I was debriefing the sermon today with 2 great women at church. All of us felt like it was written “just for us” (aren’t we so self-focused even while being convicted?!).
Seriously, we all had crises in our lives and the message just nailed us right down to the toes. Mine was just thinking about responding to XS with compassion EVERY SINGLE TIME. Someone else was about feeling depressed and trying to have hope. The other didn’t specify but we tried to guess (isn’t that fun when someone is trying to be subtle and probably guarded in a godly way).
Eventually we began to speak of how our church recently went through a leadership change. There was a new pastor voted in and he started just a few weeks ago. I shared how I watched all of it and thought of the leadership already in place… Now they have this new guy and it is sort of like an arranged marriage. They had some say in the matter, but how much can you really tell about a guy from interviews and whatnot.
It got me thinking tonight: adoption is like an arranged marriage. Sure you get some input, but really you’re allowing others to make a fairly impactful, life-long commitment for you. We gave some fairly specific examples of what special needs we were willing to receive but seriously people, it’s a gamble.
I have been given this little boy and he is an Asker. Just look at the smile! Well this pic is a bad example but he normally looks like we do!
He is super fun (mostly) and can speak so many words I have lost count. He seems to be attaching (especially to Brian) more than I ever imagined at this point.
Ironically, a few months before Elam came to be, I had almost convinced Brian we should adopt. Then I had to convince him again a few years back. Now you should see him with this new boy. It is no stretch to tell they belong together.
I honestly have to choose to love him sometimes. I hope he can read this someday and understand. And to be honest, I had to choose to love my other boy. Calista somehow was easier, maybe because she was the first or because she was a girl and I can do girl.
When I found out I was having a boy, all I could think about was a penis was suddenly growing inside of me. That was almost too much to bear. Now my Elam is dearer to me than a fan on a sweltering night such as it is tonight.
Now somehow, God thought I should have a second boy to learn to love.
Maybe it’s the feminist in me, maybe it’s because I have 3 sisters, maybe it’s because I sometimes wish I were a man in the church with a suit and a voice that is giving equal time… but here I am, denim skirt, working at home, writing at night in the boys’ room, listening to them snore.
I cannot imagine my life any other way, but only God could have arranged this sort of marriage.