My daughter’s family have a new puppy for Christmas. Today I met Oliver. He’s small and cute, full of bounce and energy.

Their old dog, Bear Paw, a family member for many years is already teaching Oliver, how to be a proper family member.  We went for a walk, Oliver, Bear Paw, my daughter and I. We laughed as Bear Paw chased the ball and Oliver chased Bear Paw. Bear brought back the ball. Oliver picked up a leaf and carried it almost to us. Pretty neat for an eight week old puppy, I thought.

Back home again, both dogs laid down to rest. My daughter, sat beside the pup, bringing warmth to his tiny shivering body and love to his heart as she gently massaged his head. Oliver has been rescued, the animal shelter said. For me Oliver has been adopted. He’s come as a bundle of life and love, joyfully anticipated and wanted.

This morning’s experience reminded me of my life. I was adopted, at 18 months. Was I rescued? I suppose some could say that. But like Oliver, I was joyfully anticipated and wanted. Both Oliver and I were way more than rescued. We came to our families as precious gifts of love and life. I cannot remember my first moments or days in my new home, but as I experience the joy that Oliver is bringing to my daughter and grandchildren, I am sure that I too, brought joy and love.

Babies, human and animal, all bring responsibilities and so much more. Adopted, born into, rescued are only society’s terms. Loved, wanted, needed, those are the words that matter.