I always knew I was adopted ever since I was a very young child. My Mom was really transparent with me and never made it a secret that she was not my biological mother. However, it never made her love me any less and it never made me love her any less (although I did give her a run for her money at times). My adoption was still just a meaningless fact, no different from the fact that the sky was “blue.” She told me she would babysit me often when I was a baby and when my biological mother proposed the idea of giving me up, she jumped at the opportunity to raise me.
Although I often wondered about my biological parents, it never actually bothered me that I was adopted. I was never in a foster home and I guess I was just satisfied with the way things turned out so I didn’t mind. Eventually, I did meet my biological parents and their individual families but that’s another story.
As I grew older, married my husband and had more children, my heart started to change. More and more often, I began to wonder how anyone could not want their children. My children are my world. Each smile, each laugh and each hug, fills my heart up with so much joy it could explode. Even the difficult days filled with temper tantrums, snotty noses and teenager’s attitudes are still beyond worth it! The more my love grew for my children, the more my heart began to hurt as a daughter. Even though I know my biological parents aren’t the healthiest people, and that it wasn’t anything I did that caused them to give me up, it still hurt. It feels somewhat silly even typing these words right now, but it’s true and if you’ve read my other blog posts, you know I’m an open book so why stop now?
Once I began to face my true feelings, I took them to God. I knew I wasn’t necessarily struggling with bitterness or a lack of forgiveness so I figured maybe I just wasn’t grateful enough for the good things. I started thanking Him more for providing me with adoptive parents, and for the natural talents and skills I believe I received through my real mother, but to my surprise, the deep-rooted feelings of pain and rejection still lingered.
One random day, God spoke to my heart with a rather profound question, “Do you not know Who you belong to?” I was a little surprised. He then began to deepen my understanding of what it really meant to be adopted by Him. In that moment, I realized I haven’t yet fully accepted His love as my Father. There I was, putting so much energy into the fact that He gave me new parents and yet I was fully neglecting the fact that He, the Creator of the universe, adopted me as His child. That’s so much bigger and so much more powerful than the act of simply providing people to care for my earthly needs. He actually chose me before the foundation of the earth. He wanted me when my parents didn’t. He believed I was worthy of supernatural, unfailing, immeasurable love. He watched over me. He knew the number of hairs on my head. He was with me then and He is with me now.
I was use to sharing His Word and truth with other women, but it wasn’t until that moment when His acceptance fully came to life in my own heart. It has now become my reality and in that, lies a beautiful and indescribable freedom.
I am His.