“Adoption reflects all of our experience as the children of God: “See what great love the Father has lavished on us, that we should be called children of God! And that is what we are!” (1 John 3:1) It was His idea first, to welcome with delight, and cost, one that had been far off. ”
We had only seen pictures of her, but official documents said she was ours. Our daughter.
Jedd and I boarded the airline to Ethiopia to pick her up, to see the world she came from, and to bring her to our world. In our world, two eager girls, ages 5 and 3, waited to hold baby sister in their arms. Grandparents and aunts and uncles also waited. A whole church community eagerly anticipated. And one other traveler was with us, too, an unexpected companion, whose presence had made itself known almost two trimesters before, leaving my stomach still queasy when I encountered new smells.
Two years prior, Jedd and I had sat at the kitchen table together, exploring a familiar conversation. We desired more children. Should we try for another now? Only this time, we were not just talking about when. We were also talking about how: what about adoption?
Adoption was close to both of our hearts. My little brother was brought into my childhood home when I was 11. I remember jumping out of bed many times every night at the slightest cry so that I could gently hush him back to sleep. My adolescent heart was devoted to him. Adoption was childhood sweetness for me. Jedd’s heart had become inclined toward adoption after an encounter at an orphanage that exposed him to what life outside of a family can look like for a child: severe deprivation and lack of human relationship that seemed to strip children of their humanity. These children had learned the saddest lesson of all, that their tears would not bring someone to comfort them. These experiences nudged us to adopt.
Most significantly, our faith journeys began before our first memories, rooted from the start in confidence in a tender Father who invites us to become His very own, adopted children of God. We knew we were sought after, brought in, and then gently nudged to become like Himself and His Son, taking on Family traits, developing a love for the things Father loves. Adoption reflects all of our experience as the children of God: “See what great love the Father has lavished on us, that we should be called children of God! And that is what we are!” (1 John 3:1) It was His idea first, to welcome with delight, and cost, one that had been far off. The good news, God’s redemption and nearness, looks like adoption. This is our first motivator. As welcomed ones, we welcome. In our case, such love steered us to welcome through adoption.
I had envisioned elaborately wrapping my Ethiopian baby so that I could carry her on my chest. It would be my attempt to make up for what she’d lacked during those critical early months of her life. The perfect wrap, just for her, was my first purchase. It represented hopeful love.
But the first expression of adoptive love that God asked of us was actually grieving love. We were matched with a frail beauty whose diminutive size and weight shocked us. She was seven months old but only weighed 5 pounds. The pictures showed it. Only the least revealing of those images did we show to our girls. We celebrated and we worried. We named her Ayana Rachel.
And then we got the phone call. Our adoption agency asked that Jedd return home from work mid-day so that they could speak to us together. Ayana had passed away suddenly. It was pneumonia and it happened in a blink.
We did not know that parent love could be felt so much for a child we had not met. But we ached over this one that our arms had not - and would not - hold. Loyal love took root, as we became acquainted with mourning. She was ours to grieve and remember. We were a mother and a father, broken over a baby who died an orphan on paper.
Many months later, more pictures were sent our way. Another beauty. The images revealed a tender one, an eye-seeking (and heart-seeking) little cuddler. We would travel to Ethiopia for her, and her name would match our own before our eyes locked. Eden Renee Meskerem Medefind.
In our first glimpse, Eden sat upright and fast asleep, secured with a seat-belt just like an adult in the front seat of a jeep. Her head was tilted peacefully and her belly was round with health. Jedd lifted her, sleepy-eyed, into his arms and she gave him an unforgettable lingering look. It felt like trust, and it surprised us. So warm and willing, she disarmed us.
The decision to step right back into the adoption process after losing Ayana was born of an unflagging desire to grow our family through adoption. When my belly had begun to stretch with unanticipated life within, such news demanded further decision-making. Prudence suggested putting adoption on hold, waiting, at least a few years. But somehow it all felt more intimate than that. In my heart, we were matched. There was a little girl who was already ours, our paths moving inevitably toward one another. Jedd agreed.
It was determined love that then set out to welcome two babies within a few months of one another. My unbending commitment to carry on with a simultaneous adoption and pregnancy perhaps reflected overconfidence as well. But that would be duly tested in the months ahead.
“Love awakens welcome in our hearts. It enables choices that are costlier and much more beautiful than we would have chosen on our own...”
Upon arriving home from Ethiopia, I found my vision of wearing Eden on my chest everywhere I went was thwarted by my growing belly. Even feeding her a bottle was hard and holding her was uncomfortable. When baby Lincoln was born, hours were absorbed nursing the new babe, while Eden sat in the Pack ‘n Play or highchair.
It wasn’t how I imagined. Our world became much smaller, with a lower center of gravity. The carpet was the hub of life. On it, diapers were changed, first crawls coaxed, little books read, and first, tottering spins cheered. Life felt slower, too, with endless repetitions. We also sensed that greater intention and deliberateness were needed to stay close with many friends, especially as bonds, thicker than blood, were being forged.
Repetition trained us in faithfulness. The small spaces somehow made me more open, more desperate, for God’s ways to be my ways too. Certainly, I became more keenly aware of the gap between His thoughts, His lavish way, and my own.
Our family was formed by adoption. Welcoming our daughter changed the shape of our family, of course. But, for all seven of us, the most cherished formation has happened from the inside out as God has grown love, persistent and particular, one for another. And He has surprised us with further invitations to welcome.
More recently, a precious baby boy was brought into our home through foster care. Our five children welcomed him with such wholehearted eagerness. It reminded me of my 11-year-old self welcoming baby brother. Together, our hearts sang over this baby, despite the sleepless nights. That tiny life brought more Life to our family for the eight months we had him. My own heart melded with his teen mom, a young lady caught up in drug use, and now also caught up in all the complexity of motherhood. This was another generous invitation from the Lord to me - to long for good for my foster son’s mother. She worked so hard to be able to mother him again. The day we said goodbye was a muddle of ache over losing him and soaring pride for her.
My littlest, just 4 years old at the time, who had guarded her foster brother night and day with her love, perhaps ached the most. It was also in her that we saw the fullest expression of how love transforms. Giving herself to him with uncalculating and lavish love, our baby girl became a caretaker of another soul. She became something she was not before: her heart woke to generous, tender loving.
Such transformation, l think, showcases the full effect of our Father’s welcome: love awakens welcome in our hearts. It enables choices that are costlier and much more beautiful than we would have chosen on our own, spilling outward from there.
Rachel Medefind is mother and educator for her five children, and has welcomed children through birth, adoption, and foster care. She is privileged to journey alongside her husband, Jedd, in the work of the Christian Alliance for Orphans.
You're invited into community • On Nov. 10, Orphan Sunday, our church family hosted a lunch and panel discussion on adoption and foster care. For more information on how you can be involved in these efforts, email Ann Thompson.