As I explained where his anger is aimed, our conversation meandered over to her own adoption. The questions came quickly.
"Did my birth mom love me?" "Could she really not take care of me?" "Do I have other brothers and sisters?" "Did she know Jesus?"
So, for the first time I told how her BM was trying to find peace in all the wrong things: alcohol, drugs, etc. She told me that scared her.
But then I was able to bring her around to how grateful I am that Jesus handpicked her for our own. How she wouldn't have heard about Jesus. Providentially, we are reading, Dori, A Girl Nobody Loved. I was able to remind her of this and how her life could have been so different. She pondered. She was trusting.
We talked about the different shades of color that our family represented. She wanted to know what colors each of the birth parents were for her family.
Together we came up with this list:
"Hoss" and "Marie": milk chocolate
"Little Joe": Dark Chocolate
"Inger": Dark Chocolate with nuts (gotta love it)
Daddy: Chocolate swirled with caramel
She looked me straight in the face and said, "You are white chocolate, Mommy."
And this I am proud to be.