What Else Would You Rather Be Doing?
Complaining
Sometimes a mom just has to have a good complaining session, you know what I mean? Well, at least I know I do. It’s never fruitful or helpful to let the session last too long, but sometimes I just have to “get it out.” I remember driving my big extended 12 passenger van one day fully engaged in one of these “sessions.” I was concerned about multiple issues with our children, all of which were either rooted in adoption issues or were exacerbated by them. At that point all seven of our children were living at home and in school, and I remember feeling simply overwhelmed by all the needs. So, I’m driving the van, painfully aware of all that was not right in our family, and completely unaware at the moment of all that was good! And that led me to thinking how I just wished I could just go away– by myself! Anyone else “out there” know that feeling?
The “I’m DONE!” feeling?
The Lord’s Response
I’m sharing this with you because I’ll always remember that particular complaining session. I remember because of the Lord’s response to me. How kind of Him to listen to my complaints that I had not even turned into prayers. He asked me one simple question. I find that He has a way of doing that– of asking a question instead of giving an answer. And somehow the question, coming from Him, releases the freedom I so desire and so need to move forward.
(You’d think an answer is what we need, but somehow the answer with all its multifaceted beauty is tucked into the folds of the question. I think God enjoys my process of discovery! Proverbs 25:2 says that “It is God’s privilege to conceal things and the king’s privilege to discover them.”)
So in the midst of my complaining He asked me this:
“What would you rather be doing?”
As I am typing this I find my eyes stinging with tears once again at His kindness to me in that one question. For hidden within that simple question were great depths of His love, both for me and for my children.
A Work of Powerful Love
Adoption is a beautiful thing. Not the kind of beauty that is soft and gentle, butterflies and bunnies. Its beauty is rugged and powerful and sometimes even frightening in it’s scope. What a glorious thing to be a part of! What a privilege to co-labor with the God of the Universe as He pours out His love on these children. Indeed, what would I rather be doing?! To be an intimate player in a work of eternal significance is too lofty a thing. And yet, God has called me and many of you reading right now to partner with Him in the miraculous transformation of an orphan into a true son or daughter. That He would condescend to allow me to partner with Him, that He would call my name to join Him in His eternal purposes and will– I am overwhelmed at such an invitation.
A Work of Rebuilding and Restoring Love
Adoption is a beautiful thing. It is the work of rebuilding and raising up, of repair and restoration. It is the very work that Jesus gave His life to make available to us. Again, what else would I rather be doing? To have the awesome and deeply humbling opportunity to participate in putting an end to what are often generations of destructive living, resulting in great pain and disfunction, and to then be a part of the restoration work made available through God’s love found in Jesus. For many of our children (certainly not all adopted and foster children fit in this description, but most it seems) there are generations of ancient ruins and age-old foundations that God wants to rebuild, and many whose inheritance apart from adoption is not one of wholeness and abundant life. How amazing is it that we can be a part of the giving and receiving of a new inheritance, of a complete legacy shift, so that future generations no longer inherit abandonment, rejection, survival and pain. To see our children embrace love and then have the freedom to give love, to see them learn to enjoy life and to make plans for their future with excited anticipation– this is just incredible! Oh what a shift adoption is making in the trajectory of a generational line. Is this not amazing to be a part of?! It is the gospel at work and it is powerful and oh so good!!
The Lord will guide you always; he will satisfy your needs in a sun-scorched land and will strengthen your frame. You will be like a well-watered garden, like a spring whose waters never fail. Your people will rebuild the ancient ruins and will raise up the age-old foundations; you will be called Repairer of Broken Walls, Restorer of Streets with Dwellings. (Isaiah 58:11-12)
A Work of Intense Love
Adoption is a beautiful thing. What other occupation would I prefer? Yes it is a work that is difficult and sometimes overwhelming. And I am thankful for the trend in the adoption community to share some of the harsher realities of adoption. Indeed, it is necessary that we not “sugar coat” the more intense nature of this beautiful occupation. But I also see that in the authentic sharing we can sometimes lose sight of what it is we are actually doing.
Gotcha Day for the Templetons
For it is a beautiful thing to be a part of. And I don’t mean just those amazing moments when you your child comes home for the first time and there is great celebration and joy, or when your child calls you mommy or daddy for the first time, or when she seeks you out for comfort rather than retreating into herself, or when he pats your cheek and tells you he loves you more than anyone in the world, or even when she thanks you for adopting her. I also mean those tough and sometime cutting moments when she says she wishes she never was adopted, or that you aren’t his “real” mother, or when she goes into a violent rage causing the whole family to retreat from the pain of it all, or when he shuts you out, unable to accept your love. All of these scenarios are beautiful I believe. Beautiful because it is for these situations, both the ‘good’ and the ‘bad’ that God brought our children into our homes.
Dear friends, if you are in a difficult season with your child think of this– was it not for this very situation you are dealing with that God Himself brought your daughter or son into your family? Did He not look ahead into time when He saw the plight of your child and say to Himself, “where can I find a safe place for this precious child to live so that I can go about my work of restoration and rebuilding? It will be a costly work, and it will be years in the doing. Who can I trust with the messiness of such a work? Where is a safe place where I can pour out my healing love and where this sometimes trying work can be accomplished?” He looked to His people and saw you and me. He saw His servants who know how, when sun-scorched and weak, to enjoy the “spring that never fails.”
