Today, Lily got on her shoes and went to the back door to go play outside. She does this often, but usually comes back inside or just stands on the porch when no one wants to go outside with her. However today, when I opened the door for her she proceeded to walk out on the back porch, crawl out the doggy door (Girl #3 taught her this trick…sooo much faster than opening the door), and go in the backyard to play by herself.
This may not sound like much but this is a REALLY BIG deal!
Lily is a different kind of adopted child than what I expected. Maybe her behavior is more typical than what I think, but it is just different than what I expected. I believe this is why, for some time, I felt thrown for a loop.
I was in a stance prepared for other tactics than what I received. And though the behaviors have been understandable and typical, I was taken off guard.
I was prepared for a bold, demanding, clingy orphanage child. Instead, we have a gentle, insecure, sometimes aloof, foster home girl.
Now, don’t misunderstand. She is PERFECT for our family! Funny, vibrant, and silly as all get out!! What I am speaking of are the typical behaviors that are seen in adoptive children. The obstacles you face as an adoptive parent trying to ease this child into a secure, forever family environment. These are not necessarily her personality traits.
When she walked to that door and went out to play, pride swelled in me as if my child had just hit a homerun with the bases loaded. The biggest grin broke out across my face! And all she did was something other children do all the time and try to do from the moment they can walk.
This one act said, “This is my house. I live here. If I want to go outside and play, I can because I have equal ownership of this place!”
It was an awesome moment!
We are taking little steps all the time. She still won’t get up out of her bed on her own at nap time or in the morning but we are working on it. Unless she sees Girl #3 do it, she just doesn’t have the guts to just get up and come find me when she wakes. She just lays there and moans until someone comes to get her. It’s okay though, we are going to get there! One sweet day at a time.
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Anna Lokey
Anna Lokey and her husband Shaun have been married 11 years. They have the joyful privilege of parenting four little girls. Three biological (Zoe-8, Hazel-5, Sophie-3) and the fourth, Lily (age 2), recently adopted from China. Anna is a homeschool mom trying everyday to bring up their girls in a loving, Jesus-centered home! She and her husband help lead worship at their church and serve in the children’s ministries. Anna enjoys reading, working out, and playing pretend with her girls. You can read more about them and their Anything but LoKEY life on her blog!
I realize something lately. I have been getting way too comfortable. See, it’s been almost 3 years since we adopted Hope, and over a year and a half since we brought home Sam, and things are settling down (relatively speaking).
When first home from China, the thought of your child having lived in an orphanage, having gone hungry, or having suffered, is so heavy that it sometimes it seems hard to breathe.
The enormity of it is overwhelming.
You look into the eyes of your scared and fragile child, and they are still so haunted by what has just transpired. They are scarred by what they have gone through, and most times will never form the words to tell you just how bad it was.
You are confronted with it like a smack in the face every single day.
Every single time they look at you.
The gut-wrenching fear when you leave the room.
The eating hoards of food as if there will never be more.
Or in Sam’s case…the not being able to eat since you were never given the chance and you just don’t know how to swallow.
The scared, distant look, or silent cries with puddles of tears that go on for weeks, months, sometimes longer.
It is easy after you have a year or more under your belt to see your now 33-pound toddler–laughing, playing, and loving…
to forget.
It is easy when your now 5 year old gets a glowing report from preschool at how “advanced” she is and how she is a leader amongst her friends and doing so well that she is sure she will excel next year in Kindergarten…
to forget.
To forget that your toddler was skin and bones and couldn’t walk, talk, or eat. That he was hosed off in dirty water and slept in a snowsuit because of the cold–and no heat at his orphanage. To forget that most pictures sent to you he had blue lips, despite their best efforts to keep him warm.
To forget that your daughter was once so petrified when she was handed to you that she actually caused other parents to cry at the pain she felt at being separated from all she has ever known. To forget that she had to be pried away from her caregivers at the orphanage–and that she screamed until she passed out. That she came home hyper to the point of where she couldn’t sit still for more than 3 seconds at a time.
