E… L …I…
His little hands trace wiggly lines over each letter. Almost four, his stubby fingers seem to be holding a pencil for the first time.
Written for him, my lines are large and straight, intentional for his learning.
His lines merge with mine occasionally, but mostly curve over, around and off. When he finishes, he sets his pencil down. Almond shaped eyes turn toward me, eager for approval. My smile brings his smile.
For so long, his name had been written on our hearts. While waiting to bring him home from China, we’d whispered it in prayer, penned it into boxes on a mountain of adoption documents and had it embroidered on shirts. Dang Lan Cheng though, heard it for the first time just two months ago.
When he entered the orphanage, part of his given name was a name carried by every child in their care. Dang means “government.” He was one child in an orphanage of three hundred, in a country with hundreds of thousands of orphans. Sadly, this name represents that. Graciously, Cheng means “flourishing and prosperous,” a sweet promise of more to come.
One day in November, we arrived in China, hearts anxious to make him a son.
We brought the name Elijah, or Eli, meaning, “My God is Yahweh.” No concept of family, or the love that was to come with his new name, his little hands trembled as we drove him away from all things familiar.
Now he carries a portion of his Chinese name, his given name, and our family name, a merging of past and future. Each name a chapter in the story God is writing.
Read the rest at over at Ungrind.
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