He stares you down. His small body heaving from the screaming he has been doing. There is no calming him, the anger inside him cannot be calmed. He hits, says he hates you, so you pick him up. You hold him. He tries to bite. "How's your day been?" He'll begin to calm. "What was your favorite part of today?" He starts to suck his thumb. "Did you have a yummy lunch today?" He nods ever so slightly. His body begins to relax, but his eyes are still filled with anger.

If only. If only his birthmom hadn't done drugs.

She looks in confusion, she's been told the same thing day after day. A simple reminder. Our frustration is building. She has forgotten... again. She stumbles over her words, her eye brows furrowed.

If only. If only her birthmom hadn't drank alcohol.

She's a wild little thing, cute as a button but extremely ADHD. She doesn't listen to a thing, she can't control herself. When she wants something she'll go for it, whether it means chasing a ball across a street, running through Costco trying to find the Goldfish.

If only. If only her mom hadn't used meth during pregnancy.

She shrugs her shoulders, shakes her head, tries to look innocent. She lies, she steals, she hides, she manipulates. Nobody can resist her cute little smile, nobody. Just when we think she's on the way to healing something goes missing again. The process begins again, the sneaking, the keeping one eye on her whenever she comes and goes.

If only. If only she hadn't been taught at the tender age of five to steal.

My heart throbs. I want them whole, I want them healed. I want them to be normal. I want them to be cleansed of the heartbreak after heartbreak in their past. I want them to forget the neglect, the abuse, the pain. But here we are. A bunch of If onlys. We learn to accept...on most days. We learn to forgive. We learn that if the past were different than 9 little lives would never be ours. Ours to hold, nurture, love, adore, teach and treasure. They wouldn't be ours. They wouldn't be here. We learn. We learn to praise God in the healing of small things, we learn to control our tempers when all we want to do is scream. We learn that life isn't always easy, but look at Jesus' life. He lived a life of destitute, a life of sneers and humility. But in that life He demonstrated what true living was. True living isn't easy, true living isn't being spoon fed and well dressed. True life is hard, gruelling at times, and full of tears. But it brings that joy of persevering for His namesake. When people stare, when people ask if you have any friends, when people look at you like you're idiots for having so many children. Life is supposed to be full. Overflowing with purpose. With love. And so we journey. We ignore the past, we try to forgive birth parents and focus on the present. We laugh, we work through moments and we live.