I’d yell it when I walked in. My mom would shout from wherever she was, “Hi! How was your day?” I never once thought it was different in other homes. I assumed everyone’s parents greeted them and wanted to know about their day.
I’d never heard of foster care. I’d never heard of adoption. The concept was foreign to me until middle school.
I didn’t think about it again until I was an adult.
As an adult I thought, it’s too risky. What happens if I get a kid that is really messed up? What happens if I get a kid that rejects me as a parent? It costs too much. The wait is so long. What happens if… Oh wait, maybe those are the same things biological parents wonder.
On the flip side, what about caring for people who can’t care for themselves? And redemption? Could I possibly be a foster parent? That’s just temporary, right? But, how could I give up a child that became my everyday world for months? Maybe I’m too selfish and they’d be better off with someone else.
Parents who adopt don’t have the same struggles I do, right? They must be rich, patient and without worry. Maybe I should ask someone who knows.
I have a friend named Bekah. She told me the answers to my questions. I was right. Parents who adopt are perfect and never worry. Actually, that is not true. I only wish it was because then it would have excused me from the obligation to wrestle with how to help—due to disqualification by the condition known as “self-centereditus.”
The truth is, she confirmed the adoption process meant every fear was magnified, every unknown was brutal, and every known carried the possibility of disappointment. But, it was worth it.
It meant a little girl knowing only instability and loss since birth, gained parents who traveled the globe for the chance to hold her, hug her, and give her a family. They gave Aila a chance to know the security of a predictable love that responds every time she walks in the door and yells, “Hi Mom! I’m home!”
If I never adopt or become a foster parent, Bekah is all the inspiration I need to find a way to support those who do. Every child deserves the opportunity to know someone cares enough to ask, “How was your day?”