Insecurity Digest

Luca is changing everyday right in front of my eyes. It seems that every time I turn around, he is reaching for another countertop, another new object, another milestone. He is forming words, cooing constantly, and he is a world-class mimic. I spend the majority of my day either chasing him into some forbidden zone of the house or coaxing him to make the newest silly face. The love that I feel coursing through my heart grows stronger and deeper everyday that I spend with him. Every morning I walk through the door to wake him, and he reaches both hands into the air with utter trust, I melt a little more on the inside.

We will have been back in America one month to the day tomorrow (12/19). The boy that we picked up from the orphanage is gone, and a new Luca version is now present. . .fully aware, fully engaged, fully alive. It is a transformation I could never have expected or believed possible one month ago, and yet, it has happened so swiftly and seamlessly. He has adjusted to his new home in very visible ways. He seems so comfortable here. . .he has even started attaching to a few of his bears and toys. One bear in particular goes wherever he goes. He now insists that I pick up both of them from his crib each morning.

About 10 days ago, Luca stopped crying when we put him down for naps and bedtime. He used to wail for a short period of time, unable to let go of the good times or perhaps fearing that sleep would rob him of the life he has come to enjoy. It was a gradual process, but each day and night recently, he has learned to enjoy his crib, sometimes playing there until he falls asleep. When he was unhappy with sleep, I had to put him straight from rocker to crib and make haste to the door before he could discover my exit. Now, he allows me to put him in the crib slowly and watch for a minute while he settles in. Three nights ago, he rolled over after I put him down, looked up at me and smacked his lips for "sweet kisses." I bent over the crib just far enough to meet his tiny lips. After a quick peck, his mouth broke into the most beautiful grin I have ever seen. Baring his tiny teeth, he smacked one more time in hopes for a final fleeting peck. I obliged, and as I walked to the door, I heard him hoist his body to the upright position gripping the railing of the crib with his tiny hands. Fearing a sorrowful wail, I could barely look over my shoulder, but when I did, I discovered my son grinning from ear to ear and waving bye-bye. Fully confident that I would return for him again, he could celebrate my departure. He has discovered that when I leave his room, I am not absent from his life. I have never felt so blessed.

Each day brings new obstacles and new joys. Each day brings an opportunity for growth for Luca and his parents. The lesson I hope to take with me from these early days with our son is the beauty of pure trust. It is simple. It is binding, and it is freeing. Oh, that I will learn to reach for my Father in the morning and know that His silence does not mean absence. Thank you for this beautiful gift!