In my last post, I introduced you to my hero—my mom, Alice.
She was born in February 1939 and was the middle of three sisters. Perhaps her birth order helped shape her tenacity and strong survival instincts. As an infant, she survived whooping cough, one of many adversities she would overcome throughout her life.
After graduating from high school, Alice enrolled in nursing school. Being away from home and on her own for the first time, she embraced her newfound freedom a little too enthusiastically. Unfortunately, she failed a couple of her core classes and was dismissed from the RN program.
One of her instructors, however, recognized something special in her. She noticed her exceptional clinical skills, her compassionate bedside manner, and the genuine care she showed her patients. Believing she had the heart of a nurse, she encouraged her to enroll in the LPN program. She took her advice and graduated as a Licensed Practical Nurse in 1959.
On New Year's Eve of that same year, my mom met my dad, Gary.
Shortly thereafter, my dad enlisted in the United States Air Force. Their long-distance relationship didn't last very long because they were married in July of 1960. There was no honeymoon—just a long drive from Connecticut to Wichita Falls, Texas, in a car with no air conditioning, packed to the brim with everything they owned. Together, they settled into military life and began building their future.
My brother, Gary Jr., was born in June 1961. I'll share more about him in future posts.
When my dad's Air Force enlistment ended in 1964, he still felt called to serve his country, so he enlisted in the United States Army. He always joked that he'd rather jump out of an airplane than fly one. Over the next several years, my family moved from one military base to another. In May 1966, my dad received orders for Okinawa, Japan. Once family housing became available in March 1967, my mom and brother joined him overseas.
My mom later told me that after my brother was born, she longed to have more children but was never able to conceive. She sought medical advice, only to be told to "go home and stop talking about babies." Imagine hearing those words after carrying such a deep desire in your heart.
Eventually, my parents began discussing adoption.
Around that time, my dad learned of a sixteen-year-old girl who was pregnant. She was the daughter of someone who worked in the same office. After many conversations, much prayer, and careful consideration, the decision was made for this young woman to lovingly place her baby for adoption with my parents.
That baby was me.
I was born on March 6, 1968, and just three days later, my parents brought me home from the hospital.
I would be remiss if I didn't mention my birth mother, Linda.
When I think about it, she is one of my heroes as well. Without her incredible sacrifice, unconditional love, and remarkable courage, I would not be who I am today. On her seventeenth birthday, she signed the papers relinquishing her parental rights.
Not much of a birthday gift for her.
But it became the greatest gift she could ever give me.
I will always be grateful for her selflessness, her bravery, and the opportunity for a life filled with love that she made possible.
As I reflect on my own adoption, I can't help but think about another beautiful adoption available to each of us.
Ephesians 1:4–5 says:
"For He chose us in Him before the creation of the world to be holy and blameless in His sight. In love, He predestined us for adoption to sonship through Jesus Christ, in accordance with His pleasure and will."
God sent His Son, Jesus, to bear our sins, die on the cross, and rise again three days later, making a way for us to be reconciled to the Father. Through Him, each of us has the opportunity to be adopted into the family of God—to become sons and daughters of the King.
Adoption, both in the natural and in the spiritual, is one of God's most beautiful gifts.