Our youngest child, DJ, is turning 7 on December 18th. We adopted him when he was 2 years-old, from his native Guatemala. We gave him a new name when we brought him home to his "forever" family. The other day, while we were driving in the car, he was asking me about his "Guatemala mom" and I told him his story about how he came to be in our family. Of course, the story is always told at the level an almost 7 year-old can comprehend.
"Your mom in Guatemala was very poor. She was also very young. Not much older than your sister, Maria. She knew she couldn't feed you or take proper care of you and because she loved you so much, she wanted to give you to a mom and dad who could take good care of you."
That prompted a sorrowful reply from DJ, (heavy sigh): "I want to go see my mom in Guatemala."
"You can do that when you're older, because we can't go right now. But you can pray for your mom in Guatemala."
"I miss my mom in Guatemala!"
"You really never knew your mom in Guatemala. She gave you to a nice foster mother right after you were born."
"I miss my foster mom."
"Well, your mom and dad here love you very much and we are so happy that you're with us," I said, trying to get off the subject. "And do you know why we gave you the name we did?"
When DJ was born, his "Guatemala mom" gave him a very American name, obviously wanting him to fit in to his new culture. But she didn't give him a middle name. Since all our other kids have first, middle and last names, we decided to move his first name to the middle slot and give him a new first name. Both names have special Biblical significance, especially at this time of year, so I told him the story of how he got his names.
(Heavy sigh): "I love you, mom. And I love my names."
"I love you too, DJ."