Best 315 quotes in «adoption quotes» category

I intend to be an outstanding mother and provide a stable, nurturing home. I’ve read all the latest parenting books and scoured the websites. I’m prepared.

I learned that you need not be born into a family to be loved by one.

I love Russia because Russia gave me you.

I love them both as though I birthed them both, but also as though I adopted them both.

Imagine you’re visiting a place where there’s little to no English spoken and you wake up one day to find that the group you went with has all gone home and you are left there alone.

I'm eternally grateful to {our birth mother}, but wish I had never needed her. It's a loaded friendship, a complex connection.

I'm ready for the day when Mom loves me too much to keep me, and for every other person who will someday see that I'm not worth holding on to.

I'm scared,' I said, 'There doesn't seem to be any way out.' 'No,' Beth corrected me, 'there are in fact several ways out, but all of them are painful. You have to know your own tolerance for pain, what you can endure, what you know you can live with and what you can't live without.

I must acknowledge that though his adoption embodies graciousness, it is also a reminder this world is not as it should be. Brokenness permeates our world. Sure, beauty is born from ashes, but the ashes don't just magically disappear. Suffering and all that is wrong in this world still exists. This side of heaven, tragedy remains and the moments of her son becoming ours is a representation of joy and suffering deeply intertwined. Our son, the living proof and blessing that love is what makes a family, reminds us that adoption is born out of undeniable loss. Irrevocable loss of wholeness, of what was meant to be. To only acknowledge the beauty without giving voice to the tragedy, is to detract from adoption. In diminishing the tragedy of adoption, I decrease my son's story, along with others a part of the adoption circle. I would be choosing to ignore a massive portion of who he is.

Indeed for all of us who are believers, our present circumstances and futures aren't defined by our pasts. Our identities are found in Christ alone. As believers in Christ, we were adopted into God's family. Adoption. It's a beautiful thing.

I originally feared she might be dead, which felt like a sealed book that I would never be able to read. To have a birth mother die before getting any closure or answers seemed like it would be a cruel twist of fate.

I never wanted to find my birth parents - if one set of parents felt like a misfortune, two sets would be self-destructive... I had no idea that you could like your parents or that they could love you enough to let you be yourself.

In the world of the Bible, one’s identity and one’s vocation are all bound up in who one’s father is. Men are called “son of” all of their lives (for instance, “the sons of Zebedee” or “Joshua, the son of Nun”). There are no guidance counselors in ancient Canaan or first-century Capernaum, helping “teenagers” decide what they want “to be” when they “grow up.” A young man watches his father, learns from him, and follows in his vocational steps. This is why “the sons of Zebedee” are right there with their father when Jesus finds them, “in their boat mending the nets” (Mark 1:19-20). The inheritance was the engine of survival, passed from father to son, an economic pact between generations. To lose one’s inheritance was to pilfer for survival, to become someone’s slave.

Ironically, we practically have to be sainted to get through the adoption process, but any fool can spawn and have a baby, tra la la.

I reached down and picked up a baseball bat at my feet and I flung it as hard as it could. It circled and arced high in the air until it slammed against the side of the dining hall with a crack and fell. I sat down in the dirt. Then I lay down in the dirt. Because not only was there no trail to follow, there was no evidence he’d ever been here. There was no evidence any of them had been here.

It has just been discovered that women carry fetal cells from all the babies they have carried. Crossing the defensive boundaries of our immune system and mixing with our own cells, the fetal cells circulate in the mother’s bloodstream for decades after each birth. The body does not tolerate foreign cells, which trigger illness and rejection. But a mother’s body incorporates into her own the cells of her children as if they recognize each other, belong to each other. This fantastic melding of two selves, mother and child, is called human microchimerism. My three children are carried in my bloodstream still…. How did we not know this? How can this be a surprise?

I should’ve died with my parents… than live in this world,” I say, my voice is faint He asks, “Why choose to die if you can live this world?” He chuckled. I gave him a faint smile and say, “A world so hateful, some would rather die, than be who they are.

I saw the bruises, the burns, the cuts— I knew which ones had been done to you by someone you thought you could trust. Someone you thought loved you. I knew which ones you gave yourself.

It is now clear that faith is a singular pledge of paternal love, treasured up for the sons whom he has adopted.

It is not imitation that makes sons. It is sonship that make imitators.

