If you've been reading my blogs, or if you've known me for at least a year, you'll probably know that -- of all my dreams and ideals -- adoption has constantly been on my mind and in my heart. I always thought that Steven Curtis Chapman was the one who planted that seed, but as I heard him sing last night, I realised for the first time (rather belatedly, I know) that all of those feelings: of wanting to give someone a home, of knowing someone before you've even met them, of loving them so much that you want to give them more -- more than just money, more than just the food that they eat, the clothes that they wear -- that is just a glimpse of God's heart. You want to give them your life.
I've always talked about it, but just the thought of it is so overwhelming, that I've always stopped short of making a commitment. Last night, I decided that it's time to make it count; I don't want to keep hiding from God, from the One Person that I can be completely vulnerable with. I want to do this; if I do get married, if I have a home to give to someone, I will adopt, and I am writing this down, so that you can hold me to it. (This doesn't mean that I don't want to give birth -- God-willing, I'll probably want that too.)
I realise that making such a huge commitment seems like a sure-fire way to drive the guys -- even the best of them -- away (hur), but this is it: this is what God has called me to, this is why He has poured out His love so abundantly on me -- not for me to keep it in, but for it to overflow. :)
***
For now, though, I'm taking baby steps.
Last Christmas, when my sister was home for the holidays, she asked about adopting another dog. It would make our Christmas perfect, she'd said. That probably would've been true, but it was too soon, and each time she brought it up, I fought hard to keep the tears from gushing, but each time, I would end up locked in my room, crying and missing him. I couldn't imagine having any other dog in the house; I couldn't imagine ever loving any other dog.
In the past month, I'd been looking -- just browsing -- at photos of the dogs in local shelters. Occasionally, the tears would fall, but they were starting to fall for a different reason. For the rest of my life, I will continue to miss the companionship of Rocky -- there's no question -- but we'd given him a good home, and this time, tears were beginning to form from the heartache of knowing that there were dogs who wouldn't know the comfort and joy of having family.
Last week, we finally talked about the possibility of adopting another dog. My brother wanted a golden retriever, my aunt wanted a chihuahua, my mom wanted a puppy-anything, my dad was pretty easy; me? I wanted the one that no one else wanted -- the one that no one would find cute, the one that was too old, too slow... I wanted that one, because more than anyone else, he (or she) needed me most.
You can see why a compromise would've been difficult -- even impossible!
I suggested we needn't limit ourselves to one dog; why not get them all? But Mom's face started to turn pale at the thought, so that went to the dumps. ;)
On Monday, I came across
Jin's blog via
Jean. She was looking to re-home her five-year-old beagle, Amy. I tried to tear myself away from the blog, but there was this wonderful nagging thought at the back of my head: that she was perfect -- not too big, not too small, not too young, not too old, not too fast, not too slow. I contacted Jin, and we exchanged a flurry of long e-mails -- I took an hour to type one of them! But as I was answering Jin's queries -- about the kind of house we lived in, whether anyone would be home with Amy during the day, etc. -- I felt my heart strangely stirred, and by the end of the e-mail, instead of trying to convince Jin that we would be the best owner for Amy, I'd typed a long paragraph on how they should keep her instead, and if they needed someone to walk her, or to keep her company for a few hours a day, I could do it, and they wouldn't need to pay me a single cent. I don't know where that came from, but it felt right.
I met Amy (together with Jin and her lovely family) for the first time tonight, and as she pressed her cold, wet nose against mine, I realised that we really do underestimate our capacity for love, and I felt like a complete fool for ever thinking that I would not be able to love another. Love is not a zero-sum game.
I don't know how this will work out. I do hope -- if there is
any way at all -- that Jin will be able to find some arrangement that would work, without her having to part with Amy, because I know that they would both be heartbroken. Perhaps we will take her in; I'll bring my family to see her over the weekend. If we don't -- if either Jin or my family decides otherwise -- we'll probably keep looking to take in someone who needs a home. I don't know how this will work out, but I know something good will happen. :)
***
I know you've heard the stories
But they all sound too good to be true
You've heard about a place called home
But there doesn't seem to be one for you
So one more night you cry yourself to sleep
And drift off to a distant dream
Where love takes you in and everything changes
A miracle starts with the beat of a heart
When love takes you home and says you belong here
The loneliness ends and a new life begins
When love takes you in
And somewhere while you're sleeping
Someone else is dreaming too
Counting down the days until
They hold you close and say I love you
And like the rain that falls into the sea
In a moment what has been is lost in what will be
When love takes you in everything changes
A miracle starts with the beat of a heart
And this love will never let you go
There is nothing that could ever cause this love to lose its hold
-- "When Love Takes You In" by Steven Curtis Chapman
