A year ago—on Good Friday—our 9- year- old granddaughter from Haiti officially hit American soil. We’d counted the months and days until she came, with just enough bumps in the adoption process to keep us on our knees.
A huge group of family and friends waited at the airport in Charleston, SC for her arrival, accompanied by her new parents—who are our son and daughter-in-law.
Finally, the new little family rounded the corner and down the ramp.
She told us later she heard us all screaming in anticipation before she ever rounded the corner to see the balloons, posters, and arms waving in the air. I—the grandmother to this child I’d never met—could hardly breathe. I wanted to break through the crowd and squeeze her until she squeaked. Continue reading