November is National Adoption Month, and Sunday, November 6, is Orphan Sunday. God tells us we are to care for orphans. He set an amazing example: He adopted us. Certainly not everyone is called to adopt, but probably most of us should ask the question.
In honor of National Adoption Month, I am telling our story of adoption—in weekly installments through November. This is the first chapter.
I heard it clearly. Not audibly, but just as real:
“I’m sending you a son. And you don’t need to do anything about it.”
That’s a story.
I married at 31. I wanted children, but I was absorbed in my work as a magazine editor and writer—I loved what I was doing. I didn’t think I could keep doing the job at the level I was and be a mom at the level I wanted.
So the decision to have children meant I turned over my 7-year-old magazine baby to a new editor.
And Debbie was born. She was bright and beautiful. But she always cried and rarely slept. What had I gotten myself into?
Soon Michelle came. Adorable and contented, Michelle slept much of her first year. I was grateful. But exhausted.
I spent the next year rediscovering myself. No longer an editor, and not a very good mother, who was I? God clarified some things for me: My identity was not in my writing and editing gifts, nor in being a mom. My identity was in Him.
This truth would become especially important in the years to come.
Then I was pregnant again, at age 40. At first I was angry. Then I was excited. Then I miscarried. Again I was angry. It felt like God was toying with me. And I was astounded at the depth of my grief.
Slowly my heart began to heal. Peace and contentment settled over me.
And then the announcement from God:
“I’m sending you a son and you don’t need to do anything about it.”
I didn’t get pregnant again. My husband asked if we should look into adopting. No, we should wait on God.
Time passed. My girls grew. I liked my life: parenting, writing, speaking. I found myself saying, “You know, Lord, we could forget about the boy. I’m happy with these two wonderful girls.”
“No,” he said. “I’m sending you a son. Wait.”
A year later we were preparing to move from California to Florida. In the midst of packing, I heard Him clearly again:
“When you get to Florida, someone will ask if you can take a boy.”
Really? Well, if that happened, I would have more confidence this wasn’t just my imagination.
We moved. We met a new friend, Carol. As Carol and I parted one day, she said, “By the way, do you know someone who could take an 8-year-old boy?”
Next week: The Road to Adoption
So how did your adoption story begin? Tell us about it in Comments.
c 2011 Judy Douglass