This past weekend was full of many activities, but one stands out above the rest. Clara's soccer team (and families) were invited to the country for a fall party. It sounded like fun to me...getting away for a while from the busyness of life. What I did not realize is that I would be going to a place so rich with history and so filled with beauty.
We drove up and were instantly wowed by this gorgeous civil-war era antebellum home. This is the home of Molly's grandmother. She lives here and has lived here for 52 years. It is unbelievably dreamy!! Really I could have spent days here just exploring and listening to all the stories.
What I appreciated most is that my friend India and her mother shared their life with us. I've been in houses like this before and have always been fascinated. It was the first time I have been in a home like this. The first time I have known the occupants. History is real to them because it is personal. It has shaped who they are and it will shape who their children will become. I used to think history was a bit dull and boring...no more!! Yes, the home was beautiful, but the stories of the lives lived compelled me the most.
That leads me to a different topic seemingly unrelated, but which comes directly from their stories. India's father was adopted by India's grandmother. She had never married and had no children, so she adopted this young boy. (Certainly I would like to learn more about her). This young boy's life changed. He grew up in and inherited this amazing home. He married a lovely southern belle. They had children. Their children had children. What might his life have looked like had he not been adopted!!
This young boy was adopted. He was loved by his mother. She gave him an amazing inheritance. Yet, it pales in comparison to the inheritance that we receive when we are adopted as God's children. We are orphans. We have no hope. We are separated from God. He chooses us. He loves us. He gives us a rich life. And the rest is history.