Confession: I am a reluctant blogger. I normally write because I’ve been asked to and while it is therapeutic to do so, I find myself more and more backing away from the computer, overrun by mommy blogs attacking my facebook stream. Some are beautifully honest and real, helping in the trenches and deep waters of everyday life and some are just plain fear producing and guilt pushing. It is draining and I tend to look away and step aside. At times though, there is one that will hit me between the eyes (usually on this site!) and I see through that blurred vision for a couple of days and I continue to say “yes” and read away. Those times change my direction for good and put me on a different course. A course that others have walked and found the air easier to breathe upon arriving. We need to hear this vulnerable place found stepping into truth.
It was in these past days that I have held “The Little White One” in my mind and ached for Kam’s friend Tamara and her son Zach. The “little white one’s” fight and Zach’s glorious trust that speak to something heavenly. They won’t quite let me go this week and it’s a good thing. Right between the eyes.
A beloved friend and I were chatting about adoption. Yes, we both have adopted children but on that day we were keenly aware of our own adoption. It was that divine mystery that held us in our conversation. That church at Ephesus who first heard our own covenant invitation as chosen children. That verse three of Paul’s letter that blows my mind every time. That because He chose us and we chose Him, we are blessed with everything. That we receive every spiritual blessing and that there is nothing left out and we essentially belong. Adoption that God is pleased to establish so that we get the abundance and overflow. There is no more scrounging for scraps but there is abundance to be had and enjoyed in a family. We are sealed with inheritance and it is holy.
So I have glided through my day, thinking of how “The Little White One” fights when she is held and fights harder when spoken to in gentleness. How I can at times look just like her when I don’t recognize the inheritance I have before my Father who loves me. How I am no different and how my eyes gaze deeply into the eyes of my own daughter, who is learning to receive the inheritance of having my last name and the bigger one of the kind intention of God’s will. How she will fight me because she can’t help herself and how I will see her as blameless because I can’t help myself. How Tamara says, “she’s insane” but her son Zach is trusting God, despite a disease that seems to be devouring him. He seems to be stepping into that unseen yet tangible inheritance, as his eyes that are enlightened to a wisdom and knowledge of God beyond His years – well, they humble my own older eyes that get out of focus now and then.
So, this reluctant blogger is thankful to read ones that hit me between the eyes. To walk in a community that is transparent and holds each other’s hands. Even lifts them up from time to time. Because adoption as sons and daughters gives us everything and then some. You can’t Pinterest adoption – it is too hard and too glorious to attempt. You almost can’t speak or write of it either…it is a divine mystery. “Little White One” and “She says they’re insane, but I say they ROCK” (both previous blog posts on this site) did a beautiful work of showing something in the now that points to something heavenly. Those moments when we relate to fighting against Love and those moments when Love conquers the most impossible things and days that seem impossible, are somehow okay. Divinely okay.