There is a baby doll in our house now. She is vanilla-scented. Her body is filled with heavy beads and her arms and legs are made of rubber. Her hair is thick and her cheeks are pink. We will bring her with us, sometime after the turn of the year, to the orphanage to pick up Jubilee. We will hand our daughter this doll, her first gift from us, a symbol of our great and everlasting love. Right now, her doll sits in front of her adoption baby book, on the end table in her future nursery. Right now, I resist the urge to hold her, and kiss her vanilla-scented nose. Right now, I speak words over my daughter, even as my heart aches to be with her. I speak from Jeremiah 15:15. "Remember her and care for her," I pray.