Gotcha Day 2010....one I'll not forget.

Yesterday, August 14, we celebrated Selah all day long, for it is the day we "got her" in Vietnam four years ago. I feel I can not say enough how much joy this girl has brought to our family. She is, in every sense of the word, our daughter, sister, niece, and granddaughter.

About three years and 11 months ago, Silas apparently had a different idea of what his sister should be like and look like. A few days after we brought her home, he informed us that he was pretty sure Selah was not the right baby for us. She cried a lot. She pooped a lot. And she demanded a lot of our time and attention. In hindsight, I believe this was a natural response from him, the child who, up until that point, had been the youngest. His place had been misplaced, or at least he thought.

Thus, a sibling rivalry like we never experienced with Sam and Silas, was born. Silas and Selah fight. A lot. They know how to push each other's buttons. They know just what to say to grate on the other's nerves. They know the sounds to make and the names to call. And it drives us crazy! I have wondered if they will ever get over their dislike of each other because the sweet moments are few and far between.

But, yesterday, something happened that affected Silas deeply. Deeply enough, apparently, to make him- and us- realize that he actually does dearly love his sister. Selah was getting out of the van, the side with the automatic sliding door, and somehow the door started automatically closing, just like it's supposed to do. Except that Selah wasn't quite out yet and it's supposed to "sense" an object in the way and re-open. But, it didn't.

It was brought to our attention when we heard Silas's blood-curdling cries. "Mom! Dad! She's stuck! Get her out! She's hurt real bad!Get her! Get her!!" Selah was screaming, also, and I imagine if you had walked by our house at the moment, you would have thought someone was dying....and I'm not exaggerating.

I ran over to the door and pushed the button that re-opens the door. But, Selah's leg was somehow caught between the door and the car and was on it's way to being crushed. In a moment of clarity, I decided that a broken leg was better than a crushed leg, so with all my might, I yanked Selah's leg out of the door. I was sure it was broken.

Silas was still screaming. Selah was still crying. And Jeff and Sam were doing their best to inspect for bones that I were sure must be protruding from Selah's leg. But, there were none. And she was able to move her legs and feet just fine.

It took a while to calm everyone down, but we did eventually. Silas kept saying how he would never be able to get that image out of his head, the image of his sister being crushed in the door. He hugged her a lot. I even hear him whisper, "I'm so glad you're OK. You scared me. I love you, little sister."

After Jeff and I went to bed last night, there was a knock on our bedroom door. It was Silas. He was crying. "I can't stop seeing it, Mom. I can't stop seeing my sister being crushed in that door. I was so scared, Mom." We offered for him to sleep in our bedroom floor. And he did.

As I watched Silas sleep it occurred to me that perhaps he did, indeed, love his sister and it was in that one scary moment that he, also, realized life with Selah is a whole lot better than life without her.