how well he understood it. God so evidently worked in his life all these years. He just needed someone to guide him in his spiritual growth.

We prayed together at all of our meals, so much that Julian would remind us if we forgot to say the prayer. We cooked and cleaned together every day and gave hugs and kisses every night. I can’t even begin to count the times he stopped, looked at me with a huge smile, and told me how much he loved being with us. We had become a family, his family. He finally found where he belonged.

Sadly, our fourteen days together came to an end, and we had to say goodbye. Our mountaintop experience finished, and our life with Julian, now as a family of four, began. We left with the promise to help him financially whenever he had to leave the orphanage, or to pay for all of his expenses if he’s ever able to get a visa to study in the States. His legal support team said they would help him with the process to pursue that opportunity. They reminded us that the material help didn’t compare to the affective bond we established with him.

His social worker said she’d stay in contact with us to keep us involved in any decisions made for his future. He finally got accepted into an art college and started a few weeks later, while we returned to our own home and places of work.

We continue to call and write Julian each week, as well as find an occasional time to communicate via a skype call on the computer. We helped him out with his bus fare to go to school and with all of the art supplies he needed for his classes. He sends us pictures of his completed projects in return. We’re still praying diligently, asking God if, when, or for how long He wants us to return to Colombia. For now, we plan to go back in the summer to spend time with Julian again, and to actually work at the Christian school doing short-term missions.

So, we’ll see how God leads from here.

(I remember saying that exact thing when Julian suddenly appeared in our lives . . . you never know what God has up His sleeve.)

I jumped into teaching yet another ladies’ Bible study at church for the summer, literally two days after coming home from Colombia. I led a new group of ladies through a Women of Faith workbook study called HOPE--The anchor for your soul.[1] Pretty fitting, I thought. For the first time, I found myself on the other side of hope, having watched my hope become a reality.

I started my next study in the fall, Beth Moore’s DVD study called “The Inheritance”[2]. We learned together how God entrusts every experience to us as a part of our inheritance. Sometimes He just tells us to grab hold of His hand and hold on as tightly as we can because He will see us through it, through every unexpected tear along the way.

That describes our story in a nutshell.

Each study I teach brings new women into my life I might never have known. In fact, God brought a certain lady to my study that first night in the fall who just happened to have grown up as a missionary child in . . . Bogotá, Colombia!

This story keeps getting better!

God did indeed give me the desires of my heart, the ones I wrote in my letter to Him at the beginning of the spring Bible study, even down to the printing of this book. Little did I know while I wrote of my desire to write a book, I actually lived out the details of the story He wanted me to write.

My last request in that letter asked God to turn our story around to give us a story only He could author. As to whether or not He did that, I’ll let you, the reader, be the judge.

                                

---

[1] Hope—The Anchor for Your Soul, Women of Faith, 2004, Thomas Nelson.

[2] The Inheritance, DVD Bible Study Series, Beth Moore, 2010, Living Proof Ministries.

At the top of the mountain

Later the next morning, Julian asked me what I book I read to David the night before. I showed him a specific series of books and told him the basic theme of the books. Over the last year, I bid goodnight early to Julian via the computer so I could read to David before he fell asleep. Now he witnessed our story time with his own eyes.

Monday morning we met our second point of contact, our friend Rachel who we met online through the mission organization that sent us the “divine” brochure. She offered to accompany us to our meeting at the orphanage with the psychologist and social worker the following day to help with translation for Mike and David, but we still anticipated meeting her in person.

 We all got up early to eat breakfast at the mall, and she met us there mid-morning. She told us all about herself and her ministry for street kids that she’d worked with in Colombia for the last seventeen years. What an amazing lady with a huge heart. I felt honored to meet her. She also met Julian, and our love and commitment to him touched her. She asked him a lot of questions about his story and his life, and she offered to connect him with her church and ministry after we left.

We decided to visit her ministry the next day and have lunch there with her before she headed to the orphanage with us later in the afternoon. She even drew us a little map with instructions to help us get there safely. Before leaving the mall that morning, she suggested several nice places to visit during our time in Colombia.

That same afternoon, we took her suggestion and spontaneously ventured out on our first tourist adventure with Julian. We headed to a famous place called Monserrate. Once we got there and purchased tickets, we squeezed into a little cable car that lifted us up to the top of a mountain where you could take pictures of the entire city from an aerial view. With our camera fully charged, we snapped picture after picture all the way up. What an inspiring view met us as we stepped out of the car at the top.

We glanced over the edge of the mountain to see all of Bogotá, a city of seven million people, spread out below us. On the other side, you could look down to see a beautiful landscape of mountains and valleys, an absolutely breathtaking view!

There we stood, now with Julian by our side, at the top of the mountain. It hit me. We’d made it. We survived the valley and made it back to the top of the mountain.

