During my quietest moments, when I take time to examine my
life’s events, I draw conclusions about God and my faith that not only help
empower my coping skills, but also allow me the luxury of imagining I have it
all figured out. However, as soon
as I re-enter the world I share with my fellow human beings, I realize I am no
closer to knowing all the solutions to the world’s problems than I was when I
first considered them.
I harbor no
secret knowledge that explains the pain and loss that so many people face in
life. And, truth be told, no one
else does, either. All any of us
can do is hold fast to our personal beliefs and faith in an effort to experience
that “peace that passes all understanding”. As Brandan Robertson so eloquently stated in his blog, “The
Revangelical Blog”,
“I do, in fact, believe that God exists. And of that, I am pretty darn certain. But I also recognize that I could very well be wrong. I
recognize that I cannot prove the existence of God and cannot absolutely know that there is a God. What I do know
is that I experience something that I call God, I have found hope in something
I call Jesus, and therefore I believe and have faith in the religion that bears
his name. But it's just that- faith.
It's not certain. It's not provable. It's a mystery. And in humility, the
Church of the ages has confessed just that- our faith is a mystery. And because it's a mystery, there is always a possibility that we could be wrong.”
When I first
set out to write this piece, I thought about telling you the stories that
accompanied our adoptions: all the “coincidences” and “signs” we encountered
along the way. And, while I have
always attributed these incidents as answers to prayers and God’s manner of
helping us find our way during a somewhat confusing and emotional time, the
cynic in me also recognizes that these events, while certainly unusual, may
just simply be twists of fate that our heightened sense of awareness picked up
on as we navigated the unchartered waters of bringing a child from another
country into our family.
My faith in God and hope in Jesus have a very difficult time
reconciling the fact that my greatest joy – adopting my babies – was also
someone else’s greatest pain. And,
since I too, have lost a child, my heart breaks for those women who made the
unbearable decision to leave their babies at a hospital, hoping against all
hope that someone, somewhere, will love them as her own flesh and blood.
Has adoption changed me spiritually, and, if so, how?
I discovered church at an early age. Many of my early memories include
Easter Mass with my cousins, Bible school in the summer, and Sunday morning coffee
and doughnuts in the church basement.
After my parents divorced and we moved to the South, my mom allowed me
to ride the local Baptist Church bus on Sunday mornings. On these rides my friends and I sang
catchy Bible tunes such as, “This Little Light of Mine”, “I’ve Got the Joy, Joy,
Joy, Joy Down in my Heart”, “Deep and Wide”, and “Jesus Loves Me”. In middle school I attended youth group
meetings and social gatherings like hay rides, car washes, and church
lock-ins. In high school I further
reinforced my spiritual identity by joining Christian fellowship clubs, one of
which I was president of my senior year.
My classmates even voted for me as class chaplain all three years of
high school.
And then I went off to college and learned that there are
other ways to express one’s faith in a Higher Being. I met friends from many different religions – and some from
no religion. I opened my mind to
the idea that maybe, just maybe, God isn’t one-size-fits-all.
As I bumbled through life, sometimes making mistakes,
sometimes making a good choice or two, I learned about beauty and joy and
sorrow and misery. I also matured
in my spiritual beliefs. Oh, I had
doubts – still do, in fact. When
my son died? I questioned a God
who would allow such tragedy to strike the very beings He created. A year later, when I suffered a
late-term miscarriage, I embarked on a six-month long pity party with God as my
punching bag. What did I do to deserve such misfortune? Finally, when we decided to adopt, I proclaimed that God was
smiling on me once again. My joy
was two-fold when I learned I was also pregnant. Suddenly I was back in God’s favor, I promised to trust Him
and stop questioning His existence.
Until one day a friend of mine called and I told her about
our adoption plans. “Oh, how
wonderful for you,” she told me. I
sensed a hesitation in her voice, though, and I asked her what was bothering
her.
“Well,” she began, “It’s just that when I was sixteen I gave
a baby boy up for adoption.”
Oh.
And just like that, it hit me: I owed my impending joy to someone else’s excruciating
heartbreak.
So, after many, many years of learning about my culture’s religion
followed by my personal “epiphanies”, I reached another fork in my spiritual
road. How do I reconcile my belief
in a Higher Being who looks out for His children with the fact that, despite
our earnest and heart-felt prayers many human beings suffer great despair and
agony on a daily basis?
I don’t.
Instead of looking at God as some sort of magician – one who gives us
what we ask for as long as we possess the correct formula for asking – I have
come to recognize God in a very different way. Remember when Jesus told his disciples that “whenever you
see the least of these, there you will find me, too”? I believe that He was telling us that God dwells within each
of us. He is the common thread
that binds all of humanity. God is
not some supernatural power who only looks after those who are lucky enough to find
the magic phrases in which to invoke His goodness and blessings. God is found whenever you look within
yourself and find love, compassion, and empathy for others. God is that little voice you hear that
tells you to hold the door open for the person behind you. God is the touch of emotion you feel
when you see a child with dirt on her face. God is the conviction you get when you know there are people
in your community who won’t have a big, fabulous Christmas feast unless someone
– namely, you – finds the time and energy to commit to preparing a meal for
them. And God is the hope that when
you face insurmountable obstacles in your life someone else will step in and
help ease your burden just a bit.
God is the hope that collectively we humans will find a way to put an
end to hunger and poverty and war.
God is the hope that families will come together – whether they be here
in the United States or halfway across the world on another continent – and
love children enough to help provide loving homes for them when their
situations seem hopeless. And, God
is the love that binds our families together and reminds us to never judge or
elevate ourselves above others simply because we were born into more fortunate
circumstances than others.
God is love.
........................................................................................................................................
God is love.
........................................................................................................................................
Dawn Sticklen lives in Joplin, MO with her husband and four children, two of whom are adopted from Russia. She writes the blog, 'Since You Asked...', where she hopes to make the world a better place, one blog post at a time
Dawn
Sticklen lives in Joplin, MO with her husband and four children, two of
whom are adopted from Russia. She writes the blog, 'Since You Asked...', where she hopes to make the world a better place, one blog post at a time.
Dawn
Sticklen lives in Joplin, MO with her husband and four children, two of
whom are adopted from Russia. She writes the blog, 'Since You Asked...', where she hopes to make the world a better place, one blog post at a time.
Beautifully written Dawn. I always thank God for our birthmothers. I know in the happiest day of my life, it was the saddest of 2 mothers. Thank you for sharing!!!!
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