Being Adopted Means Someone Picked You

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Status: In Progress  |  Genre: Non-Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic


My mind has wandered all over today. I spent a lot of it thinking about how lucky I was to have had such loving foster parents.
 
My sister and I had come from an abusive home to the orphanage. My sister was very, very close to Daddy. The first time they came to the orphanage, my sister bounced into his lap and hugged his neck. I was mesmerized by the beauty and kindness in Mamma's face. I reflected back on growing up with a Daddy every little girl should have had. We got valentines and a pure sense of how a man should treat the women he loved. He never stopped courting Mamma.
 
My cousins were Mike, the oldest, Timothy the one in the middle and Tina a girl one year younger than me.  My sister and I always spent Thanksgiving at my aunt's house.  All the Thanksgiving pictures were of my sister, the youngest, Tina, (a year older than my sister), and me.  I was the tallest and the oldest.  Most pictures showed all three girls with Tina in the middle.  We were like stair steps in height and age.  We always dressed alike throughout the holidays.  We were also all blonde.  When we went to church no one could tell which kid belonged to which group of parents.  It did not matter, we all were gathered around our grandmother.  She ruled our universe.
 
I was also the biggest protector of all things animal.  I loved going to my cousin's house in the country because they had animals we didn't get to play with in the city.  They had a big milk cow that I dearly loved.  They had chickens and got fresh eggs for breakfast every day.
 
 One thing that is important to say is that all the kids in our family were adopted.  We all knew we were adopted.  We knew what being chosen meant.  It made you special.
 
My cousins had all been adopted separately.  Mike was adopted first, then Timothy, and Tina was adopted last.  All were also adopted as babies.  The one thing that brought some confusion to me was that I had learned in Sunday school that all children are gifts from God.  I had also been told by another girl on the playground that storks brought babies.  One little boy had corrected her by saying that babies came from New Jersey.  That made no sense at all since I had never heard of an Old Jersey.  He went on to say that is where his pop told him his brother came from.  He had tried for a long time to find out where New Jersey was, so he could send his little sister back.  It seems she screams then everyone scatters.  The little boy thought it was a good idea.  It seems his mother had twins so keeping the boy was a good idea.  It was as good as sending the little girl back to New Jersey.  I had decided to present the question to my Grandmother.
 
That Sunday afternoon after our noon meal and things had quieted down I presented the question to my Grandmother.  Her answer made sense.  She said that all children are a gift from God, and they go through us for our loving.  Some do not get to stay in this world very long because they are so pure their presence is all that is needed to bring humility and love to those who need it most.  Those who stay here a short time leave behind the most love.  We are all made in God's image.  Meaning all of God's qualities are a part of us.  Some of us are here to help others find their way home to the father.  Some are here to light a path, or inspire new paths for others.  We all have purpose.
 
"Then why was I born into one family and then adopted by another"?  I was still not sure about how all the kids in our family ended up with our respective foster parents.
 
"Your birth was so special because the love within you was needed by both families.  You were supposed to be with your mommy and daddy now."  She turned my face, so I could study the people in the room.  "Have you not noticed how much you look alike" ?  Grandmother put her arms around me and gave me a big hug." You belong to us, we picked you, but God picked you for us first."
 
I looked around the room and really studied the kids and my aunt and uncle.  I looked at my sister and was amazed, she had hands like my daddy.  They were small, but the shape of the fingers was exactly the same.  I could not believe how much Mike looked like his father, my uncle.  Tina had facial mannerisms like Grandmother and the same chin and eyes as her mother, my aunt.  I was also amazed that Timothy, the only red head in the family (except Grandmother), looked like both his mother and father.  We always joked that he got his hair from Grandmother.  When she grinned at me, it was his smile.  I found several similarities between child and parents all throughout our family.  Grandmother's answer satisfied me.
 
I think back about the time when I was a young adult and worked at a department store in the suburbs.  My mommy was working at the downtown store of the same company.  I had a customer come in one day and ask if I had a mother or aunt that worked at the downtown store.  She knew because we looked so much alike.
 
Children are all gifts from God and come through us for our loving.  It makes sense.  When you look for the purest form of God's love you will find a child smiling back at you.  That love pulls on your heartstrings just enough to make you, automatically, smile back.


Submitted: June 19, 2021

© Copyright 2021 Texasjane. All rights reserved.

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