his words.

Our evening routine.  It's one of my favorites.  I swoon over clean little boys with pruned hands, damp, just-out-of-the-bath skin, and the sweet smell of shampoo and soap on their bodies.  They usually crawl in their cozy beds willingly-- maybe because  they get 30 minutes of uninterrupted television to wind down.  But as soon as the television timer shuts down their favorite movie, the best part begins.

We spend the next few minutes reading books together, traveling to places with our minds that only books can take us.  My boys may never have a love for reading alone, but they plead to have just one more chapter each night.  And as we close the cover, we sing a song together... an old hymn, a long-lost children's classic, or something crazy that requires me to start the calming process all over again! And then comes the highlight, the encore, the best part of my day...

They pray.  It's simple.  Sometimes routine.  Funny at times.  Short for some, long for others.  But they are their words.  Max has a bad habit of forgetting just one special thing, and he's faithful to interrupt any person that is praying when it hits him, just to be sure he doesn't forget again.  Some days they roll through familiar sentences of thanks, and other days, they offer thanks for unique gifts they saw the Lord grant throughout their day.  But sometimes, they say something that takes me totally off-guard.

A few night's ago, Jack's simple statement of thankfulness resonated in my heart long after I closed their door and climbed into my own bed.  In his sweet, boyish voice, he simply said,

"God, thank you for GIVING me a family."

I know the beauty of adoption.  I've dreamed about it, prayed about it, lived it, celebrated it, been awed by it, and a million other things.  I KNOW how much it changed his life (and ours.)  He was an orphan.  No mother.  No father.  No hope.  No joy.  The family he was born into just didn't play out like it does for most of us.  It was torn out from under him before he had completed two years of life. And as the 8-year anniversary of the first day I saw those big brown eyes draws near, those words couldn't be sweeter to hear.  I couldn't help but say my own heartfelt prayers to the Lord as I laid in the bed that evening for giving him not just any family, but OUR FAMILY. 

But those words reminded me of so much more.  They brought back memories of my own adoption.  Not an earthly adoption, as I was raised by my biological parents.  But I couldn't help but recall my spiritual adoption.  The one that I too often forget to be grateful for.  I, too, was once an orphan.  One that was lost, lacking hope, and joy.  But God gave me a family.  For free.  No strings-attached.  The most beautiful gift I've ever received, and I walk through so many days without ever stopping to utter those simple words, "God, thank you for GIVING me an [eternal] family."

My days are busy.  I wake up thinking about to-do lists, homeschooling, meals, and laundry.  I can easily make it to bed in the evening without "my adoption" in Christ making it to the surface of my heart.  But it's WHO I am.  It's the cornerstone of my life.  It's my eternal hope and joy.  And it took the words of a sleepy ten-year old boy to remind me of the beauty of that gift I was given so many years ago.  

I often stress over the overwhelming task of leading my boys spiritually.  It's daunting to think how influential my words, actions, and decisions will be along the way.  I pray that those slow, laid-back evening routines will someday lead to God-fearing men who passionately seek after Christ.  But tonight, I'm thankful for simple prayers of thanksgiving, times with my boys, and how his words change my heart for the better.