Silly Me. Or the Lego Massacre of 2024.

I took a picture of María and Matías standing at the sink on a step stool playing in the water. It filled my heart with gratitude and as I watched them play, I thought of the song I sang as I longed for them to come home.

As I sat and enjoyed them, my hands folded around a coffee cup, bright sun streaming through the windows, I was content. Even filled with joy. Those who know what it's like to bring kiddos home through adoption or foster care, know that the joy is fleeting and the hard moments usually outweigh the happy ones. But I took a chance on that joy and reveled in their play time. I even posted the picture on Instagram, filled with thankful heart hashtags.

Silly me.

Moments later my son was draining the water from the sink and turning the garbage disposal on. Lo and behold, fifty Lego men were massacred that bright, sunny afternoon. As I pulled them out of the garbage disposal, piecing together the men that could be saved, my son blamed me. "No YOU!" he yelled, as I took his hand and marched him up the stairs screaming. The moment was lost.

Why are kids from hard places so quick to place the blame on their new parents? Did I turn on the garbage disposal and suck all of the Lego men into the sharp blades? Absolutely not. Yet he couldn't blame himself (let alone apologize) so… up he went to his room where he could scream and tantrum in the safety of his own space.

Precious parents of traumatized kiddos, I don't think we are amiss to celebrate the moments of beauty we see. However, we can't be fooled into thinking that these moments will become the majority of our time with them yet. They are beautiful moments, yes, and arguably even more precious than moments we have with our other children, because they have had to overcome such adversity to get to this place.

Do we celebrate? Certainly. But let's hold our hands open in both gratitude and surrender as we do, knowing the moment - for now - is fleeting.