A Work of Enduring Love
Adoption is a beautiful thing. For in it we participate in God’s enduring love. The scriptures are full of this phrase, “His love endures forever.” There is a story being told in the kingdom; it is the story of this enduring love. And you and I have been invited to enter in to the story. We have been given the shocking honor to participate in the kind of love that is solid, immovable and patient. Not our love– for those adjectives don’t describe the quality of my love! No, this is the story of God’s love that I get to enjoy and share.
To endure is to hold out against, to sustain with out yielding, to last, to bear with patience. It is lasting and it is permanent. What else would I rather being doing with my life than to join into the telling of this love story?! What price is too great for the opportunity day after day to participate and co-labor with enduring love?!
So, when I get started in one of my complaining sessions it is best for me to step back and ask myself the question that sets me free from whatever disappointment and discouragement is in the now–
For indeed, What else would I rather be doing?
Oh Lord God, nothing else. Thank you for allowing me to walk alongside my child and to be a well-watered garden, a source of life. Teach me how to receive the sustenance You are for me when I feel sun-scorched and weary. What an honor it is, Father, to be allowed a role in this amazing story of restoration. And thank you that you are busy doing a work of enduring love in me as well. So, Father, I invite you to keep telling your story of enduring love in my home, in my life, in my family, in my heart. For it is true Lord, adoption is a beautiful thing.
____________________________
Beth Templeton
Beth has been married to her husband, Stephen, for 25 years. They have seven children, ages 16 to 22. Several years after giving birth to three girls, God called their family into the adventure and blessing of adoption. In 2000, they brought home a brother and sister, ages 5 and 10, from Russia. Then they returned to the same orphanage 18 months later and brought home two more brothers, ages 7 and 10. Stephen and Beth serve as leaders in their local church. Beth leads a ministry called Hope at Home, dedicated to help adoptive and foster parents encounter the Father’s heart for their families, partnering with God to transform orphans into sons and daughters. For more parenting insight and encouragement in the Lord go to the Hope at Home blog.
Adoption Perspective…Fears and Transitions
I wanted to share about one thing I learned in helping our kids transition into our care… and how fear plays a part in those transitions. And as part of my theme for this blog is “perspective” I want to share how I experienced a huge perspective change in the reality and nature of fear.
I wrote about all the ways I tried to help our big boy transition into our care… and really I think we did a knock out job of helping him feel safe, secure and that we love him and he could trust us. In some ways, his transition was far more easy for me to understand and feel compassion for than it was for me to understand with Thea. I think I saw the physical fear in his face and eyes when I met him. He really did wonderful and had very little problems adjusting to us and our new role in his life.
That brings me to where fear took hold of me. We were always really uncertain if adding 2 new kids was a “good idea”… it was a subject of months of weighing and wrestling with… there were so many up sides for our kids (the new ones), a few downsides, and we knew a bigger and heavier commitment and responsibility on our shoulders and parents. Then there was always the thought, “What if we get a child that needs more than we are able (or feel capable) of giving them?” It was not an easy choice. But at some point early last summer we realized that there was a series of events that had lead us to both of our kids, and we had tried to find other alternatives (particularly for our daughter) but all fell through nearly immediately. We were certain she was meant to be our daughter.
But, then again, after meeting our sweet girl in September I had a bunch of doubts all over again if we could be the kind of parents and family that *she* needed. It was as if all those fears and uncertainty returned to me with a vengeance. It was almost like drowning in fear! For one, I had gone home with a sweet little boy who really made our life easy… we enjoyed, for those 3+ weeks, a family-life that was almost simple. And I liked it. We knew that we’d most likely return for Thea in January… when we were ready and able to give her the time and attention we thought she would need… but then almost immediately we had another court date for her! I was immobilized in this fear that “I didn’t have what it took” to be a mom of 5 or to be her mom!
I was also worried about getting on the plane to go back because I thought that we’d lose our court date again, for legitimate reasons due to circumstances that were taking place in country at that time. I was so worried and not wanting to go back that Tim had to make a deal with me like you would an 8 year old going to camp, his “deal” was if after one week things had not worked out I could come home, and he had already booked that ticket so I knew he was telling the truth. I feared the unknown, all the hard things I had to do on my own and I felt completely unable to skillfully take care of the possible problems that I could potentially come up while I was there! Then there was Thea and all of the hard things we had dealt with when I had cared for her the first time.
Now I feel really silly about it all… silly, that I should have known God would work it all out and that this was never up to us, but on His timing and in His will!… but all I could feel was that overwhelming dread and fear!
But… the fear was real, even if the circumstances were just possibilities.
Walking through that fog of fear I some how found my way back to her and “just did the next thing” for about 5 days. After those days I realized that instead of a screaming terrified baby, I had a really sweet, and happy baby that wanted me… as her mom. All of the logistics and issues in court worked themselves out… perfectly. Amazingly. I was humbled.
For three days after that I felt like I had been hit by a truck… it might have been jet lag, a baby that was up a few times at night or something else, but I really just had to lay around and rest because I felt so depleted! I even worried that maybe I had gotten a “bug” or was beginning to get malaria… but I didn’t. I was just wiped out… I now think it was from all the stress and fear that I had surrounding me that week or two prior.