It is easy to get comfortable. It IS easier to push all that unpleasantness far away in your brain and live in the now, relish in how they are doing now, forget what they went through. It is easy and comfortable to do that.
But it is so important NOT to do that.
You see, when you “forget” or “move on,” you forget that there are millions of kids out there–millions of Hopes and Sams. You are ignoring the fact that just because your kid is okay now, that many others are continuing on in that existence who we try and push to the far recesses of our brain.
So I will choose to forever be uncomfortable.
When my babies are sick, and I am holding back their hair while they are vomiting, and nursing them with ginger ale and crackers, and running them a hot bath, cuddling them into clean, cozy jammies…
see the baby in the back?
I will remember the baby I saw in pictures from Sam’s orphanage–face burning with fever, tied to his/her crib in an upright position, probably sick with a cough of some sort. I will look at that picture and the sadness in that baby’s eyes…
and I will feel uncomfortable.
While we are out to eat as a family, ordering appetizers, meals for each kid, and dessert–and most food doesn’t get finished…
I will think of the children who hoard their food, saving for the next pang of hunger to strike. Or think of the babies with prominent ribs, malnourished and waiting for any morsel…
and I will feel uncomfortable.
When we have a birthday party, inviting friends, family, spending money on cake, food, decorations, and most likely a blow-up thing of some sort….
I will think of the children who never have their birthday marked with any special recognition. I will think of the fact that two of my children had birthday’s “assigned” to them since there is no real record of their birth. I will think of the pain of that day for their birth parents…
and I will feel uncomfortable.
When my 6 kids are digging for sandcastles on the beach, frolicking in the waves, and screaming with joy as they do on vacation, getting ready for their 5th night of ice cream…
I will remember the children who have never, ever, left the four walls of the orphanage. Never rode in a car–except when they were brought there. Maybe they will get some time to play outside once and again…but their days, nights, holidays, are all spent within the confines of those walls. Some of them aren’t babies; some are 11, 12, 13 years old and have never left their orphanage. I will remember them, and, yes,
I will feel uncomfortable.
When I snuggle in front of the fire on a bitterly cold day, I will think of them.
When I fill readily available prescriptions,
when I sign kids up for sports,
when I browse the aisles in the grocery store filling my two carts with food,
when I tuck my kids into bed, kissing their sweet smelling heads goodnight,
and when I greet their sleepy eyed, bed-headed selves in the morning…
I will think of all the beautiful children waking to no greeting, no morning kisses, cuddles, and hot breakfast…
and, yet again, I will feel uncomfortable.
When I stop those feelings, is when I am forgetting. Forgetting means orphans do not exist.
To be comfortable is to be ignorant.
And in this case, ignorance is not bliss.
Ignorance hurts children and their chances for a better life. For even one person like myself, sitting and staring at my computer screen in my slippers, can make a difference to them. If only by caring and remembering they are there.
On this very day I urge you…
FEEL UNCOMFORTABLE.
Remember them.
Do something to make a difference.
Think of them every single day.
They just might change your life. They sure did mine.
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Amy Dinello
My name is Amy, and I have been married to Darrin for almost 16 years. We have 4 biological kids (Hannah 12, Joseph 8, Caroline 6, Charlie 5) and two children from China (Hope 5 and Samuel 3). Both of our blessings from China were born with limb differences. We are incredibly blessed by the miracle of adoption and would love to talk to anyone about adopting a child with a limb difference. I am a stay-at-home mom who also is a volunteer for Love Without Boundaries. I am the Fundraising Coordinator for their Orphanage Assistance Program. It is an incredible way to remember those children still waiting for a family! I am just happy to be living an amazing life with my family and sharing a bit of our continuing story on our blog.
Are you an adoptive parent? Then you KNOW what I am talking about. I don’t think I’ve ever met an adoptive parent who has not encountered THE POUT.
