For quite some time I have wanted to write a post (or series of posts) about adoption. My wife and I adopted two brothers from Korea 33 years ago. And yet, every time I began to write, I stopped… or was stopped. I’m not sure why.
I even had a title picked out: Adoption— A Love Story. I was going to start with our own experience and then move to the greater story of adoption, namely God’s adoption of us as sinners.
But when the fullness of time had come, God sent forth his Son, born of woman, born under the law, to redeem those who were under the law, so that we might receive adoption as sons. And because you are sons, God has sent the Spirit of his Son into our hearts, crying, “Abba! Father!”
This central truth of God’s saving work is one of wonder, beauty, love, and devotion—God’s devotion to us. What a grand statement, and truth to cling to. We may wander, but we don’t stop being God’s children because of that. This is a passage of comfort, strength, and peace.
And yet, I couldn’t write about our own adoption. I am still working through why. I know that even now my emotions run high (in both directions)… There are joys and fond remembrances and current good things; but also failures, hurts, pains that run deep, abandonment in times of need, loneliness, guilt, fear, shame. Please note: I love our boys (well, grown men, with our five grandchildren!), and while tested, my love for them never broke. So it isn’t that I am heartless.
I do know that when someone relates their “wonderful experiences” of adoption, I want to be the wall flower in the room (“Please, don’t let anyone ask me!”)—yes, I rejoice with them, but I can’t fully relate to that. Over the years I have begun to realize that our experience of adoption is much like the rest of life, sometimes great, sometimes terrible, sometimes, a day-to-day struggle.