Midweek: Lessons Learned in Adoption #3

This week we continue to look at the adoption process, earthly and heavenly, based on my experience with both. In the first article, I talked about prayer. It's important in every decision, large or small, and it is the first step to entering into an adoption contract with our Heavenly Father. In the second article, I wrote a little more about the process itself --before we ever met our son. It was long, emotionally taxing, and not always the adventure we thought it would be. It took the support and prayers of those around us and required a special level of commitment from all parties. God's level of commitment to His gift of adoption was demonstrated most graphically at the cross; the level of commitment He requires of us is to abide. It's not always easy and it's not always the adventure we imagine, but we have a Triune God working for us and a Church praying in Jesus' name.

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After we'd been "matched" with the child who might potentially want us as parents, it was time to meet. At an entertainment complex. Trampolines, arcade games, hover boards --all those things Scott and I have 0 (that's ZERO!) interest in. But we needed to meet him in a place in which he could be comfortable, where we could assure him of our desire to meet him where he was. The message of Christmas! It was awkward. For us. For him. But we all pushed through. The gain we could imagine was more than any awkwardness or difficulty we might endure. And we were obeying what the Father had planned for us. The message of Good Friday! 

Then came the sleepovers. I can imagine being kind. I can wrap my head around giving a child a place to stay for a little while, maybe even make him or her feel at home, doing all the things parents do, just until they can be given a safe place in which to remain. But being that safe place in which to remain? That's a tough one. And the child who has to sleep down the hall from adults he/she barely knows? when so few adults tasked with their care have been trustworthy and steadfast? That's some faith in the process there. Adoption is a good thing. How many times over the years had he whispered those words to himself.

The Lesson: Faith. There is a God, the One True God who condescended to become human, to live as we lived, obey the rules we implemented, work and play in the manner we designed. I want to meet you where you are, He says. Jesus left glory for us because of love and obedience; He endured untold pain and daily inconveniences because He knew the gain was greater than the trouble. He had faith in the Father and His plan. He knew His Father as a trustworthy fortress and reliable refuge. How many times did He whisper to Himself, My Father is a good, good Father? Those declarations of who God is and our decision to believe in His character. That is faith. And because of faith in Him, because we bear the fruit of His love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control through his Holy Spirit, we can create places for others to remain and experience the Heart of God as it pours out of us.

After the sleepovers, Scott and I fostered our son for more than a year before the adoption was finalized. There were parts of that year in which we rejoiced at the progress we were making as a family; there were moments in that year that were more difficult than any I'd had in a long time. Let's face it, we don't wake up every morning wanting to parent any more than a police officer wakes up every day wanting to police. Our son didn't wake up every morning thrilled to be told how his day was going to go. Additionally, there were nine years of life --ours and his --neither of us could account for. How was he raised? With whom had he stayed? Does he even know who he is? And then there were his questions. Why can't I wear holey (not holy) jeans to church? Do I really want to stay here? Who do these people think they are? What do they know about parenting? His bed was not his bed, but the bed we told him was his. The food on the table was not always food he was accustomed to eating, but food we provided him. The clothing he wore, once the smell of his former placement had been laundered away, smelled differently than any he had worn before. We enrolled him in a school we said was now his school with classmates and teachers he'd never before laid eyes on. His most basic needs were provided to him by people he didn't really know. Could he trust? Would he trust?

The Lesson (and this one really got me!): Trust. We are imperfect beings in an imperfect world. If this young man who has been through so much junk can trust us enough to sleep in a home he never chose, eat food he's never eaten (Oh, the role food plays in making us feel "at home"), give hugs and snuggle against people he really doesn't know, rely on those same people as his caregivers and parents (!) --don't gloss over that: remember the level of trust you had for your parents --if he can do that, what am I doing with my relationship with the God of the universe?! Why am I second-guessing Him, ignoring Him, avoiding Him even, defying Him, vexing Him...? Can we trust? Yes, He is perfect after all. The kind of trust required to live in relationship with our perfect, loving, benevolent Heavenly Father carries no risk for us. But will we trust? Will we hold fast to the lessons which build our faith that we might trust the one true and trustworthy God?