Julian may have seen his city spread out on one side and a beautiful landscape on the other. I saw so much more. As I looked out over the city, I saw a mission field filled with millions of lost souls needing a Savior. As I looked out over the valleys, I saw the valley we ourselves walked through. It no longer resembled the ugliness I saw when I walked through it, the distorted picture I grew accustomed to looking at.

The view of the valley took my breath away. I could finally see how intricately God worked together every tiny detail. The pieces of our puzzle all fit together without a single piece missing. I saw His fingerprints all over every hardship, wiping every tear away. I saw His footprints in every place He carried us. I saw His hands, guiding our every step. I saw His heart in the intimate love written all over an orphan’s face. I saw His grace in Julian’s beautiful smile. 

In only 36 hours

That night we planned to head to the Christian school’s graduation like we arranged four months previously, the only event set on our calendar besides our upcoming meeting at the orphanage. We felt a bit awkward going to a graduation where we didn’t know a soul, but we went with hopes of meeting several of the teachers and staff. So, after we left the orphanage, we went back to the apartment to let Julian drop off his stuff and accommodate himself.

Our little apartment offered a single bedroom and an office, a tiny kitchen, a living/dining area with a table, couch, futon, and two small bathrooms. David slept on the couch, so we gave Julian the option of sleeping on the futon across from him or taking the mattress off to sleep on the floor in the office. He chose the office.

We enjoyed our first meal with Julian at an Italian restaurant in the mall across the street from the apartment. He seemed more comfortable now that we stole a chance to sit and talk. I already felt like I had known him for a long time. Clarita asked many questions of us all, so the conversation never found a dry point while we all ate together.

Since Clarita worked at the Christian school when she first came to Colombia, she decided to go to the graduation with us in hopes of seeing some old friends (scratch out another fear of traveling somewhere we’d never gone without a guide). We enjoyed the ceremony, but Julian pointed out all the ways it differed from his own recent graduation from a public school.

 Afterwards, Clarita introduced us to the director of the school and to many of the other teachers. We found it almost ironic when we realized Julian stood in the minority rather than us. Almost everyone from the school spoke English, many coming from America! At least Mike and David felt at ease for the evening. A few teachers invited us out for pizza later that evening, but we declined so we could head back to the apartment. This would be our first night with Julian, and quite frankly, we didn’t know what to expect.

Back at the apartment, David and I dug out the games to break the ice. We brought several with us to teach Julian because we love to play games as a family. We picked out the ones that didn’t require a lot of talking since a huge language barrier existed between David, Mike, and Julian.

We played Connect Four first, and it ended up being our favorite game. We played it like crazy. With no TV, internet, or phone in the apartment, all the games came in handy. They forced us to communicate and spend a lot of quality time as a family.

After a few games of Connect Four that first night, Julian expressed his exhaustion and desire to turn in for the night. I wonder if he even slept the night before. I gave him a hug and told him I loved him before saying goodnight. Then he gave Mike a hug and said, “Goodnight, Dad.” What a priceless moment.

David snuggled up beside me on his couch, and I read to him until he fell asleep. Then Mike and I went to bed, too. I would cherish this day in my heart for the rest of my life. We really did spend a day in Colombia, and God covered every last detail over our first thirty-six hours. Each moment seemed miraculous to me.That night we planned to head to the Christian school’s graduation like we arranged four months previously, the only event set on our calendar besides our upcoming meeting at the orphanage. We felt a bit awkward going to a graduation where we didn’t know a soul, but we went with hopes of meeting several of the teachers and staff. So, after we left the orphanage, we went back to the apartment to let Julian drop off his stuff and accommodate himself.

Our little apartment offered a single bedroom and an office, a tiny kitchen, a living/dining area with a table, couch, futon, and two small bathrooms. David slept on the couch, so we gave Julian the option of sleeping on the futon across from him or taking the mattress off to sleep on the floor in the office. He chose the office.

We enjoyed our first meal with Julian at an Italian restaurant in the mall across the street from the apartment. He seemed more comfortable now that we stole a chance to sit and talk. I already felt like I had known him for a long time. Clarita asked many questions of us all, so the conversation never found a dry point while we all ate together.

Since Clarita worked at the Christian school when she first came to Colombia, she decided to go to the graduation with us in hopes of seeing some old friends (scratch out another fear of traveling somewhere we’d never gone without a guide). We enjoyed the ceremony, but Julian pointed out all the ways it differed from his own recent graduation from a public school.

 Afterwards, Clarita introduced us to the director of the school and to many of the other teachers. We found it almost ironic when we realized Julian stood in the minority rather than us. Almost everyone from the school spoke English, many coming from America! At least Mike and David felt at ease for the evening. A few teachers invited us out for pizza later that evening, but we declined so we could head back to the apartment. This would be our first night with Julian, and quite frankly, we didn’t know what to expect.

