Hung over my bed was a plaque, a daily reminder:
You’re a chosen child
You’re ours, but not by birth
But just the same, we feel you’re the greatest child on earth.
You’re a chosen child
Sent down from God above
Chosen to fill our home
With laughter and with love
You’re a chosen child
You’ve given us so much pleasure
Chosen above the rest
A precious, priceless treasure.
January Kate Adkison, “A Chosen Child”
Unfortunately, I don’t believe this to be accurate for me. My a-parents did not treat me like I was the greatest child on earth. My a-mother felt that having a baby, anyone’s baby, would make her feel whole. Yes, I was sent down from God, I suppose, but I’ve always questioned: Why did a man of God interfere with my life path? There was very little laughter and even less love, and I do not believe I gave them any pleasure. Yes, I was chosen above the rest, because the rest were all probably taken. For me they were just words on a plaque that I had to stare at every single day of my childhood.
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