Today was supposed to be different, my son.  For weeks, we had been planning today.  We would wake up, surrounded by friends and family from out of state and celebrate.  We were supposed to be jumping up and down with excitement, saying things like “today’s the day!” as we drank our morning coffee.  We were supposed to be looking at you today, wondering if you could possibly know how much you are loved and how much you belong right here with us.

Today was supposed to be your adoption day.  We were supposed to drive to the courthouse, dressed to the nines (and you, in your adorable outfit, complete with bow-tie because who can resist a toddler in a bow-tie?).  We were supposed to hear the judge say those magical words we have been waiting for and hoping for since you arrived in our home on December 4, 2018: “you are officially our son forever.”  We were supposed to be crying happy tears and celebrating by popping the champagne and grilling out steaks with our closest family and friends.

But today we will not be doing any of those things.

Today, because of a virus, a sickness that is making people sick all over the world, and right here in our country, we will be home.  Just us, just our little family.  But guess what?  That is still something to celebrate.  There is always something to celebrate.  And today, we still celebrate you.

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My dear friends, today was supposed to be different for all of us.  Who among us could have foreseen just mere weeks ago that this would be our current situation?  That we would find ourselves sequestered to our homes, practicing social distancing, a term that we barely knew the meaning of at the beginning of March.

And yet, here we are.  We are here, in our homes, separate, but in a sense, more together than ever.

Because the truth is, we are all mourning the loss of the way things were “supposed to be.”  School is cancelled, and with it, graduations and proms.  College is cancelled, and with it, last semester seniors are abruptly ending the “best four years of their lives” with no closure and little time to say goodbye to friends who have become like family.  Sports are cancelled, and with them, our hopes for our favorite teams, and the fun of filling out brackets together.  Visiting loved ones in hospitals and nursing homes is cancelled, vacations and dinner parties, basically going anywhere and doing anything is cancelled.

For literally every person everywhere, things were supposed to be different.  And thus, we are united in a way that I think we haven’t been in a long, long time.  We are seeing videos of Europeans playing ping pong out of windows together and singing and playing instruments outside their homes – apart, but together.  We are getting texts and FaceTimes from loved ones checking in, saying “how are you?  do you need anything?”  We are passing out funny coronavirus memes like candy at a parade.

Individually, this may feel like a time to mourn.  And that’s ok.  But when we lift our eyes, when we are willing to examine the bigger picture, the global one, we will find that collectively, we are better than ever.  More connected than ever, more attuned to the good than ever. If we are willing to see it.

So even though today was supposed to be different, there is something to celebrate.  We are here, we are alive, and hope is alive.  Minute by minute, we will get through this.  And someday, I believe we’ll all be telling our grandchildren about the time when everything was supposed to be different, but we made the best of it and still found things to celebrate.

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