Meeting my biological dad was one of the best things ever to happen in my life. Yet, I have been avoiding writing about this reunion.
When I was a kid, I said that bit (one of the best days) about being adopted. Everything else was compared to that day. I was a people pleaser in those days, and I wanted my new parents to be pleased with me. I wanted them to believe I liked life with them (even on the days I didn't) so that I could stay. Because I didn't want to be sent away again.
I am getting distracted. I am starting over.
It sucks. It disrupts what I believe and I am pushed on to a more accurate definition of who I am, why I am loved and how I am loved.
I believed life was rough. And I believed my life was too much work for my parents. I believed my life got in the way of their life.
I thought being saved from a rough situation saved my life from a similar story- the story of my biological parents, the story of teenage pregnancy. I believed that being second rate in my adopted home was better than the way my life could have been with single parents.
Now I am not so sure. But, I am not so sure that that matters to me anymore.
Now I know my father loves me, because I have experienced his love. I have experienced something that is impossible to describe. He loves me and now I know. He wants to bless me with good things. He makes time to connect with me. He enjoys my quirkiness, or at least seems. And for now, I am content to rest in that.
Sure, I feel uncomfortable. What does this mean for my adopted family? If God can restore these relationships with my biological family, can't he make those relationships better too?
Being connected to so many people makes me want to crawl in a hole and come out next year. It's a lot of work, but I know it's good for me.
And even this still seems sugar coated.
You know what? It really sucked when he left!
I was so depressed. WHy? I knew he needed to go back to his home, back to his work, his life. Was I scared to lose him again? Was it old loss being experienced again?
I don't really know what was going on. I was in a fog for a few weeks, lost, living moment by moment. I so much wanted to rejoice in the love I had experienced, so much wanted to rejoice in the new memories made and I didn't know how. All I felt was lost and confused. And I was ashamed that I would feel this way.
Finally, after a couple weeks, I told him. I shared my lost feelings and my confusion. And I felt better. And then, within the same day, we shared with one another, the same thoughts about all of it. The thoughts and ideas we had were based on waiting on the Lord. I had taken my hurt, my confusion, my lostness to the Lord. And he heard my cry. And my father confirmed my message from God with the same scripture God had put in my heart.
And the joy I experienced then and there is beyond description. God is good. All the time. All the time. God is good!