So tomorrow it will be a week since we learned of sweet Tariku. Time has went by surprisingly quickly, which I will be ever so thankful for if it continues to do so until he comes home! It seems every day I think of him or the situation surrounding him in a different way. Today can be summed up with the title of this post.
We went to church today. It was a baptism day so we heard a lot about what baptism means and what it meant in the original context. Our pastor was talking about Christ being baptized and how it wasn’t necessary for him seeings he was sinless and all. He theorized on why Christ might have done it anyway but then he said, “We are not saved because He was born, we are not saved because He was baptized, we are saved because He died.” Wow! I certainly cannot relate to Christ’s unfailing sacrifice, but…
My thoughts returned to Tariku and his amazing Ethiopian family. We know Tariku’s background but will be keeping it quiet until Tariku is old enough to hear it and decide who he wants to tell and who he doesn’t. It is his story, afterall, and we don’t want him to hear it from anyone but us. I’ve been very up front about the complications of adoption. By and large I feel the emotional complications a lot more than perhaps “practical” (i.e. money, etc) because I’m an emotional person. So throughout this adoption I’ve grieved for the child I didn’t know and his family I didn’t know. Most of all, I grieved for his mother, whoever she may have been. As a mom, I realize we sacrifice (hopefully) something every day for our child. Today I sacrificed my last bite of salted nut roll for Trysten. Doesnt sound like a lot but those who might be telling themselves that obviously don’t know how much I freaking LOVE salted nut rolls…anyhow…I’ve often thought about the sacrifice Tariku’s family had to endure to give him life for 2+ years.
Today, I couldn’t help but think I don’t have it in me. I look at my kids and I would most certainly choose death if it was that or anything bad happening to them. I am not alone in that feeling. But to actively choose to make an adoption plan for my child so that they will have a life that is something I may not be able to give them; I’m just not sure I have it in me. Perhaps I am more selfish than I like to admit. I want to see them grow up, I want to be the one wiping their tears and the one they call mom. I sometimes think of dying (not in a morbid way, just…well whatever, it sounds weird not matter what I say). And I’ve found I’m certainly not afraid of dying seeings I know the gloriousness that awaits me, but I am horrifyingly sad that I won’t be THERE for my kids in the sense that they will be able to reach out and touch me. The fact that *hopefully* Zach would find someone who is as close to perfect as I am. 🙂 But thinking of them calling anyone but me mom, is an altogether sad thing for me.
So back to Tariku, can you imagine the love he was raised in? Can you even fathom the sacrifice? If you’ve seen his beautiful face you know what I’m talking about. It’s written all over those beautiful lips and those perfect eyes. It tells the story of the sacrifce. It tells the story of the sadness he has felt but the love throughout the gesture. Tariku will forever know of the love that brought him to us. He will know of his abaye and amaye (father and mother) and he will know it was love that we can all count on. Love, truly, never fails. I long for children everywhere to know that there are people out there who would die for them. Who would make an adoption plan if it meant they wouldn’t ever have to know the struggles they went through. I hope kids everywhere know they are worth at least that. I hope people everywhere know just how far love can take us. Mine, I’m happy to say, is taking me to Ethiopia and back.