For years, shelved somewhere in the storage space of my mind was a dry statistic, a fact that had little bearing on my daily reality. The statistic was this: Millions of children around the globe were without a family. My husband and I were vaguely aware of this truth. At times we had even discussed adoption. But the statistic about homeless children was not something that kept us awake at night.

We were busy, after all, my husband, Don, teaching and coaching, and me, writing best-selling Christian fiction. Besides, we already had three beautiful children, a number we planned to stop at after our youngest, a boy, was born with a heart defect that required surgery when he was just three weeks old. And so the statistic about homeless children remained, and we did nothing about it.

Then late one night alone in my office I met EJ.

In the quiet incandescent glow of my computer screen, I stumbled upon an Internet site that had a photo listing of children available for adoption in Haiti. One of those was a darling five-year-old boy with huge brown eyes and dimpled smile. "EJ," the heading stated.

The connection between us was instant.

"EJ is a charmer," the accompanying description said. "He is the first to hug the workers at the orphanage each day and is easily one of the fastest learners in our classroom."

His photograph made an impact that was overwhelming and indelible. In a moment's time, Haiti was no longer another country with starving homeless children. Rather it was the homeland of this precious child.

I could almost hear him calling out to us: "Mommy, Daddy, I love you. I'm here waiting for you. Please come take me home. I need a family. Please."

Until then, family discussions on adoption had been brief and esoteric. All that changed the moment I found EJ. I called my husband into my office and for the next hour we talked about this sweet child. There were no disagreements. EJ belonged in our family. Now we needed to present the idea to our children.

I printed his photo, and the next morning Don and I introduced him to Kelsey, Tyler, and Austin. Setting his picture up in front of an empty chair, I asked our kids, "How would you like EJ to be your brother? He's five years old and he lives in Haiti."

"Well," our only daughter, Kelsey, 12, said thoughtfully, "he looks friendly."

"He's five?" seven-year-old Tyler chimed in. "That's right between me and Austin."

Two-year-old Austin just grinned and pointed. "That my brother? Huh Mommy and Daddy? That my brother?"

We studied EJ's picture for days until he actually felt like part of our family. At night we prayed about him, connecting, building a bond that grew stronger with each glance at his face. He was living at the Heart of God Ministries orphanage in Port-au-Prince, so we contacted workers there and learned more about him.

Finally, with full hearts, we made our decision. EJ would be our son, a part of our family forever.

Over the next several months, we completed a daunting amount of paperwork for the INS and Haitian dossier. But because we took it one document at a time, we were never overwhelmed. Through every step we were driven by EJ's face. In fact, it wasn't long before we were driven by another little face as well – that of a six-year-old boy named Joshua. The photo listing said Joshua was a happy child who excelled in academics and sports. He had great leadership qualities.