Friday, April 11, 2014

a love letter {for Sweet C}

We are in the middle of a campaign to help bring kids home from DRC. It has involved writing letters, sending emails, making calls, and writing some more. The petition I mentioned last week now has almost 46,000 signatures that have sent 110,000+ letters to members of Congress. In addition, as a result of those letters and phone calls to offices all over the US, as many as 200 members of Congress are stepping forward to sign a letter that extends their hands to DRC officials, seeking a solution to expedite children's trips HOME. Hallelujah! 

The next part of the campaign involves writing short love letters to the kids and sharing our pictures. Hundreds of these love letters and pictures will be combined into a book that will be presented to DRC officials and delegates on their trip to the US in a few weeks (when they will also be meeting with families who have adopted from DR Congo and have their children home). 

I've decided to share our letter. 

Hello little one, Sweet [C]. This is the first time we have put into written words the depth of our love and the width of our desire to be your forever family. It’s hard to know where to start when telling you of our love and our family. We have loved you since we saw our first picture of you in October, and although we are separated by thousands of miles of land and sea, our love for you grows each day as we wait to bring you home.

We have two little boys at home now; they are your soon-to-be older brothers. Brody, who was also adopted (from Kentucky), is three years old; he asks about you daily. Sometimes when he sees a plane flying in the air he asks if it is going to Africa to bring his baby sister—you—home. We always answer him with this: We wish that was true, but it’s not today. One day it will be true and our family will be together forever. Brecken, our one-year-old, is too young to understand that you will be his little sister, but we think you’ll get plenty of slobbery kisses from him. (Lucky you.)

Our arms long to hold you, snuggle you, kiss your ouchies, and tell you how much we love you. We can hardly wait to hear you call us “Mama” and “Daddy,” and we already call you “daughter.”

[C], your name means “mercy.” We believe God gave us mercy in finding you for our family. When you come home, we plan to give you the full name [C] Kaleo Lotz. In its entirety, it means “Mercy Called.” We think that’s fitting for you, and we can’t wait for the phone call that says, “Go get your daughter. She can come home.”

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