Adopted To Show Them The Image Of God


It was the quickest decision I’d ever made in a grocery aisle. My husband, Ernie, saw me answer my phone as he carted around our ten-month-old son and tried to figure out who I was talking to.

“Yes. Y…yes. Okay, 8 months?” I darted my eyes towards Ernie, who was still curious. “When will we need to be ready? Okay, so tomorrow.” Ernie quickly rolled towards me, feeling complete freedom to interrupt with, “So, who is this?”

The next morning we picked up our daughter from a children’s group home. Can I just describe her to you for a moment? She was like a ripe, juicy, chubby baby, just waiting to be squeezed to pieces. She had the most perfect, milk chocolate skin, and wispy curls just trying to push through on top of her head, though just the very top.

She reached for Ernie like he was the love of her life she’d been waiting for, and just melted into his strong, safe arms. She was absolutely changed after that first hug from a father who wanted to love her forever.

We fed her sweet potatoes and sang to her, tried to get our son and her to be new best friends. We took her to the park and rocked her to sleep at night. She was enjoying every bit of affection we could give.

A Sweet Reunion

I got another phone call. This little girl had a brother and he needed a placement as soon as possible too. They’d been separated a week and a half prior to her joining our home.

We prayed for wisdom, walked into another group home, and picked up a giggly, grinning little boy who had a head full of curls, and the same perfect, milk chocolate skin. He walked with me to the car and we had his sister waiting outside.

I can’t describe to you what it was like for them to reunite, but I can say that, though her brother had a significant speech delay, his eyes sang “I found you,” as he touched her shoulder. It was beautiful to be able to bring them together.

A Challenging Road

It didn’t take long before our daughter, whom we later named T, and our son, whom we later named J, showed significant challenges. The road before us looked a lot longer a few years later, and challenges rose rapidly.

As the mother, especially, I quickly felt deeply inadequate and began to fear the battles that would come. Tantrums would explode that I couldn’t explain, distant and cold eyes would not be able to look into mine, hands and feet would become physically combative and I’d have to find a safe place for them.


And I clearly felt my own anger rise like never before and wanted to keep them safe even from my own words. What was (still is) going on?

What was happening when I couldn’t help my daughter who was pushing away and her eyes told me that she was currently away emotionally?

What should I do when I physically couldn’t control my son who had suddenly been struck with anger and couldn’t come back to a calm and peaceful state?

What was going on when my child’s sibling accidentally brushed against their shoulder and in the blink of an eye they were hissing at everyone in the family and throwing punches at anyone who might come near?

Children who come to us from difficult places probably never experienced the goodness of a mother or father reaching for them when they cried as a newborn or soothing them after a big fall. It’s possible they never felt the comfort of a person bringing them down to a level of peace.

Parents are like external emotional control panels. Babies don’t yet know how to feel comforted and safe on their own. They need to be picked up when fearful or hungry and have someone bring their emotions back down as they hear “Shhh,” or “I’m here, it’s okay”.

Babies cry, parents arrive. They cry out again, parents give the same care. The cycle happens so many times that the child understands some idea of regulation and trusts that they will be cared for.

It’s their first experience of a God who says, “I am with you and I will never forsake you.” Perhaps these children will hear the gospel one day and understand in a unique way because their parents showed them a small picture of God in their early days.

And we have the same opportunity for the children from difficult places.

Being The Image Of God To The Downtrodden

The children who have come to us are asking to be shown a God who will never forsake them. They need this, not just in words, but in our healthy touch, our immediate arrival upon their cries, our endless reminders of our love for them, and our willingness to start over no matter how many tantrums or how much time they take from us.

The children who have come to us are asking to be shown a God who will never forsake them. Click to Tweet

Whether their experience was fearful neglect, horrific abuse, or anything in between, the effects on these children are clear. Life for them had to be an “all about me” perspective. When you see your caregivers on auto-pilot most of the time, then yes, it had to be about “how to take care of me”.

Now they’re in our homes. We know they’ve been brought to safety, but they don’t know that yet. As we teach them to not take their anger out on our children, or break the T.V, we remember they’re in immense need of healing – a healing that’s beyond a few lectures or time-outs.

We’ve been called into redeeming work. Our children do not know they are made in the image of a good and faithful God, who saw them in their need. They do not know the joy of being God’s workmanship; that our hands, and words and feet have purposes that they haven’t ever imagined.

Ellie Holcomb, one of my favorite artists, sings a beautiful line that makes me think of the hope I have for my children, “I need a rescue, I need a reckoning, from all the things I’ve done and have been done to me.” The cross is that rescue and reckoning for what have been done to these little image bearers.

I can see it in my son’s eyes sometimes when we talk about God creating us. He has pain there that he still does not understand or cannot communicate. We, perhaps, have a journey to walk with him still as he considers what it means to be an image bearer when he was knitted into a womb that he wouldn’t stay connected to.

Thanks be to God, my son has a rescuer. One who, at the cross, reckoned what’s been done, and that rescuer is also his true Father who will never leave him or forsake him.

Lisa Blanco

Lisa lives in the southwest with her husband, Ernie. When she's not chasing their four children (with one on the way), she writes at the blog raisedfromdust.com, and loves the chance to read good books.