It's been quiet around here.
It's not that I haven't had anything to say, but more that we've been busy.
We've been working to find our new normal and become a family of five.
Evie has been home just shy of three months.
It's funny to even say that because it honestly feels like she's always been here.
She has fit so seamlessly into our family.
But I don't want these memories to be lost--
our first memories together.
We met on a Sunday.
I saw her get out of the van and just like that, she was mine.
Here we are within minutes of meeting.
I won't say I was scared.
I knew that God had planned this and put so many details into place.
But I will say that I was nervous.
What if she was scared?
What if she was sad and longing for her foster mother?
What if she didn't feel like mine right away?
But my worries were for nothing.
Meeting Evie was far better than I could ever dreamed.
One minute she was a stranger, and the next minute she was family.
She was my daughter.
Our time in Congo was short and sweet,
filled with bubbles and stickers and play-doh and peanut butter crackers
and lots and lots of waiting.
And then, just like that, my lawyer showed up at our hotel with our beloved Exit Letter.
I've never been happier to see a piece of paper in my whole life.
And then I cried.
Within an hour, we were headed to the airport and boarding the first of several flights home.
I won't say that flying with a toddler was the most fun thing I've ever done.
I will say that for the most part she did very, very well and that I'm thankful for pound cake, headphones, nice strangers, and clean bathrooms.
After over twenty-four hours of travel, we finally landed in the good ole' US of A.
And then I cried again.
America, you just got a little cuter.
And our family just got a little bigger.
I'm an adopting mama no more.
Praise God from whom all blessings flow.