She turned thirteen this week.
That’s ten birthdays together. . . thousands of days and experiences since the day my oldest daughter moved into my home.
On her birthdays, when I look through her baby pictures and reminisce, there is this gap. We’ve got just six pictures of her life from birth to 2 1/2 years. In those moments, the reality of loss, special needs and adoption feels so acute.
Most of us don’t think of adoption as its own special need, but it is. You who raise a child (or many!) birthed both in your heart and in the heart and belly of another know what I mean.
The Bible says this:
God decided in advance to adopt us into his own family by bringing us to himself through Jesus Christ. This is what he wanted to do, and it gave him great pleasure. —Ephesians 1:5
God decided in advance to adopt us. . .
Having sat across a fluorescent lit table from a social worker, listening to the story of my future daughters, I faced that choice too. Would I decide in advance to adopt—whatever that would mean—two girls whose history hid in questions, shadows?
I said yes. Before I met them. Before I knew how hard it would be to raise children with mood, mental health, medical or developmental disabilities. I decided.
And so did God, with us.
Except he wasn’t sitting there wondering who we’d be, what we’d struggle with. . . if we’d run off with his heart and wreck it in our wretchedness. He knew.
. . . into his own family by bringing us to himself through Jesus Christ.
He knew us and he decided anyway. He chose you and me in ways so much more profoundly loving than I could ever have mustered in that cubicle the day I chose my girls. And he knew his choice would cost him his firstborn child.
I didn’t know that when I chose. Some days, when my oldest’s Bipolar or Attachment Disorder rips through our home or hurts one of her younger siblings, I try to stand for all my kids, but my heart aches for those I birthed who never asked for this.
Then I think of Jesus. Father God didn’t protect him or say, as I so often do with my younger girls, “Go read for a bit while I help your sister find her words. . . her coping skills. . . some peace.”
God looked at his firstborn and said, “Son, they need you to give your life for them. And we’re going to choose that together.”
In those hard adoptive moments, when shards of what happened before I met my daughters fling into my living room, sometimes clarity comes and I see it:
I am my adopted kids.
So are you.
Foster-adopted out of death, into love. Our former foster life constantly crashing into today’s circumstances and relationships. Our spirits belong in God’s family, but our souls remember what it was to live hungry, abused, neglected. Sometimes we still crave it and fight God to get it back, because it’s all we knew.
You see, God is not just Father; he is adoptive Father.
He has an entire family of foster-adopted kids, and one firstborn Son who gave everything for us. We have all the special needs our adopted kids have in this life, times a thousand. And he chose us anyway.
. . .This is what God wanted to do, and it gave him great pleasure.
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{Happy birthday to my oldest girl. I’d choose you again in a heartbeat, fierce one. Thank you for what you’ve showed me about life, about God, about what it is to love beyond what is comfortable. You are a treasure and I hope that, whatever your teen years bring, you will leave them remembering: you were worth it.}
Latest posts by Laurie Wallin (see all)
- Parents, God Has Not Forgotten Your Dreams - November 11, 2015
- Letting Special Needs Kids Grow Up - September 9, 2015
- God Has Not Forgotten You - May 13, 2015
Good morning Laurie – I came across your blog as I was searching for information about adoption – and I just happened across your post. As an adoptive parent, our youngest daughter having mild cerebral palsy, I completely understand this post. Although so far things are going quite well, as you stated, one never knows what lies ahead. But then, there were challenges with our biological children as well, so there are no guarantees in life. Being a parent is difficult but the joys far outweigh the moments of pain and fear. Thank you so much for sharing so honestly about your own journey.
We have an online Christian women’s magazine, Ruby for Women, and I would like to invite you to share some of your articles with our readers. Our magazine is available free-of-charge to our readers and all of our writers are volunteers, but if you would be interested in participating in our ministry to women, please contact me at editor@rubyforwomen.com I would love to share your story with our readers! Nina @ Ruby for Women
Nina,
Thank you so much for stopping by and for what you shared. I’m glad God connected us through that single word–adoption. I’d love to hear more about your magazine, and the women you reach out to. Prepping to speak this weekend, but looking forward to connecting some time next week to hear more. Blessings!
As a Christian and adult adoptee I take comfort that Jesus was the firstborn of many sons. I John uses the root word “sperma” to describe God as our Father. The original biblical language could have been translated more literally as “reunited” rather than “adopted”. http://www.peachneitherherenorthere.blogspot.com
Samantha, this is so exciting to read. I had no idea that is one of the shades of meaning for “adopted.” Yet another example of how every human metaphor breaks in the face of our vast God’s nature. That we can be both adopted from sin and death and that it’s a reuniting with our original, intended first family of God… Just… WOW. You totally blew my mind with this. Thank you for saying what you did.