Seedlings

For the first time in many years, I am gardening! I have my little seedlings that I started many weeks ago out on the balcony getting acclimated to the sunshine and fresh breezes. Will soon transplant them into their pots where they will live the rest of their lives, blooming and (hopefully) producing fruit. Cucumber for pickles, tomatoes and chilies for salsa, and squash for me to saute in butter. Mmmm.

At this point in the gardening process, I normally choose only the most healthy seedlings to transplant. The ones with strong stalks and big leaves. But this adoption is making me far too tenderhearted. I cannot for the life of me get rid of the "special needs" seedlings in favor of the stronger ones, so they are going in the pots too. The weak ones, the ones with shrivelled leaves, the ones scarred from having difficulty shedding the seed pod. Sigh. I love them all.

Some people have been taken aback at the news that we are adopting a special needs child. Because of this. I normally don't tell people who I think won't understand or who may be negative about it. Not that most people are rude - they are just awkward and start acting like I have bit of broccoli in my teeth and won't look at me straight.

(Please note, anyone who know us - truly knows us - didn't bat an eyelash when we told them the exciting news of our adoption of a kid from Bulgaria that would need a little extra care. Our friends and loved ones were just as excited as we were!)

The conversation normally goes like this:

Acquaintance: So, do you have any kids? (Up unto this point, they have been talking forever about their kids and have noticed my silence.)

Me: We are in the process of an adoption, so yes. (To just say, "No, I don't have kids" leads into another awkward conversations about how I really should - people are so opinionated. Anyway... I love talking about our kid!)

Acquaintance: Really! How exciting! Domestic? (Because this the preferred option, you know.)

Me: Yes, it is exciting! No, from Bulgaria!

Acquaintance: Oh! (Less excited at this point but still determined to carry on the conversation somehow.) Boy or Girl? How old?

Me: (Still excited.) Oh, we don't know yet - but there are more boys available than girls, so maybe a boy. And we are adopting a kid between the ages of two and six. Though we could go older if we saw just the perfect one for us.

Acquaintance: Oh. Not a baby? (With the tone of voice that says, "A baby would be better." Because, you know, they are the expert.)

Me: No... Bulgaria only has two and up available for adoption. That is all we really know about out kid. Oh, and our kid will have special needs. (I am getting annoyed at this point, but am still too excited that I get to speak out all I know about my cutie pie.)

Acquaintance: Oh. You must be a saint. (This is not admiration, but patronization.)

And before I can say another word of explanation, the conversation is quickly changed or the person just walks away. I have only had this conversation a handful of times... then I just stopped sharing.

But let me explain to you, dear reader, we are not saints. We are not better people than anyone else. We were asked to adopt, to rescue, one of God's little ones whom He loves most, to love and provide a simple home. We just said yes, where others say no. That is all. Even that did not come from us, but from having hearts that God has made soft and eager to return the love that He has so abundantly give us.

We are the same as anyone else. Are we stronger? No, God will give us strength. Are we wiser? No, but God will give us wisdom. Are we more loving? No, but God's love abounds in our hearts and even overflows.

A child with special needs is still a child. And a child who deserves life... abundant life with lots of hugs and cookies, and maybe even some baseball games thrown in. We are willing to work hard and long to enable our child to have this life. We want this life together with them. We want this child earnestly, desperately, and impatiently!