You're in.

“I’m so glad you are part of our family.” David and I say the Spanish equivalent of that phrase to the kids so often that it’s become a joke for them. We’ll start, and by the third or fourth word, they’ll chime in and finish it in unison with us. But we aren’t joking, and I hope on some level the kids know that.

One of the main reasons we were compelled to adopt in the first place was that we both feel so fortunate to have grown up in stable, loving families. It seemed only right to turn around and share that with these kids who drew the short straw when it comes to family life.

From everyone who has been given much, much will be demanded; and from the one who has been entrusted with much, much more will be asked. (Luke 12:48)

At my grandfather's house in Ocean City, NJ, where I've gone every year of my life (35 of 'em!) except one.

During the first few months the kids were here, I started to realize that when I told them, “I’m glad you’re part of my family,” I meant more than just David and me. I meant my parents, who jumped on a plane to meet their new grandkids within just a few weeks of them arriving. I meant David’s parents, who live next door and show our kids love and acceptance in hundreds of ways, big and small. I meant my younger brothers—four tall, funny, all-American boys who are now great “tios” to our Peruvian kids. I meant my sister and David’s two sisters, who are the kind of aunts everyone deserves to have.

A little over a year ago, my parents had one grandchild. Now they have six.

Our kids are now part of a family network of uncles and aunts and cousins and grandparents and great grandparents. The relationships will take time to develop. And they really have no idea yet what that means for them. But for the rest of their life, they’re in.

Last week my PopPop passed away at the age of 89. He was a great man and the patriarch of a large family. He had one daughter (my mom) and five boys. All of his kids have large families, and I have 24 cousins on that side of the family. When my Nana passed away 20 years ago, PopPop remarried a woman who also has a big family, and that brought their grandkid total into the 40s. By now, the great-grandkids are into double digits. 

When I heard he was passing away, I started making plans to go to NJ for the funeral. I was going to go solo, but then David offered to come. And then I started thinking about bringing the kids. The more I thought about it, the more obvious it seemed. Of course they should come.

On Thursday after we got home from a trip to the thrift store for Halloween costume accessories, I pulled everyone together in the kitchen. I didn’t think ahead about what I was going to say, but what came out was what must have been in my heart all along.

Everyone in my family is traveling to be there for PopPop’s funeral. I was going to go alone, but that doesn’t seem right. You’re part of this family now, and I want you to be there.

I started crying at some point. Two of them were staring at me wide-eyed, and two were fidgeting with something in the kitchen so they wouldn’t have to make eye contact. But no one protested the eight-hour drive or the abrupt change of trick-or-treating weekend plans. One of them nodded. They were great.

It was an exhausting, emotional weekend. But I’m so glad my kids were there for it. My PopPop left an impressive family legacy. And now they’re part of it.

A chaotic attempt at taking a photo of PopPop's grandkids, their spouses and great-grandkids. I'm glad my kids are in the picture.

After the funeral, we took the kids out for their first-ever trick-or-treating experience.