July 11, 2013
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It’s Happening.
I’m turning into my parents. You see. All growing up, to the day, ANY time my parents see a…white family with brown kids, especially Indian kids. They are there asking questions faster than a fat kid gets to cake when he sees it. They eat it up. Where are they from? Oh, we have two girls from India and the next you know it they’re swapping social security numbers (ok, not that far). You get the idea.
(A lot of the below is rambling but this is more so for my records but it’s a good story, if you feel like reading.)
When softball games are at 6:15, I go straight to the field after work. It’s more convenient. Anyway, I was sitting in my car working on the church announcements. Yes, I brought my computer to do work because I knew I’d have a little down time. Well it was around 5:45 and I saw some little kids on the softball field and the mom was sitting in the truck watching those kids and her other child at football. I thought, hey, I’ll walk over there and maybe play with them (knowing in a weird way the mom would show up a little protective like…any mother would). The kids were all about my nephews age. I went over, sat my stuff down in the dug out, then went and sat in the grass. The mom came strolling by as I thought and I heard her talking to the kids about their slushies in the dugout. For whatever reason, I decided to walk in and strike up a conversation. The kids (3 boys) were obviously adopted…or there was that small chance her husband was not white. The other kid playing football was white, so I played my odds. Yes, this was all in my thought process before finally mustering up the courage to ask.
I like my embarrassing parents always do…I asked. Are they adopted? Which struck up one crazy God-ordained-not-coincedental conversations. She was a little hesitant at first to say something so I added, I was adopted that’s why I ask. She said she was fascinated by stories like this and wel, it began. I practically shared my entire testimony. This lady was in tears. I shared about the abortions my birth mom tried to have/perform, shared about my parents mindset of adopting Lydia and “doing the math” about how old they’d be when she graduated HS etc (this lady was obviously a little older adopting 3 kids who were younger, which is why I added that), how family isn’t defined by blood and even told her about ArtPrize. It was an absolutely insane conversation. She kept sharing parts of her story and her struggles with this adoption throughout my sharing – it was such a seemless conversation. Through her tears she kept saying, “You’re my angel today. I needed this conversation.” She also made a comment my mom has recently been saying to me and I don’t say this to brag but I appreciated it, “How did you get so wise? You’re too young to have this kind of wisdom.” It was incredible to see her touched by the story God has given me. I mean really incredible. From what I can gather, this women was a believer but sharing His story with a complete stranger was reassuring yet again. I’m humbled that it really touched her. She’s a little older (45ish) and is getting a lot of push back from her family for wanting to adopt these kids. The adoption is finalized this week and the kids are in foster care with her right now.
The whole conversation was just good. God is good and was able to see a complete strange touched by the ArtPrize piece. That was encouraging for me.
Two posts in one day. It’s about time to do some devos and head to bed.
