Have you seen the video? 

(That sounds like the subject line on a nasty spam email, but I promise you, this one’s legit.) 

Because I am a dork and can barely operate our toaster oven, it is almost pointless for me to even attempt to figure out how to post videos to this dadblamed blog. So you’ll have to follow the link to view it. But do it, please. You’ll be glad you did.

Somehow I watched this yesterday without weeping. This is a small miracle, as I have wept at pretty much everything else these last few days. (Ask Josh. He will verify.)

A mom and dad are welcoming home their long-awaited sons, adopted from the Congo. It’s a beautiful idea enough on it’s own, but, thankfully, someone thought to record it. Those reactions. What love.

What incredible love.

I’m not adopted nor have I adopted. I don’t quite know the feeling, but I have friends who do. I’ve seen how they’ve fought hard to bring children home. I’ve seen a few beautiful, triumphant moments.

But I’ve also seen a few of the really hard moments. The ones you don’t video and post on Facebook.

I’ve seen normal people fight for kids who don’t understand it or appreciate it. But the love I’ve seen in my friends is not normal. It’s amazing.

It looks, honestly, impossible.

But love can make people do impossible things, it seems.


At 11-months, his accomplishments now include: crawling, cleaning stray pieces of dog food off the floor, and growing extremely sharp teeth.

At 11-months, his accomplishments now include: crawling, cleaning stray pieces of dog food off the floor, and growing extremely sharp teeth.

I laughed out loud one morning several months ago as I changed Nate’s diaper. Josh had come in the room, bent over our sweet boy, and said, “I am so proud of you.”

He was proud. Of Nate. The 3-month-old.

Besides setting a record number of nights without sleep, the kid has little in the way of accomplishments. Like most babies, our Little Fish couldn’t do much beyond eat, fill endless diapers, giggle occasionally, and cry.

I laughed because Josh’s pride in him seemed silly when I considered it from a normal context; the standard I-am-proud-of-you-because-of-what-you-can-do scenario. Nate could do nothing, but his daddy was proud. His mommy was proud too.

Because parenthood ushers you outside of normal contexts, you are proud of your kids—you love your kids—just because they are and not because of what they can do.

They are your kids.

That’s all a parent needs.


Ephesians 1:5 says that, “In love, he [God] predestined us to be adopted as his sons through Jesus Christ, in accordance with his pleasure and will…”

If you are a believer in Christ—a true follower of his—you have been adopted into the family of God. You are his child.

And not because of anything you can do.

Just because you are.

God is a good daddy, and this is the love of a good parent.

I have little to offer God, if anything. Thankfully though, his adoption of me has nothing to do with me. As it says above, he adopted us because of “his pleasure and will.”

For whatever reason, it makes God happy to call me his child. It brought him pleasure to send his son to die for me so that I could be part of his family.

How is this possible?

It’s not…except for the incredible love of a Daddy.

Love makes parents do impossible things.


Sometimes I forget.

I start viewing Jesus as rather… normal. My appreciation of his death on the cross morphs from an attitude of awe to more of a “Golly, gee, Jesus, that sure was swell of you,” as if Jesus has just shared his candy or bought my dinner. I forget what he’s done.  

Shame on me.  

God has done impossible things.

For me.

For you.

Forgive me, Jesus, for forgetting. Help me to remember. 

I’m praying that I will fall more in love with him every day. That I won’t forget what he’s done for me or his love that wraps me close, an adopted child, and weeps with joy. I don’t ever want to forget the love that is proud of me because I am his. How God loves me, just because.

What about you?

Will you pray it with me? Let’s fall in more in love with Jesus together.

We’ll be glad we did.