Choosing to celebrate while we wait

As I shared in the last post, each day we can find ourselves rolling through triage, celebrations, and waiting for answers. The last four days have been so good, almost like our lives in our home are reflective of the fresh fall air that is sweeping through our area or the beautiful sunrises I've seen the last few mornings. On the behavior chart our son has earned four stickers for the last four days – that doesn't mean he's been perfect, because who is, but if a disappointment came his way he settled it quickly and didn't outrage. He shared his feelings with a simple, "Aw man!", and kept going. He didn't filter his anger on everything and everyone. Successful step and we let him know it. So we celebrate. If he gets three more days of stickers we are having a Glow Stick in the Dark Dance Party in our Family room. He can't wait.

But then we have a visit from our foster-to-adopt specialist, and a phone call from his case worker. Still no news, except paperwork to fill out that says we agree with the standard process of removing him from our home if someone should step up in his family to adopt him. It saddens me to read about the time he'll need to say his goodbyes to us, his friends, and teachers. We know there's a chance we may not be able to adopt him, but little reminders like this make it sink in, deeply. We don't have time to grieve, we have to keep celebrating, triaging when necessary, and praying for God's best, whatever that is.

We celebrate all the little moments that are BIG. Like when he calls us mom or dad, not that we are a replacement, because we are not, but we serve that role right now and we are special to him; Or when he wants an extra hug after our family prayers; Or when he wakes up and smiles after we tell him how handsome he is and it's a new beginning each day; Or when he earns the 'Good Samaritan Award' by doing something kind for another without being asked; Or when we catch him opening up his Bible to read or pray on his own (I've seen him kneeling by his bed privately in his room); Or when he waves me down and runs at me with full force when being picked up from school and shares with me about his day; Or when he draws a picture of his family and includes us; Or when he says, "I love you." These are monumental moments in his growth and our relationship with him. I know God celebrates in every moment we spend with him too.

No triage this week. I hesitate to almost type those words as if it would jinx us. But he's halfway through working towards that Glow Stick party and I believe in him, that he won't live defeated, that he will keep striving to the reward. And, if I can manage to get some pictures of that, since the lights will be out, I may be able to post them. The movement of the lights can show the excited activity without revealing faces. I wish I could make this blog more visual from this journey, but that will have to do for now.

So we celebrate and wait to see the determined choice for this child's outcome which only God knows. Again I say, thank God He knows.