My children are in the other room watching a show, as my husband and I sit and talk with this family we just met.

In between conversation covering a range of subjects like family Christmas traditions, church community, and raising children we talk about the realities of foster care and adoption.

I keep seeing a curly head peek around the corner to catch a glance of us. She’s shy, this sweet little one almost three years old, with a face like an angel.  Eventually she wanders into the room; but every time I look at her she covers her face and runs away. My husband and I are strangers, and she is unsure why we are there.

Her new mother and father apologize, telling us their daughter is wary of people she does not know. She thinks we might be there to take her away. She has already been in nine foster homes during her short life, and is afraid of having to leave again…she doesn’t quite understand that she has been adopted…that she is finally home. My heart hurts for the worldly wisdom and fear I see in this precious girl’s eyes.

Her brother is a handful of energy and fun; he shows us his toys, the Christmas tree, his room. He runs to and fro, an excited smile on his three year old face…he’s curious about us and our family and wants to play and laugh with us. I smile at his exuberance and obvious happiness. He knows he’s home.

I comment on the seriousness of her little girl, and the abounding joy of her little boy. She smiles, and we walk down the hallway, looking at family pictures as she tells me a story.

She said when they were transitioning these little ones from being their foster children and going through the process to adopt them, they gave them new names.  They also placed pictures of the children up from their life before so they could talk and grieve and ask questions as needed. All along the wall were pictures of their life now with their new forever family.

One day her little boy walked up to one of the “before” pictures and said “That’s me, when I was Timmy and nobody loved me” and then walked over to one of the “after” pictures and said “That’s me, now that I’m Bobby and YOU and God love me!” **

My husband and I looked at each other with tears in our eyes, as the full impact of what he had said hit us.

He had been given a new name

He had been shown that he was loved

He now lived in perfect joy

And as this Christmas season passes by, I want to remember the beautifully profound truths found in this little boy’s words as I reflect on the celebration of the birth of my Savior…won’t you join me in doing the same?

**Names have been changed to protect privacy

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