They are not mine.

Today, as we have a group marching at the National March for Life in DC, my students are watching the documentary, "I Lived on Parker Avenue." If you've never seen it, check it out on Youtube. It is the beautiful story of adoption. I have seen it before, but, as the kids say, it hit different today.

Today was the first time I've watched it since our failed adoption of Anna Marie and our successful adoption of Thomas. I wept the first three classes I showed the film to. It is a story filled with so much hope and goodness. It is a reminder that we never know someone else's story. It shows the love a two moms, who both desired the best for their son.

As I watched, I thanked God for the children He has given me. Two I get to hug and love on everyday and one that I pray fervently for everyday. Ultimately, my children are not mine. As an adopted mom, I get that maybe more than most biological moms. Our children are not ours. They are gifted to us by God for a time.

There is a line in a prayer written by Mother Teresa that I will close with: "Sweetest Lord, make me appreciative of the dignity of my high vocation, and its many responsibilities. Never permit me to disgrace it by giving way to coldness, unkindness, or impatience. Amen."