Dependence Day

July is a reflective month for me. While many are thinking about the independence of our country, our household celebrates dependence. We adopted one of my sons on July 3rd, and three years later we adopted another son on July 17th. In the same way that we celebrate our freedom as a nation but also contemplate the cost, adoption is a mix of emotions. Although I celebrate the inclusion of my sons into our family, I know that other families are grappling with their loss.

For most of the year, I forget that my boys are adopted. They have taken on the mannerisms and sense of humor of their environment. Biological or adopted is not a way I view my children. It’s only when one of them asks me what they acted like when they were in my tummy or asks to hear their birth story that I am reminded of their different beginnings.

Both of my boys know that they are adopted but don’t fully understand the implications of that word yet. When they ask to hear their birth story, I share the crazy events that led up to bringing them home. On the day that I was to bring one of our sons home, I was so sick that I passed out in the hospital and had to convince the nurses I was well enough to drive home. Everyone in our house was incredibly sick that week except for my husband. By process of elimination, Zach cared for us all.

We were even less prepared for the arrival of our other son. My husband was on a business trip in another state when I got a call that a little baby boy needed to be picked up from the hospital. This was also the day we had scheduled to have a sprinkler system installed. The installers accidentally cut our gas line, and we had to be evacuated from our home. I stood in the backyard talking to the fire department letting them know I was bringing home a baby and would need heat in the house when I returned back home.

Every birth story is an adventure and adoption is no different. Our boys love to hear about the crazy antics surrounding their arrival day in the same way our biological kids love to hear how they entered the world.

In July I am reminded of the incredible blessing that these boys are to our family. Not only do we talk about their arrival day, but we look at pictures of their adoption day and share stories of what it was like to be in a courtroom standing before a judge.

Unlike a birth story, the pain surrounding adoption doesn’t disappear the moment a baby arrives. When I think about my boys’ adoption days, I also think about the families connected to them. We chose to adopt through the foster care system. The relationship we have with each of their biological families is very different.

We have never met the biological parents of one of our sons, and we’ll likely never know who they are. Although that may sound like a great scenario, I worry about how to answer questions my son may have when he grows up. I have no photos, no medical history, and no answers.

For our other son, we have an open adoption. We formed a relationship with his biological parents during the year and a half that we were his foster parents. Every July we exchange letters. Through their words I am reminded every year of the cost of adoption. Our gain is someone else’s loss. I know adoption was the best thing for my son, and yet my heart still aches for the mom whose arms are empty.

Intellectually, I know that all of my children ultimately belong to God, and I am merely entrusted with them. Adoption makes this lesson much more real to me. Even though I would prefer to just celebrate in July, my celebration is always mixed with a somberness as I grasp the enormity of the gifts I have been entrusted with. While we are sharing sweet memories, someone else is awaiting the letter that will give them a glimpse into what they are missing. Our ministry is not just to the boys we are raising but also to the family who is watching from afar.

We are often asked why we chose to adopt. The answer is simple.

We are loving our King.

The reasons that our family chose to be involved in foster care and adoption is because of the verses in Matthew 25:34-40.

“Then the King will say to those on his right, ‘Come, you who are blessed by my Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world. For I was hungry and you gave me food, I was thirsty and you gave me drink, I was a stranger and you welcomed me, I was naked and you clothed me, I was sick and you visited me, I was in prison and you came to me.’ Then the righteous will answer him, saying, ‘Lord, when did we see you hungry and feed you, or thirsty and give you drink? And when did we see you a stranger and welcome you, or naked and clothe you? And when did we see you sick or in prison and visit you?’ And the King will answer them, ‘Truly, I say to you, as you did it to one of the least of these my brothers, you did it to me.’”

It is easier to see how our call to care for the hungry and the sick applies to our adopted sons, but it also applies to their birth parents. In some ways, the more sacrificial love is the love I give the birth parents. We know so many adoptive families that only have animosity toward the birth parents. While I understand where they are coming from, I am praying that our decision to love the birth parents benefits our sons.

I’m not going to lie, the adoptive/birth parent relationship is awkward. I battle my selfish nature in not wanting to share our best photos from the year. I grapple with wanting to only give vague information in our letters so that maybe they won’t know how awesome of a kid they gave up. It is in those moments that I am so glad God is not done working on me yet. None of my children belong to me, and God has called me to love others.

Period. No excuses. No fear. Not based on merit or behavior. Simply love.

So each July, I do my best to love my King by loving our sons’ birth parents. Some years there is no response to our letters, only silence. Other years they bare their souls to us as they share their struggles in life. It is humbling to hear someone else’s heartache. I know that life is not easy for them, and they are doing the best they can. I continue to pray that I would be able to see them through God’s eyes, since we will be linked to them for the rest of our lives. It may not have been their intention, but they gave me some of my most treasured gifts. In order for our boys to be considered our dependents, they had to experience independence from another.

Adoption is messy, hard, confusing, beautiful work. Heartache and blessings mingle together as July’s fireworks light up the sky.