Wednesday, October 8, 2014

These Adoption Questions

These adoption questions— the memories I will have of WHERE we have these conversations- unloading the dishwasher, in the middle of a chapter, from the backseat of the car, while I am scrubbing the toilet, painting a door outside…..   This one took place sitting in my car beside a Redbox— returning Belle {rent it if you haven’t yet}, going through my mental list of leaving for Georgia, barely present,  “Mom, does it ever make you sad that you don’t have kids that look like you?”  Very present now.  “Have you met both of our birthfathers?  What was that like?  How did it make Daddy feel?”  The elusive birthfather— they don’t get much airtime but maybe now that they are getting older, they will.  “What made you choose open or closed adoption?”  “Did she get mad when you closed it?”  Yes— all last night in the Walgreens parking lot between meeting Jeff and B at Panera and getting home for baths and bed.

I won’t rehash our conversation but can I just say, I’m so thankful God loves me and that He is concerned with my family and all this is HIS story that’s being read- page by page.  I had no control of how this all got started or really, how it’s going to end.  That’s His job.  You bet I am throwing up prayers in the driver's seat.  Because who knows if she’ll ever ask the question again— not that I can’t bring it up— but her heart is ripe in that moment, looking to fill up that little space with truth.  With something that will satisfy.  With something that she can accept and move on from that place, secure.

She went to a spend the night party with sweet friends last Friday night and a whole FOUR days later {last night} she told me that her adoption became a topic of conversation.  I really don’t know how it comes up— wish I had been a Borrower in a mouse hole…. Does some girl just say, “Julia, tell us about your being adopted?” or “ Does being adopted make you feel so weird?!?!”  or my favorite, “Do you know your REAL mother?” {Them's fightin' words.  Kind of.}  Surely, this time, since they are such mature 7th graders, it was nothing like that.    Anyway— she told me that as she was talking, she felt like she was giving her testimony.  Bam!  or “Booyah!” as Brighton would say.  Yes!  Yes, you were, sweet girl.  I would have given up whipped cream for a month {let’s not push it} to have heard it— uncensored, with her good friends, realizing in the moment the power of God in her story.

See?  He’s doing His work.  And I need to be content with that— and to trust Him.  I could never have orchestrated that.  And she wouldn’t have done it had I asked her.

He’s her Father.  He’s had His eye on her all this time, patiently waiting for these little milestones— and patiently loving her mother as she eventually comes around to what He’s doing.  By His grace…..


Lizzy R. said...

the tears are a bit too big to see to type but THANK YOU. I NEEDED THIS.

Sarah said...

Wish I was a fly on the wall in that room too. Maybe not whipped cream for a month, but for a couple of days ;) She is so loved and so secure. Christ has her near (and so do YOU!)