Here we are. Minus the dog and my husband and I. But most of my whole world in one picture. Some of us are adopted, some of us aren’t and it does matter. Not which ones are which matters, but the stories we all brought to our home are different. That’s what makes us, us. And it makes things complicated sometimes.
Like when every year my oldest are asked if they are twins because they are the same age and in the same grade. Every year. Or when the youngest is assumed to be 100% adopted but his 100% biological brother is not.
You know what isn’t complicated or confusing. Love.
Do you write love letters to your kids? I have for many years. On their birthdays, on the bad days. (Sometimes I even write them to my friends children.) When I feel like I could burst with pride or appreciation, I write them love letters. Most they have never read. Love conquers all of it. The tough issues, the hard questions, the uncomfortable moments. I am not talking about fancy love. I am talking about kick-ass, you-rock, kind of love. It’s easy when they are little to count the ways you love your children. But sometimes it’s even easier when they grow up. When they morph into people you only wished you could’ve been and they amaze and inspire you to be better. Or when life happens and your heart breaks for them but they don’t want you to tell them that- they really don’t want anyone to tell them anything.
Our life is so beautiful but it can be hard. It can be exhausting – (10 kids worth of exhausting) but it is filled with so much love that it oozes out the sides and overflows from everywhere. This is the newest picture of that love. It’s one of my favorites.