On Having an Adoptive Mother's Heart

In our house, we have a lot of kitchen counter conversations. The kind where you pull anything edible – a jar of pickles, a cheeseball, crackers, chocolate, summer sausage and a fruit tray – out of the fridge, and stand there, at the counter, in a messy kitchen, snacking while you solve the world’s problems. I’m a pro at those by now. Anyone else?

A few years ago, a dear friend stood at that counter with me (eating those very snacks) and her words helped shape why I write. Why I keep showing up here.

With a full belly, I confessed. “I’m not sure what my message is. What do I have to share? There are so many other people already writing good things.”

And although I was unsure, she was confident. “That’s easy. You’ve got an adoptive mother’s heart.”

Hearing it out loud, felt like relief. Yes. Connecting people. Encouraging them to see their gifts. To know that there is a place and a purpose for them. To make space for them. To make a space for you, right here. It’s what I’ve been called to.

I’ve kept two pieces of paper for many, many years. One is a note handed to me, when I was just 18, by a child in Haiti, looking for an adoptive mama. (You can see it in the video linked below.) It’s what started me on this path, and how God revealed what would become my life message, although it wasn’t a terribly straightforward road

The other is a typewritten sheet that says “I will keep telling you that you are important, deserving, loving, intelligent, worthy, compassionate, beautiful, creative, inspiring, brave, true, strong, and able until you finally realize it for yourself.” I don’t know who wrote those words, but I wish I could thank them.

Those two pieces of paper have outlined my calling. To choose to have an Adoptive Mama heart. A heart that says, “there is a place for you here, and I will fight for you to have it. I will help you know your new identity, so that you can find your inheritance.”

There are a group of children classified as Unadoptable. I hate, hate, hate that classification. I think too many of us believe that is true about ourselves. Unwanted, unimportant, too difficult to make room for, without an advocate. It’s not okay for a child to hear that message, and it’s not okay for you to believe it either. Friend, if you’ve joined me here once or 100 times, I pray you’ve heard this truth in some small way.

And it’s such a reflection of God’s heart, for you. He planned to adopt you into His family, long, long before you were ever born. If you call Him Father, you have a place at His table, a new identity, and an inheritance that you can’t imagine. That’s why I write. It’s for you, because my Adoptive Mama-heart aches for you to know these things, and believe them.

If I could, I’d hold a kitchen counter party for you too. And, there’d be a big hug, if you like hugs. Instead, I just get to write a bit, and share with you at conferences.

It’s amazing that I also got to be a real-life Mama through adoption, 18 years after being handed that note. I didn’t know it would be the ultimate example of learning to extend my heart, home and table – imperfectly, when it requires crazy flexibility, when there is a cost, and even when it sometimes hurts deep – through words and practice. And it’s hard, because I’m just so imperfect.

Here’s a video that shares a little of my heart. Please forgive my tears – this is so tender to me. (I still cry watching it. COME ON.)

And here’s the biggest gift of living this out: just this morning, I am watching our daughter learning and living this same calling. She has a bunch of unofficially adopted grandparents, and has no idea who is in our actual family, because they’re such good friends. By the time she was in Kindergarten, she’d learned to open our doors to others, knowing that there is a place for them in our home, where they will be safe, seen and secure.