He Calls me Mom.

Him: What did I call Ms. Cari when I lived with them?

Me: Mom

Him: What did I call the Strucks when I lived with them?

Me: Mom and Dad

Him: And, of course, I called Audrey mom when I lived with her.

Me: of course.

Him: WEIRD. That is SO weird, Mom!!!

Me: Not really, because they were acting like moms to you and you called them as much.

Him: But it would be so weird to call someone else mom now. 

You're my mom.

Me: *smiles, teary eyed*

These are the moments that I want to cling to as an adoptive mother. So many moments around here are hard and feel a bit lonely. If you knew how hard it is for a foster child who has had lived through multiple placements before being adopted, to look at me and really call me mother (as in NO ONE else is my mother), you would agree that this is no small miracle of the heart.  If you knew how hard is is for a mother to look at a son, not born of her womb, and to truly call him her son, you would nod and amen that this is no small miracle in her heart either.

It feels a little like the mountain in front of us is not Everest anymore...maybe just a daily walk up Sugarloaf. There was a time that I was sure he wouldn't see every birthday as a year older but a year closer to finding his "real parents." And I was ok with that. Most of the time anyway.

There will be days that he won't know where he belongs. There will be days where the last name that is now his, may not to seem to fit just right. There will be questions that we just cannot answer and feelings that we have not felt. We will have to see through his eyes. There will be hurt, and some anger. We will walk closely with him and all the others of the same last name as ours on their quest to find out who exactly they are and answer the question, "who am I?"

But no matter what I will forever be his mother. His mom. I am ever so humbled that, just like the children I have born of my womb, God, in is great grace granted my Love and I the privilege of calling him son. From the foundations of the earth, from the beginning of time he was ours. They all were. Amazing isn't it?

Amazing how God has given us three children with a completely different background, biological parents, genetics and made them ours. Their identity is not in what they used to be, what biological family they are from but who they are now. We are not being really nice folk that try to raise other people's children for awhile as a favor. No, they are ours. 

Adoption.

 What a beautiful testimony of the grace of God in our own lives. We do not have to be defined by who we used to be, but who he has made us to be through the Cross of Christ. 

I realize this is a lot easier to figure out in our heads than our hearts. It's a lot easier to say that we are seen by God as he sees his very own son, Jesus. But for me our walk as an adoptive family, is a walk in this truth: I am nothing in myself. I am only the daughter of the one true king. I can try to find my identity in other things: money, motherhood, other's opinions of me, being a good wife, writing, what car I drive, how many people I think I help, the "good" that I might do, how clean my house is etc. but nothing can satisfy the weighty question of who exactly I am, like my Jesus and being His daughter. Nothing can define me more than he has already done.

Come, he says, all you are weary and heavy laden 

and I will give you rest. (Matt. 11:28) 

Come, he says, and I will quench your thirst such that 

you will never thirst again. (John 4:14)