Yesterday I sent a text;
“Sammy before church. I told him how proud you’d be of him, looking so sharp. Happy Easter to you and your family.”
I included the above picture.
I pictured her and her family at church. It was one of the real reasons we rallied to go too. If he were being raised by his biological mother, I know she would have taken him to church today. I imagine he would have been dressed this well with her too. Of this I have little doubt.
She said in her interview that that she wanted a God fearing woman..
Then she settled for me.
I told him how proud his ministerial relations would be, if they could see him on Easter so put together and strong. I make sure that biblical understanding is part of his upbringing so that one day when he is sitting across from his birth family, he will not be out of place in that way too. He had three stickers on his lapel after Sunday school, for that many right answers during Jesus Jeopardy; I remembered who moved the big rocks Mommy-the angels.
It is remarkable to me, how much Sammy wanted that suit, how profoundly his own style is emerging without the slightest provocation from me.
It has been eight months of silence. He no longer asks what happened to her.
I was so proud of the open adoption relationship we had. I took it for granted. Then, for reasons I have owned as my fault things went cold.
I listened to birth mothers, counselors, God, and my own heart.
I wrote to her my everything. This remains unanswered too.
Then, seeing him in that suit I was moved as if by divine intervention, to reach out one more time seeking redemption or resurrection or both, I sent that text.
Looking so strikingly handsome & beautiful like her, I thought he’d be too hard to resist.
Sammy is seven.
He is my son. He is her son too.
He wants to be seen, by all of us.
My hope for this Easter?
Boulders will move.