Faith Like a …
Posted: July 15, 2009 at 11:15 pmA song on repeat.
They say that love can heal the broken
They say that hope can make you see
They say that faith can find a Savior
If you would follow and believe
With faith like a child
-Jars of Clay, “Like a Child”
I’m currently procrastinating the actual finishing of the packing process for our annual trip to church camp. I know, I know. The world laughs when I say such a thing, claiming that church camp is just for kids. I need ten days (eight days, this year) every year in which to get away from the hectic nature, the true chaos of the life in which I live. I need that week and some change to re-prioritize my life, to find my way back to the meaning of it all.
I don’t often talk about my faith. I don’t often find that I need to as, so rarely, do I call it into question anymore. It’s simply a part of my life, my being, my soul. I study my Bible. I attend Bible studies. I listen to Christian music. I don’t often think to write about these things because they’re just a part of what I do, who I am. I don’t write about my morning ritual of waking, going to the bathroom, staring in the mirror at yet another new zit and brushing my teeth before returning to my room to make the bed and read my devotional… because it’s all just second nature.
Recently, however, certain things have been weighing heavily on my heart. Not about my faith, exactly, but the faith of those around me. To tie it to adoption (and thus let other people off the hook), it sometimes catches in my throat, the thought that maybe the Munchkin won’t know the Lord. And then, reality smacks me upside the head and I realize that my parented sons might not either. Before it all gets overwhelming, I just have to give it over. I can’t worry too much. I just have to live this life as I can, be an example, answer when asked and, of course, pray.
I was once berated for admitting that I had hope that my daughter would one day follow Christ. I don’t understand why that person felt it necessary to be so nasty with me, to me. I didn’t say I wouldn’t love her if she chooses another path; I will. How can I not love her? She is my daughter, despite the legalities of it all. I love her with an unconditional love. Just the way I love my boys, even on their very worst days. (Today being one, mind you.) I can have hopes and dreams for my children, can’t I? I hope that… maybe… someday… she’ll find a faith that isn’t damning or judgmental or that makes her feel guilty… but one that wipes her shame, eases her fears and comes to her as a second nature.
And if that makes me a bad person in the eyes of the world, I am okay with that. I relinquished my rights to my child in hopes that she would have a better life, one that I didn’t believe I could provide at the time. I didn’t relinquish my right to hope and dream… and pray. And so, I do.
I do.
_
[Back the 25th. No new user comments can be approved before that time.]
The Discussion
see what everyone is saying
That’s really interesting. One thing that I always wondered/struggled with when I was growing up was what religion or set of beliefs my first parents were. I was raised in a Catholic household and I could never quite reconcile the fact that I as Catholic only because I was adopted. If I hadn’t been adopted or if I had been adopted by the next family on the list would I have been Buddhist? Jewish? something else???
For me it was really hard to understand what faith was when it seemed so random. Get these parents and you believe this, get those parents you believe that.
Have a great time at camp!
[Reply]
I totally get what you mean. I DO want my birthson to have a relationship with God just like the one I enjoy.
I make no apoligies for wanting that, seems only natural to want something for someone I love that has done so much good in my own life, that I just can’t imagine living any other way.
I choose my birthson’s parents with that in mind…that there faith match mine. Really though, everyone lives there faith in God a different way, even if they believe the same principles.
Seems harsh that someone berated you for wanting something good for your daughter…doesn’t make sense to me…
[Reply]
Have a great time ~ from a fellow Christian, who is an adoptee. I know your prayers for your daughter will make a huge difference. When I found my first family, I found a letter hanging on their wall from an aunt that was praying for the entire family and all the children. It hit me that I was included in that prayer, even though I wasn’t living in the family. Prayer works. Hugs, Peach
[Reply]
Just a thought:
“I hope that… maybe… someday… she’ll find a faith that isn’t damning or judgmental or that makes her feel guilty… but one that wipes her shame, eases her fears and comes to her as a second nature.”
This may be the disconnect for some “in the world.” Because as someone who found the Christianity I was raised with to be the SOURCE of all my shame, I can easily imagine someone hearing the words “I hope my children will one day know the Lord” and freaking out a bit due to their own experience of Christianity.
I mean it might be someone’s residual trauma responding. That is all.
Andy–
It’s interesting that you said it was hard for you to reconcile being Catholic and the randomness of your adoption. I had similar experiences growing up–thinking about how if I’d been born into a different family, different country, different culture–I could very well be growing up a different religion. I imagine it’s all even more complicated by adoption. For me it was all strictly hypothetical (though even that was enough to shake the faith), but for an adoptee you’ve actually experienced being removed from one family and put into another, not to mention faced with the “what if” of what would have happened if another family had adopted you. Complex indeed.
[Reply]