Fear is such a weird thing.
It is an emotion, but it has physical, mental and even the ability to change how you view people and circumstances. I physically felt different during that week, my stomach in constant knots, feeling hyper, unable to sleep and unable to relax and even slightly suspicious and paranoid.
I have never ever felt those things before in my life… or at least to that degree and in that overwhelming of a way! There were times I had to say, “Marci, this just doesn’t make sense what you are feeling! You need to think other thoughts…” and I would pray.
And you know, eventually, I realized that must be exactly how sweet Thea felt for sometime (if not much longer). When I realized that that is what she was going through I immediately felt so so broken at my inability to have understanding for her! I feel so glad I had that horrible week of fear just to understand how she must have felt too!
I understood her restlessness at night, her fits of screaming, her drowsiness all day long and her desire just to “shut off” and zone out. She was afraid! She was dreading the unknown, she felt suspicious and untrusting of me and others, she felt wiped out and even potentially sick feeling. And when we moved rooms it was highly scary and alarming to her because she didn’t know what that would mean for her!
Again, I am so so thankful that I went through that horrible week… it wasn’t the week that was really horrible, but my fear in the unknown of what that week might hold.
In one of the books that we read on adoption that seemed to have the most “sense” and logic to it, the author talks about how it is one of the most important tasks for parents of adopted kids to help them have “felt safety”, it isn’t that it is truly unsafe around them, but that they perceive more fear in situations, more insecurity and that our job is to help them understand and feel safe in our care!
That is what God did for me. While I was in the airport, half way there, I sort of had a breakdown… I just didn’t want to get on that last plane to UG… I wanted to run home! I was internally wrestling with God saying, “God, I want to go home! I know (because that was what fear was telling me) I will get to UG and be told the judge will not show up, I’ll wait for weeks all alone and I am not even sure we should be bringing Thea home… I am so afraid… I can’t do this on my own! Why does your Word not tell me what I should do?” I felt this voice say, “David… David was afraid… look to his words.”
I opened Psalm 1
“1 Blessed is the one
who does not walk in step with the wicked
or stand in the way that sinners take
or sit in the company of mockers,
2 but whose delight is in the law of the LORD,
and who meditates on his law day and night.
3 That person is like a tree planted by streams of water,
which yields its fruit in season
and whose leaf does not wither—
whatever they do prospers. judgment,
4 Not so the wicked!
They are like chaff
that the wind blows away.
5 Therefore the wicked will not stand in the
nor sinners in the assembly of the righteous.
6 For the LORD watches over the way of the righteous,
but the way of the wicked leads to destruction.”
Every word was like cool water to me, it calmed me, gave me perspective and peace. Every day of my 26 day trip I read the next Psalm in order… every day it addressed the need or fear I had for that day! It was “felt safety” for me. It reminded me I have a Father who cares, provides, is trust-worthy and in control… and I need not fear.
The last verse I read on concluding my 26 day second trip was Psalm 26:12,
“My feet stand on level ground; in the great congregation I will praise the LORD.”
That is what our God does for us. He helps us overcome fears and to stand on the level ground of Him… so that we can give Him glory! That is also what we are to do for our kids.
How can we be that kind of parent for our kids?
Do we brush off their fears as silly or do we help address their fears as something real, but help them see the situation through that new perspective?
______________________________
Marci Miller
Marci Miller and her husband Tim live and work at a camp for socially and economically disadvantaged youth, many of whom are foster or former foster children. This is their 8th summer at CBX and their 11th summer in camp ministry.They currently have 5 children, ages 7, 6, 5, 4 and 2 years old. The 6 and 2 year olds came home through the miracle of adoption late in 2011. Marci blogs about their adventures in parenting, ministry, homeschooling and adoption at She Can Laugh…
Adoption Breaks My Heart Sometimes
When you adopt a child internationally, so much of their previous life is a mystery. Thus far, William has been unable or unwilling to share any but the tiniest and most mundane details of his time in the orphanage. Because of this, every scrap of information I can glean from other children who lived with him is a treasure. We keep in contact with the other families, and as different children begin to share we are able to fill in a few gaps and gain a better understanding of their journey.
The things we learn are both amusing and heartbreaking.
Hunger before they came into care. We knew this was the main reason children are relinquished for adoption. There simply is Not. Enough. Food. Family members must make difficult decisions in order to ensure survival: adoption or starvation. I knew this was their reality, but to hear it from the mouth of a child that I know and care about is unbearable.
Fear and mourning after relinquishment. These are real children who are separated from the only life they have ever known. Their loved ones decided to place them in an orphanage so they will have a chance at a better life; so they will survive long enough to have a better life. Unfortunately the children don’t understand that. All they know is that yesterday they were home with mommy, and now they are in a strange building with strange people and mommy isn’t coming back. How would your preschooler react in that situation? Our babies reacted the same way: crying, screaming, clinging on for dear life. I wish I could erase those memories and heal that hurt, but I can’t.
