A Rose by Any Other Name

A couple of days ago, The Salt Lake Tribune's lead story focused on Utah Attorney General Mark Shurtleff's announcement that he will not challenge U.S. Senator Bob Bennett for the Republican nomination. Shurtleff cited recent threats to the well being of his daughter, who suffers from mental illness, as his reason. I applaud the attorney general for putting the needs of his family over his own political ambition.

So, why am I writing about this? Because the story mentioned that the daughter in question is adopted.

To me there seems to be only two plausible reasons why the reporter or his editor (or Mr. Shurtleff if he was being quoted) was compelled to state the girl is not biologically Mr. Shurtleff's daughter. The first is to allay any concern that he shares DNA with this girl, and thus could also have mental health issues. The second is the belief that adopted children are somehow not "really" your child.

Personally, I'm not sure which is more offensive. The former shows great insensitivity to those with mental health struggles, while the latter reinforces the myth that somehow adoptive families aren't "real" families.

Maybe I'm being overly sensitive. But can anyone imagine The Trib writing, "...his biological daughter was dealing with mental health issues and needed family support."? Well, can you? Then why add "adopted"?

All children struggle. Adopted children can (but of course not always) struggle with a sense of belonging and identity. Continuing to give life to the misguided notion that there are "real" families and "adoptive" ones only intensifies theses struggles.

Kelly and I are exceedingly lucky that we have the love and support of family and friends, who see only grandsons, nephews, godsons, and cousins free from any classification or segregation from any other members of the family. It's a pity not everyone shares that same vision.

I hope for the very best for the Shurtleffs and their daughter. Plain and simple.

Birthday Gifts

Today is Niko's 3rd birthday.



On my sons' birthdays, I always think about their mom - the woman who unknowingly gave me the greatest gift I've ever received: fatherhood. I wonder if she thinks about them, longs for them, speculates about their lives.



This morning at church I prayed for her. I prayed that she would know that her boys are in a loving home where they are part of a strong family - one that isn't quite Norman Rockwell but in which they are adored nonetheless. I prayed that she understood that their lives are filled with happiness and they are surrounded by people of all ages, who cherish them.



I prayed that if she thought of Niko today she smiled.