“I distinctly remember growing in your tummy, ” Little Man tipped his head to one side, put his finger in the air and made his point with confidence.
Conversations about where he came from, how we found him, and traveling from Ethiopia to America, are becoming more frequent and I’m doing my best to navigate them. We talk about his Ethiopian mommy, how much she loved him, and why she took him to the orphanage in Soddo, Ethiopia. I tell him that Eby was there when he came and they were babies together. He likes to hear the story of the first time we saw him, and how tiny he was as I held him in my arms and gave him a bottle.
Little Man is five and he is trying to make sense of his beginnings; it is no small task.. Adoption is complicated. Our children do not begin with us, they grew in another woman’s womb, they may have been very loved, they may have been very attached. There is grief, and that is what I see when Little Man curls up in my lap and tells me that he wishes he had grown in my tummy.
The bittersweet of being an adoptive mother, and the weight of being a birthmother, can be hard for me to merge into any kind of coherent thought. I do my best, and along the way, I love my children fiercely, all twelve of them. Five of them have another mother who also loves (or loved) them. This is a good thing – love is rich, it makes our lives better and we have to embrace the love these other mothers give.
So we have come to know and to believe the love that God has for us. God is love, and whoever abides in love abides in God, and God abides in him. By this is love perfected with us, so that we may have confidence for the day of judgment, because as he is so also are we in this world. There is no fear in love, but perfect love casts out fear. For fear has to do with punishment, and whoever fears has not been perfected in love. We love because he first loved us. 1 John 4: 16 – 18 (emphasis is mine)
#661 – 670 giving thanks
tall blue spruce trees covered with snow
classes canceled at the university and the high school
long conversations with our older boys
steel cut oats in the slow cooker, ready for breakfast
Sunshine and Eby racing out the door to sled
Honeybee cooking dinner
Russ taking photos of the ice late last night
standing on the back steps surrounded by quiet (after the kids were in bed)
fellowship with other mothers
a hardworking husband
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