3 years ago we took in a scared, neglected 8 year old boy who had been in 3 different foster homes in 3 years. I was terrified to meet my new son. I had only heard his story and seen some pictures. We drove around the block several times, each time slowing as we past the house. Robin put her hand on my arm and said, "We are going to have to stop one of these times you know."
I stopped the truck and we met. 2 weeks later he was living with us permanently.
The next 6 months were difficult. That little boy was stubborn, bad and generally tried about everything he could think of to make us not want him. But we just loved him all the same. We enforced the house rules, and let him know he was wanted and loved.
Today my son doesn't test us this way (although there are other tests). Our other children have survived the early times as well.
I can barely remember not having him with us. Many people have told me what a wonderful thing we've done, giving this boy a home and all but I never think about that. I look at him and see how much he's given to me. How much richer our lives are and how whole our family is.