A Father's Perspective

My wife has been writing honestly and beautifully about our adoption process. I may be a little biased, but I think her blog is the best and she could write circles around just about anyone. I find myself getting caught up in her posts and I was there for most of them.

I was talking to a friend the other day and he made the comment "You come across as the hero on your blog." He meant it in an encouraging way, it was, but I have to admit I do not feel like the hero at all. I thought I would write today for two reasons. Its a type of therapy for me and it will give a little of my perspective on this whole adoption journey.

I love kids. I love making them laugh and teaching them. I love my kids most of all. I love how Ezra tackles me out of nowhere like a ballistic missile, I love how Ella whispers "I want to marry you" in my ear and gives that huge, teeth filled smile. I have watched these kids grow up. I was there to clean up the projectile poop of infant-hood. I was there to stick cheerio's on their faces. I was there to see their first steps. I was their to watch them discover their world. I was their to see their faces light up at a distant plane or train. I was there from the beginning. I know everything about them. Everything.

Then comes Eli. This little boy who calls me "ah papa". Who has been through God know what, who woke up one day and no longer had a mommy. Who traveled across the globe to a place full of white people and air-conditioning. Who will not sleep through the night. Who seems to really love it here but can't communicate, so I don't really know for sure. I am supposed to be his daddy. I am supposed to love him as much as my other children. I am supposed to have the same feelings for him. I am supposed to call him my son.

To be honest, and I am following my wife's lead here, I am struggling. I do love Eli, I would protect him from anyone or anything. But I don't know him. I have no idea who this little guy is. I wasn't there for any milestone of his life. I have no idea where little scars came from. I know nothing. Nothing but the fact that he needed a daddy and mommy.

So how does this work? I have purposed in my heart not to get frustrated in front of him anymore, I have decided to grow in love with this little guy, and I have made a decision to invest my life into this former-orphan. But I still feel like I am failing in so many ways. Stretched to thin. To quote C.S. Lewis, like butter spread over too much bread.

I know I am equipped with everything I need, I know my God is able and with me, I know this pleases his heart, but I definitely do not feel like the hero. From my perspective, I need a hero.

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