Pass-A-Grille Sunset August 23, 2009
As I sat on the beach last night, my mind was 7,700 miles away. I was thinking about a woman. My Ethiopian daughter’s first mother. The one in whose body she was conceived. The one who gave birth to her. While I have yet to learn “the other side” of my daughter’s story and while there are many things I might never know, I’ve spent a lot of time wondering about it lately. In all likelihood, right about now, my daughter’s birth mother may be having to do the most sacrificial, heartbreaking thing I imagine a mother can do. I wonder what circumstances are leading to the relinquishment of our daughter at an orphanage? I hope that it is not due to death, hunger, sickness or stigma, but I realize that statistically, one of those reasons probably applies. As I eagerly await our referral, giddy with excitement, counting down the days until we reach the top of the list and I see her picture, another woman is probably agonizing over her desperate situation and dreading the day she has to say goodbye. It shouldn’t be like this. It’s not fair. I know it’s not God’s will that this woman is suffering, but I am just as certain that it is His plan that this baby girl join our family, as I know without a doubt that He has called us to adopt. It was an easy call to follow in the beginning. From a logical standpoint, it just makes sense: family wants another child, child needs family. We’ve been open to the abstract idea of it since before we were married. Now that we’re in the middle of it, we understand that, for us, there are many aspects of this calling that are much bigger and way more complex than a simple equation. We weren’t prepared for how deep our love for our daughter would be before we’ve even met her, how difficult it would be to wrap our minds around the path by which she is coming to us, the intense brokenness and despair we would feel when, just for a moment, we try to picture ourselves in the shoes of her birth parents, or what a heavy and gut-wrenching burden we’d feel to make a difference in the continent and country where she was born. This whole experience has brought about changes in our hearts, our priorities and our understanding of family--from the spiritual down to the molecular aspects of it. We realize that the journey we are on has been part of God’s plan since the beginning of time. Our souls and the soul dwelling inside that baby girl’s body in Ethiopia were meant to be united as a family during our time here on earth. God could have brought her soul into our life by way of another biological child. But by God having our daughter be born on the other side of the world and leading us on a twisting, turning, roller-coaster of a journey to be united with her, we have been changed. While biological processes helped bring our older daughters into our lives, we now realize that we were not really responsible for it at all. The perfect timing, the joining of each bit of DNA, and the creation of the souls and the development of the physical bodies, were all orchestrated by God. He is in control of ALL things. This is no humanitarian act or good deed we are doing. We were the ones with the selfish prayer—more children, more joy. Our daughter’s birthmother is the selfless one, the one whose prayer is simply for a better life for her daughter. By following His call to pursue this adoption, not only is God answering prayers. He has prompted changes in our hearts. We, not our daughter, are the ones who are being rescued. Traveling this road is opening our eyes and stirring our spirits like nothing else we have done. We no longer have a self-centered view of our family. Our view of the world as simply a big playground to satisfy our sense of curiosity and adventure has turned into discontent with our sheltered, safe lives and a burning desire to do more to change the lives of others. Others like the women who have to choose between malnourishment or possible death of their treasured children or leaving their children at an orphanage. Parents who are sick and who know that, if they die, their children’s future will be a life of begging in the streets. In a few months, another woman’s daughter will be placed in my arms. My heart breaks for this woman. I cry that she is going through such pain and sorrow. I am undeserving of the honor of parenting her child but I am committed to devoting every ounce of my heart and soul to that task. I pray for healing and peace for the broken hearts on the other side. And I am already completely in love with this little girl. Our daughter.