I read them a Bible story. Matthew was snuggled up next to me and Garrett had already climbed up into his bed. I finished the story and Matthew hopped onto his bed. I asked him to pray. It was a pretty standard Matthew prayer. Thank you for the day. Thank for you for mommy and daddy and Garrett and Beck and Ollie. Thank you for my monkey. Amen. You know the type.
I made the ascent to the top bunk, crawled in to bed next to Garrett, grabbed the book I've been reading to them--something about a dragon that eats tangerine peels that I think is mind numbing but which they find fascinating--and asked Garrett to pray. When he was finished, I heard the voice from the bottom bunk speak up, frantic.
"Oh! Wait! I forgot something." Then, without waiting for anyone to respond, he launched back into his prayer. His voice, suddenly calm and sweet. "Dear Jesus, also thank you for letting me be adopted. Amen."
It was spontaneous. We hadn't been discussing adoption or his birth family. He hadn't asked me to tell him the story of when he was born or about the fact that Garrett was in my tummy but he was in my heart. It was just rather out of the blue. And matter-of-fact. And sincere.
Garrett caught my eye. We shared an understanding smile, the kind that says, "Wow, that was a pretty special prayer right there."
I read the book, snuggled with Garrett for a few minutes, and then climbed down to cuddle with Matthew. I pulled him into my body and said, "I'm so glad God gave you to me." I kissed his head and breathed his life and his shea butter smell into my nose.
"And I'm glad God gave me a brother!" he shouted.
I laughed. "Yeah, I'm glad God gave you a brother, too."
These are the moments I look forward to. This is living.