Adoption

Adoption and the Blessings of God

For five days in September 2006, I saw the keen blade of SharperIron being used, not to draw blood (however beneficial bloodletting can be) but to pluck fruit that will last a lifetime. We were about $7,000 short of a $13,000 fee that would allow us to bring home our daughter, Chloe Jane, from Korea. The agency had given us great leeway, but time was running out. We were on the verge of saying, “No, I’m sorry. Here’s her file back.”

In one sense, the adoption process began in March 2006 when we first inquired about her. But it really began in 1999 when I saw an ABC news piece about Russian orphans. The sorrow I felt at seeing those little ones who could not stand up or walk due to a lack of adult interaction sent me to my computer to learn about adoption. For four years, that was all I could do—research adoption. Part of that time was spent discerning whether Mick, my husband, and I were on the same page about adoption. The rest was spent praying for the money to adopt. Our church could not help. (RIGHT: Chloe, David, and Bailey)

I looked at page after page of children’s faces and checked out country requirements for adopting couples—Russia, China, Vietnam, Korea, the Philippines, Cambodia, Romania, and more. I called agencies for information packets, attended informational meetings, and even selected the agency I would use, if we were ever able to adopt. My husband insisted that we should have the money in hand before we started the process; but looking at our finances, we realized this condition was an impossible dream, apart from an outright miracle. We pursued a couple of domestic opportunities, but they fell through.
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by Mari Venezia

I only desired to have a daughter all my life. As a girl, I pretended to be a mother to a baby girl. Frank and I were married in 1974 with the intentions of having a quiver full of children. Since both of us were raised in Italian Catholic homes, we felt it would be an absolute to “be fruitful, and multiply” (Gen. 1:22). Little did we know that we would be one of many couples who hear those sad words that we had a one-in-a-million chance to conceive and might never have a family. Little did those experts know that the God who was about to save us both from our sin and religion was able to give us a miracle son.

Frankie was born in August 1978, and we were not only thrilled but also sure that our plan for a full family would continue. After five years and still not being able to conceive, we received from the Lord a beautiful baby boy through the miracle of adoption. Nicolas, born in 1984, was a true result of prayer, and we fondly dubbed him our “prayer baby.” As thrilling as it was to have two wonderful sons, I still had the greatest desire to have a daughter, someone I could train and love and with whom I could share life. I knew Frank would never agree to another adoption (or so I thought) because of the huge expense and emotional roller coaster the adoption process required, so I began to pray. I claimed Psalm 37:4. “Delight thyself also in the Lord; and he shall give thee the desires of thine heart” (KJV), knowing that if my desire was not God’s desire, He would change my desire to meet His. I prayed fervently that the Lord would just lay a baby girl in my lap. Knowing the Lord had the power to do anything He thought good for me, I asked Him to make this one easy and very obvious that she was from His hand. I just wanted to have another true miracle.
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If you have any question about the utility of decorative wall hooks, just ask my son. His recent discovery that a small, three-pronged coatrack is sufficient to hold an entire wardrobe has brought slight vexation to his mother’s soul. Fortunately, my irritation has been tempered by the knowledge that male pragmatism in these domestic matters is genetically encoded. I was first introduced to this fact when it dawned on me that my brothers’ yearnings for hunting trophies were motivated by something greater than sustenance and bragging rights. Who needs a closet when you have a ten-point set of antlers on the wall? Years later as a newlywed, my instruction was advanced when my husband attempted to convince me that a four-poster bed was designed to double as a suit valet.

Even if we disagree on the proper use of coatracks, bedposts, and antlers, there is a category of “hang-ups” that should bring consensus; one that involves the unbiblical draping of excuses for sin on hooks installed on the walls of the heart. Graceless hooks that lodge rudeness and unkindness with no demands of love, selfish hooks that harbor pride and judgment with no expectations of humility, and carnal hooks that house impurity and fleshliness with no expectations of holiness. Although these hooks look extremely unattractive, they are unfortunately, never inconvenient.

In His divine providence, the Lord delivered our two children to my husband and me through adoption. It is difficult to imagine any other experience, including the painful struggles with infertility, more acutely awakening our senses to the greatness of God’s amazing grace. Everything surrounding the entire process has offered us nothing less than a rich opportunity to boast of the glories of our Sovereign God!
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