I just learned today is World Adoption Day. I shouldn't be surprised. Today I sat at the table with a divine friend. We went deep. Conversations that covered current political climates, life and love of family, the absences of parents, and adoption. It was raw, and pure, and beautiful in its brokenness. There was peace embedded in the love of feeling safe with someone who holds the line with you...and there was Jesus at the heart of it all.
Two weeks ago someone told me that I wasn't 'really' adopted. My adoption is different, I know that. I was not orphaned, but I was abandoned. My father left me. Gave me away. Signed away his rights. There is no way to explain how it felt to read the letter that validated his request to no longer be my father. That's a void I've carried my entire life.
I'm told that I am lucky I have a dad who "chose" me. A man who willingly stepped in to be my dad. May I ask, how can anyone fill those shoes? Doesn't every little girl long for the love of their father? Maybe we got it all wrong. Instead of asking my dad to fill my father's shoes, we should have thrown the fucking shoes away and tried a different pair? I never gave my dad a chance. I was too busy chasing after the man who forgot his shoes.
It's ironic, you know, my father died 15 years ago. I have one single shoe of his from the time of his death. His 4th fiancé kept the matching pair. I vaguely remember her, she played a small cameo in his life. My relationship with my father was reduced to a small wooden box of items from his death and old photo albums of a man and a toddler...two people I never really knew.
I'm told my father loved me. That he loved me more than he could ever show me. I don't buy that. That's an excuse, a feel good, a remedy for the void. It's bullshit. Love doesn't create fear. Love doesn't foster doubt. Love is not a synonym for pain. I do think he wanted to love me. I do believe he even tried, at times. His battle with darkness held him hostage, and all his energy went to simply trying to survive.
Maybe he did me a favor by giving me away, providing me a better opportunity, but the pain remained. Last year I asked my dad to meet me for dinner. Sitting across from this man who provided me a childhood, I asked for his forgiveness as I never gave him a chance to really be my dad. As my father spent all his energy chasing vehicles of addiction, I chased after him leaving my dad behind.
Today is a beautiful day. I was adopted when I was 9 years old. Almost 30 years later I continue to heal. I know the love of God the Father, Jesus, and I am loved by my dad. I also know the peace of forgiveness. I'm healed by faith through grace. I'll share more on that another day. Today, I offer a voice to a child who was, in her own way, adopted.
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