"Thank you for coming to get me." Her voice was so small amidst the cheering crowd of swim parents that I wasn't sure I heard her right. My oldest daughters whipped around as she surely heard it too. I looked down into her beautiful little face and asked, just to be sure, "What did you say?" She looked back with her almond shaped eyes and said once again, "Thank you for coming to get me." My heart melted and tears sprang into the eyes of my oldest daughter. She understood. This was not a, "Thanks mom for picking me up at school", or even a "Thanks mom for driving out in the middle of the night , because I changed my mind about spending the night". This was thank you for coming all the way to China to make me yours. She smiled into my face and then was caught up again by the cheering crowd. I hugged her closer to my heart wishing, as all mothers do occasionally, that I could freeze that moment in time.
I've thought about that, "thank you for coming to get me" statement. I know it was not flippant or light hearted. It was something so deep down inside that tiny heart that understands. She knows that we, "...drove into the night, got on a plane, flew over the rivers, and over the mountains, and even over the top of the world (which we did), all the way to China to bring you home". She knows because she wants to hear the story over and over again. Her story; the one which began with another mother somewhere in China. A mother who tried for four months to care for my beautiful girl and for whatever reason found herself in a situation where she could not. Her story; the one which includes the orphanage where she was given her beautiful name which means, "may the light of the moon keep the dust off of you". Her story; which is about her foster parents who, I am sure, did their best. Her story; a forever family, seven brothers and two sisters, who all adore her. Her story and mine.
"Thank you for coming to get me." As I lie beside her little sleeping body, listening to her steady breathing those words floated through my brain. I wondered when was the last time I said those words. I thought about what adoption meant for our family; three years, a journey to the other side of the would (coming from a person who is rather claustrophobic, 15 hours on an airplane is not ever something I thought I could do), and the monetary cost. Yet this wasn't really what was foremost in my mind. I thought about sacrifice, but not ours. I was thinking about Jesus. I pictured Him in heaven, laying down His crown and scepter. I thought about Him putting on humanity. Wow, from throne to animal trough! I thought about His 33 year journey which would lead Him to the cross; the brothers who didn't believe Him, the friends who denied Him, and the people to whom He came yelling, "Crucify Him!"The death which He suffered. And, praise God His rising from the dead and returning back to His throne. He did that in order to "come and get me". By His great sacrifice He made it possible for us all to be adopted.
Thank you, Jesus, for coming to get me.
