"What is a family?"

The car was quiet as we drove home. I turned up the radio to try to ease the tension of the silence. The past two days we had been going around in circles, working through the hard and the gritty- the unseen challenges that only adoptive families know far too well.

“I have a question for you,” she asked quietly. “What is a family to you?”

I was confused. “What do you mean? It’s what we are.”

“You tell me, ‘In a family we don’t say those things to each other,’ or ‘In a family we don’t treat each other that way.’ I’m not sure if your meaning of family and my meaning of family are the same.”

Huh…. I was stumped. Wasn’t it obvious? It’s what we had put everything on the line for. It's what we've been trying tirelessly to give her since before we had even met her two and a half years ago. 

Carefully I asked, “Let me ask you this first. What is family to you?”

She told me of each of the families she’s been in throughout her life: biological, orphanage, foster, and now adoptive. She had been given “a family” so many different times. Each a world apart in their differences. Some good, some bad- each leaving its own mark, its own scars. I finally understood another little piece of why adjusting to living in our family had been a challenge at times. 

What is a family? I asked myself that for the first time. I prayed silently as I gathered my thoughts, knowing my answer would be pivotal in our relationship. 

After a few moments, I asked her, “Have you ever seen a baby learn to walk?”

“Yes.”

“A baby starts out crawling. It’s all she knows how to do. It's all she can do, but the day will come when she wants to learn how to walk. Learning isn’t easy but her parents are there and so are her siblings, helping her to stand and steady her balance. They walk beside her, holding her hands for support and catching her when she falls. The baby is learning to do something difficult but she knows she is safe because her family is there to catch her. As the baby gets older and stronger she begins to take steps on her own. Her parents have to stand back sometimes and let her do it on her own, knowing that sometimes she will fall and sometimes it will hurt. But they're there, sometimes holding her up, sometimes just standing by. They will never be far away, even when she’s walking completely on her own.

“I guess I see a family kind of like this. A family is a training ground for life. It’s where we learn to navigate through what the future will bring. It’s a safe place to make mistakes, a safe place to fall. It’s a group of people who, no matter how badly we mess up, will always be there, will always love us. It’s the people with whom we learn how to work through disagreements. It’s the people with whom we learn how to love. Some day you’ll have to know how to navigate the world without us always by your side, but we’ll never be far.”

In her short time with us, even within the realm of traditional, she has seen so many different types of families. Each unique in their own way, and at times creating confusion as to what she should expect from her own. Sometimes even I don’t know what to expect from an adoptive family. What’s normal? What’s not? I’m still learning how to walk too.

We talked about the million different ways to be a family. Ours isn’t necessarily the right way. It’s certainly not the only way. There will undoubtedly be things she wants to do differently with her own future family, and that’s not only okay, but to be expected. 

She had that bounce in her step as she walked through the door when we got home, that bounce she has when we’ve broken through another glass wall- one of the countless walls we’ve shattered over the past two years. I felt lighter, my heart fuller. Grateful yet again for one more lesson I’ve learned along this path we blindly set out on not too long ago. Grateful for the realization of something I had taken for granted until then- of what family is to me. Grateful for my own parents and the family that taught me how to walk.