How Would You Describe Adoption?

If you had to describe adoption in one word, what would it be?  There are probably many words that come to mind.

Love.

Redemption.

Sacrifice.

Joy.

Family.

Those are all words that come to my mind as well.  But I think if I had to sum it all up in just one word it would easily be the word choice.

I once read where an author said that adoption is the most intentional thing you can do in the entire world.  You can get pregnant unintentionally.  You can buy a car, quit a job, or move away, all without waking up that morning planning to do so.  For that matter, there are plenty of movies out there depicting how you could wake up to discover that you had accidentally married someone else.

But not with adoption. There are weeks, months, and often years of intentional effort required to pursue adoption.  And with each piece of paperwork, each notarized and apostilled stamp, each social worker visit, medical form and background check, you are intentionally making conscious and legal choices to adopt a child.  Rightly so, for a human life should not be something haphazardly passed around as if it had no value.  Each piece of paper that slides across someone's desk represents a real, living child worthy of this intentional pursuit.

Yes, the adoption process is all about choice- the choice to pursue a child.

I naïvely thought that choice would end when he arrived home.

Children who have spent time in an institution have brains bathed in trauma.  Even the best caregivers rotate through their shifts, caring for multitudes of children starving for love and attention, unable to fill the family-shaped holes in their hearts.  In the best of orphanages, there is rarely enough food to fill each belly or diapers to ensure clean bottoms.   The children in the worst orphanages experience horrors beyond imagination.  Drugged to stay silent and still day and night, food withheld to keep them small enough to fit in cribs, and abuse that churns the hardest of stomachs is the daily reality for thousands of children.  And it lasts for years and years.

Families sacrifice to bring them home and after a month home, society questions why these families just can't get it together.   They've had a whole month, year, or more to get in a groove, why do these parents talk about how they are still struggling?

Because that damage doesn't just go away.  Sometimes ever.

Kids who have survived life without a family have to work extremely hard to assimilate into a family.  They have no concept of what a family is, much less how to give and accept genuine love, and adoptive families have to make the intentional choice to love them through it all.

That might sound shocking.  How horrible of a person do you have to be to have to choose to love a child?!  Especially one that you fought so hard for?

But what society doesn't see, is the mother cleaning feces off the wall of her teenage son's bedroom for the third time that week, because after all these years, his mind still believes he is unlovable and he must therefore prove that to this family wanting to call him son.   The other moms from soccer practice don't see the school-aged girl rocking violently for hours trying to fall asleep each night because she was starved of motion and human touch for years.  The Sunday School class doesn't see the sister hiding in her room because her brother, who has known true hunger, is wailing and raging at being served dinner.  The t-ball coach doesn't believe those parents who warned him about their daughter's potential outbursts and violence, because all he's ever seen is her as a little angel at practice.  The colleagues at work don't know that the exhausted man in the cubicle next to them held his sobbing wife late into the night after they received yet another life-altering diagnosis caused from their child's unknown past.

Life inside the walls of an adoptive home may be drastically different than what you see from the outside.  But inside those walls, each family is making a choice.

When I married the Hubs, I made a vow, a choice, to love and honor him for the rest of my life.  Surrounded by friends, family, daisies and beautiful music, we twirled and danced and laughed.  I knew I had made the right choice in loving him.

And I learned quickly that that was a choice I'd have to make anew each day. 

Loving and honoring him does not always come naturally to me.  I would not have needed to vow before God to do something if it would always be easy.  I am not biologically programmed to love him in the same way I am for our daughters.  My love for him is a choice.  And one I gladly make.

I have found the same is true in adoption.  Three years of experience have taught me that adoption both was and is a choice.  I will always choose to be my husband's wife.  And I will always choose to be Little Man's mom.

This doesn't always mean that we are twirling around in flowers with a piano playing in the background.  No.  Some days, weeks, and months are very hard.  And they can be very lonely, when few see the whole picture, including the struggles.

In all this, I still, with all my heart, believe adoption is beautiful.  I believe it does encompass all of those wonderful words-  Love.  Redemption.  Sacrifice.  Joy.  Family.

We must all decide what we will do with this.  Even families that have already adopted.  The Hubs and I have to be intentional about asking what God would have for us next.  How can we rally around other adoptive families?  How can we help others bring their kids home?  Does God have more children for us?  Does God desire for us to make a difference for the kids left behind?  How can we support mothers so they can keep their children?

I certainly, don't have all of the answers.  All I know is that our lives are filled with choices.  And we will all have to make a choice about adoption, whether we choose to brush it out of our thoughts, or ponder our role.

I do know that I always have one choice before me.  And I will always choose the same end. 

Little Man, in the good and the bad, I will always choose you.

                          
 In Him we were also chosen, having been predestined according to the plan of Him who works out everything in conformity with the purpose of HIs will, in order that we, who were the first to put our hope in Christ, might be for the praise of His glory.  Ephesians 1: 11&12

Even Me?

The faint shimmer of a tear formed in his eye.  His face was downcast with the strain of the last years, but the faint lines around his eyes revealed the wrinkled reminders of happier times, when he smiled hard enough that his eyes squinted and teared for laughing so hard.   He studied his hands and I could hear him trying to keep his voice from quivering.

"Even me?"

I sat across the room on the couch, with my legs tucked under me and a growing belly resting on my lap.  I ran my hand over the round bump, acknowledging the little kicks and wiggles reassuring me of the life still inside me.

"Even you."

