Bind Us

The act of creating a family through adoption isn't natural. The mashing together of people from vastly different backgrounds and cultures goes against every biological impulse that we supposedly have.

Yet, it happens. Across borders. Across species. Like the mama dog who adopted a litter of baby tigers. 

And that is interesting to me. Because it shows that, while it doesn't make sense, it works. That the spark of The Divine in us is greater than biology. 

Why does it work? According to scientists we bond with our young because they look like us, smell like us. These are the ways that babies can ensure their survival. 

And yet thousands of families cross borders to pick a child that doesn't look like them. That certainly doesn't smell of Johnson and Johnson. 

When I think of that, I really do question the idea of destiny. Because why else would that happen?

The things that God worked out to show Daniel to us. That opened our hearts to him. That exposed him to God. The resilience that this child seemingly has. To lose everything. But find new things. To bravely forge a new path for himself without the benefit of a stable foundation. I have seen much more educated, well adjusted people struggle with it so much more. 

And yet our little Peter Pan carves out his place. Not a replacement for anyone or anything but something completely new. A fighter that wants to be a lover. That makes a bed for the dog, that up until two weeks ago, he was terrified of. And prays over each of his siblings and wants to tuck them in. That loves the garage sale floral comforter that I tossed over him tonight. No complaints about it being girly. 

The desire to be a son. But the conditioning of being the outsider. The stone that the builders rejected. 

The fervent prayer and fevered desire to be enough of a family. To make the connections and relationships instantaneous. That the family will accept him. Bolster him. That he may need more than the natural born Sponsellers. For awhile? Forever? God knows. 

The insecurity that I feel. Can I be enough? Show God's love enough? To make up in some way, to give confidence in the face of the ultimate rejection--that led to the ultimate acceptance. 

I know we aren't there. But we are closer than we were. Home six weeks tonight. 

A month and a half in the US. 

The other kids weary of his energy. Of his struggle to relate to children who aren't merely surviving. 

Me seeing. God opening my eyes to the energy and showing me that it isn't naughty. That it is adrenaline. Fear. 

Bind us together, Lord, with chains that cannot be broken. Bind us together with love. 

Because mine will never be enough.