“I often say adoption is a full-circle blessing… Adopted children were not abandoned; we were chosen.” —Dawn
The swaddled little girl came home to a modest suburban Tulsa, Oklahoma, residence five days after being born. Her parents, two successful chemical engineers, had been waiting with delicious anticipation for this baby to bring their love full circle. They never hid her story. They sang her tale like a hymn, the lyrics of which read, “You were chosen, you were wanted.” In that house, “adopted” wasn’t a whisper; it was a proclamation of belonging.
Growing up in her home, Sundays meant worship, and worship meant music. Song resonated in her soul, and she was trilling loud and proud even when she could not be seen behind the speaker’s stand, the microphone appearing disproportionately large compared to her diminutive stature.
At twelve years old, she stood at a national church gathering in Norman, Oklahoma, singing a slightly impertinent song about being “four foot eleven and going to heaven.” The crowd gave initial grins and chuckles until they noticed the powerful voice emanating from the little body.
Attending school in Broken Arrow, she did plays the way young boys compulsively join every sport. She was never anything but all in, always grinning, typically happy, and always the first to rehearsal. She attended Oklahoma City University, where an exacting voice teacher became a lifelong mentor, drilling vowels, teaching breath, and insisting that discipline is just "love in work boots." If one thought this future songstress and actor would be theatrical but uneducated in a classical manner, they would be very wrong. Degrees followed. First musical theatre, then a master’s in opera, and summers were packed with regional shows where she learned to hit her marks even when others missed theirs. All along, she had dreams beyond the prairie that revolved around Broadway.
The lights of the Big Apple were not initially kind, as she, like thousands of others, found open doors and opportunities to be scarce. But she kept showing up and building relationships until she was finally noticed in a quirky musical, opening the door to her future. Soon, she won a Tony Award for playing Sally from the comic strip Peanuts. Then came the sky-blue ballgown, the crown, the sparkle, and the sugary sweetness. It was the role that would stitch her name into Broadway history. As the good witch with the unearthly trill, she floated into a blockbuster musical and redefined “popular.” She originated the part when the show opened in 2003. The performance is why so many fans can still recite the bubble-entrance choreography beat-for-beat.
The young woman, now 57, was Kristi Dawn, whom we know as Kristin Chenoweth. The “n” was added so she could be taken seriously as an opera singer. Looking back at her life, she has said, “I can honestly say being adopted was one of the best things that ever happened to me. I am forever grateful to my parents for bringing me into their home.” She credits her parents’ unconditional support for her success and has never taken her adoption for granted. She is fully aware that her success started not with a stage door but with the first door that opened to her in the suburbs of Tulsa.
In this season of Thanksgiving, I am eternally grateful for the people God has called and gifted with a willingness to open their homes to adoption. Adoption is so much more than a rescue. It’s a belonging, a wanting, and a choosing. I am thankful for adoptive families where the story of adoption is told openly and with overflowing love. I am pleased that Kristin and others look back at their “gotcha day” as the day they were chosen for love.
I'll leave you with a few key take-aways from Kristin's story:
- Adoption isn’t a rescue; it’s belonging. Use language like “chosen,” “wanted,” and “ours" from day one.
- A stable family and opportunities to explore passions (music, arts, sports) can change the arc of a life.
- Gratitude grows in homes where the story is told openly and lovingly.
- In the case of adoption, name the belonging early. Tell the child’s story with pride (“You were chosen for our family”), not as a secret.
- Ritualize the welcome of each family member. Celebrate a “Family Day” or “Gotcha Day” with humble traditions, like a favorite meal, plenty of photos, and prayer. Rituals signal permanence.
Have a blessed and safe Thanksgiving.
-Eric