Back at the apartment, David and I dug out the games to break the ice. We brought several with us to teach Julian because we love to play games as a family. We picked out the ones that didn’t require a lot of talking since a huge language barrier existed between David, Mike, and Julian.

We played Connect Four first, and it ended up being our favorite game. We played it like crazy. With no TV, internet, or phone in the apartment, all the games came in handy. They forced us to communicate and spend a lot of quality time as a family.

After a few games of Connect Four that first night, Julian expressed his exhaustion and desire to turn in for the night. I wonder if he even slept the night before. I gave him a hug and told him I loved him before saying goodnight. Then he gave Mike a hug and said, “Goodnight, Dad.” What a priceless moment.

David snuggled up beside me on his couch, and I read to him until he fell asleep. Then Mike and I went to bed, too. I would cherish this day in my heart for the rest of my life. We really did spend a day in Colombia, and God covered every last detail over our first thirty-six hours. Each moment seemed miraculous to me.

Meeting our "son", face to face

We made it to the orphanage Sunday morning right around ten o’clock. We called before we left, so Julian anxiously waited for us. What incredible emotion overcame me as we drove down the street he lived on, the same streets I saw in someone else’s adoption video online, streets I assumed I’d never have the chance to see. The taxi driver dropped us off in front of the house at the specific address Julian gave me.

He said he’d wait outside, but the boy sitting outside didn’t look like him, so we proceeded to the door. I feared not recognizing him even after seeing his pictures. Several boys his age stood gathered around as we walked in the door. It didn’t take long for my eyes to meet with Julian’s. I recognized those eyes in an instant. Without saying a word, I reached my arms around his neck and hugged him.

The rest of those first few moments remain a blur. I know he met Mike and David, and we introduced him to our new friend, Clarita, who divinely accompanied us. Julian introduced us to the director and one of his house parents, and then he disappeared to go get the key.

“It’s so good for Julian to finally get to know you in person. You already obviously know each other well, but I know how much it means to him to finally meet you.” The director and I talked while I waited for Julian to come back, and I saw for myself how dearly she cared for him.

Julian returned after a few minutes, and then he gave us a quick tour of his house. It felt like one of those out-of-body experiences, so unfortunately, I didn’t take it all in like I wanted to. Emotion overwhelmed me. Thankfully, Mike snapped picture after picture.

I do remember seeing the bedroom Julian shared with five other boys, the specific bunk he slept on in the corner of the room and another little room with the only computer in the house—the exact place where he spent hour upon hour in the evenings “talking” to me via a keyboard over the last year and a half. He also introduced us to the one boy in the house he considered a friend, and then we started to leave.

“We can give you a tour of the entire orphanage when you come back on Tuesday for our meeting. I can show you the house where Viviana lived.” The director’s comment made me realize they respected the relationship I built with Viviana. She didn’t mention Juan David, but Julian already warned me we couldn’t see him because it would be too difficult for him emotionally. I understood and did not want to cause any problems with his new family in the process of adopting him. Still, I wondered what he thought about us finally being there, only this time to meet his brother. I promised him I’d come, and God let me fulfill my promise, though for different reasons now.

As we walked out the door, Clarita said her goodbyes, as well, and the director mentioned seeing her again in two days for our meeting. A different missionary we contacted planned to accompany us to our meeting, so I explained that Clarita would not return with us on Tuesday. The director hesitated for a moment and then offered to give us all a tour of the orphanage right then. She gave Julian permission to take us through all of the homes, so we followed him into each of the six houses. We saw both of the homes where Viviana lived and grew up, and we met her house parents and likely her friends.

Our tour ended with Juan David’s home. He spent the weekend with his new family, but we met all of his friends and housemates and saw where he ate, played, and slept. It felt strange to know he still lived there, and we actually stood in his home.

My gaze locked immediately on the phone hanging on the wall right outside the kitchen where he told me it had been. I stared at that phone, suddenly reliving so many of our conversations. I could still hear all the noise, the pots and pans clanging, and all the voices of the ladies in the kitchen as we spoke. Now, I stood precisely in the same spot he did for all of those conversations.

Mike and David stayed in the front room talking to some of the boys in their broken, limited Spanish, and Clarita met some girls there who taught English or something. I stood by the kitchen with Julian, so overwhelmed, trying to take it all in. Words can’t describe it.

I turned to Julian and hugged his neck. “I can’t believe we’re really here.”

We hadn’t even been in Colombia for twenty-four hours yet.

When we finally left Juan David’s house, David expressed feeling as overwhelmed as I did. We all felt the same. We walked across the busy street to catch a bus to take back to the apartment together. As we stepped away from the orphanage, our time as a family of four began.

Julian seemed incredibly nervous, but as we talked during the bus ride, he relaxed. He’d just left the orphanage to spend time with a family for the first time ever, never having experienced anything like this even once in his life before. He’d lived in this orphanage since the age of ten. His turn finally came to join a family, now as a young adult.