January 10, 2013 in Heart-songs
I’m not sure if you know this about me or not, but I was adopted.
My parents picked me up when I was 4 days old in Memphis, Tn.
I’m telling you this now, only because my mom and I had a conversation about it the other day.
Almost immediately after that conversation, my mom and I were in line at this restaurant paying for our food when the cashier looked at my mom, then at Atti- who was in my arms, then back at my mom, and says, “Wow! He looks just like you, Grandma.”
My mom and I just looked at each other and grinned.
It has been on my mind ever since.
To be honest, it’s not something that I think about very often. But every now and then, something will happen that will cause my mom and I to start up the conversation.
And when the conversation does arise, we talk about what you might expect, and when I tell people I am adopted, the same familiar questions always surface:
Do you ever think about finding your birth mother?
If you found her would you want her to be a part of your life?
What about your kids- would you want them to know her?
What if you found out that she was kind of crazy?
What if you found her and she wanted nothing to do with you?
Are you ever sad that she gave you up?
I can’t tell you how many times I have answered these questions. And I don’t mind answering them now. I have never been weird about the fact that I was adopted, and I think that is partly due to how special my parents always made me believe it was.
I’m still unsure of how I feel about pursuing a relationship with my birthmother. Sure, there are things that might be nice to know- do I look like her? Does she have any medical history that I should be aware of? Are there any character flaws that might have been passed down that I should be aware of?
But do I want her in my life as a mother-figure?
Most definitely not.
That may seem strange to some of you, and I understand. But when it comes to mothers, I lack nothing. I have one- well, now I have two…
And I’m not looking for someone to fill that void- because there isn’t one.
I have the most precious memories of my sweet mama tenderly nursing me through the stomach bug as a child, praying with me as a lost and lonely teenager, and patiently listening to my mommy-frustrations on the phone as an adult. My mom has never seemed like a stranger, never treated me like I was anything but her child. I came to her when she needed me most, and now she does the same for me.
I always felt special because I knew how badly my parents wanted a child. They cried and begged and prayed for 7 long years, and when the Lord finally answered their prayers, it was with me.
And that is so incredibly humbling.
It’s amazing to look back at pictures of the day they brought me home- their faces beaming with pure joy.
And I hear the hesitation now in my mother’s voice when she asks me on the phone, “Callie, will you one day try to find her?”
I know the mountain of insecurity that she bravely tries to hide, and I can imagine the painful sting that one insensitive word could cause her.
But she will never have to barter for my love. No one will ever steal my heart from her. She is my mama, and I love her from the depths of the sea- to the heights of the heavens. I’m not looking for another home- my home is wherever she is.
And I’m so thankful that God chose her to play the role of Callie’s mom.
As I get older, I also see how beautiful my earthly adoption is- as it reflects my heavenly one.
I look back at those old pictures- at my daddy’s smiling face, and I see how much he loved me. I see the joy he found in calling me his. I wasn’t just any baby- I was his.
I read 1 John 3:1 , “See what kind of love the Father has given to us, that we should be called children of God; and so we are.”
Does it take your breath away as it does mine? The delight that my daddy felt as he held me in his arms for the first time was nothing- it was obsolete, compared to the love that my heavenly Father has for me! He calls me His, and so I am! And you are also, dear friend.
When I think about that lady in the restaurant telling my mama that my baby- who is of no blood relation to her- looks just like her, it doesn’t come as a surprise to me! Apart from my husband, my mama knows me better than anyone else in this world. She played a monumental role in shaping me into the person that I am today. I catch myself saying things that she says, and moving in the same ways that she moves. I catch myself thinking like her. From the way that I make up lyrics to songs when I don’t know the words, to the way that I reprimand my dawdling daughter, I am my mama’s child. It makes sense that I be like her, that after all these years, I would resemble her.
Thinking about the heavenly ramifications of this at times causes me to tremble. It gives me such hope for my future-
“Beloved, we are God’s children now, and what we will be has not yet appeared; but we know that when he appears we shall be like Him, because we shall see Him as He is.” (1 John 3:2)
I am His! I bear His resemblance, and the more I draw near to him (by reading His word, and coming before Him in prayer), the more I become like him!
The more He reveals Himself to me, the more alien I look to this world.
And yes, I am a country girl- born and raised. I am a farmer’s daughter. I grew up in the flatlands of the Delta, where the earth meets the sky- but I’ll tell you the truth, I feel every year that I belong there less and less.
And that’s okay…because,
My home is wherever He is.
I praise the God of grace,
I trust His truth and might
He calls me His, I call Him mine,
My God, my joy, my light
’Tis He Who saveth me,
And freely pardon gives
I love because
He loveth me,
I live because He lives!