After speaking about our adoption at chapel recently, a
woman came up to me and said, “I’m struck by how generous a thing it is that
you and your husband are adopting this child. It’s just such a generous thing
to do.”
I know this comment was meant as a compliment, but ask any
adoptive parent and we will tell you that “generosity” makes us feel like
martyrs, and adopting a child is something else entirely.
There’s no moment in time when Aaron and I heard the voice
of God telling us to adopt or just knew deep in our hearts that it was what we
wanted or needed to do. I suppose it started as a long process of realizing
that the world is broken, that there are millions of children without families
all around the world, and that our family of four had love and resources enough
to be a family of five.
Our Christian faith motivates us to stretch outside our tidy
lives and care in radical ways for the world around us. We try to make sure
each act of our living honors humankind and the natural world, and when we knew
that we really wanted three children, we realized that we could add to our
family by adopting a child who was already in the world—a child who had no
family. We could BE family for that child.
Having grown up in an adoptive family myself, I already knew
that we’re not family to each other because of some genetic or blood
connection, but being someone’s mama or sister is about intentionality, about
shared experiences, and about a deep sense of community. My sister, who happens
to be adopted, is as much an Eklund as I am. We share a common sense of humor,
shared history, and a deep love for each other. Her story is her own, and I’d
never want to minimize her history or tell you that somehow it’s not important,
because it’s very important. But perhaps just as important are the almost three
decades that she’s been in our family, the way we are all knit together as if
we were blood-related, and the fact that family is about choice and commitment
most of all.
I can’t speak for Aaron, so I won’t, but for me, the love I
have for my sister is a huge part of why I wanted to start this journey of
international adoption. It’s not about generosity, although perhaps it is
somewhat about living intentionally, about letting our family reflect our values
of inclusivity, community and a sort of counter-culture living.
But we also anticipate (perhaps selfishly) the gift that
Matthew will be to all of us—the way he will change and shape us, make us more
patient and loving, teach us how to love him and each other even better than we
already do.
A recent UNICEF study estimated that there are 132 million
orphans in the world right now. That’s 132,000,000 children who have no parents
or family members to care for them. That’s an astounding number to me, a number
that leaves me feeling helpless and small.
But just as I can’t solve the problems of global pollution
or consumption but I can recycle and live gently and use fewer resources, so
too our family can have a third child not through birth but through adoption,
lowering that ghastly statistic by one child, one special child, our son
Matthew.
Who also comes home to all of you, by the way—his extended
family and community—who have supported us through the journey of the past many
months, and who wait with us to welcome this boy home. And for this, we are so
very thankful.
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| Here is Matthew at 16 months in his orphanage, with a little friend at his side. |
