Trophy Case Chapter 7

Trophy Case

VII

Every time I think I have all the answers someone changes the
Question

         Spring in the Ozarks is unpredictable and the humidity made the air thick and heavy. Looking to the west, thunder clouds are building in intensity. With every minute they seemed to grow larger, soon the sunshine was replaced with darkness. A darkness that blocked out so much light, that the day became night. We have lived in the Midwest for several years, changes in the weather was just another thing we have came a custom to.

         Normally on a day like this, with the impending weather, we would be prepared to take shelter. Although this time it was not just another spring day. For the last four months Joyce and I have been preparing for a chapter in our life. Watching our boy grow had filled our life with so much joy and happiness that we became a little complacent. Over the last eight years we were blessed. To us our family was complete. The question had been answered, will we be able to raise, love, and protect a child.

         Every time I think I have all the answers, someone changes the question. Late October, as we dressed Taran and his cousins in their Halloween costumes, he asks me a very heart wrenching question. “Why don’t I have any brothers or sisters?” feeling concerned with his happiness, I tried to answer, but I had no reply.

         Soon we set out to hit the streets, Taran and his cousins ran from house to house in a trick–or-treat frenzy.  Joyce and I followed close behind in our truck, this gave us time to discuss Taran’s question. I’m not sure how it came about, but the next thing I knew, my bride and I are in foster/adoption class. Over the next months we would review dozens of profiles of perspective adoptable children. I think that God had a reason for joining the three of us together, but once again I felt unsure of the path we would take next.

         The storm was intensifying, instead of taking shelter the three of us are on our way to pick up a foster child. The rain started to fall, lightly at first, but with each bend in the winding back road, the rain intensified. Looking to the west I knew this was no ordinary storm, I was hoping this wasn’t some kind of sign. The sound of the rain made it hard to hear each other in the truck.

         “Turn here.” Joyce shouted.

         “Where, I didn’t see a driveway?” I replied.

         Her voice went up a notch  “You just passed the drive way, turn around.

         As I pulled into the drive, my thoughts of intervention changed dramatically. Almost at that same instant the clouds lifted and rays of sunshine overtook the darkness. A boy stood in the doorway, the sun seamed to shimmer off his short carrot red hair. Joyce turned, facing the back seat, she said.  “Taran that is Klayten, we are going to take him to Mc.D’s for lunch.”

         A large black Labrador came bouncing across the yard; tail wagging in excitement. The K9 met us as we step from the truck.  A voice rang out from the middle of nowhere, “get back here Ranger … Ranger now.”

         The lab ran to the back yard, an elderly lady held a gate open as the lab cleared the opening. With a quick jiggle at the gate to insure the latch took, her arms came to rest on the top of the gate as she stood in the back yard. “Welcome, are you here for Klayten?”

         “Yes, I’m Joyce and this is my husband Bruce, and our son Taran.”

         “Pleased to meet you, I’m Grandma Joe Ann, come on in and sit a spell, Are you thirsty?”

         “Yes please.” Joyce replied.

         “Great,” she said. “I’ll meet yawl inside,”

         Still gleaming from the morning rain, a rustic stone walkway led up to a set of steps, a ranch style screen door stood half open with the young redhead standing to the side. “Come-on in.” he said. 

         I took Taran’s hand and followed Joyce into the house. Grandma Ann stepped in from the back, Her Ozark drawl was very noticeable when she ask “What would all yawl like to drink, Coffee, a soder, water?”

         Joyce was the first to speak. “Coffee would be great.”

         “Same for me please.” I added.

         “And for you Taran, What would you like to drink?”

         “Water, Please.”

         With curiosity and excitement in his voice, Klayten asked. “Taran do you want to go play?”          

         “Yah.” … “Is that okay Mommy, can I go play?”

         “Yes you may, don’t get dirty.” Joyce replied.

         “Okay I won’t Mommy.”

         After a pleasant visit and a great cup of coffee, we collected the boys from the back yard. As we said our goodbyes to Grandma Ann, we headed down the stone path to the truck.  Already acting like a big brother Taran helped Klayten buckle-up in the back seat of the truck. As the buckle clicked, Taran gave instruction. “We always buckle-up.” He said in a distinct impression of one of us.

         Arriving at Mc D’s, the two boys headed straight to the play place. Joyce stood patiently in the order line as I kept a watchful eye on the boys. With food in hand Joyce and I found a table near the play place. It took some persuading to get the boys from their adventures in the brightly colored tubes.

         “It’s Time to eat, boys,” Joyce said in a very calm voice.

         Convinced by the giggling sound coming from the tubes, I added, “Your mother said it’s time to eat.”

         “Okay Daddy, come on Klayten lets eat.” Taran’s voice echoed form the play place.

         After eating their happy meals the two boys played for about another thirty minutes. Soon it was time we dropped Klayten off at his foster home, and head for our own. On our way home we ask Taran how he liked Klayten. This was the first time that it was more important how he felt about someone. As I drove, my thoughts took me to a place where all other sound was simply a muffle. Joyce was turned facing the back seat. Her voice was soft and comforting, with each question her lips tightened, as not to give up even a hint of what was planned. One thing that always took us by surprise is how our boy would know more than we thought he did. As Joyce settled back in her seat, his words caught us off guard once again. “Mommy, is he going to live with us?”


         Giving me a puzzled look Joyce replied “Maybe, we will see son.”

         “Is he going to be my brother?”

         Not sure how we were going to ask him, that question was something Joyce and I had discussed over and over, And just like that, the curiosity of a youthful mind asks it so easily. 

         Another visit and a weekend together we made up our minds to adopt Klayten into our family. I will never forget that weekend; it’s kind of ironic that it was Easter a day we celebrate the son of God’s return. After a couple of months our family grew once more. The adoption process was taxing to say the least, but one hurdle at a time we would prevail. Our house was now filled with the laughter of two children.

My heart grew.