I want to share with you about a moment of clarity that so painfully occurred a few years ago. I had traveled to a small village a few hours northeast of Guatemala City. Just a few days prior I had begun a journey into discovering the culture of my son’s birth country, but on this particular day I was hit hard with the sad reality of living in an impoverished nation. We were in the village with our mission team to help build houses and enjoyed an afternoon of meeting the people we would be serving with. I was not prepared for the flood of emotions that followed, but as I stood inside a half built home where we would be working, I could not stop the tears from flowing. It was not until days after we returned home and settled back into the comforts of my suburban American life, that I was able to sort out my emotions and what happened inside me that day. I could not rid myself of the continuous pull between the gratitude and guilt I felt. I prayed that God would never let me forget standing in that half built house in rural Guatemala. I prayed that God would never let me forget the pain I felt as I stood sobbing into my husbands arms for the life my son would never have in his birth country. It is only now that I am able to write about that moment. In doing so, I hope that sharing a piece of this story will help people understand a small part of an orphan’s journey to their forever family.
I am truly embarrassed to say this, but one of my first thoughts that particular afternoon was that I was grateful that we were able to give C different opportunities. I was thankful that he had clean water, food, shelter, and access to a good education. In trying to imagine what his life may have been like growing up in Guatemala, feelings of guilt washed over me. When we first brought C home people would say “he is so lucky to have been adopted.” I would simply nod, not knowing how to respond. I know people were trying to be kind and meant no harm by that comment, but after spending time working with people living in poverty here in the United States and in Central America, this is what I have learned. There is nothing lucky about being born into circumstances not in your control. There is nothing lucky about a mother not having access to the most basic needs. There is nothing lucky about being placed into another family where no one looks like you. There is nothing lucky about being moved away from your culture; the sights, the smells, and the sounds that are familiar to you. There is nothing lucky about coming to land of abundance when all you really want is the land you came from. I cannot image what that would be like and I only have glimpses of what C left behind. I do know that the life he has with us is filled with love and despite leaving his birth country behind, he gained what every children deserves, a family. I cannot image the sadness C’s birth mother feels every time she thinks of him. I pray she knows that he is loved. I pray that she knows that God loves him more than either of us. I pray that she knows that her courageous choice has been my blessing and that I am the lucky one. I am lucky because I have been given the opportunity to parent a child with a tenacious spirit and joy for life. I am lucky because we have met some wonderful friends in Guatemala that offer us a small window into our son’s birth country. I am lucky and blessed because when C became a part of our family, so did Guatemala. But not all families are as lucky as we are and not all children find their way to a forever family. There are flaws in the system and there are delays. There are children waiting all over the world for a family. So while their luck may change a little when they are united with families that will love and care for them, they are anything but lucky for the path they traveled. My current response when someone says “he is so lucky to have been adopted” is this, “he is our blessing, we are the lucky ones.”
