Happy Adoption Day, John!!!

It was four years ago, we stood in a judge's office in Astrakhan, Russia, and the judge decreed that this little guy was now our very special boy. What a blessing he has been.



(The actual day is Monday, but it was easier to celebrate today.)

John chose to have his favorite, white cake, and we just got back from the park. John might pick out a favorite show later.

John was talking about Cinderella, and he mentioned the "Fiery Godmother". Ha. "CINDERELLA, GET YOUR SORRY BUTT TO THE BALL! NOW!"

An account of our first trip to see John is here. (The editor here changed a few of my words, and that wasn't my title.)

Here's what I wrote for a Christmas letter that year, only two months after we got home with John.

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It is such a joy to have John home with us for this holiday. For some years we waited and wondered who would become a part of our home, and at long last we know! And, as Ephesians 3:20 says, he is exceedingly beyond what we could imagine! I am so relieved that we are done with our trips to Russia. As interesting and enjoyable as the trips were, I'm glad to have that over with.

Yet, as I reflect back over that process, I am struck by a couple of things as I think about what Christmas means. In Romans 8, Paul writes of us being adopted as children of God. Sure, the parallel is obvious. But some aspects about our experience seemed especially relevant to what Paul was talking about.

Think for a moment. John was far away. Though the orphanage workers loved him and cared for him, the prospects for his future were perhaps bleak. Without intervention, he didn't have a lot of hope. John didn't ask for his circumstances, but there probably wasn't much he could personally do to change them.

Along we came, filled with love and willing to do whatever we could to make him part of our home and family. John didn't have to earn our love, we just had to look at him and our hearts melted. We weren't taking him on a trial basis, we wanted him no matter what his condition.

We traveled a great distance to a foreign land. We didn't speak the language, it wasn't our home. We were strangers. We endured things John wasn't the least bit aware of.

When we finally carried him through the door into his new home, it felt like at long last, something that was incomplete had been made whole again. As I watch him sleeping, one arm thrown over his forehead, the other arm hanging out the crib, I feel like there's nothing I won't do to make sure John has all the love and opportunity we can possibly give him.

And as I think about baby Jesus sleeping in his crib, it hit me that what God did for us is very similar to our situation.

Here we are, God's creation, in our sinful state, living in a far away place, separated from God. In our condition, we don't have a lot of hope. A future away from God is bleak and terrible. And there isn't anything we can do about it on our own.

So, God in His infinite love, looked at us in our pitiful condition and provided a way to adopt us as His children.

Jesus left his home, and traveled to a distant land, a strange land. What he endured, for God to become a man, we'll probably never understand. We had been separated from God's family, but through the cross, God came and got us, and now, we're on our way home to a wonderful life we never thought possible.

Someday we'll go through the front door of God's house, and we'll be a family again. What came before won't matter, and we can just look forward to what is to come.

Some people in this world might think of God as far away, an angry god who doesn't care about what happens here. But God is a father, and I think of the love He must feel when He looks at His adopted children, and how wonderful it is that God wants the best for all of us.
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