I don't know why the picture stood out in my mind.  As I sat there watching her stare at pictures of her son with a smile on her face so wide and pure joy that poured out through her entire being so much so it filled the entire room.  She said that she was getting her son back.

She flipped through the pictures one after another as though she herself had taken them and was showing them to strangers, just as a proud parent would.  No one would be able to tell that she hadn't seen the little boy in 3 entire months.  No one knows the tragedy that occurred when he was taken away.  She wouldn't speak of those days.  She made reference to them as "tough times" but quickly moved onto more important subjects like cribs and clothes.

She made captions for each and every one of the pictures.  Every different one had a new dream or career that she had for him.  "In this one he's a teacher and he wants to change the world," she said with a smile on her face.  "In this one he's a rich business man."

Many prayers were said in my heart as I tried to hope, just as much as she was, as to the results that were to occur in a few short weeks.  She was promised that she would have him back soon, but for now he was with a foster family.

Too many thoughts were running through my mind as I was scrambling for the answers.  How did she get the pictures?  When was she going to get him back?  Why was she here?  What if they found out she was here?  And most importantly, had the foster parents taken that wee little boy to get those professional pictures taken, because if so it seemed as though they didn't think they were going to have to let go of him any time soon.

Discouraged, I hoped and prayed with her that the miracle would happen.  Please Jesus, please.