Making the best of things. We heard about how Will would get out of bed at night and start dancing to make his friends laugh (totally sounds like him, by the way), and then the nannies would get on to them. We also heard about haircuts, games of tag, and the pandemonium that a little mouse can cause (imagine boys chasing the mouse while the girls scream their heads off!). For the most part, the orphanage was a happy place. The nannies love those children fiercely and although it’s not the same as a family, they do the best they can to make it a home.
Grief shared by close friends. The children were able to laugh and play during the day, but when nighttime came, sometimes the weight of grief was too much to bear. It was at those times that William and his friend would climb in the same bed and cry together. I can’t even type that without tearing up. There is only so much that this momma’s heart can take. I’m thankful that he had friends to walk through that time with. I’m grateful to the older children who helped care for the younger ones, both physically and emotionally.
These kids have been through things that would make a grown man crumble, and yet they are willing to love, trust, and start over.
Just this afternoon William was talking about Ethiopia which, as I said, is rare.
He was talking about the day we came to get him (in the cutest accent you have EVER heard).
“I was far away in Ethiopia, and Mommy and Daddy drive car (vroom, vroom noises), and the car go ‘beep! beep!’ and the thing go bzzzzzzz (we honked the horn for the guard to open the gate). And they say ‘watch out’ and we move and the car come in. And you get out and…..”
(Huge grin and twinkling eyes)
“…You hold me!”
Yes, baby, we sure did. And we will never let you go.
__________________________
Tiffany Castleberry
Tiffany lives near Tulsa, Oklahoma, with her high-school-sweetheart husband and five fantastic kids, four by birth and one from Ethiopia. Her passions include Bible study, adoption, writing, and homeschooling. When she isn’t doing laundry or driving to her children’s activities, you can find her blogging at Stuff and Things.
H. AR. D.
This special season of adjustment for our family, a birthday was kind of a big deal to get through. For Keturah, it probably held some special challenges, but nothing that she didn’t make it through with grace. She’s adjusted to the big sister role beautifully.
It’s the mama in this equation that’s struggling.
Patrick’s presence at Urbana undoubtedly added to how difficult the day was for me in degree, but I somehow think that what I found hard would have been hard had he been here too.
“Hard?” you ask, “how was celebrating Keturah’s birthday hard, exactly?”
Now before I go on to tell you exactly what I mean by hard, let me first state that I share this side of my story not only to acknowledge the less-than-picture-perfect moments of our lives, but more specifically to share some of those moments of our lives post-adoption. I’ve been honest about adoption issues here before. It’s not easy.
I also desire to make perfectly clear that most of the ‘issues’ I speak of lie with me and not Marilla. She’s got her own issues, to be sure, but what I’m writing about today concerns my personal response to the reality of parenting an adopted toddler at this stage in the game.
Please do not mistake my self-disclosure as anti-adoption sentiment. It’s not. I’m being honest too, when I say that I love Marilla, and would absolutely adopt her all over again.
Okay, now to spell it out. Celebrating Keturah’s birthday was:
H. AR. D.
H — Harried, but Holding it together.
I started off the day just feeling pulled in too many directions.
My desire was to celebrate Keturah’s birthday by making her the center of attention. To date in our family life, it has proven to be a reasonable expectation that the birthday girl or boy gets mom and dad’s attention, and is generally given preferential treatment. Because that is our custom, the non-birthday child has enjoyed taking part in this celebration, knowing that his or her day is coming.
Marilla, being new to our family, and over the last four months being the primary recipient of most preferential treatment, has no concept of what it means to celebrate a sibling. Why didn’t she get to blow out the candles? She doesn’t know that she’s got a day of her own marked on a different month of the calendar, and doesn’t realize that there is no injustice, and no threat to her position in preferring jiejie for a day.
Marilla needed explanation and guidance through every element of Keturah’s party. This kind of teaching opportunity I would have been glad to seize during another friend’s birthday celebration—staying close by, whispering instructions and affirmations into her ear as we navigated new territory together—but on Keturah’s birthday, Marilla’s needs just served to make me feel pulled in the wrong direction . . . away from my birthday girl.
I ended up with Marilla on my hip or at my side for the majority of the morning (while administrating party games, and barking all kinds of orders at my poor sister), when I would have preferred to draw Keturah in under my arm. The presence of other moms and my sister’s help (she cleaned up at least one accident while I got a wet little girl to the potty), allowed things to go as smoothly as they could given my own internal tug-of-war, and I managed to keep these growing emotions under control for the morning.
By Marilla’s naptime, though, as my sister manned the older two over lunch, I continued to struggle.
AR — Angry & Resentful.
With the party behind us, I thought that I’d be able to have some quiet moments with Keturah—maybe talking about her party, maybe playing with a few of her presents. An over-tired Marilla required a nap time bottle from me, while my sister manned lunch and party-clean-up for the older two.
I’m ashamed to admit it, but I did not do well with Marilla’s nap time needs. I felt she’d robbed me of special time with Keturah, and I took it out on her. I was impatient as she took her bottle. When she had trouble settling (and remember, she’d spent the morning being overstimulated) I just felt angry. I demanded that she “relax” and “stop moving around,” and “go to sleep”. I resented her presence and her needs because they seemed maliciously in direct opposition to my own desires.
