Because an intro really isn’t needed. Simply read these words from a friend’s son…the only biological child in a family with soon-to-be 8 children.

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To be able to call myself a racial and ethnic minority in my own family is a privilege not many people can say. The ability to love and provide for a child not of their own flesh is a truly remarkable gift, a gift my family has been blessed with. The everyday struggles of family living is amplified by the truth that my brothers and sisters did come from different parents, that they were born into a situation very different than my own, a dynamic that effects all aspects of their character and relationships for better or worse. The path of adoption is a lifelong journey, a condensation of the full spectrum of human emotion. Through my humble role in the evolution of my family I have been shaped to view the world in a way very different than many of my contemporaries. To care for the needy, the weakest, and the most vulnerable is the greatest privilege and responsibility handed to me.

Adoption is the expression of the most pure and undefiled response to those in need, a response of grace and love. It is the quintessential story of redemption, the desolation and brokenness of the orphaned child is restored in full. However, the most resounding and beautiful feature of such a flawless ideal is that it is carried out by flawed people who dare to step out to help those in need. Many factors impacted the situations surrounding my sibling’s adoptions, the reasons why their biological parents could not take care of them. Disease, poverty, death, and drug abuse are all brutal truths that are part of my siblings past, and therefore a part of them and a part of our family. I have three brothers and three sisters in my family, all of whom have been adopted. Three of them are biological siblings we have just brought into our home a year ago hail from the proud African nation of Ethiopia. The pain of loss, the uncertainty of their future, and the isolation of living in an orphanage are still very fresh in their minds. Their buried emotions can manifest out of nowhere, triggered by a seemingly insignificant sight or smell that connects them back their home or parents in Ethiopia. As a family we understand that these experiences are a part of their character, and as our family identity transforms to equal the sum of all of its diverse parts, we are encouraged to keep our hearts and minds open to those who seek fulfillment.

Because of my unique exposure to these misfortunes of the world, my eyes have been opened. I have been given an invaluable insight into the pain, suffering, and loneliness through out the world, a gift I cannot begin to fathom, for it is this awareness which defines me. The realization that I am fundamentally different from most of my peers is sobering, and makes me grateful to be who I am. To live inside of a bubble, to be caught up in the comfort and ease of living in suburbia, to not experience differerent cultures from my own, to turn a blind eye towards the issues of the world, is effortlessly easy and is to often idealized in our society. To many people, their ultimate goal in life is to seclude themselves from those in need, to distance themselves through wealth, status and location. A willing ignorance of the problems faced by the orphaned, abandoned, and destitute is ingrained in our culture. For many, this illusion remains unbroken their whole lives, but I have been granted a glimpse behind the curtain of self-deception, and I will answer the cry of the orphan.

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I’d like to be in that room when that college admission officer reads that one.