I will never forget the day that we walked into the adoption agency and met our son for the first time. He was perfect at just two-weeks old. The most beautiful little boy I had ever seen. And he was ours. We felt an indestructible hopefulness and joy.
I will also never forget the day that our son wouldn’t stop screaming and was unconsolable because he was afraid of being abandoned again. The experience of loss still resonating deep in his little soul somehow stirred up. My wife and I felt helpless at best.
An honest approach to adoption involves both profound brokenness and beauty.
Sometimes it seems like there is more beauty than brokenness and sometimes it is the other way around. A schizophrenic mix of hope and hopelessness. Helplessness and joy.
Through it, thankfully, we are pushed, reminded, driven, and invited into the only hope and help we have – Jesus. And if we are lucky, a community of others who are in the same boat, reminding us we are not alone in this journey.
How have you experienced the beauty and brokenness of raising adopted children?