When I hear that phrase “a child of your own” separating the children under my roof from the one born from my womb, and my heart saddens at the misunderstanding of this wild-love that’s been birthed within my home among children who wear another mama’s skin, I can’t help but think of him.
He calls me “his own” when the world and my heart wants to label me forever severed.
Adoption is his great declaration.