I did eventually get to leave a sleeping Marilla’s side, but I must have carried that anger and resentment along with me. It only escalated when a premature wake up dictated that I excuse myself from listening to Keturah’s pretend play with her stuffed animals in her kitty-cat box to tend to Marilla.
D — Desperate.
I don’t like to admit to anger or resentment. Or desperation. But I’m glad that the range of intense emotions that I felt on that afternoon lead me to that place of admitting that it was so hard that it hurt, and that I just couldn’t hold it together on my own.
As I rocked an unhappy and over-tired two-year-old in my arms and desperately prayed aloud over her, she finally settled again. At the end of all of my own resources, I crawled to the opposite side of our bed, and just cried my heart out to heaven. No words. Just tears.
It’s uncomfortable to be desperate. And I loathe the process of getting there. I hate that I don’t learn enough from these cycles: holding-it-together –> anger & resentment. I want to be living there in that final place of desperation that’s so inevitable at this particularly challenging stage of life.
It’s in the desperate moments that I realize how high and unreasonable my own expectations are, and how it’s not my job to meet every need of each my children all of the time—however much I’d like to.
So, yes, Keturah’s birthday was really, really hard. That’s the rest of the story. The honest truth.
Funny how that stuff doesn’t end up in the birthday pictures, somehow, but I would hate to forget it.
Kim Smith
Kim met and married her husband Patrick while living and working in Asia in 2004. Their first two children, a son and a daughter, both born in Beijing, came along shortly after. Their adopted daughter, Marilla, was born in Henan province in 2010, then joined their family through the China adoption program as a two-year-old this past fall. You can catch snippets of the Smiths’ day-to-day lives at home in China, on their family blog, Asiaramblin.
A Prayer for the Oldest Orphans
*
Day 8
In Moscow at least, the children leave the orphanage “homes” when they are 17 or 18 years old and the government provides an apartment (to own, not just rent) and tuition for a college education. Mostly, she said, these young adults are encouraged to learn a trade.
When we heard this, our initial reaction was something like that’s actually not too bad, but then our facilitator went on: the young men and women who have spent their whole lives in an orphanage are often unable to cope with the world once they leave. They’ve had meals prepared, clothes and school supplies bought, they’ve lived in community their entire lives, and they just don’t have the skills to live alone. They become terribly lonely. The worst, she said, are holidays. When every other college student returns to Mom and Dad for New Years or summer holidays, these orphaned students have no one. Just think for a minute when you were in college or just starting out in the world. Think about how many times you called home, emailed, or visited your parents to ask for advice or just for a hot meal and come company. These young adults have no one.
Many of the young children in baby homes right now are the offspring of young men and women who grew up as orphans themselves. Having grown up without an example to follow, they simply do not know how to parent.
There are organizations that exist to help these young people not just survive but thrive. They provide mentorship, classes for life skills, and invaluable direction for those who don’t know where to turn. We should remember to pray for them, especially now.
*
God who guides our every step,
Today we pray for the young men and women who have just left or are about to leave their orphanage homes. They are in deep need of your love and guidance. We pray you will provide for them in very practical ways.
Give them a safe place to live, food to eat, an education, and a way to be fulfilled in their work. We thank you that the government provides many of these things in Russia.
However, we know that it is not enough. We also pray that you will bring older and wiser people into their lives to provide wisdom and direction. We pray you will give them a community in which they experience real love. Give them a place to go for the holidays, someone to call for advice, and a loving hand to hold as they figure out how to make their way in the world.
Provide them with spiritual direction through your church. Bring them missionaries, clergy members, and believers to share your gospel truth. May they find unwavering peace and lifelong direction in your precious word.
As adoptions in Russia close, we pray that you will bless the people and organizations who help these older orphans with all that they need. Make them a blessing in their country.
We thank you for every good and perfect gift; we know they all come for you.
Be with these oldest orphans today, we pray in Jesus’ name.
Amen.
Jillian Burden
Jillian Burden and her husband John welcomed their son home from
Russia in November 2012. Follow their journey to adoption and
parenting joy at www.addingaburden.com.
Adoption is Hard
Children from hard places who have experienced trauma
(and I would argue that losing your birth family is always traumatic)
are going to have attachment issues.
Their trust has been broken
by the very people who were
supposed to be the most trustworthy.
Your words mean nothing to them. They have no reason to trust what you say and they have every reason to doubt. They have been hurt, they have had to learn to protect themselves, they lack the ability to empathize, and they are scared to death, they are master manipulators and they want to be in control.
WARNING: Their behavior is going to reflect this.
And it is going to make you feel crazy.
And parenting them is hard CRAZY HARD.
Even if you fell in love with their referral pictures, chances are that once you enter this crazy hard world of loving a child with attachment issues, you are not going to FEEL like you love them. No, it does not FEEL the same as parenting a healthy attached child. Not the PC thing to say, but true. It’s hard to feel love for a child who tries to sabotage you at every turn.
But, you see, you DO love them:
You love them by doing the loving thing over and over and over.
You love them by parenting them in the way they need to be parented with high nurture and high structure (despite how you parented your other kids or how your church friends parent).
You love them by holding them when they are raging and telling them that you aren’t going anywhere.
You love them by praying for them and fighting the spiritual battle on their behalf.
