Amy

Amy. When I think of Amy I think of perseverance. Not that all my siblings haven't persevered through the trials that were thrown at them in previous homes and places, but because there is something in her fighting against the past memories and trying to live in the moment. She's a beautiful child. I love her.

Amy is a quarter African American, although it doesn't show as much in the way she looks, it definatly shows in her attitude at times. She's really our true blond though. She the child who will be looking at something and run into the wall. She keeps us entertained. She loves play fighting with dad.

Amy is creative. She loves collecting random items and making artsy things out of them. The problem is, she collects to much. She makes all sorts of things, from crowns for the baby girls to car garages for Isaiah. She used to have a box for all the things she collected, but it has overflown several times... in fact I don't even know if the box still exists. She's a silly girl.

Amy makes us laugh. She's a joy to live with. Children like Amy impress me. Their strength and the fact that they are trying to move on. The fact that they can try. Life for adopted children isn't easy. Many people don't understand. You can't even try to understand all the heartbreaks they have experienced in the beginning of their lives. But they are couragous. They continue on with life. They hold their heads high. When they stumble they get up again. They persevere with their new lives. I love you, Amy.