It means that when organized philosophies like the Illuminati go out of existence, their symbols remain… available for adoption by other groups. It’s called transference. It’s very common in symbology. The Nazis took the swastika from the Hindus, the Christians adopted the cruciform from the Egyptians, the—

It is the first time I have felt truly South African. When the orchestra strikes up the opening chords of the national anthem, and the entire stadium stands, I have found my voice and I sing ‘Nkosi sikelel’ iAfrika!’ I look to the gogo who had earlier taken my arm and I put my hand in hers. My people, I think to myself. My people.

It's illegal to deny people their records due to race or gender. Adoptees deserve the same rights and protections.

It's because when God adopts you into His family, you belong to Him. He stamps His name on you. A name that comes with His protection. And His birthright, which is eternity and the power to live with joy on this earth.

I’ve made a New Year’s resolution - to find my birth mother. It’s not as though I felt I lacked anything growing up, but I need answers. Why did my birth mother give me up? I might be thirty years old, but the rejection still hurts; wasn’t I good enough?

I understood that this sister of mine was going to live somewhere else, away from us...This information did not make me thing of the baby as less mine. She was my sister, like my brother was my brother and my mother was my mother. The adoptive parents' claim on my developing sister did not negate mine, she was not a kingdom or a territory or a thing with a deed; she was a person. This baby girl would be both my sister and these other people's daughter, and my mom's daughter. there would be moments when one claim took focus-- as right now this baby girl was more Ours than Theirs, and one day she would be more Theirs than Ours, but none of those connections could completely erase the others. It would be easier, perhaps, if they could, if after she was gone we could forget this baby ever belonged to us. But that's not how people work.

It's okay not to love us. " I kept my face buried in my pillow, yet my ears were on full alert. "And I'm not going to say that I love you, because I haven't known you long enough to feel that way. I like you very much and I want you to be my daughter forever, but love is something that grows with shared experiences. I feel the buds of love growing, but it hasn't blossomed yet." I could not believe she was being so honest. She took a long breath. "There is nothing we can say to make you believe we'll be here for you. You'll only learn it by living with us year after year.

I've never felt the need to find out who I am, where I come from, or why I was abandoned. I know who I am, where I come from; most of all I know that I wasn't abandoned. Kidnapping might be too strong a word to use for how our adoption transpired, but sometimes that's what it felt like.

I wish to be buried in Ireland, the country of my adoption a country which I loved, which I have dutifully served, and for which I believe I have sacrificed my life.

I was adopted there for I was not put in a family by random I was chosen i was wanted by another then my own

Listening to Eddy describe his relationship with our mom seemed to indicate that what I feared would be my reality. He never talked poorly about our mother, but he was as honest and sincere as he could be. In a way, he was almost defensive of her to us – trying to help us understand what life had been like for her, so that we could comprehend the choices that she had made.

Love runs stronger than blood. Deeper than any name you could give me." - Maraly

Lógicamente, hubiera podido (y debido) morirse de hambre, pero su confusa jovialidad, su permanente sonrisa y su mansedumbre infinita le conciliaron el favor de cierta familia de Castro, cuyo nombre adoptó.

Listen to your hearts, parents! You are the expert when it comes to knowing your child. I love the Scripture that says we are to let the peace of God rule in our hearts...In other words, peace in your heart is to be like an umpire calling the shots. When in doubt--DON'T!

Most Michigan residents can get a copy of their birth certificates within weeks by simply placing an order online. But for Detroit native Rudy Owens, attempts to obtain his birth records took decades of legal battles. Why? Because he is an adoptee. Owens is the author of a new book You Don’t Know How Lucky You are: An Adoptee’s Journey Through the American Adoption Experience. (From, Michigan Radio, Stateside, June 11, 2018)

Moses had yet to learn about El-Olam, God of eternity, or God, the Everlasting One. His sovereignty extends through the passing of time and beyond our ability to see or understand. Moses would have to learn to trust in God's sovereign plan in allowing his life to be touched by adoption. (from Under His Wings: Healing Truth for Adoptees of All Ages)

Meeting your adoptive baby is like being set up on a blind date with someone you will have to spend the next eighteen years with. You care about looks, because you desperately want to fall in love with the stranger who will be your child.