You love them by not being easily offended.
You love them by not being easily manipulated.
You love them by not giving up, by not confirming their suspicions that you are just like all of the others who abandoned them and broke their trust.
You love them by laying down your life, picking up your cross, and dying to yourself
over
and over
and over.
Yes, you love them. . . and by the grace of God, someday, yes someday, you will wake up and realize that they believe you and they trust you and both of you FEEL, truly feel that phileo (friendship) love that you have both been longing for.
Dear “trauma mama” if you are in the trenches today, lovingly parenting through the crazy-hard, please do not lose heart! Do not give up or be easily discouraged. Fight the battle by dying. Just for today, lay down your life and choose love.
_________________________
Jen Summers
Blessed beyond measure to be a child of God, wife of Disco Man, mother of ten awesome children (9 adopted from “hard places”), and friend of many. Messed up in most ways and so thankful for His saving grace in my life. Trying to be thankful for His refining fire as well. Desiring to live fully, every day, for His glory alone. You can follow their life at Grace and Glory.
Thea’s Birthday
Two years ago you came into this world!
There is a story there, one I have bits and pieces of. All babies get here through labors and tryings and struggles. I am sure there was giving up of hope, some anguish and dispare, but then eventual sweet deliverance. I know there was an almighty Hand of grace and provision over your somewhat amazing entrance to the world. You came into this very scary world and lived. You amaze me!
It is day’s like today when all I feel is fight from you that I remember that little fact about you… you have fought fights I will never know.
Tonight when I laid you down for bed I asked you gently, “What is your problem today, huh? Why are you having such a hard time?” Then I am transported to what I think that day might have been like and I remember a baby with amazingly soft hair and rosebud lips was fighting to be born, fighting to live and fighting to not be left on her own. Oh what a trivial life I live, sweet one!
Sometimes I ache to just have been a fly on the wall of the room you came into being in.
I have this one almost sacred photo of the day you were born. It is beyond special to me. It conveys feelings and thoughts that are real and raw. Everyone looking someplace other that at you, the star of the day. Most birth photos don’t look like this and I know that it wasn’t any one’s fault, they just didn’t know what to do with a situation that was as cloudy as the photo.
Your birth was planned very specifically to grant you life! Simply amazing! You also had so many things take place to bring you to our family. Sometimes it boggles my mind. Sometimes it makes me mad. Sometimes I don’t understand why others wouldn’t have cared for you like they should have. It still amazes me because those events were something utterly out of my control and brought into action through visibly unalterable events by the One who did have a plan for you.
Even when we met, I wasn’t sure about you. This is a fact that I have only uttered to a few people. When I met you I thought… “God? What am I suppose to do here?” and His fairly clear prompting was, “Marci, do the next thing and do it rightly.” We did that, and it brought you home eventually. His plan has been perfectly wrought in the annals of time! His will could not be thwarted, over and over again this proved true. I am thankful I had the where-with-all to listen and obey.
Today I held you and your fought me.
Then you’d kiss me.
Then you’d fight me.
Then you’d say “Hey Mom??? Sorry…”
Then you’d fight me.
Then you’d lay your head on my chest and seep in.
This isn’t normal, but it was today. It is ok Thea. You don’t have to be sorry, never never, for struggling. You are a survivor, but you don’t have to fight anymore. You are home.
Know that your birth was a joyous event! It made me a mom for the fifth time! You joined our family that day. Your birth mom became mother that day! She learned to love in real ways. You have made me a far better person. You have brought joy to grandparents, brothers and sisters, aunts and uncles, cousins and friends. On the day of your birth I know God was unfolding a plan for you… all the way to the end, for His glory and for your benefit. I am excited, baby girl, to see where it goes!
You were named Thea Agnes Katsiime because we know God is Holy and in that we Give Thanks!
I know this is sort of a serious birthday letter, but you are two and won’t read it for a long time.
I hope it brings you perspective… because perspective is priceless.
Happy 2nd Birthday my sweet baby!
Love,
Mommy
_________________________
Marci Miller
Marci Miller and her husband Tim live and work at a camp for socially and economically disadvantaged youth, many of whom are foster or former foster children. This is their 8th summer at CBX and their 11th summer in camp ministry.They currently have 5 children, ages 7, 6, 5, 4 and 2 years old. The 6 and 2 year olds came home through the miracle of adoption late in 2011. Marci blogs about their adventures in parenting, ministry, homeschooling and adoption at She Can Laugh…
And So We Woo.
One of my adoption friends wrote a blog post about ‘woo-ing’ her new son.
“I have never worked so hard to win another person’s love. Ever.”
This spoke to me so much because in adoption, there is no “the instant”. Love does not start from the moment that baby is placed in your arms. For some parents (thankfully I am included in this group) love grows before you go to pick up your child, but for some, it happens much later. Many people compare adoption, especially older child adoption, as feeling as though you are caring for someone else’s kid. “When are his or her parents coming to get him or her back!??!”
But then, love grows. Overtime, most times, love grows.
But let us not forget, we’re looking at it through the parents eyes.
