Thank You, Stranger at Panera

We were having a yummy family brunch this morning at Panera Bread. A few people had already stopped by our table to admire Alyosha- some we knew, most we didn't. A reality that is quickly becoming our norm, for better or for worse.

Right before we collected ourselves to leave, a 3 generation mother-daughter date began at the table beside us. (jealous a little? yes I was.) The middleman woman (how else can I refer to her? the only one who was with both her mother and her daughter? not the grandma, not the granddaughter, the other one? ah you know what I mean) started talking to me about how absolutely adorable Aly is, asked how old he is, etc. Then he reached out for her (something he is prone to do, which I am hoping is just a people-loving personality and not an orphan wound- though realistically it is probably the latter) which of course she went crazy for. She continued to gush, which I'm used to and I smiled politely while Eric refilled his coffee. Then she dropped the bomb.

(to Alyosha) "What a blessing you are!"

I wanted to give her a hug. Seriously. I can't remember anyone ever having said that. It is always "what a lucky little guy you are!" or "well aren't you a blessed boy!". I hate that. Eric hates that. Some day, Alyosha will DEFINITELY hate that.

I know those people mean well, and it is true that God has blessed Alyosha with a loving family. But something in those phrases negates the fact that we are blessed by him. Like we are just a couple of long-suffering saints who are raising the orphan because we're so pious. Like he doesn't have to put up with our junk, sins, imperfections, every day. Gag.

The middlewoman-mom-daughter at Panera hit the nail on the head. Our son is a blessing, and we are the humble and grateful recipients. We hope to be a blessing to him too- but because that's how families work, not because we are superheros.