Graduation and Grace

Today my son walked across the stage and graduated.  No, it wasn’t a high school or college graduation.  He graduated kindergarten. It is a proud moment for any parent, but as he walked across the stage and told the crowd what he learned in kindergarten a tear came to my eye.  It was a moment of deep thought and reflection for me.  I couldn’t help but think about where he was five years ago when we adopted him from a small children’s home in West Bengal, India.   

I am not at liberty to share his whole story and will not unless otherwise given permission by my son when he’s old enough to do so. 

What I will say is that his situation was not an ideal one in which to thrive. Statistics would say that he should not be walking across the stage as a kindergartner right now. What are the chances that a child born on the other side of the planet with basically no shot would end up in my care surrounded by so many people who love him so much. 

Five years ago we walked into that children’s home and received him into our arms and lives forever. There was no looking back. There was no question that everything I had was now his simply because he is my son. There would be nothing I would not do to ensure that he would always have everything he needed.

As I reflect on that day that we walked out of that building I remember how little we had to leave with other than paperwork and a baby.  That beautiful Indian boy had absolutely nothing…even the clothes he wore on his back weren’t really his. However, he now belonged to a family. He would take on our family name as he didn’t have one of those either. No longer would he be identified as an orphan, but a son. No longer would he lack anything, but live in abundance. 

This was no heroic act on our part…it was God’s divine plan. This was not a rescue mission…it was destiny. This is not just a picture of adoption, but a beautiful picture of grace. It is a picture of man’s lack and desperation for restoration. On the other hand, it is a picture of God’s exceeding supply and His constant movement toward His beloved even before they realized they needed Him. 

So, statistics can be telling but not defining. Statistics cannot compete with grace and statistics certainly won’t define my son.

So excuse me for a moment if I’m teary or light up Instagram like a Christmas tree. I’m a proud yet humble father catching glimpses of God’s abundant grace. This is my son with whom I am well pleased. 

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