I had a good friend give me some good advice recently. Good friends seem to specialize in good advice. She said I should write a letter to our new son who we are traveling to take custody of this week. By the time you read this, we will be in Addis Ababa, Ethiopia preparing to bring our 4-year-old son home. This trip has been two years in the making.

I had a good friend give me some good advice recently. Good friends seem to specialize in good advice.


She said I should write a letter to our new son who we are traveling to take custody of this week. By the time you read this, we will be in Addis Ababa, Ethiopia preparing to bring our 4-year-old son home. This trip has been two years in the making.


Dawit speaks little English right now. But one day, I hope to be able to give him this letter. For readers considering adoption or who wonder why others consider adoption, I thought this letter might hold some value.


For those who would never adopt, maybe writing a letter like this to your child when they are born could be an idea on how to show them exactly how and what you were feeling when their original birthday arrived. We didn’t have a chance to know our new son when he was born. He will be already be 4 when he comes home.


So this letter may be different than one penned in a waiting room of a hospital as your wife is in labor. But the level of expectancy is the same.


Here is my letter to him.


Son,


We have waited for this day for two years. You weren’t ours from birth but for some reason, our destinies have become interlaced.


For that, I am thankful.


Your new mother and I have felt all along that this adoption process was a mission God asked us to complete.


You aren’t a mission. You are our son.


The mission was learning to hear and obey God. You were the reward.


The mother who gave birth to you did her best. She was in a tough situation and gave you up to protect you and probably save your life. We can see in your bright smile and easy disposition that she loved you well as long as she possibly could.


You never knew your father.


But you were never without one. In Psalms, the Bible tells us that God himself is Father to the fatherless.


But due to circumstances beyond what either of us will ever fully understand, He chose me to show you a father’s love – to provide for you and do everything in my power to make your birth mother’s dreams for you come true.


Living with us, you may never have everything you heart desires.


But you will know what it is like to be loved by a mother and father. And your big brother is an incredible kid who has been praying for your arrival before me or his mom even had a clue that we would adopt a child.


As I write this only about 30 hours of travel separates us. After that, the four of us will be a family until the God that brought us together decides to separate us.


I can’t wait to walk hand in hand with my two boys. I imagine what will make you laugh. I think about all that you will be exposed to that you have never imagined.


Our journey to become your parents has had a similar impact on me. My eyes have been opened to so many things that were hidden in plain sight for so many years.


In just hours, you will complete our family. In just hours, you will have grandparents, aunts, uncles and more cousins than you can count. Friends from our church and several more churches in Oklahoma have been praying for you and waiting to meet you for months.


Your life will change drastically and you will change all of ours.


For that, I am thankful.


Your story on how you joined our family might seem different. But it is the same story we all have in God’s eyes. He had only one son of His own but he has offered all of us a chance to be adopted into his family.


So your story isn’t really unique or strange. It’s just a picture of something much bigger.


I’m sure at first things will be scary and strange. Going from a house in the mountains of Ethiopia with 25 friends and several caretakers to a house in the plains of America with a mom and dad and only one brother won’t feel normal for a while.


But before you know it, your new life will replace the old. You won’t be my new son then. You won’t be my adopted son.


You’ll be my son.


And for that, I am truly thankful.


Love, your dad.


Kent Bush is publisher of the Augusta (Kan.) Gazette.