Last week, I received an email that Thirty-One (for those unfamiliar, company that sells bags/purses/accessories/etc.) was having an end-of-the-year outlet sale to clear discontinued products from their stock. I'm not a big online shopper (or shopper at all, for that matter) but who likes to pass up a deal? So I, mostly just from curiosity alone, clicked on the link. Then I saw it. A sweet little backpack - all blue and tiny, with sweet little robots on it, and a zipper pouch to match. And I just stared at the screen for the longest time.
I don't know about anyone else, but my pregnancies didn't really feel "real" until I had bought something for our baby. With Annalise, it was a little duck that made a quacking sound when you would shake it. For Addison, it was an itty bitty outfit for her to wear home from the hospital. We bought Roman a little pair of footie pajamas with Pluto on them, on sale at the Disney store. Somehow, having something concrete to hold, smell, imagine using with my baby just made me connect somehow with the little person I was expecting to enter my life. All this came into my head as I stared at the little backpack.
So, I bought it. I ordered the little backpack. I did it out of faith... faith that God knows exactly the child he has planned to bring into our lives. In so many ways, our adoption desires still feel so theoretical. We're raising funds, researching agencies and programs, talking with other parents, prayerfully approaching the whole process. But I want something concrete - something like a little, blue, robot, backpack. We are just as excitedly awaiting this little one's arrival as much as we awaited the arrival of the other three. In some ways, more. We're not even totally sure that we will be adopting a boy, but I can always give it to someone else who can use it, if that is the case. In the meantime, it is just a reminder. A reminder of our goal. A little back to hang this bag on. A little back to rub when we hug. A little back to pat when he cries. We are praying and waiting the way that God has commanded - Expectantly.
That is why I started crying when I opened that box. It, all of a sudden, felt SO much more real. It feels more real everyday. More real when Roman outgrows another piece of clothing and I pack it away, thinking of another little boy who will wear it. More real every time Roman says, "I can't wait to have my baby bru-der." More real when Brandon I talk about possible names. And more real when I hold this backpack.
