My last post was heavy--it dealt with adoption. I felt much better after writing that post. For me, blogging isn't about trying to save the world, sell a product or build an audience so I can launch a book. (All of those are great things if it's what you're doing. It's just not my road). I blog as a form of expression. I feel things deeply and by using words I can let the feelings go. If someone happens to read these words and be blessed by them, that much the better.
On a side note I have found Christian Yoga on You Tube. I'm not great at being still. Yoga is a challenge for me, but when I do it I can tell I'm more relaxed and not as quick to snap at my family.
I enjoy coffee, but it needs to be jazzed up a bit. My husband is a coffee purist. He likes his coffee black. I like flavors with a little cream and sugar. Granted, I don't use much cream or sugar but I like a bit.
The other day I ran out of coffee and thought I would try something new. I chose a cinnamon flavor with a hint of churros. What was I thinking? I like churros but I don't want them in my coffee. It tasted not great. Oh well.
Every once and a while I get to go to HEB which I love. There was a "mystery flavor" bag that was a dollar and some change. I got it and am really enjoying whatever it is. I think it would be a fun game for them to put the answer of what I'm actually drinking at the bottom of the bag where I'll see it, but to date I have no idea what the mystery flavor is. I don't think it's churros because I'm really liking it.
I'll just like it happily and move on.
Tuesday, April 10, 2018
Thursday, April 5, 2018
Stirrings from adoption
As a baby I was adopted. I grew up knowing and I will give my parents credit for raising me with a good sense of who I was as an adopted person. At about 5 I asked if my mom had nursed me because I heard on the news that children who had been nursed were better athletes. She told me in simple terms that she had not because I had been adopted. I remember she recorded an episode of Sesame Street that talked about adoption. I accepted that they chose me out of love.
But somehow I decided my birth mother had rejected me. I now know it's common for adopted children to feel separation anxiety and on my own, I can go down that path.
In junior high I chose to give my whole heart to Jesus and give up my insecurities about my adoption. The thing about that is I have to revisit that decision from time to time, even as an adult. Around that time I chose to forgive my birth mother. I had no contact with her but in my heart I chose to let go of the disappointment I felt at being giving away and chose to feel thankful instead. One of the best decisions I've ever made. (Small bunny trail--I made that decision at youth camp during an altar call. Had I not been at that camp I don't know that I would have addressed that pivotal issue in my life. Thank goodness for youth camp). A few years ago my birth mother contacted me. I sent her a picture and letter telling her to be at peace--God blessed my life with my parents and I'm thankful for all the amazing opportunities I have.
A close friend is going down the international adoption process. While talking to her the other day I was reminded that when my parents filled out their paperwork they had to fill out if they would take a redhead, native American or Afro-American baby. (My mom told me this). Being an optimist, I like to think it was so that the parents could choose if they and their adopted child would constantly not have to answer the question of "Where did your red hair come from?" like I did since I'm a redhead and no one else in my immediate family is. My mom used to tell people her aunts and grandma were redheads and she and my dad wisely coached me to say "It came with my head."
But even still, at 39, when I see a redheaded woman on TV I'll ask my husband if I look like her. He's learned to say something kind like "a little, but you're more beautiful." Awww. My sons look like me in their eye shape but aren't redheads which is fine. I've known many redheads and we all seem to have high emotions. A house full of highly emotional people would be exhausting.
At the core of this issue (which is why I'm blogging about it--to put a name on it, grieve over it and release it--) is the issue of worth. Life is sacred. It's created by God. My parents were gracious, loving people who chose to open their home to a baby girl who needed a family. They didn't specify that the baby look just like them. They accepted a redhead, loved her and raised her as their own.
It's amazing that love can be that big. I am in awe that my friend feels called to adopt a child when she already has others. I don't feel called to more children; my own challenge me daily. I'm having to remind myself that God called me to my road, not hers. I'm to raise my boys, be a loving and faithful wife, and honor God in all my other responsibilities as well. This is my path. And accept that I'm loved and enough. I don't have to earn my worth in God's eyes. Being me is all I'm called to be.
I have a children's music collection and I was playing through it the other day. Kermit's "It Ain't Easy Bein' Green" touched me. I've never really liked it before, but it's about contentment. It made me feel a little better that Kermit struggles with the same issue and I'm not even green.
But somehow I decided my birth mother had rejected me. I now know it's common for adopted children to feel separation anxiety and on my own, I can go down that path.
In junior high I chose to give my whole heart to Jesus and give up my insecurities about my adoption. The thing about that is I have to revisit that decision from time to time, even as an adult. Around that time I chose to forgive my birth mother. I had no contact with her but in my heart I chose to let go of the disappointment I felt at being giving away and chose to feel thankful instead. One of the best decisions I've ever made. (Small bunny trail--I made that decision at youth camp during an altar call. Had I not been at that camp I don't know that I would have addressed that pivotal issue in my life. Thank goodness for youth camp). A few years ago my birth mother contacted me. I sent her a picture and letter telling her to be at peace--God blessed my life with my parents and I'm thankful for all the amazing opportunities I have.
A close friend is going down the international adoption process. While talking to her the other day I was reminded that when my parents filled out their paperwork they had to fill out if they would take a redhead, native American or Afro-American baby. (My mom told me this). Being an optimist, I like to think it was so that the parents could choose if they and their adopted child would constantly not have to answer the question of "Where did your red hair come from?" like I did since I'm a redhead and no one else in my immediate family is. My mom used to tell people her aunts and grandma were redheads and she and my dad wisely coached me to say "It came with my head."
But even still, at 39, when I see a redheaded woman on TV I'll ask my husband if I look like her. He's learned to say something kind like "a little, but you're more beautiful." Awww. My sons look like me in their eye shape but aren't redheads which is fine. I've known many redheads and we all seem to have high emotions. A house full of highly emotional people would be exhausting.
At the core of this issue (which is why I'm blogging about it--to put a name on it, grieve over it and release it--) is the issue of worth. Life is sacred. It's created by God. My parents were gracious, loving people who chose to open their home to a baby girl who needed a family. They didn't specify that the baby look just like them. They accepted a redhead, loved her and raised her as their own.
It's amazing that love can be that big. I am in awe that my friend feels called to adopt a child when she already has others. I don't feel called to more children; my own challenge me daily. I'm having to remind myself that God called me to my road, not hers. I'm to raise my boys, be a loving and faithful wife, and honor God in all my other responsibilities as well. This is my path. And accept that I'm loved and enough. I don't have to earn my worth in God's eyes. Being me is all I'm called to be.
I have a children's music collection and I was playing through it the other day. Kermit's "It Ain't Easy Bein' Green" touched me. I've never really liked it before, but it's about contentment. It made me feel a little better that Kermit struggles with the same issue and I'm not even green.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)