I enjoy going to the post office at Christmas time. Stacks of holiday cards, odd shaped packages and parcels, and thoughtful love is being dispatched all around the globe. Some people print their address labels, all tidy and efficient; others draw little holly leaves and berries on their brown paper packing. Some are sending money orders to family far away. It is all special.
My large envelope looked plain enough, but when the postal worker flung it down the chute, I caught my breath and was suddenly stirred with emotion. This Christmas I am sending an application to adopt through foster care. Our agency will receive the gift of our home, open.
Pursuing adoption at Christmas time is an emotional thing. Because of the route we are pursuing, I imagine our daughter is currently in a foster family. I imagine she is loved and cared for this Christmas. After all, I loved and cherished my foster children at Christmas.
I imagine this time next year our Christmas card will have another person in it. I imagine we will still be doing the hard yards of building attachment.
The application is only a first step, but it feels like dropping a message in a bottle out into the sea: a message that says "we're looking for you, dear one."