Four years ago, she was a woman in her thirties grappling with doubt and perplexity about her identity. One day, she gazed into the mirror. Tears flowed, not out of self-loathing. Rather, the reflection before her was not the individual she aspired to be. She decided to transform. Within the span of a year, she switched careers. Purchased a “fixer-upper.” A spacious four-bedroom house, she told others, was meant for “something.” She wasn’t entirely sure what that “more” entailed yet.
Shortly after settling in, as she was stripping paint and removing cabinets, she received an email from her church pastor about a foster care informational meeting. She didn’t know anyone involved in fostering. She was uncertain what to anticipate. Something touched her deeply. She invited her mother, who was assisting with the house repairs, to join her. Her mother was surprised. “WHAT?!” she exclaimed. Nevertheless, she accompanied her.
Throughout the meeting, she felt deeply moved. She was apprehensive about the responsibility, concerned that a single working woman residing in a fixer-upper might not be the fit. However, as she paid attention, maybe she was determined. Her prayers and many long nights of observation. On Mother’s Day 2015, she applied care. This one choice signaled the start of a path she never could have foreseen.
Around a year ago, she had welcomed four foster children into her care. Among these was a 13-month-old baby boy who brought immense brightness and happiness to her household, prompting her to desire something beyond short-term stays; she longed for stability. She aspired to be a ” home” for one child or possibly several. During her following home visit, she expressed to the caseworker that, if possible, she wished to adopt.
Value What Truly Matters. Then came the call she had hoped for all along. She didn’t believe it would ever arrive: a baby boy, born abandoned at the hospital and requiring a foster-to-adopt family. Without hesitation, she told the caseworker, “She wants him. Give her five minutes.” She quickly called her mother, knowing she couldn’t manage both a newborn and a toddler alone. She chose the name Grayson for him.
She hoped the biological parents would get in touch. Yet no one stepped up. The notices, the hospital notifications, all stayed silent. Part of her felt relieved. Another part hurt deeply. She understood that eventually she would have to inform Grayson that no one had returned. When he was 11 months old, she completed the adoption. That day signified the instant she genuinely became a mother. Her heart filled with happiness. Still touched with sorrow for the youngster she recognized had been abandoned by that decision. Somehow, she also sensed it was merely the start.
As she slowly adapted to this way of life, calls kept coming in. Children needed homes. One day, she received news about an infant girl. Also subjected to drugs. There was something about her: the mother’s name matched the one listed on Grayson’s hospital records. She murmured to her roommate, “Could they share the mother?” Neither the girl’s fair complexion and strawberry-blonde hair nor the stark contrast in looks deterred the idea. She chose to explore the chance.
The day she questioned the intake worker. The birth mother gave birth to a baby. As per her account, she had a child more than what the county records indicated. That might be her son. She nervously anticipated the baby’s reunion with the mother. She questioned herself over and over. What if she was mistaken? What if it was just a chance? When she encountered her. She answered the question, “How many children do you have? Boys? Girls?” She just had a son. Her heart nearly stopped. Yet she remained composed. She spoke courteously, attempting to keep from collapsing.
Value What Truly Matters. During the days, the caseworker conducted a discreet inquiry. Then the phone rang. “Katie, I believe you’re correct.” Afterwards, “We’re certain,” she wept amid the worksite as she ended the call. At that instant, she understood we had discovered it: Grayson’s birth mother, as well as her daughter’s birth mother. Two kids, with appearances, histories, and even timelines, yet linked by their bloodline.
She recalls wondering, What if she had declined to take that baby girl? What if she had chosen a family? This blessing would have stayed undiscovered. She would have never found out. Grayson might have never gained a sister. She would have never understood the full significance of “forever family.” She trusts that God or destiny, whichever term you prefer, had a purpose. A purpose greater than herself. She just said “yes.”
