Introduction

It is time to finally begin writing about the Love we do not yet know. I so cherish putting thoughts to paper; and yet the enormity of adopting, of journeying to the image of God, has kept me away these last nine months. But today, this twenty-third day of May in the year two-thousand and seven, we depart from the quiet and shyness.

I do not recall the birth date for the discussions Rose and I had on adopting a child. It was, though, years back. Like the early development of a human life, the exchanges we had were microscopic, so much so one may not have known they had value. To be sure, however, like all of us at all stages within our mothers’ wombs, our talks were indeed valuable and worth nurturing. They were gifts from God.

What follows is admittedly a personal account, with the journey being limited to my perspective – that of a father’s. We are out there, loving our children, supporting our family, even if imperfectly.

Of course, my dear wife Rose’s fingerprints are everywhere within. Her heart envelops our steps, our struggles, our joy, our child. A mother’s love is absolute.

My desired reader for this story is a single person. Maybe he or she is young or maybe old when they read it. What they should get out of this is not insisted upon. But I do pray that our child sees parents who love him or her, and that we are humbled by the gift to do so.

Other readers are coveted, too – family, friends, acquaintances, and those we do not know. May you see beyond this journey, however, and be inspired; not by us, goodness, no, but by yourself, and what you have remaining to do in life that alters the very being of another fellow human.

Peace and thanks be with you.