vulnerability hangover.

First time ever.

An evening, a space, a backdrop, a platform…for adoptees only.

It’s never been done before. Ever.

But someone dared to do it, and I love that. I respect that. I applaud that.

There we were…8 live voices, 6 recorded voices, ranging from ages 15 to 62.

All adopted.

There we were, about to speak, about to tell, about to share…our stories, our hearts.

There we were, representing a people, a population, who often gets labeled as:

voiceless

vulnerable

powerless

victimized

abandoned

helpless

rejected

forgotten.

But this night was not about those people, that kind of person.

This was a night was about a collective voice saying that we have a story to tell.

This was a night was about a collective voice saying that we have a voice to offer.

This was a night about a collective voice saying that we have the desire to connect.

This was a night about a collective voice saying that we are learning to trust.

This was a night about a collective voice saying that we are being healed.

This was a night about a collective voice saying that we possess hope.

This was a night about a collective voice saying…

“We want you to listen to our hearts.”

And so we all shared what was in us, in our hearts…our questions, our journey, our dreams, our restoration.

All we were asking, all we were inviting, all we were hoping our audience would do, was to listen.

And they did.

Some a little. Some a lot. Some we don’t know how much.

But it really wasn’t about how well or how much or how closely they listened, because this evening, this experience, was for us, about us…about us finding more of our voices, more of ourselves, more of God.

And we did.

We stretched and challenged and dared ourselves to be courageous and brave and vulnerable and true.

And we were.

And in that process, we heard each other’s voices, and we heard our own…a bit more clearly, a bit more loudly, a bit more beautifully.

Sometimes, we have to begin hearing our own voices telling our own story before we can invite anyone else to listen.

And when we do, something miraculous and mysterious and breath-taking happens. We begin to embody what it means to connect and trust and feel safe with the people around us.

Many of us left that night feeling drained and emptied and depleted…in a good way. In a really good way. We had this sense that we were going to wake up the next morning with a “vulnerability hangover,” but we knew we’d be OK because it was worth it.

Totally worth it.

Adoptees…may you come to not only know your story, voice your story, share your story, but also come to know that the story of your heart matters…deeply.

Thank you to Tapestry Ministry of Irving Bible Church for hosting an evening where our voices could be shared, highlighted, heard. And a special thanks to Michael and Amy Monroe whose ability to listen to their children’s hearts has begun to free the hearts of adoptees everywhere.

“HOPE…It’s that beautiful place between the way things were and the way things are yet to be.”