The Teachable Moment

My husband and I are adopting. I don't talk about it much here on the blog because that's not what this particular blog is about. I enjoy reading other adoption blogs, and I've found a lot of helpful information by reading them and been encouraged by them too, but that's just not what I'm about in this space. 

But today, I'm "seizing the teachable moment" as some would say because I'm not very good at doing it in the actual moment.

A few weeks ago, a very sweet lady approached my husband and me to ask how the adoption was going or if we'd had any news and what the process was going to look like. This has become pretty standard fare, and most of the time, I think I'm used to it. And despite the fact that I've had people asking me why we don't just have "our own kids" or telling me they're praying that God "opens my womb", I've discovered that I have not yet heard it all. Because as we were sitting there answering the same old questions about how nothing new has happened, this sweet lady asked if we were just determined to "wait for a black one". 

And I just can't seem to let this one go. I've learned in this process that no matter how prepared I think I am for crazy comments like those, I never actually am ready for them, and, as I mentioned earlier, I'm not good at seizing the teachable moment to educate those well-meaning but utterly-misled people who assume things like we're adopting from Africa simply because the children are black there. I'm usually just trying to recover from the absolute shock that I actually heard something worse than the last time and make it through the conversation without falling over.

Because the color of a child's skin is not the point.

It has never been the point.

It will never be the point.

We're not adopting from Ethiopia because we want a black baby. 

We're not adopting because my womb is closed. 

We don't see a difference between "our adopted kids" and "our own kids". 

If God blesses us with children who are black, white, red, yellow, or polka-dotted, we will love them and we will claim them as our own. All of them. I really don't care if my children come from my body or from some other woman's body; if God puts them in our family, we will cherish them. End of story. If God doesn't give us any children ever for the rest of our lives on this earth, we will still love God and each other and be thankful for the lives He's abundantly blessed us with. That's it.

We're not the best at it, but we're trying to live in obedience to God's will for our lives and our family. And we believe with all our hearts that adoption is part of His will for this family. 

Right now, that looks like adoption from Ethiopia. In the future, it might look like adoption from foster care. Or adoption from India. Or adoption from China. Or adoption from outer space, if the need arises.

So please, if you know someone going through what seems like a very long and complicated process of adoption that doesn't make sense to you when you think they should just get pregnant and make a family the normal way, don't assume that they can't get pregnant. Don't assume they're adopting just because they want their family to look a certain way. Just love them, pray for them, believe they're doing what's best for their family, and hug them tight every once in a while when it seems like the wait will never ever end.

It's really as simple as that.

"Take heed that you do not despise one of these little ones, for I say to you that in heaven their angels always see the face of My Father who is in heaven."

~ Matthew 18:10 ~