Under the rug

I'm not the kinda girl that sweeps things under the rug. Chad isn't that kinda man. We approach life honestly. Especially with our kids. Telling my kids the truth about satan? No big deal. Giving them "the talk" (age appropriately)? Done. 

But last night, having to talk logistics with Kade about why he was adopted?

Where's the broom?

See, the kid is MY BABY. I go weeks at a time not thinking twice about my boys being adopted. Because we are bonded. From the first meeting I knew...

BUT THEY ARE. 

I want both my boys talking with me about their thoughts and the secrets in their hearts, so I don't shut them down. I listen and plead for Jesus to come quickly with a reply. 

While God is gracious to help me keep my composure, in the quietness of my heart I plead "why couldn't they have just come from us!!!!" In part it's a selfish plea to not have to compare notes with my 8 year old regarding "those other parents". (That stings). The other part of me hurts that they have to attempt comprehending the sin of adults they might never know. 

All I can do is take this to the cross- which thank The Lord makes beauty from gobs and gobs of ashy mess. And gratefully Gods been gracious enough to share the end of the story: Victory. No more weeping. Endless joy. 

I'm removing all the rugs.