Adopted

I found myself sitting with baby K earlier this week making an “About Me” poster for her Preschool class.  We put her birth date and birth location.  She is the only one of my children who wasn’t born where we all live.  It seemed weird writing it, it felt like writing that made her different from the rest of my kids.  I know, I know, she is adopted.  She is a different race.  So obviously she LOOKS different from the other kids, but I feel like all of them look different from each other.  Sure, you could look at our biological kids and see some of mine and the hubs physical features in them.

I never have felt like they were any more destined to be in our family than baby K though, just because she was once adopted.  There has never been a doubt in my mind that she was destined, before hand to be exactly where she is.  Just like my bio kids.

It’s funny how much we put on “physical traits” to mean that a child belongs to a family.  Some biological families don’t even resemble each other, but when I write her birth location and when I am out and about with my family, I know that people view her as the one that “was lucky to end up in our family”.

Here’s a little bit about the luck that baby had of getting into this family.  She was brought into this first world by a momma who knew she couldn’t provide for her.  She was hand picked, by her first momma to join this family.  She was wheeled directly into a separate room after birth, while being comforted by a voice she didn’t recognize.  She lived in hotel rooms (with her family) for 2 weeks before coming home.  She has dealt with horrible asthma, that we can’t get answers to, since she was a newborn.

Truthfully, while I’m telling you her story, I could do it for any of my kids.  I could tell you how my first child screamed so much when he was a baby that I took all my maternity clothes to Goodwill when he was 3 months old.  I could tell you that I struggle daily with him believing he has to share this house with his sisters.  I could recount the story of #2’s birth and how she or I could have not come out of the operating room when she was born.  How I struggle now for her to not take everything so personally.  My youngest may physically resemble our family a bit more than baby K, but he was left at a hospital a couple of hours old.  He was welcomed into his home after a brief stint in 2 different hospitals.

I say all that to say this, we all have somewhere that our story began.  Biological children are not a formula to ensure the ease of their life or your family unit.  I find this most encouraging because I’m adopted too.  I came from a background of someone who loved myself more than most all others,  someone who lived in several homes growing up, someone who hasn’t always tried to have good relationships with those in my family.  I was someone who did several things I was ashamed of as I grew older.

Then I was adopted.  I was adopted into a family where “in Jesus Christ, you are all son’s of God, through faith.” (Galatians 3:26)  I was welcomed into a family, not based on my race, gender, economic status, or any other means.  I was welcomed because Jesus sought me, before the beginning of time, to be an heir with Him.

My story is different from yours.  My story is different from my husband’s, my childrens’, my friends’, but that’s only part of my story.  That’s only where it began.  Now we are brother’s and sister’s with each other, not because I was lucky or because I met a criteria.  Simply because I was chosen.  My brothers and sisters don’t all look like me either.

All of my children were handpicked to be in this earthly family.  It doesn’t matter that one of my children was born in a different state.  It doesn’t even matter that two of the four are biological.  They are brothers and sisters.  While their beginning was different from the others; they all ended up in this family.  Not on accident.  Not because any were lucky.

Because God chose us to steward each of these lives and raise them up to send them out.  Not for my husband nor myself- but for the One whose family they will ultimately end up in.  That family is for eternity.  I hope and pray to some day call them my brothers or sisters in Christ, because ultimately that’s where our family is headed.  This too, is just our beginning.

 

The Frailty of Life

It’s been a while since I’ve wrote anything.  Things have been a little busy around here, but also I struggle with content and how I am relaying what I’m trying to say.  In all my endeavors, I strive to make God known and give Him the glory.  If I can share a joke or laugh in middle of 5 children under the age of 8 in our house, it’s because God has given me joy that exceeds my circumstances.  If I can look at a sunset and be in awe of it’s beauty, God is the one who created that beauty.  If I can handle 4 kids in my home on a regular basis, it’s because God gives me grace to…again and again.  If my husband can keep adoring me even through all of who I am, it’s because God is present in the marriage.

I occasionally take a break from sharing or writing because I like to evaluate what I’m trying to relay to people.  Am I coming from a place of wanting to exalt myself or exalt Him? Am I coming at this in love-for every single person created in the image of God?  With that, I have a heightened desire to write today.

The last few weeks have been heavy, even for someone like me who attempts to find joy or meaning in every circumstance.  I have been surrounded by people who are dealing with job complications, people dealing with a tragedy or death relating to their child, friends exhausted with seasons in their lives, my kids pushing boundaries, and trying to meet friends in their specific areas of need.  I’m sure the list could go on, but I don’t want to keep you here all day.

After I had Tripp, I would say I definitely struggled with PPD.  It wasn’t diagnosed, but I know myself and I know those extreme mood differences I was living in at the time.  I would almost have panic attacks when I thought of death after having him.  For some reason, having kids here definitely changed my perspective of death.  Really, before kids, I never thought much about it.  After kids, there were times it consumed me.  Tyler would have to hold me while I cried and panicked.

I would say that it’s really been in the past year or so that death doesn’t seem to have a hold on me it once did.  Does that mean I don’t struggle with certain situations in life? Absolutely not.  Do I understand why God would take a 7 year old child from their parents? No.  Do I know why God would let a woman who yearns to be a mother, have infertility struggles while allowing those whose children end up in state custody, continue to keep having babies? Nope.  I also know, those are the things God originally intended for us to have in our lives.  Because of the fall, and the resulting brokenness we will now live in fallen and broken places and circumstances.

Over time though, I have come to accept that death is just another part of this life.  (Like my rejection or acceptance would have changed anything regardless).  We are all going to face hardships, and often different ones, throughout this life.  We are also all going to face death.  I heard the other day that 50% of all children die by the age of 8 in the Himalayas.  We take for granted the fact that we are given life, and often abundant life here in America, and spend it helping or entertaining ourselves.

I read in my Bible reading this morning that we are called to a holy calling, not because of our works but because of God saving us for His own purpose and grace.  We know our time here is limited.  Even if you don’t want to face it, you KNOW it.  It’s not an opinion, it’s a fact.  Even when times feel heavy and I feel like I’m thinking of and praying for a new circumstance throughout entire days, these times have purpose too.  We spend so much of our lives toiling for things that won’t really have a generational difference.  We should work while we’re here.  We should have friendships.  We should help and try to make a difference for the time we are here.  There is one thing that I know will have a lasting effect on each and every one of us- and that is eternity.

Because, we will face a day in eternity.  We will behold the glory of the God who never left us.  The God who comforts me beyond comfort when I am feeling defeated.  The God who upholds me with His strength when I don’t know how I’m going to find the strength to continue.  The God whom I consider it a privilege to be counted worthy TO approach His throne of grace with prayer requests and hurts.  None of the hard days have to consume me because this life isn’t all there is.  I KNOW that to every season there is a purpose.  While we have more entertainment, longevity, and materials to distract ourselves from that truth; it doesn’t change the truth.

“You don’t have to know a lot of things for your life to make a lasting difference in the world.  But you do have to know the few great things that matter, perhaps just one, and be willing to live and die for them.”                  -John Piper