Sitting outside the courtroom, joined by family and friends, we wait for the bailiff to call our names. This would be our last visit to Children’s Court, a place where the majority of people wait to be faced with the consequences of their actions. This is not your typical “happy” place. In fact, in this moment of waiting, while our kids and their little friends run around in their Sunday bests, twirling, smiling, and exposing our excitement, I grow conscious of our onlookers and my feelings weigh.
Next to us was a young lady, appearing in her early 20’s. Uncomfortable in her skin, you could tell she was not in her normal apparel as an attempt to “dress up”. It was clear her soul was beat up. Her eyes lay deep, and her shoulders slumped. She was not in a good place. I caught her glancing our direction on occasion, getting lost in our joy. She looked envious. We were living in two different worlds. She was there to fight for her parental rights; we were there to adopt a child whose birth parents had lost their privileges. She and I locked eyes. My future was bright, hers unclear. It was humbling…
We were about to enter a room, where after a long two year process the judge would declare our toddler, a FOREVER part of our family. Taking on our last name. As the judge struck the bench with the gavel, it was with one pound and the passing of one second, Alan’s destiny changed. These moments are irreplaceable; and quite honestly, hard to explain.
Although, he had been in our home for two years prior, this moment ensured he would be in our family for the rest of his life. Going from a foster child to being adopted. Every moment spent in that courtroom previous to this one there was a potential we would be told he would not be ours. This room for two years was a robber of hope.
Luckily, our hope is not in a courtroom, or in the people occupying it. Our hope and belief is in God. What he can do, humans can’t. We trusted, we believed, we pressed on…knowing there was a reason we were brought into this little guy’s life. It wasn’t until this moment, that I could exhale that deep breath I had taken in the day we first got asked to be a part of his story. Breathing out harbored fear and anxiety, we could finally rest in knowing he was ours!
As we walked out of the courtroom a final time, I looked around. I saw heads down, and heavy hearts. I glanced over and made eye contact one last time with that young mom. Our eyes connected. As I tighten the grip on my sweet boy, she and I exchanged a gentle smile. I left her feeling empty. At a loss of what I could do, I prayed… I prayed that the Lord would fill her void with joy, and bring her hope for a bright and new beginning. That she be restored, putting her life in God’s hands and no longer living for herself, but a ministry to others. Cause really, that’s what this is all about…
We praise God for Alan Matthew Dykema born June 12, 2015 Gotcha Forever May 22, 2017
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