For me, love was a seed that was planted the moment we said yes. It wasn’t the whole, “I saw her picture and I knew she was my child” bit of crazy that you’ll hear some parents say. I had seen Cora’s picture on our agency’s list for a while before I thought, “Oh, I can ask for her file. Hmmm….maybe I will.” There was no referral of Cora to me. There was no “this is your daughter” opening of the documents. It was a child – a beautiful child, but was it my child?
Eventually, obviously, “the child” did become “MY child”. After a good month plus of researching, digging, praying and giving each other time to digest the contents of what we dug up, “child” became “daughter” and our love started to grow, just like a seed grows into a flower with the aid of the sun. By the time we went to bring her home, there was already a stem and the bud of a flower ready to bloom and it wasn’t long at all until a flower was fully formed.
Our daughter, on the other hand, was quite content in all ways, mostly because she didn’t know what she was missing without a family. She didn’t know what mommies and daddies did. She didn’t know how a parent’s touch feels. She didn’t know what it was like to have mommy comb the snarls out of your hair or have daddy trim the nails that have grown long on her toes. She was perfectly capable of washing every square inch of her body, hair included, and would never ever cry of soap got into her eyes.
She didn’t know.
But I knew.
Her seed was planted at that time, not when ours was planted. She had no bud yet. No stem. Just a seed. Or maybe just the gift of a seed with the option of planting it when she was ready.
In the past 9 months, that seed has started to grow, but it is very obvious that there is more needed to aid her growth than the little sun that we had. She needs to learn unconditional love. She needs to be woo-d. And wooing her is not always easy.
This is a foreign concept to those who have not adopted. I know this because I would have never guessed with prior to Cora. Woo your child? Forget that! I’m the mom, you’re the child and we are a family. Some days are better than others, but in it together, we are. Sure, it’s the truth even now, but it’s not that simple. I would never ever look at Logan or Miles and think, “They need wooing today” with much more than a passing thought. But sometimes, it’s easy to think that with Cora.
Logan and Miles have known nothing other than me as mom. They know my ups and downs and even on my down days, they have had a million up days to know that the good far outweighs the bad. Cora on the other hand has had just a handful of days. Or so it seems in the whole layout of her little life. I’m still new. Even 9 months in.
She now knows what mommies and daddies do, and most often she’ll gladly share how she loves having the experience of a mommy and daddy to do those things. Singing at bed, reading books, snuggling, praying together, carrying…all things she said she didn’t have much experience with prior to 9 months ago. But there are those moments when I doubt that it is ME that brings her joy – just the experience.
The days when she would do anything just to get off of my lap, the days where she’ll look anywhere but my eyes when I’m signing to her, the days when I tell her I love her and she pretends she doesn’t hear me. The days when I pick her up from school and she’s far more interested in visiting someone else’s mom than coming to see me.
I don’t blame her. It hurts my feelings, I won’t lie, but I don’t blame her. I took her away from her life. She loves the children she’s missing. She begs to visit them. She tells me how she will feed them and hold them and put them to sleep and she wants to share it with me. It’s what she did and now it’s what she doesn’t do because of me. I know in her mind she compares the fully grown flower of love she had with the other children in her orphanage to what she has at home – the stem, still growing.
When we read about attachment and adoption, I read all of this great info about touch and attachment games/activities that involve touching – hair, fingernails, lotion, etc….We’re doing just great there! Girl wants me to hold her any second. She lets me comb and do her hair and 85% of the time she’ll even let me wash it. She loves her sling and 95% of the time she loves to snuggle on my lap before bed. I can lotion her little body up and trim her hair or nails. I can dry her off and wrap her up like a baby and sing her a little lullaby. In terms of attachment, I’d say we’re winning. We’re establishing a great base and I do believe the sun is growing her stem bit by bit into a beautiful flower.
It’s just those off moments. Those off days. They are few and far between, thank God, but they hurt.
And I know they hurt her, too.
And so I woo.
I look deep in her eyes and woo with all of my might.
Even when they won’t look back.
And pray with all of my heart that the effort of wooing is starting the growth of a bud.
___________________________
Jen Adkins
Jen Adkins spends her days sharing tips as a Style writer at About.com but she shares her heart on her blog, Cora’s Coming Home. Jen and her husband Dave have three children, 11 and 8-year-old boys and a 5-year-old girl. They brought their daughter home in April of 2012 from Korea at age 5. One month after bringing her home they found out her body is unable to block certain tumor growths. She is undergoing treatment for the hundreds of skin cancers currently on her body while they pray for an answer not yet available. Jen’s blog is a sneak peek into the life of a family suddenly immersed in Barbie’s and pink things, hospital visits and research, Korean culture and all the emotions that engulf older child adoption.
Walking Away: 2 Years Later
2 years ago today we were walking through the halls of what had been Asher’s home for 23 months.
Still in shock over being handed a 17 lb 23 month old who had never had anything solid in his mouth.
Who wasn’t walking, talking, or even crying. Whose spine I felt every time I held him.
I was angry. The other child that was adopted from this place on the same day was healthy, chubby, running all over and babbling all kinds of Chinese. And was younger than Asher by a few months. I was anxious to see just what kind of place this was and try to put the pieces together of a very, very fuzzy puzzle.
