reflections on adoption

Our adoption journey is feeling much more real to me these days.

I am responding to questions about my experiences with and thoughts about diversity for our homestudy. I am requesting documentation of our births, marriage, and past and current health. Our friends are receiving requests for letters of recommendation. We are filling out pre-tests to assess our knowledge about and expectations of international adoption. God is providing, drop by drop (with an occasional cascade), the finances we will need to complete this process. I can log into our agency’s website and view photos and profiles of children for whom they are attempting to find – but have not yet found – families. We will have our first official homestudy meeting tomorrow morning.

And as we go farther into this process, my heart is struck more and more by the juxtaposition of sorrow and beauty in adoption. In the relinquishment of children – precious children made in the image of God, given up by their birth parents – we see the fallenness of the world in which we live. There should not be babies left totally alone in the world, and parents should not have to worry about whether they will have access to the food and medical care their children will need to survive. In the adoption of those children, we see a picture of God’s redemption and adoption of His children. We see the sweet, radical change in God taking a child who was alone and bringing him into a family that loves him more than life itself.

I was in the car with Miranda the other day and found myself sobbing listening to the lyrics of a Sara Groves song I’ve heard hundreds of times before –

I have a picture of Esther and David

She is a young bride and he is a soldier        

They didn’t know then that David was dying        

They wouldn’t have children

Alone with a life time, Africa called          

She went for the first time, it grew in her heart          

All of the children, all of those children

Now Esther has 2.4 million children          

She writes us and asks us to pray for them all

She’s compelled, she’s compelled by what she’s seen          

And she tells us, she tells us do anything you can          

To help, oh please help, there’s so much to do          

And I’m just Esther

She visits her homeland, she fights with her words          

She comes to the courts of the kings of the earth          

Who don’t understand their inherited power        

To answer her question

Now Esther has 2.4 million children          

She writes us and asks us to pray for them all

She’s compelled, she’s compelled by what she’s seen          

And she tells us, she tells us do anything you can          

To help, oh please help, there’s so much to do          

And I’m just Esther

I’m not Esther. I’m not giving my life to serve 2.4 million orphans in Africa. I haven’t seen the reality of what that looks like. But as I have researched and learned about the orphan crisis facing our world today, I am compelled by what I’ve seen.

What about you?

Of course there are debates about how exactly to count orphans, but I don’t believe anyone disputes that there are currently millions of orphans on our planet. Do you know what their lives are like? What the realities of their existence are?

If you did, do you think you might be compelled to act? To pray? To do anything you can? To help? To help, oh please help, there’s so much to do

Published by

3 thoughts on “reflections on adoption

  1. […] One such blog was a written by a friend, an update on her and husband’s quest to add a special needs baby girl to their family through the gift of adoption. In her post, my friend considers the contrast between the sorrow and beauty in the process of adoption. At the end of her post (all of which can be read here), my friend included the lyrics to Sara Groves’ song Esther: […]

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *