PICKED AND PRECIOUS

(These thoughts are changed three times a week and cover a gamut of subjects, approaches and insights) (For those of you who continue to share with friends; thanks)

To be adopted is not a secret to be kept with shame. It is a glory to be shouted to the sky. It means you were not an accident to be taken care of with regrets, but picked and precious in the picking, you were on a loving wanted list.

If you are adopted, it means you were not chosen for a party, a game, or an afternoon, but for a lifetime. That pulse-beat of joy in your mother’s eyes says you were a rose plucked from a glorious garden of little angels; homeless but not unwanted, tightly bound, not by flesh and blood, but by a great cohesion called love. Can you, an adopted child, be loved as much as if you were not adopted? Why not? Your adoptive parents are not flesh of flesh, or blood of blood, yet they are one.