"Be Honest With Me..."

..."is it hard to love your three girls like your own?" asked an acquaintance last week.  I have to admit that a million thoughts ran through my mind in the 10 seconds it took for me to answer her.  I thought about the day my first adopted daughter was placed into my arms.  When we looked into each others' eyes, I was looking at a stranger.  She did not look like my other children.  She smelled, had snot dripping all over the place and dirt in crevices not meant to see dirt.  But, they said she was mine.

Then, a year later, I was given Joy with strange behaviors caused by her life in an orphanage.  Joy, the one who cried that first week whenever you moved her, the one our whole family thought had lifetime disabilities.  But, again, she was mine.

Then came the biggie in 2010, adopting a 7 year old.  How can I love this older child who obviously does not want anything to do with me?  She screamed and ran when it was time to leave the Civil Affairs office.  She tried bolting out the door of the hotel room when the orphanage worker left us.  She moaned like a caged animal that first day.  How could I love her like my own when she is already 7 years old and molded by other people?  When the workers asked if she wanted me to be her mother she did not reply.  She did not want to be my daughter, so how could I love her?  Again, they told me she was mine.

Then all the memories came to my mind, and I held them in my heart.  There were many tears from both mother and daughters.  There was/is so much guidance, correction, encouragement, love, discipline, hugs, kisses, cuddles, just like I give "my own".  So, I replied to the lady, "They are my own and no, it is not hard to love them like 'my own'".  Every last one of them.