Miracle of Adoption

This past Sunday, I "celebrated" the 14th anniversary of Christopher and I becoming a family through adoption.  Have you thought about what that means?  Fifteen years ago, Christopher and I were virtual strangers.  Today, I know that we will be connected through eternity.  Isn't that amazing?

Nobody every thinks twice about referring to the miracle of birth, but what about the miracle of adoption.  I have met a lot of children throughout my life, many of whom have not had parents who were willing and/or able to parent well.  Christopher is the only child that I felt the love for from the day I met him.  I can recall going to work the following morning declaring my love for this child I had met the previous evening.  He wasn't even the child I was going to meet, but he "happened" to be there.

I guess the miracle in my life as it relates to Christopher is not really about me or my connection to him.  For me it is about the reality that it was a God-ordained relationship from the very first day.  This reality was confirmed throughout the process that led to Christopher being placed with me 5 months later.  Christopher had been presented to several seemingly more suitable families, but they weren't the parents chosen for Christopher.  I was that parent.

During our prayer time in Church on Sunday, I realized that as special as Christopher's adoption is to me, I have been adopted by the God of the Universe.  It amazes me that He might remember the day that He brought me in to His family with the same joy and delight I feel about the day that Christopher and I became a family.

Christopher is with Him even now.  That is the miracle of the hope and reality of the salvation, adoption into the family of God, that is offered through faith in Christ.  

That, my friends, is a miracle.

Good friends, good memories . . . bittersweet . . .

I am in N. Georgia, heading back home today.  I spent the last two days with the two girl friends who were connected to Christopher.  Probably it is more accurate to say that he was most connected to them.  One has the same love of music that Christopher had and the other has the same kind of whit.  It has been a good weekend with lots of fun memories, but it is bittersweet with a heavy dose of sad.

This coming Sunday is the 14th anniversary of Christopher and I becoming a family.  It is our adoption anniversary.  I remember that day like it was yesterday and I wouldn't trade it for anything, even if I had known then what I know now.  

But I am so glad that I didn't know then what I know now.  It would have been such a distraction to enjoying the ride.  When we celebrated Christopher's adoption, the theme was "We're Under Weigh"  I didn't know how appropriate that theme was!  Parenting is much like a boat ride - there are smooth seas mixed with a lot of choppy waters.  In our case, we hit an ice burg on December 7, 2007.  By early December 8, I was the only survivor on board.  As bad as that sounds, it works for me.

The ship that launched 14 years ago, is still operational.  The family that Christopher and I built goes on, maybe not in this world, visibly, but it goes on.  First of all, Christopher is alive and well with his Savior in heaven; we have been separated for a time, but I have certainty that we will be reunited when I get done here.  Secondly, the mom that I officially became that day lives on.  There is no way that I could, even if I wanted to, go back to who I was before Christopher came into my life.  That person doesn't exist anymore and for that, I am thankful.

But the person that Christopher enabled me to become is missing a piece now.  There is a void where he is supposed to be.  I miss his presence in my life.  I miss the person that he was and the relationships that I enjoyed sharing with him.  

That is what has been hard this weekend.  Not only I am incomplete without his presence, but he is missing in my relationships.  He bought so much to so many that made us all better and I miss seeing that, watching it, enjoying it.  I miss the person that Christopher was and the man I believed he would become.  I just miss him.

But, he doesn't miss me the same way.  He is not in heaven wishing he was here.  He is very satisfied there.  He has a perspective that I can only imagine.  That is what keeps me going, "I know that I know that I know that that I know that my Redeemer lives" and therefore, I will see Christopher again and our family continues on.

I have much for which to be to be thankful, but it is okay to be sad.  It doesn't mean that I don't believe all that I know.  It is just my reality.  They can go together.  If Jesus was sad when his friend died, and he knew much more deeply than I can even imagine, then I'm okay.

As a friend said, "I don't worry about you.  I know you and I know God."  

More importantly, I know God and so did Christopher.

How could I forget . . . . even for a moment?