It was cold and dark inside the building. Colorful but sterile. The staff were sweet, smiling at us, and welcoming. A nanny walked by with a basin of bottles, with large holes cut out of the nipples so the kids would drink fast and be done so the next chore could be done. Strangely quiet for being “home” to about 100 children.
We didn’t get anymore answers to our fuzzy puzzle. All we were told was that they had tried to “fix” his hands, but that “it didn’t work.” (how exactly you fix missing fingers is beyond me)
But then our time was over. We said our goodbyes. And we participated in one of the greatest miracles I believe I’ll ever be a part of:
We walked out of that building with our son.
That my friends, is a miracle.
The Lord had His eyes on this child when he was abandoned in a box. In His Sovereignty, moved the heart of a man to find him, take him to the police station, and then to an orphanage that participated in International Adoption. In a city of 7 million people.
7.million.people.
And we got to be a part of that plan and participate in the miracle. I’ll tell you one thing, no one ever struts when they are adopting. Adoption has been the most humbling experience of my life. Hands down. If there’s ever any pride in this process, the Lord is not in it. Saying yes to this calling ought to make us fall on our faces to the ground and just weep over how BIG God is and how GOOD He is and how SOVEREIGN He is. And BEG Him for wisdom and understanding on how to love and parent these gifts He’s given us.
We got in the van, and drove away that day. Feeling more guilty than I ever have in my entire life that I only had ONE child in my arms. That 100 were still in that place. It did and does still feel, like not enough.
Today, there is healing.
There is eating and running and singing and giggling.
There is peaceful sleep and security.
There are lots and lots of hot wheels.
Revelation 21:5
And He who sits on the throne said, “Behold, I am making all things new.”
The miracle is still unfolding.
Happy 2 years home, Asher Stephen.
God’s gonna use you BIG, buddy.
You are indeed fulfilling your name.
Happy and Crowned.
Love,
Mama
__________________________
Emily Flynt
Emily and Jay have been married for 11 years and have 5 childen–Avery 8, Ally 6, Annalyse 4, Ashley 3, and (finally) our BOY, Asher 2. Ashley and Asher were adopted from China and were both special needs adoptions. Jay is an associate pastor at Sherwood Baptist Church in Albany, GA, and Emily spends her days chasing toddlers and waiting in line at carpool. Her favorite place in the world is in her van, all alone with the worship music blaring! She would count it an honor to have you be encouraged at www.ourhimpossiblejourney.blogspot.com.
Same Love, Different Love
I think one of the biggest misgivings people have about adoption is wondering if they can love an adopted child as much as a biological child.
I’ve been asked it.
And I’ve answered it in various ways….depending on where we were on this journey.
I’m going to be honest here.
Back when we adopted Rylie, deep down, I might have answered in a way that showed my doubt. She was tough. And a lot of the time, I was faking it. And a lot of the time, I wasn’t very good at faking it.
And I wondered.
Can I really love this kid? I mean, really love her like my others?
Without convincing myself? Without trying to convince other people?
And if I can….when? When will it happen?
Because it wasn’t instantaneous. And I was completely unsure if she would ever really feel like my daughter.
It was hard to love a kid who gave you absolutely nothing in return. Who fought you every step of the way. It just was. And I’m only human, so I’ll admit that.
With Jude, it was much more instantaneous. Because he was so darn lovable. And he made loving him easy.
Same as Jonah.
Same as Reagan.
Love at first sight.
Now back to Rylie….
Let me say…unequivocally….without question…I. LOVE. THIS. GIRL.
I love her as much as I love my other kids. I don’t always get along with her as well. But I love her.
Deeply.
Fiercely.
Just different.
She doesn’t make me mushy with the warm fuzzies.
She is usually pushing my buttons in some way….and I sense she gets a great bit of joy out of that. 
But still, I love her.
I love her in a “I can’t handle her dealing with any more injustice and tragedy in her life than she has already experienced” kind of way. In a vengeful kind of way. In a fighting kind of way.
Because her life hasn’t been fair. And it’s wounded her in a lot of ways.
But I venture to say that in the end, SHE will be the one I am the most proud of.
Because when I look at her on the playground at preschool…..playing by herself because the other kids can’t understand her, I realize how brave she is. And I realize how much I admire her tenacity.
And I realize that it makes my heart physically hurt to see her experience that.
And I want to fix it and shelter her from it.
She’s got a lot to overcome. She risks a lot of hurt and rejection coming her way in the future.
And I know that loving her doesn’t change that.
But I hope it helps her get through it.
I hope it helps her realize her value. Her worth.
I hope it shows others a glimpse of God’s love for us….despite how utterly unlovable we sometimes are.
So….can you? Can you love an adopted child as much as a biological one?
Well, let’s just say if you mess with her, I will mess. you. up.
And if that’s not love, then I don’t know what is.
__________________________________
Jennifer Middleton
Jennifer and Rush Middleton have been married for 11 years and have 4 kids, Jonah (8), Reagan (5), Rylie (3) and Jude (2). Rylie came home from China in 2010 and Jude just arrived earlier this year. The Middletons have been through the easy and the hard of bringing a child into their family, yet the awesome gift of adoption has rocked their worlds in more ways than they can count. You can check out their blog about family, life, adoption, cleft lip/palate and other randomness at Apple Pie and Egg Rolls.
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