Today I went shopping for a car to replace our ten year-old Jetta. I think I found one, and am planning to buy it tomorrow. I'm confident of the process--I researched online, read reviews, got competing offers, test drove a comparable. I even got a dealership to match the lowest offer and throw in more features. This was a good process. And yet, I have this sinking feeling like I'm making a mistake. But when I put it all on paper, you know, analyze needs and work out the numbers, I come to the same conclusion: this is a good decision borne from a good process.
I imagine it'll keep me up tonight. Deciding to adopt never kept me up. I feel more anxiety about buying this car than bringing a kid into our family. Why is that? Isn't the kid a bigger risk? Isn't the kid likely to change our family more than a car is? I mean there were no online reviews for Rex. He didn't get any stars, didn't get a safety rating. The car did, a great one. So why is the kid easier than the car?
I think it's about value. I never doubted the value of adopting, of changing a life, of changing ours. The moment we decided to do it, I never looked back. Colette didn't either. It seems like we ripped off the system. Yeah, it cost money and time and effort, but we got this amazing little boy out of it. It doesn't seem fair. On the other hand, the car will lose value the moment I drive it off the lot, and I'll probably never know if it's really worth what we put into it. Rex isn't worth what we put in...he's worth so much more.
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About Me
- C.S. Heinz
- I'm the Director of Marketing for EnergyCAP, Inc., publisher of the best selling energy management software. I write on topics like prayer, discipleship, intimacy with God, family, and adoption. I like to buy books and sometimes I even read them.
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