I was at a sporting event tonight when one of the participants was hurt and laying out on the floor.  As it turned out, I was sitting next to the injured woman's parents.  As I talked to the mom, I learned that her daughter had always been involved in sports, but had never been injured beyond needing stitches.  At this point, we were concerned that she may have broken her leg.

Trying to be empathetic, I indicated that I couldn't imagine who hard it must be to watch this from a distance and that I had never been in her situation.  Then it dawned on me; I saw my son in the hospital unconscious.  Within five hours, I was told he had died.  I saw him laid out in a casket and then we had a funeral.  

In retrospect, I was astonished that for a brief moment I didn't remember that trauma; I couldn't imagine her pain in seeing her daughter her, not knowing the outcome.  But I do know that.  I hate that I know that, but I do.

That is my reality and I'll never escape being a mom who has buried a child.  No pain is worse - at least I can't imagine anything worse.

My cousin, whose 30 year old son was killed by a drunk driver just last August described the pain well.  She had always been very close to her parents, never living further away than next door.  Both of her parents have passed away.  She was trying to describe to her friend  the pain of losing her child.  She said to her friend, "you know how hard it was for me when my parents each died.  On a scale of 1 to 10 . . . . no, that won't work.  On a scale of 1 to 100, losing my parents was a 1; losing Kevin was 100."

I, fortunately, haven't lost anybody else who is very close to me.  Let me tell you however, that if it can be worse than this, I don't have a chance. 

God's better than Dr. Phil

I have found myself, for lack of better options, with Dr. Phil on the TV in the afternoon.  He fascinates me because there is nothing particular special about what he says; he states the obvious.  What I like about him, though, are two things.  First of all, he appears to deeply care about the children.  He all but tells the parents that he is not there for him, but he cares about the kids.  I like that.  The other thing he does that I like, is that he rarely seems to try to make people feel stupid.  When he gets them to admit what they are doing that doesn't make sense, rather than calling them out, he says, "So, how's that working for you."  Of course, it isn't and they know it, but he lets them say it.

Yesterday, he had on three families with obese children.  I mean we are talking 117 pounds at 5 years; 80 at 3 years and; 185 at 10 years of age.  As he talked to the parents, his whole point was they needed to be the parent and get rid of stuff from the home so that it was not an issue.  They had to be willing to take on the tantrums for the sake of their children.  He didn't care about them - they were the parents - and had to suffer the pain to save their child.

Which brings me to God.  Today is Good Friday; the day that Jesus was crucified.  God suffered the pain of watching His Son die and I can tell you from my experience, there is no greater pain.  He did it to save you and me.  He was willing to suffer (as was Jesus, Himself) for our sake.  I don't understand it, but I am so thankful for it.

I hear people say that they could live the Christian life if God would just do such-n-such.  I don't get it.  Surely, I go to Him in prayer and tell him my desires, but I am not going to withhold myself from Him, waiting for Him to prove his love.  He already gave me Jesus; how much more do I need?

But we have needs and God knows it.  I have come to see if Dr. Phil can care about these children who are not related to him, who are total strangers, why would I doubt that God cares about me.  I am his child.  He cares about me more than any parent on this planet; He cares about me more than Dr. Phil.  Imagine that.

The "problem" comes when I have to reconcile some hard truths.  "Jesus loves me, this I know."  Jesus is the greatest evidence I could ask for of God the Father's love for me.  I don't yet know quite how to put the loss of Christopher into the contest of all that love.  I see it from Christopher's side, but from my view, it doesn't work so well.

I supposed that really, as a parent, if I really believe that Christopher is better off, then that is enough for me.  I need to be willing to suffer for the sake of my child.  God is my perfect example.  

It is an issue of focus.  When I focus on my loss, I get very down.  If at that point, Dr. Phil asked, "so how's it working for you?", I'd have to say not so good.  If I can focus on the reality of heaven for Christopher even now and the certainty that his early departure is just an interruption in our relationship and I will see him again, then things are much better.

It is hard, though.  April 26, just 2+ weeks away marks the 14th anniversary of Christopher's adoption.  I need to try to turn that into a day of focusing on "right stuff."

I covet your prayers.