Maybe I need God every moment of the day because I’m tired and sometimes it’s just damn hard. And maybe there are days that I mourn my life before I chose wreckage. Days before I knew the truth, and blindly skipped across this life without delving too deeply into suffering, injustice and pain. Now I wade through the muck and the grit and I see. I was once blind, but dear God, now I see.
Within this post I have combined the words and sentiments of many of my foster and adoptive friends….friends who have chosen to ruin their lives through foster care and adoption. Friends who would choose it again.
I was warned, “these kids will ruin your life”. I was warned that the cost was too high and that I couldn’t save them all. I was warned that they grow up and they won’t be so cute when you’re caring for a 35 year old still living in your home. What if they are so damaged, they end up in prison? What if they can never love you back, and you’ve poured all this money and time into them? What if doing this totally destroys everything you’ve built for yourself? How will this affect your biological children? And you can’t save the world and is this the best investment of money? What if they die once you get them home? Aren’t you too old for this? What if they ruin you…
I say it’s time we evaluated what we are living for and choose to be ruined. Maybe ruination is where we are supposed to live. Maybe this adoption thing is hard work, ugly tears, broken hearts, and sleepless nights. Maybe it is a daily struggle and the rewards are small and few. Perhaps the cost outweighs the gain. It’s possible they grow up to become felons or they never can live independently. Maybe I bring him home and he’s just too sick and I hold him as he dies. Perhaps they hate me and want to hurt me because it’s too much to trust an adult again. It’s too much for them to open themselves up to the pain of rejection, and the fear is bigger than my love. Maybe I’ve brought home this brokenness and pain and gave it a seat at my dining room table to look at each day as a constant reminder of the ruination. Maybe I need God every moment of the day because I’m tired and sometimes it’s just damn hard. And maybe there are days that I mourn my life before I chose wreckage. Days before I knew the truth, and blindly skipped across this life without delving too deeply into suffering, injustice and pain. Now I wade through the muck and the grit and I see. I was once blind, but dear God, now I see.
But maybe, I’d choose it again because I know the alternatives. Perhaps I know the smell of urine mixed with decayed teeth and neglect, the sound of a silent orphanage, or the pain in a child’s eyes as they are placed in one more foster home that will never be a forever home. Maybe I have held a dying child and opened my door at 3am to accept a detoxing infant from DCS. Perhaps I’ve cried tears at our adoption hearings because I’ve realized that my child just lost a mother and a father. And maybe, I’ve sat in my car and wept after they are returned home to the same crack head mom and dead beat dad that was deemed unfit 1 year ago. Maybe I choose adoption because Christ adopted me when I was broken, irredeemable, and hard work. Maybe He chose me when no one else would. Maybe God took my broken pieces and loved me in spite of the reward. Maybe He picked me, when I had nothing to give in return. And maybe God was patient as I chased after hollow accomplishments and vain conceits. Maybe God sat silent as I toiled against the chains of this world, waiting quietly for me to see His definition of success and victory. And sitting here and seeing, while it hurts, it is real and it is filled with grace and laced with hope. It is true beauty found in the ashes of loneliness and abuse, and I am blessed to experience a portion.
And I look at this ruination and I guess I don’t see the mess, the pain, the reality. I guess love must make me blind to the present and the past, but opens my eyes wide to eternity. Because what I see, are children that I love fiercely. I see the blessing of the tiny victories because I know the steep path taken to achieve them. I see the internal battles and the emotional scars of abuse and I marvel at their resilience. My eyes are now open. And I guess this ruination is exactly where I want to live, because God, you live there too.
Romans 8:18
A child sleeps with his hand tied to the bars at an orphanage in Ploiesti, Romania. The orphanage is for children who have birth defects such as cognitive delay and deformities. (Photo by Cynthia Johnson/Liason)