Unexpected Love

The giggling from the backseat was beginning to induce a migraine in
me. I glanced in my rearview mirror and saw candy and soda flying
through the air, and two squealing children in unison, "SSSSSHHHHH!!!!"
Realizing an annoyed adult was watching, they cautiously settled back
into the tan bucket seats of the little red Ford and smiled innocently.
"If there's anything sticky in the back of this car, you're going to
spend the first half of the weekend cleaning it up." I warned them
firmly but could not help but laugh as I turned around at the next red
light and found them nodding their heads in unison.

My niece, age 7, and nephew, age 10, have become familiar faces in my
household in the last year. They technically belong to my husband's
brother, but I wish they belonged to us. When I first started dating my
husband, I did not think the kids would like me. They were very quiet
and looked at me with great caution. Eventually, they warmed up to me,
and I fell head-over-heels in love with them. As time went by, they
spent more and more time with us. When they know they will be spending
the weekend with us, they get their grandmother to call about three
times a week to make sure we're still going to let them stay. My
husband and I live in a great town; there's a chocolate factory down
the street, and on a clear, cool morning you can smell the chocolate
for miles. The street we live on dates back to the 1700's, and towering
maple trees line the novelty shops and bookstores. When the kids visit,
we take them to our favorite spot on the street, an old-fashioned soda
fountain, where they still sell penny candy. While we are looking over
the lunch menu, the kids are hopping up and down in front of the candy
display, looking over at us with beckoning eyes. They always leave with
fistfuls of everything that would make a dentist cringe.
The weekdays are not happy times for my precious niece and nephew.
During the week, they are shuffled back and forth between an abusive
mother, and their drug-addicted father and stepmother. They have seen
things that no child should have to see- things most healthy adults
have never seen. Despite their poor upbringing, they are wonderful,
fun, loving kids with good heads on their shoulders, at least for now.
They are protective of each other. No matter what their parents have
put them through, they love them unceasingly. They always have hearts
of forgiveness. I worry about their teen years. What will those
turbulent times bring? Will all the pain and sadness they have known
their whole life come to a head? Will they follow the track I took as a
teenager, and willfully self-destruct instead of dealing with the hurt?
I wish I could see five years down the road. I choose to believe, and
pray, that they will always have good heads on their shoulders. I
choose to believe that they will not harbor anger, but always extend
the love and forgiveness that flows so freely from them now. If I turn
out to be wrong, I'll take it as it comes. For now, I see only the good
things ahead.
I think about the dirty, cramped homes they're forced in and out of
and look around my own house in this beautiful old neighborhood. We
have a big backyard, parks everywhere, and 2 empty bedrooms&;#8230;
When my husband and I married, no one could figure out why we had
chosen such a large place for just the two of us. But we had a plan in
mind: we wanted to have enough room, should any unplanned children
enter the picture. Of course, at the time, we were thinking in terms of
me having a baby, but these days I can't help but wonder whom, if
anyone will fill the gaps in our house&;#8230;in our hearts.
Certainly, my niece and nephew would have room to play and grow here.
More than that, they would have a clean, sober home filled with love to
return to every day after school. We may be young and stupid, but we
have a lot of love to give. We have known for many months that we
wanted to take the kids in, but did not know how to go about it. We
have now come to realize it is time to take that step and seek
guidance.

My husband and I lie down in our bed and have our usual discussion
about the day's activities. There is a knock at the door, and it slowly
creeps open. "It's pretty dark in there. Can I sleep on the floor with
you guys?" I look up and see the outline of my nephew holding his
pillow in the shadows. My husband wraps his arm around my shoulder and
softly answers, "Of course, bud." Moments later, my niece files in
behind him, dragging her blanket, and without saying a word, curls up
on the floor at the foot of our bed.

Maybe we'll get to turn those rooms into an office and a spare bedroom
after all.