“In a perfect world, the ministry of adoption would cease to exist. All couples who chose to could bear a child, all people who bore children would be prepared to parent them, and all children would be love and nurtured by their biological families. Real life doesn’t always happen this way.”

Paula Freeman wrote those words in the Foreword to Kristin Swick Wong’s thoughtful book, Carried Safely Home: The spiritual legacy of an adoptive family.

I’ve pondered those words for many months, particularly in light of the nasty e-mails I receive from people who accuse me of being a spawn of Satan for daring to advocate for adoptive families.

Usually, these accusatory e-mails come from women who relinquished a child during the closed adoption era or from adults who were relinquished during that era. Full of grief and anger at “the system,” they freely vent their frustrations on me and others who write about adoption themes.

I’ve been called:

• a “baby harvester”



• “cruel”


• 
  “manipulative”



• “predator”

Gee, and I thought I was a fairly nice person! I had no idea that by adopting two children, I’d become a criminal of the worst ilk. I’ve developed a fairly thick skin over the past 2 ½ years of blogging and I think I’ve heard just about every argument, both in favor of and against adoption. As an adoptive parent, I confess that suggestions of “doing away with adoption” make squirm uncomfortably. For without adoption, I would never enjoy the privilege of being a mother.

My critics would say I don’t deserve that privilege—that my infertility is a sign from God that I was not meant to become a mother (but that’s another issue which I’ll save for another post!).

Adoption, at its very best, is a bittersweet experience for everyone involved. And in a perfect world, the need for adoption would not exist. But alas, we live in a far-from-perfect world.

Those of us who—for better or for worse—live with adoption on a daily basis have to work through this difficult concept, and realize that even when our adoption experience mars us, there is redemption.

As Paula Freeman puts it, “God’s spirit of redemption comes by faith as we walk though our brokenness and grief and learn to accept God’s gift.”

She says that adoption “is filled with joy, grown from grief; it is not simply filling empty arms. It is human connectedness at its best and, sometimes, its worst. It is sacrificial, sacred, and profound. It is a journey, not a destination. It is a picture of God’s unconditional love and welcome into his forever family. It is a choice.”

Related Post
Review of Kristin Wong's New Adoption Web site