This is the day that we celebrate motherhood and certainly, it is appropriate to take time to acknowledge the gift of a good mother in our lives. I am especially grateful for a godly mother, although I grieve that she died at the young age of 43 in 1965, and I never knew her as a peer. I had just graduated from college; she knew I had been hired as a teacher with Columbus Schools but she did not know my husband, or when I became a mother myself.
That was an exciting day in July of 1970! We were thrilled when we learned the last week in June that we would be able to adopt a baby that was due to be born in just about a week. It was almost like a suspense story. Sure enough, a few days later, we were called and told that “our” son had been born! Five days later, on July 7, our attorney told us that he would go to the hearing where the birth mother agreed to release her baby for adoption, and then he would make sure that she did not try to follow him to the hospital. Apparently, some birth parents just want to see what the adoptive parents look like. He said he would meet us at Grant Hospital. We were to park in the Emergency Room area, and wait in the ER waiting room. We were to bring a change of clothing and blanket for the baby. He would meet us there and take the clothing to the maternity ward to be sure that we got the right baby.
We carefully followed all of these instructions and nervously waited. Everything went as planned, and in a few minutes, a nurse appeared carrying a 7 pound 8 ounce bundle. She handed him to me with a bottle of formula and told me when to feed him next. We were quickly ushered to our car and – bodda bing, bodda boom – we were brand new parents! Fifty years ago, you didn’t need to have a car seat to transport an infant. I held our new son in my arms and cried most of the way to my parents’ house to show him off, before taking him home! He was a beautiful, perfect boy and we were thrilled beyond our wildest dreams. It still gives me Goosebumps just telling the story. I placed this little poem in my son’s baby book:
Not flesh of my flesh, nor bone of my bone, But still miraculously, my own. Never forget for a single minute, You didn’t grow under my heart, but in it!
What great joy this little boy brought to our lives! We love him dearly. Though his birth records were sealed at that time, we determined to be sure he knew he was a special gift from God to us! I remember one day when carpooling to preschool swimming lessons with the little neighbor girl, our son said, “Were you just born out of your mother’s stomach or are you special like me?” What a thrill!
This child became our son in every sense of the word. He bears the name of his father’s family. He is our heir. He has the entitlement of what we, as his parents, can give him.
Equally, and even more, thrilling is that we are adopted by God into the family of Christ when we accept Him as our Lord and Savior! We become heirs of Christ! Romans 8:14 – 17 says “For as many as are led by the Spirit of God, these are the sons of God. For you did not receive the spirit of bondage again to fear, but you received the Spirit of adoption by whom we cry out, “Abba, Father”. The Spirit Himself bears witness with our spirit that we are children of God, and if children, then heirs – heirs of God and joint heirs with Christ, if indeed we suffer with Him, that we may also be glorified together. For I consider that the sufferings of this present time are not worthy to be compared with the glory which shall be revealed in us”.
Just as we were excited to have a son, the hope of Heaven with God, our as our Father, should excite and encourage our hearts to live in obedience and thanksgiving! We can say, “I am a child of a King”! Praise the Lord!