Saturday, July 14, 2018

Daddy... do you know my birthmother?


I never know when the questions might come from these three right here - but I know they exist - right there under the surface - looking for an opening to come out and get some insight.

And while I may not know when they're coming - I know they MATTER - so I have prayed for YEARS about them - asking God's words to flow through me when they do come.

And last night... they came.

We were driving - all in the van - and conversations about race, strength, all these goofballs had overcome in their lives already - gave the questions just the little crack they needed to come flooding out...


"Daddy... tell me again about how that police officer named me?"

Silence.

"Daddy... you okay?"

No. I mean yes... but no.

I couldn't talk from the lump in my throat and the single tear rolling down my cheek.

Meron saw it.

"Awww Daddy... it's okay..." she said.

Their stories are so hard. So raw. So real. So full of redemption, grace and His undying love.

They get me every single time.

But it didn't stop there...


"Daddy... what happened to my birth father? And how many Ethiopian brothers and sisters do I have?"

No pain in their voices - just curiosity.

More tears. I'm weak in this space.

I'll admit it... when the Holy Spirit is present - I find myself weeping.

And the Holy Spirit was all kinds of present.

Answers through tears... more discussions.

Some laughter. Some more tears.

Then a small voice from the far back seat of the van...


"Daddy... did you know MY birth mother?"

These kids are some of the strongest human beings I have ever, ever met.

Their stories are theirs and theirs alone - to share or not to share... at their pace. In their own time.

But I'll tell ya this... I'll never stop telling them how beautiful their stories are and how full of God's love they are.

Just HOW loved by their Creator that they are.

We pulled into the garage and the girls hopped out and headed in.

I saw Z-Dogg was moving slow while wiping his glasses and then I heard the sobs...

I snatched him up and hugged him and said:

"Bubba... what is it? You can tell me anything..."

And he whispered in my ears through deep, chest heaving sobs:

"I just wish I had gotten to know my brother Brighton."

Sigh.

More tears on my cheeks. Me too, Zechie... me too.

Adoption is beautiful. Like - to the core - beautiful.

But it ain't always easy.

I fully believe it's a redemption plan He built for a fallen world - so I lean on Him with full faith when these hard questions arise.

And I do my best to point to the beauty in the brokenness of it all.

2 comments:

cathy taggart said...

No words to express, but tears for the beauty of God's redemption in our fallen world. I love you guys! They are so blessed to have you as their dad.

Tewedaj said...

My heart is with you on this one Camp Hoffman.
The Lord does work in many mysterious ways!