I held my brother Jason for the first time in November 1975. I was almost 5 years old. We had just moved to Yorba Linda California when my mom and dad got the call that Jason had been born and was "waiting" for us.
When this picture was taken, I had no idea that my world as an "only child" was about to be rocked. In fact, what I remember most about this day was that I couldn't wait to get outside and swing on the swing-set that I had noticed walking in. However, as time went on, I began to realize how special having a little brother was. Not only was he such a cutie.... (with all that curly hair and freckles....not shown obviously!) but he was (and still is!) such a kind and gentle soul. Something that my personality often didn't know how to handle. But as time went on, I grew attached to the punk and was lucky to have him by my side when we lost our mom 6 years later.
Being adopted myself, it was easy to embrace the fact that my little brother was adopted. Of course he was... wasn't that how all families were created? Well, as we've gotten older and time has gone on, our family has grown in so many different ways... marriage, birth, adoption, etc. As a result, I was raised in an environment that taught me that families can be and are wonderfully colorful and diverse.
So as you can imagine, when we decided to adopt a baby I began to feel a sense of responsibility to teach Isabel the same principle that I had been taught about acceptance.... so as it was, I talked & talked about love, acceptance, kindness etc.... but you know what? She ended up teaching me something. Her actions were priceless when she held her baby brother for the first time. Her heart opened and enveloped him without me even having to say a word to her. I learned a very valuable lesson that day that I will forever cherish.
Love and acceptance are part of BEING a family.... period.
