thinking gotcha thoughts

Sometimes when I say “gotcha day” my mind just floods. So much to think about.

I think about the whole event of a Gotcha.  No child ever shows up at a Gotcha Day because their history is painless.  It’s always prefaced by abandonment.  Always.  And for most (many?) the day itself is full of terror, fear, sadness, confusion.  Sometimes I can talk myself out of celebrating.  Why in the world would we go to any length to celebrate a day of trauma? 

And if John Paul had any conscious memory of that day, we might just skip the celebrating.

[I do think it is deep in his memory, and I do think there are times that different parts of it surface.  But I don't think he really truly recalls any specific event from that day.... he just repeats back the facts that we've told him.]

So at least at this age, for him, for our family, I’m firmly convinced that this day is worthy of a celebration.  John Paul spent the day on cloud nine. 

I'm not sure I've ever seen him so very excited about an event.  It was priceless.

Matt and I bought him a blue backpack, and the other kids worked to fill it with some goodies.  He wore it most all day long.

We invited friends to join us for a picnic dinner, with cupcakes to wrap up the celebrating.

{I wish I could get better pictures of John Paul.  He is so very very hard to photograph.  In all our pictures from yesterday I got great shots of our other kids, great shots of other people's kids, and a few decent shots of him.  oh well.}

The past two years - wow.  Some of the hardest I've lived.  Some of the best I've lived.

2 years.  God's strength glorified in our weakness.

We are so blessed to count this boy an arrow in our quiver (Psalm 127:4-5).