Moses needed to learn that God was Jehovah-tsidkenu—the One who is righteous and the source of true acceptance. The staff was symbolic of Moses’ life. God was asking him to let go of it—to give complete control to him. When Moses picked it up, it was no longer his life but the very life of God…Just like Moses, until we yield control of our lives to Jesus Christ, it is impossible to see ourselves through God’s eyes. Try as we may, we will never see our worth through accomplishments or the opinions of others. (from Under His Wings: Healing Truth for Adoptees of All Ages)

My mother was in charge of language. My father had never really learned to read - he could manage slowly, with his fingers on the line, but he had left school at twelve and gone to work at the Liverpool docks. Before he was twelve, no one had bothered to read to him. His own father had been a drunk who often took his small son to the pub with him, left him outside, staggered out hours later and walked home, and forgot my dad, asleep in a doorway. Dad loved Mrs Winterson reading out loud - and I did too. She always stood up while we two sat down, and it was intimate and impressive all at the same time. She read the Bible every night for half an hour, starting at the beginning, and making her way through all sixty-six books of the Old and New Testaments. When she got to her favourite bit, the Book of Revelation, and the Apocalypse, and everyone being exploded and the Devil in the bottomless pit, she gave us all a week off to think about things. Then she started again, Genesis Chapter One. 'In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth...' It seemed to me to be a lot of work to make a whole planet, a whole universe, and blow it up, but that is one of the problems with the literal-minded versions of Christianity; why look after the planet when you know it is all going to end in pieces?

My life has been shaped by the decision two people made over 24 years ago. They decided to adopt a child. They got me, and I got a chance at the kind of life all children deserve.

Our choices. Our fleeting moments together.

No matter how you bring a baby into the world (even through adoption), it's emotionally and physically exhausting - but somehow you find a way through.

No one 'just adopts'.

Orphans? Would you really? Adopt children?" "There are advantages. If they turn out badly, we can blame their natural parents. We can also choose our own assortment of ages and genders. We can even get them ready-grown, if we wish.

our country is poor but our hearts are rich

Our society encourages women to place a very high value on maternity as an essential part of female identity, both a high moral calling and the deepest source of satisfaction on earth. It's not easy to redefine motherhood as handing your baby over to a stranger.

Parenting was difficult in a world of easy access

People think that LGBTs adopting children will hurt them, but it's not being in loving homes that hurts children most.

Peter Friedrich, wer bin ich? Peter Frederick, who am I? German or American? The answer was neither and both. I had German blood but an American mentality. This trip allowed me to understand that a man can make his home where ever he chooses. If I wanted, I could live happily in America. My heart fought and pleaded, saying it wasn't true, that I was German, and only in Germany would I be content. In one of the few times in my life, intellect overruled emotion. Germany wasn't the key to my happiness. I couldn't deny what I had experienced, and my last hope for a key to the castle door died. International adoption destroyed the connection to my heritage. It is only conjuncture to guess how my life might have turned out under different circumstances, but there is one certainty: If I had remained in the orphanage or had been adopted by German parents, I never would have suffered the loss of my national identity. If I had to be adopted by Americans, then they should have been of German descent.

[Phone interview transcript between author Roorda & Vershawn A. Young, author of Your Average Nigga: Performing Race, Literacy, and Masculinity, a book based on his Ph.D dissertation] Now the subtitle, Performing Race, Literacy, and Masculinity, what does that cover? It covers the range of enactments in speech, in dress, in the way we behave, the way that we interact with other people. Basically, it is the range of enactments that black people have to go through to be successful in America. I call it the burden of racial performance that black people are required, not only by whites but by other blacks as well, to prove through their behaviors, their speech, and their actions the kind of black person that they are. Really, there are only two kinds you can be. In the words of comedian Chris Rock, you can either be a black person, which is a respectable, bourgeois, middle-class black person, or you can be a nigger. As Chris Rock says in his show, "I love black people, but I hate niggers." So . . . when a black person walks into a room, always in the other person's mind is the question "What kind of black person is this in front of me?" They are looking for clues in your speech, in your demeanor, in your behavior, and in everything that you do -- it is like they are hyperattentive to your ways of being in order to say, "Okay, this is a real black person. I can trust them. I'll let them work here. Or, nope: this is a nigger, look at the spelling of their name: Shaniqua or Daquandre." We get discriminated against based on our actions. So that is what the subtitle was trying to suggest in performing race. And in performing literacy, just what is the prescribed means for increasing our class status? A mind-set: "Okay, black people, you guys have no excuse. You can go to school and get an education like everybody else." I wanted to pay attention to the ways in which school perpetuated a structural racism through literacy, the way in which it sort of stigmatizes and oppresses blackness in a space where it claims it is opening up opportunities for black people.