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

I was about seven months pregnant when my PawPaw and Uncle came into town for an unexpected visit.  I had been on bedrest and would remain that way for the duration of my pregnancy.  Friends and family took turns spending the day with me, Little Man and Big Sister, while the Hubs was at work, helping me care for them and the house since I was not supposed to be up and moving around.  My dad had taken the kids outside to enjoy some fresh air when my Uncle began to open up.

It was one of my favorite things about him.  He had such a wonderful sense of humor and could tell stories and joke with the best of them, but his heart was much like mine, searching for deeper conversation and connection when it could be found.   PawPaw sat in the matching chair beside him as we discussed life, hardships, and God.

He asked questions about the kids.  He had moved away around the time Big Sister was born, and so there was always much to catch up on.  Little Man was having a rough season.  Little Man has to work hard to maintain his behavior and emotions hour by hour.  His past trauma keeps him in a heightened state of anxiety and his diagnoses make it difficult for him to process situations.  The constant flurry of people in and out of the house was taking its toll on him and he struggled to regulate his emotions and eat regularly.  Parenting him is a tremendous blessing and joy, but there is much more intentional effort and sacrifice that comes with parenting kids from hard places than typically-developing biological children.

"Gosh.  That stress is going to kill you," he worried aloud.

"I know.  But it's ok.  He's worth it," I smiled.

I have tried for months to remember each part of our conversation that day.  I can remember bits and pieces, but one part stands out specifically.  As we swirled through varying topics covering Little Man, life struggles, and God, I can remember one moment clearly.  My uncle was walking through a rough time.  He told me how much he wanted things to be different.  He wondered how God could ever love him.  He had been baptized several years before, but life had been crushing and in this season, he felt he was drowning in the waves, grasping for His hand.  Much like I find myself frequently.  In my 28 years of life, I have learned that there really isn't anything new under the sun.  And all of us breathing have more in common than we sometimes think.

"God's love is beyond what we see here," I started, but as I looked out the window, I could see Little Man and Big Sister playing outside.  God had taught me some heavy truths during our adoption and I am always overwhelmed when I see them play out tangibly in front of me.

"You know well that God sent His Son, Jesus, to die in our place.  We cannot be united with God without Him giving up Jesus to pay the cost to redeem us."

Uncle shifted in his chair.  Flowery language was not going to drip a single drop of water on the fire burning inside of him.

"You were here when Big Sister was born."  He nodded.  "You know that that little girl has been my entire heart since even before she was born.  My entire life has revolved around her up until this moment.  I gave up a career I would have loved before I even got to start it to be able to spend my days with her."

I smiled at the image of Big Sister twirling around beside her swing set in the back yard.  "I have loved her more than anything."  She waved at me through the window.

"And then I saw the picture of Little Man."  I saw my uncle's eyes squint as he wondered what this had to do with anything we had been talking about.  "Little Man was so far away.  He did not know what love was.  And he was going to die without someone intervening."  Uncle saw Little Man's picture on the table.

"It was going to cost a lot to go get him.  Way more money than we had.  But just imagine, what if the cost had been Big Sister?  What if I would have had to let her go, in order to pursue Little Man?"

He puffed up his cheeks and let out a hard breath.

"Did I see Little Man's life worth sacrificing my own daughter's?  What would I have done?"

He said something along the lines of, "Good grief, Niece," in more colorful language ;) , and straightened in the chair, uncomfortable in the awkward conversation.

"That's what God did for us.  What He did when He looked out over mankind and knew He would make a way for us to be with Him.  He decided He would not even spare His own Son for our salvation."

"Even me?"

"Even you.  He didn't hesitate when He saw you.  He saw you in all of your pain and struggles.  And He said, 'Uncle is worth it.'  Not because of anything you have done, but because He loves you."

His tears fell freely now.

"And even more than that, Jesus is a lot more awesome that Big Sister.  He sacrificed a King.  He sacrificed Himself.  For you.  Your life.  Your eternity.  You were worth the Creator of the Universe sacrificing everything. "

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Adoption has taught me more lessons than I ever could have imagined.  More than I ever knew I needed to learn.  I am just a simple girl, spinning around the sun on this giant globe.  I have no outstanding talents.  I make accidental mistakes and I intentionally sin.  My influence on the world is mostly limited to the four walls of my home.  In the grand scheme of mankind's existence on earth, I will barely be a dot on the timeline.  But even so, I was worth His sacrifice.

Don't misunderstand.  This is not to puff us up.  Yes, we all have worth, but it is because HE says so.  Our worth doesn't come from our social status, our family, our bank account, our personality, our appearance, our knowledge, or anything else we can influence.  Our worth only comes from Him.  God's love and forgiveness should never be spoken of without the full picture.  He is the Prince of Peace, loving, gentle, and kind.  But the other side of that coin is a Righteous Judge who will condemn sin.   He came to make the way for salvation, but He also will come again.  I recently read a quote that said something along the lines of, "He may have come as a meek Babe in the manger, but next time, He's coming as the King on a white horse.  And He's going to war."

But I think that is probably the most wonderful thing about Him!  This magnificent, holy, powerful King, Who demands the respect of all of heaven's creatures and He came to free us.  He willingly stepped out of the glory of heaven's throne room and laid down His life in the most horrific way imaginable. 

His love is just as severe as His wrath.

This New Year, I hope we find the beauty of His adoption.  That we are the helpless, fragile beings chained to cribs of sin and death, and that this Fearsome Warrior Creator King laid down, not only his sword, but His very life, to make the way for our adoption as His sons and daughters.

I think of my Uncle's tears.  I feel my own streak my face as I type this.  I pray we all feel this same weight of His Love.  This Love that came for even us.  Even for you.

Even me.