“First things first, I’ma say all the words inside my head.
I’m fired up and tired of the way that things have been, oh-ooh.”
My heart has been heavy as we brace ourselves to say goodbye for third time in the last seven months. I’ll admit it, sometimes it all feels pointless. Our kids deserve more and they shouldn’t have to go through as much to get an adoptive family. And most times, it feels like our together time was cut short. We aren’t entitled to what could have been, or sometimes, what should have been. But in moments like these, I must keep my eyes on the truth that love is both held, and free.
Ding! Message from Jabez Reuben. I open it to find a link to a jazz cover for ‘Believer’ by Imagine Dragons. “You need to sing this for Bear.”
“Second things second; don’t you tell me what you think that I could be.
I’m the one at the sail. I’m the master of my sea, oh-ooh.”
This song reminds me of my little Bear in more ways than I realized. It’s a song he enjoyed, especially on our long drives together. Happy-sad tears filled my eyes as I could almost hear him singing in my ears, with words entirely made up. The commanding lyrics began to speak to me in my son’s sweet voice. I had heard the song a dozen times before but for the first time, I listened.
“Seeing the beauty through the…pain!
You made me a, you made me a believer, believer.
Pain! You break me down, you build me up believer, believer.
Pain! Oh, let the bullets fly, oh, let them rain.
My life, my love, my drive, it came from… pain!”
Our family is nothing short of a miracle; with a great deal of happy-sad tears. They say what we carry defines who we are, and the effort we make is our legacy. I carry my children and It’s the most extraordinary weight I bear. And to think, pain introduced me to this beautiful family I carry. Our children are beautiful, and brave, and kind. And I could never diminish the loss and pain our kids have endured as they join our family. If there’s one thing we hold on to as a family, it’s that we can do hard things. And in this home, we don’t run from pain instead we sit with it. Together. We don’t let pain stop us from running after things that are bigger than us.
522 days of loving little Bear and 142 days since I last saw him. Yet as I sat in the middle of a busy mall, I was called to battle by a song on my son’s playlist. It’s true, then. I can do hard things. I have what it takes. We’re in this, together as a family. Pain will feature in some parts of my story, but it will not determine it. Right here in this moment, I am brave. And I will not run from pain.
My kids are watching.