Adoption

On the Dutch television is a program about adoption. In this program a team searches for the biological family of someone who is adopted. It has been on the TV for many years. I remember watching it as a teenager with my mom and my brother and it is still airing today. It has always been a fascinating show to me. The reunions are often so emotional and it happens so often that the story about why someone has been adopted is slightly different from what the adopted child has been told.

One morning, about two years ago, I sat down to write a poem. As I sat down, images from this television program flashed in front of my eyes like a vision. The poem God gave me that day gave me a completely different view on the adoption process itself. God allowed me to understand adoption from the biological mother’s point of view. Keeping in mind that not all biological mothers feel this, I do believe that the majority does.

So often adoption is only seen from the point of view from the parents who are adopting a child or the adopted child itself, but never from the point of view of that woman who had to give up her child for whatever reason she had. As a child grows in a mother’s womb, the bond between mother and child is already developed. When the child is born the bond is already established. So giving up a child that you are already connected to so deeply is extremely difficult.

One thing, that is very important to mention, is that I have never had children myself, I am not adopted and I have never had any experience with this whatsoever. So there is no way I can know all this. I only know it because God showed me. All the glory is for God alone because this is His work, not mine!

Adoption

The blue ocean slips through my hands,
after it has pierced my soul with love.
Vigorous brown trees give strength,
but they take my tears back to the clouds,
preventing the rain to fall down,
on my fragile empty hands.

For a while we shared a home,
in the hands of Him who gave us life.
The synchronic beatings of the drums,
changed my heart into a vortex,
where negative surroundings are washed away,
changing into positivity and hope,
until reality sets in and our home is destroyed.

Homeless my heart dwells in a valley,
longing for the rain to fall down,
until it washes away the waves of my last breath.
It has slipped through my hands,
smothered by life I am forced to move on,
and my empty hands show my empty heart.

All I wanted to hear was your smile,
but silence is my daily companion.
All I wanted was to see you walk,
but the road only carries me.
All I wanted was to hear, “I love you”,
but the deafening silence chokes me.
All I wanted was for you to grow up,
so I handed you over to be adopted.

 

 

 

Between my fingertips

I honestly do not know why I haven’t told this story yet. Is it the fear that nobody will believe me? Maybe the idea that my story doesn’t matter? Or maybe I really just forgot? I don’t know but a sweet friend from Australia inspired me to write the story.

The story is about something that happened to me about three years ago. It was a night like any other. Nothing in particular happened that day, that could have inspired this. It was a dream that I will never forget. It was the dream where I met Jesus, face to face.

In my dream I didn’t see anything other than Jesus. There were no views or surroundings, it was me and Him. He was standing at a distance looking at me and I wondered by myself, “Why are you always standing at a distance from me?
Suddenly He was gone and for a second, I slightly panicked. But then I felt His presence behind me and He came from behind and stepped next to me. I was sitting down and He was standing. All I could do was to stare at Him. My eyes looked into His and didn’t look anywhere else. My heart almost exploded with love for Him. In His eyes I saw both love and peace, but also worry. A worry I didn’t understand then but I do now. With His hand He softly stroke my head and He let His hand rest on my head. Such love! 

I always have these awkward moments where I do something that I don’t quite understand. Here another classic! As we were staring into each others eyes, I couldn’t say a word. So what did I do? I thought about how uncomfortable His robe looked and wondered if it felt as uncomfortable as it looked! So I reached and held His robe between my fingertips and rubbed the fabric gently. It was surprisingly soft though. Then I looked back into His eyes. Out of all the things I could have done, I never expected myself to do that, but He didn’t Judge me. Not once. He still had the same loving, peaceful, worried but gentle look in His eyes. And His hand was still resting on my head. Then He walked away and I so badly wanted to say something, call after Him, but I couldn’t think of anything. I went silent and woke up.

Meeting Jesus, feeling His touch, His love and being so close to Him was an experience I will never forget and never get used to. Even though  it didn’t go exactly according to plan, my plan that is, it did bring me a lot of peace. I always believed in Jesus but somehow it felt as if I needed this. As if I needed it so see Him and touch Him. Just to feel Him close to me. Ever since that day, or should I say night, I am longing to see Him again. Longing for a moment where I can speak. Where my mouth will for words. I am still longing to feel His love as vivid as I did then. Meeting Jesus makes that you just cannot let go anymore. That is the power He has over people. Once you see Him, you can’t let go!  (For all who are wondering what Jesus looked like. He looked exactly like the paintings ‘Prince of Peace’ and ‘Jesus’ by Akiane Kramarik.)

About this experience I wrote a poem called ‘Between my fingertips’ that I would love to share with you now. Enjoy!

Between my fingertips

 I still feel the soft fabric,
gently between my fingertips.
Your eyes are imprinted in my soul,
how can I ever forget Your gentleness?
Not a word has to be spoken,
our minds are one.
And as the Spirit draws us closer together,
our bond is still the same,
Between You and me,
nothing has changed.

 Your brother love exceeds,
it is a heart without boundaries.
Never will Your anger rain down on me,
or felt in any chamber of Your heart.
Your teachings are my guidelines,
wisdom is planted in my mind,
where it grows out of love for You.
I walk the roads of this world alone,
but in heaven I look out for You.
More are You to me than a Savior,
more than all the Kings of the earth,
more than all my brothers combined.

 I still feel the soft fabric,
gently between my fingertips.
Your brotherly worries unspoken,
Your love speaks louder than any word could.
Not a soul knows our connection,
or the bloodline that keeps us attached.
The memories hold my heart,
when the distance becomes an obstacle.
All I need to know,
when my soul returns home,
that the fabric of Your robe,
is still between my fingertips.