For four little girls, there is a rock bottom that is more than just different kinds of rocks and a creek of running water. For us, there is no other place like this on earth. The creek runs beyond the Workman homestead, but our piece of this land is special. This rock bottom provided a place for my sisters and me to use our imagination, play Cowgirls and Indians and a place to escape when we just needed some time to think.
But this is a sacred place. A well-known place that is comfortable to me and a place to call home. I don’t share this with many people. Until now, I realize that what we had growing up was unique and not many can identify with me on the peacefulness that resides here. The life experienced in this one place included campfires, roasting hotdogs and marshmallows, and playing capture the flag. Running from the stampeding cows (it happens) and catching minnows in the creek to fish.
To think that if my grandfather had not been adopted our lives would be completely different. I can’t envision what life would have been like without our “escape” into the unknown world of the rock bottom.
Most of all I think this place and the adoption of my grandfather speaks to the beauty of God’s creation and design. Hence our name, Workman By Design. One of the definitions of design is — to assign in thought or intention; purpose — my grandfather was given the last name with purpose. It was intended and assigned to him by the adoption process of my great grandfather George Workman. Unknowingly, at first, the initials of Workman By Design are W.B.D. and my grandfather’s name is B.D. Workman, coincidence I think not.
By God’s design, He created the beauty that surrounds the life of an incredible man. A selfless, loving, hard-working man who saw a family as a community of people including the loving women who treated him like a son. An adoptive father that taught him how to be a man, take care of others and work the land they owned.
I am grateful for the beauty of adoption and the life I was given through the powerful decision of one man, George Workman. Not only for the family I was raised in but the picture it painted for me of how we are adopted into the family of God.