When my daughter was a tiny mite, two or three, she became very attached to a doll in her Grandma's Sunday School class. It was one of those long distance relationships. My parents lived far away and we were only able to visit a few times a year. Love endures though doesn't it?
Because the doll had been motherless for several years, my mother placed her out for adoption and my little daughter happily took her new baby home.
Some time later, my visiting mother made a startling garage sale find. A tiny orphan lay in a cardboard box, almost hidden by stuffed animals and broken toys.
Of course she rescued it and urged me to think inclusively. More is more has always been her motto.
Years passed.
The third baby was hard to resist when I happened upon it, having such a dear familiar face.
And there was that poem I loved too.
"Three babes in a basket and scarcely room for two......"
Home it came.
And then, last year as I browsed a thrift shop, there it was.
Baby number four.
I didn't even hesitate.
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