My co-worker/friend's dad passed away yesterday.
She found out at work.
She ran to my office and cried. I rubbed her back and whispered prayers of comfort.
Her dad is gone.
He has the hope of Jesus and I know he's in heaven. That gives her great comfort.
What will happen when my parents leave this earth? My family? My friends?
How will I react? Will I feel peace, knowing that I loved them ferociously, that I did everything I could to create a strong and unique relationship with them? Will they know the depth of Jesus' love for them?
I pray all of this.
I pray that for all of my family and friends.
Therefore go and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit,
Matthew 28:19
Tuesday, September 22, 2015
Friday, September 11, 2015
Reunion
About 5 years ago I blogged about a stranger, a woman who made a huge impact in my life - my sister's birth mother.
A few weeks ago my sister confided in me that she was looking for her and was pretty sure she'd found her. I was thrilled for her. It's something she's grappled at for years. She's been angry, she's been sad, she's been frustrated, she's been ambivalent... and at the center of all that. She's been hurt.
I don't blame her. That's a lot to digest.
Her adoption was never a secret in our home. My mother would often say that J was a gift. That she didn't grow in her tummy, but in her heart - where it mattered most. My parents applied for adoption at the beginning of 1978 and 9 months later, they got a call that a baby girl with dark hair and chubby cheeks was ready to come home. They set her in a wrapped box under the tree that Christmas.
This might be why "blood" means nothing to me.
J is my sister. She's the only thing I've known. She's mine and I'm hers.
We had each other's back during our childhood.
And still today. And always.
So today, as I wade through my feelings (there are many), I find myself genuinely excited for this new relationship she is forming. I am very aware that my little family world could and will change, but I am not scared. God works ALL things for the good of those who love Him and I know He's got this journey and I know He loves me and my family.
J's birth mom did one of the most selfless things imaginable. Her heartache 37 years ago is nothing I could ever understand. I am forever thankful to her and I love her heart.
A few weeks ago my sister confided in me that she was looking for her and was pretty sure she'd found her. I was thrilled for her. It's something she's grappled at for years. She's been angry, she's been sad, she's been frustrated, she's been ambivalent... and at the center of all that. She's been hurt.
I don't blame her. That's a lot to digest.
Her adoption was never a secret in our home. My mother would often say that J was a gift. That she didn't grow in her tummy, but in her heart - where it mattered most. My parents applied for adoption at the beginning of 1978 and 9 months later, they got a call that a baby girl with dark hair and chubby cheeks was ready to come home. They set her in a wrapped box under the tree that Christmas.
This might be why "blood" means nothing to me.
J is my sister. She's the only thing I've known. She's mine and I'm hers.
We had each other's back during our childhood.
And still today. And always.
So today, as I wade through my feelings (there are many), I find myself genuinely excited for this new relationship she is forming. I am very aware that my little family world could and will change, but I am not scared. God works ALL things for the good of those who love Him and I know He's got this journey and I know He loves me and my family.
J's birth mom did one of the most selfless things imaginable. Her heartache 37 years ago is nothing I could ever understand. I am forever thankful to her and I love her heart.
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