By Sandra Bost
November is National Adoption Month. It began as a week-long initiative in 1976, and grew into a month-long observance in 1995 under President Clinton. When I looked into how adoption has changed over the decades, I was struck by what I found. Adoptions have actually declined since 1970, when about 175,000 children were adopted – mostly infants. Today, the majority of the more than 90,000 adoptions involve older children in foster care. The reasons behind this shift are complex and often heartbreaking, from legalized abortion to changes in international adoption policies. And yet, the need remains urgent: at the end of 2023, more than 77,000 children were still waiting for a forever family nationwide.
Adoption carries a tension that is hard to ignore. It is both beautiful and broken – a picture of hope born out of loss. Every adoption story begins with a fracture, a separation that leaves a mark. And yet, in that brokenness, love steps in and creates something new, something redemptive. That reality can feel overwhelming, even scary, because it means stepping into pain as well as joy.
My family has experienced that tension.
As I sat in my daughter’s living room watching her (then) four-year-old make a hair-style tutorial with me as her customer, I couldn’t help but think of the story beneath the funny faces of this little, lioness-hearted one. She’s the one who wears a ballet tutu with boxing gloves. The one who is always a half-step ahead of her older (by 9 months) sister in pranks and making friends. She is fierce – a gift we prayed for and welcomed through adoption. Filled with resolute fire, carrying a wound she cannot name – but feels on the deepest, most primal level.
Adoption is beautiful, but it begins with brokenness. Watching her navigate the questions of belonging – why she doesn’t look like her siblings – I’m reminded of a deeper truth: we all want to belong. And, in Christ, God answers that longing by adopting us into His family, calling us His own. Yet, even as we rejoice in that truth, we live in the tension Paul describes in Romans 8:23. We are fully His, yet still waiting for the fullness of what adoption means.
Just as earthly adoption begins with loss – a child separated from birth parents – our spiritual adoption begins with a void created by the reality of sin. We are estranged from God, carrying wounds we can not name but feel the consequences of. This sin separates us from our Heavenly Father. But, He does not leave us in that brokenness. His Love steps in to create something new–something redemptive.
Our granddaughter belongs to her family completely, yet she still feels the ache of difference – the questions of identity. In the same way, Christians belong fully to God, yet we groan inwardly, longing for complete redemption. This is the “already/not yet” of the Gospel: we are adopted, but we await the day when every wound is healed and every question answered.
Adoption–both earthly and spiritual–is a picture of redemption. It reminds us that beauty and brokenness can–and do–coexist. We celebrate the joy of belonging while acknowledging the ache of waiting. And, as believers, we cling to the promise: one day, the groaning will end, and we will stand whole before our Father.
Let us thank Jesus for the gift of family and the miracle of adoption. Remember the parents who open their hearts and homes, and the children who bring joy and teach us resilience. But never forget that adoption begins with loss. Pray for the healing and hope of Jesus to cover every wound–in every heart.
Father wrap Your loving arms around every child who wonders where they belong, and remind them that they are fearfully and wonderfully made, chosen, and deeply loved by You. And for parents navigating hard questions and tender moments, we ask that You grant wisdom, patience, and grace. Fill their homes with Peace that passes understanding. Give them strength in the struggles, joy in the journey, and faith that Your redemption story is still unfolding.
If you are considering foster care or adoption. You can contact www.alabamachild.org or www.dhr.alabama.gov/foster-care. There are more than 6,000 children waiting for foster care in Alabama, and over 1,500 are awaiting their forever family.
