I'm Trying.

Having recently started a full time job, and not having eliminated any of the other time-consuming things I do, I find myself with very few "extra minutes" with which to write here. So when I do have the time, like right now, I'm going to strive to be more careful about what I say. To consider my words, to think about what it is that I'm really putting out there.

That said, tonight's post is actually about adoption.

In Romans 8, verses 15 through 17, it says: For you did not receive the spirit of bondage again to fear, but you received the Spirit of adoption by whom we cry out, “Abba, Father.” The Spirit Himself bears witness with our spirit that we are children of God, and if children, then heirs—heirs of God and joint heirs with Christ, if indeed we suffer with Him, that we may also be glorified together.

The part I'm focusing on is that second half of the first sentence. The spirit of adoption whereby I call out "Abba, Father." Abba. Abba doesn't just mean "father." It's so much more... in Clarke's Commentary, I found this statement... "[these words show] that the persons in question [have] the strongest evidence of the excellence of the state in which they stand; they know that they are thus adopted..." There's a lot more, but this is the thrust of what I've been mulling over in my mind.

You see... I've never been legally adopted. But I have been adopted. I was reminded of it once again this evening, when someone who's been helping me figure some things out said, "You know... from my perspective, your life really turned around when you were basically adopted by that man and his wife. In so many ways, it was nothing short of miraculous." That got me to thinking...

I was more or less adopted. There are two people who love me and treat me like one of their own children. Only it somehow is more than that. Deeper than that. Because they didn't birth me. They didn't raise me from a tiny baby on. They chose me. When I was in the middle of the darkest time in my life, when I was my most unlovable. They chose to bring me into their life. Into their hearts. They adopted me. They chose me.

And so did God. When I was as separated from Him as the east is from the west, when I was lost, unlovable, sin-stained and too proud to admit it... He chose me. He didn't have to love me. Didn't have to welcome me with open arms. Didn't have to to bring me in to His family. But He did.

He chose me. He loves me. I am part of HIS family.

And tonight, I am thankful. Thankful that a man and his wife chose me. Adopted me. Loved me. And now, I have my own family. My own husband, my own life "separate" from them. And they still love me. And they still call me theirs. And they still are proud of me. And I am so thankful.