the one about Adoption

This year in LA, I reached a momentous life marker.

I have now lived in Los Angeles longer than I've lived anywhere: 7-1/2 years.

I mean, it's already a big deal that I've survived this long in the City of Angels (not an easy thing to do).

I mentioned this in passing to someone -- a stranger -- born and raised in LA. She replied, "Cool! You're an adopted native, then."

While slightly oxymoronic, the concept of "adopted native" quickly sank in deep. I was almost immediately awash in emotion.

That woman will never know how intensely I was touched. I will ever thank my Maker for

momentarily putting her in my path. My soul resonated with a truth that, until then, only my spirit had known.


Romans 8 says: "...You received God’s Spirit when he adopted you as his own children. Now we call him, 'Abba, Father.' For his Spirit joins with our spirit to affirm that we are God’s children."


I feel I've never been "native" to anything. Maybe this stems from my constant questioning of the definition of "home," and my cyclical world-weariness.

But "adopted native"... 

I'm into that. That's beautiful. When I think about it, it's one of the most welcoming things someone can say.

But the welcome is specially powered by the native-ness of the speaker. As much as I've felt like LA is my scene, I can't say this to myself. Another LA-from-wherever transplant can't say this to me.

In a moment, her passing sentiment affirmed to my soul:

"You didn't start here; you were an outsider. 

But I recognize that you belong here. 

Come be with us. And stay.

I want you here."

A mere mortal

Adopted into the City of Angels

Livin his dream