Love took the slow road, but it found its way home. Celeste always felt adoption tugging at her heart. As a kid, watching Roots sparked a lifelong respect for people of color. As a teen, she imagined growing up to adopt. Family examples only deepened that pull; her cousin Donna and husband fostered and adopted six children of different backgrounds. She once brought three little ones to a reunion who latched onto Celeste and called her “mommy.” The joy of caring for them stayed with her.
When Celeste married Mark, they dreamed of a big family; she came from eight kids, he from four. They settled on five and loved the noisy, close-knit life they built. Still, the hope to adopt never faded. Celeste’s brother and his wife eventually adopted three African American infants through private agencies, but the price tag put that route out of reach for Celeste and Mark. If they were going to adopt, it would have to be through foster care. Years passed.
A move to a small Oregon town changed everything. Mark became a police officer and worked closely with teens in foster care. Everywhere they turned, they met families who had fostered and adopted. The need was suddenly personal and visible. Celeste gathered information; Mark was hesitant, life felt full and good as it was. After a long season of nudging and prayer, he agreed to do the training.
The paperwork was a mountain: interviews, safety checks, long autobiographies dredging up brutal childhoods, especially for Mark, who had survived the very kinds of trauma the system tries to prevent. A private agency, A Family For Every Child, prepared their home study, but after staff turnover, they landed with a new worker whose first-ever report painted their family poorly.
Celeste swallowed her frustration, requested minor fixes, and kept going. They bought a bigger car, made house changes, and waited. Finding a young child was rare, and out-of-state placements were discouraged. Rejections piled up, “too many children already.” Then Celeste saw a sibling group: 3, 4, and 5 years old. She submitted immediately. The kids’ recruiter, Edna in Missouri, replied kindly but said families with kids of similar ages weren’t being considered. Celeste kept in touch anyway, praying before each message and choosing persistence over passivity.
A providential detail surfaced: Edna had worked with Celeste’s extended family years earlier, bringing their adopted children from Missouri to Oregon. Celeste took this as a sign to keep pressing. Her agency scolded her for contacting an out-of-state worker directly, but after some smoothing over, Edna looped everyone in properly and continued to update them. Spring brought bad news. The team narrowed the finalists, and Celeste’s family didn’t cut. Weeks later, a relative stepped forward to adopt the children, which legally takes priority. Celeste still felt a quiet certainty that these were her kids and prayed for the right outcome.
In October, Edna emailed again: the relative hadn’t been approved to adopt. Was Celeste’s family still interested? Celeste burst into tears of relief. Edna then pushed for something unusual: the team would consider only Celeste and Mark before looking at anyone else. They scheduled a formal staffing for November and, to strengthen their case, the couple dove into trauma training, DHS classes, and online coursework.
The staffing call was intimidating, with about 15 professionals on one screen. Questions were careful, answers vague; Celeste didn’t want to seem picky. The children had spent years in foster care, sometimes separated; they’d been removed for abuse. Details were limited, but the need for stability was obvious. During that interview, something shifted in Mark. The man who’d been cautious became visibly moved. He felt called to be the father these kids needed.
Twenty minutes after the call ended, the team asked them to reconnect. Faces were smiling. Would they be willing to adopt the three siblings? Yes, absolutely. The journey had been long, bureaucratic, and exhausting: false starts, an unflattering home study, crossed wires, and closed doors that later swung open. Celeste leaned on faith through it all, and Mark found a deeper purpose. Three children gained a permanent home; five biological siblings gained new brothers and a sister; and two parents saw a quiet promise kept.
