ADOPTION: Blog post #41 – I Am Thankful for My Adoption Journey
I experienced a different Thanksgiving this year than in the past. It was quiet enough that I could be reflective. The dinner table included all the special foods we love: turkey, loaded mashed potatoes, cranberry-orange salad, green bean casserole, and pecan pie with home-made whipped cream. There was just less of everything because my farm manager adult son and I were the only family at home. My other adult children were out-of-town enjoying their respective vacations and extended families while my three youngest – all teens – were at my oldest daughter’s home for an eight-day vacation.
It was a simple celebration after 30+ years of a great marriage which bore much fruit in our 11 children. I could actually hear myself think while I prepared the dishes! I didn’t have to serve any plates with appropriate portions nor correct anyone regarding their manners or behavior. It was relaxing enough that I enjoyed myself. Not that I haven’t enjoyed my crazy, over-the-top family for three decades, but I was able to consider how thankful I am for my life – all of it – the good, the bad, and even the ugly.
As I served myself a second helping of green bean casserole, I thought of how much she loved it. She, meaning my adopted daughter who had RAD. The one who was ‘that kid’. The one so challenging I could never share the darkest details of our life with anyone but just endured them. The one who often ruined our holidays with her hatred spewed mostly at me. The one who I often didn’t like much, even though I loved her profoundly. The one who could have been President of the USA or CEO of the most successful global clothing company. The one for whom I would give my life, and did every day for 14 years.
The one who was murdered last spring.
The one who needed and loved Jesus with all her heart and is with Him in paradise, no longer suffering from her childhood trauma. Like the woman who washed the feet of Christ, she had much sin in her life. Likewise, she had much to be thankful for in her Savior.
My son and I prayed, ate, talked, ate some more, laughed, ate even more, reminisced, finally eating too much pie with whipped cream! He headed into town for his second shift job and I cleaned up the kitchen full of baking dishes and utensils. I packed food away for leftovers, made some turkey taco soup, and froze more goodies for later meals. While I tidied up, I recalled the many Thanksgivings we celebrated as a family – first just me and my husband and stepson; later, with our biological children, sometimes with the grandparents; eventually with two sets of adopted siblings. We lived frugally but always had lavish feasts at the holidays because we felt them important and wanted to make memories with our children. It was my late husband’s favorite time of year – Thanksgiving to Christmas. As mom to a large family, including traumatized adopted children – it was my hardest time.
As I put the last dish in the cupboard, I was reminded of the last time I saw my daughter. She was sitting in my car as we talked about her future. She had run away; I picked her up at the police station after she had turned herself in three days later. I was trying to help her figure out what to do next when she opened her door and ran again. Six months later, the county coroner came down my driveway.
The highs and lows of my adoption journey are embedded deeply in my memory. The highs when we first met our kids, the days they came home to us forever, the days they each learned to read, the days they each called me Mom for the first time. Then there were the lows of rebellion, running away, predatory behavior, and ultimately, death. In between were ordinary days of family life: homeschool lessons, chores, errands, playing rough-and-tumble outside, playing board games inside, watching good movies, sharing a meal, reading a Bible devotion, laughing at fart jokes, and bedtime routine ending with reading aloud and prayer. These less exciting or traumatic days are not as clearly etched in my memory but the vast number of them far outweigh the lows, and make the highs seem higher. Each day is part of my adoption journey. I’m thankful for every one of them, and those yet to come.
Adoption. It is how God brings us into His kingdom. It is how He wants the Christians of this world to care for the orphans near and far. It is a journey worthy of remembrance and gratitude.
