St. Joseph, certainly the archetype – and surely the Patron – of adoptive parents.
(This lovely story by our reader, “A Quiet Person,” speaks for itself. Sometimes out of the mouths of babes comes the font of wisdom. I suspect Our Lord uses them because He has fewer filters He has to get through to get His message spoken clearly. Also – and in conjunction with this, I include here a link to a Youtube of a lovely composition by the European composer, Daniel Knaggs. Knaggs is a friend of the French theologian, Peter B., who compares notes with many things with me on occasions and whose counsel I value. Daniel sent this to me during the time when I was praying for strength and fortitude. Enjoy – CJ)
By A Quiet Person
I am a single mom of two wonderful, unique, beautiful teenagers. It is like they were made for each other. They love each other deeply and even at a young age they were cognizant of what a special relationship they had. People have even commented about how close they are.
I gave birth to my first at the age of 42 (which is one not-so-little miracle right there). The Lord knows I did not deserve him, but He blessed me anyway. Even so, I desperately wanted another child. The desire was so deep that it was really hard to reconcile that with the reality that I might not have another child. I failed miserably with acceptance. Then it happened! I became pregnant again. But it was not to be. On April 6, I had a miscarriage. You know how there are some dates you will never forget? April 6th was one of those for me.
I did not handle that well either. My marriage was not going well. Finances were a disaster. Prayer life? I was just beginning. I had recently come back to the Catholic Church after having taken every wrong turn a person could take for most of my life. But at least I was back. Meanwhile, adoption, something I would like to have considered was not a viable option either, especially considering our age and all of the other circumstances. In fact, we did not even talk about it. Why even bother? Then one morning in late summer, our son who was 3 and a half announced as clearly as can be and right out of the blue, “Home-study for adoption. Adoption? OK. Adoption. “
Silence. Stunned silence. His father and I looked at each other in shock and then we looked at him. “Sweetie, what did you just say?” we asked him gently. Surely both of us had misheard.
“Home-study for adoption. Adoption? OK. Adoption.”
There was absolutely no context for this. We had not been exploring adoption. It is not as if we were considering our options where he could have overheard us discussing the process, thus hearing words like “home-study” or even the word “adoption.” We had no friends with adopted children where he could have picked up these words. There was nothing from a TV show he would have been exposed to. I was with him all of the time so I would have known if those topics had been discussed in his presence. I cannot think of where he could have come up with these words. I looked at my husband, both of us still in awe and I said right then and there,” We are going to adopt!” He agreed.
Circumstances did not improve on any front. But this adoption was meant to be. In spite of all of our differences, we agreed on this. And so we proceeded. For anyone having gone through an adoption you already know how stressful it is, how uncertain, how fraught with difficulty it is. One of the most difficult aspects of the process is that you have control over nothing. This adoption, though, was going remarkable quickly and smoothly. There was a ton of paperwork, but one piece in particular was especially important. It was from the U.S. Department of Justice, Immigration and Naturalization Service: Notice of Favorable Determination Concerning Application For Advance Processing Of Orphan Petition, which is just the formal way of saying you are good to go.
And, yes, you guessed it. That letter is dated April 6, exactly two years to the day, after my miscarriage. Two and a half months later she was home.