For those of you unfamiliar with THE POUT, let me attempt to describe it.
What THE POUT looks like:
Child presents with mouth firmly shut with lower lip protruding. Often, arms are crossed. Head, may be down on tabletop or cocked to the side. Eyes emitting either look of death at parent, or oddly vacant with zero eye contact. In younger children, tummy may be pushed forward. In tween, hands on hips, hips forward, or arms crossed, hips forward. Feet are firmly planted to the floor.
Origin:
Child’s expectation of how adoptive parent should or should not respond to their desire (desire may be spoken or unspoken) has not been met in part, or in full.
What THE POUT is meant to communicate:
You brought me all the way from _________ (fill in country of origin) for THIS?
Psychological effect on the adoptive parent:
Irritability, helplessness, loss of rationality. THE POUT may cause all prior adoption training to go out the window.
Suggested Treatment:
During seasons of chronic POUTing, primary caregiver must take regular breaks for times of refreshment with whatever fills you up (i.e., coffee with friends, exercise, Bible study). It also helps if you can find the humor in the midst of a particularly potent POUT. Find a friend who knows the POUT and can talk you down. You may not want to hear this, but if you take the time to find out what is fueling THE POUT, you will, in time, eliminate THE POUT. Remember, there is more to THE POUT than meets the eye. It represents something- grief, loss of control, fear, etc. Good news- THE POUT is NOT fatal to child or parent (though at times it feels like it might be!).
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Erika Solgos
Erika has been married to Casey for 11 crazy beautiful years. Erika is mom to two 10 year olds and two 6 year olds who aren’t twins! Therese (10), newly adopted from Burkina Faso, is awaiting heart surgery. Evelea (10) willingly gave up her position as oldest child so we could add Therese to our family. Sitota (6) was adopted from Ethiopia and brings a lot of fun to the family. Carter (6) has had six heart surgeries and gave us the courage to adopt a child with a heart defect. They are astounded that as our family doubled in size, our love quadrupled. You can learn more about their family on their blog.
Most days, parenting my adoptive kids is just like parenting my biological ones…the lines are paper thin.
And then there are others, that those lines hit me like brick walls. Thankfully, those are few and far between, but they do come.
Looking over referral paperwork (the info you get when you get matched with your child) for tax stuff, I hit a wall.
“at 5 months he smiles and laughs, and gets a runny nose easily. He is nervous when carried outside.”
“at 7 months she can say, “yiyi” and is afraid of strangers. She is happy when with her (foster) mama.”
Anyone else have those days??
Last week, an evening trip to the grocery store alone (can someone please say, AMEN?), yielded more than just a cart of goods and a blown budget. I grabbed my Bible on the way out the door…I didn’t have any time schedule to be on, and when I’m alone, I usually just wanna hang with Jesus….sitting in the parking lot before I went in, looking up something totally different, I got blown away…
And if you give yourself to the hungry, and satisfy the needs of the oppressed, than your light will rise in darkness…..the Lord will continually guide you….satisfy your desire in the scorched places….give strengh to your bones, you will be like a spring of water whose water does not fail….you will rebuild ancient ruins and be called the repairer of broken walls…..
Isaiah 59:10-12
Catch that? …repairer of broken walls…
As adoptive parents, who have “satisfied the needs of the oppressed,” we get the amazing privilege to repair the broken walls of our children. Our children who have been
It started over having to pay $32 for landing on someone else’s property in Monopoly.
That’s how it started. But, then, it progressed.
To pouting.
Then crying.
Then screaming.
Then yelling.
Banging.
Throwing.
Kicking.
45 minutes of the worst tantrum I’ve seen yet.
It started with Monopoly but really, I don’t think it had anything to do with Monopoly by the time it was over.
I’m not surprised by it. In fact, I’m more surprised that these episodes haven’t occurred more frequently considering all that she’s been through.
But that doesn’t make it any easier to experience.
When He called us to join Him on this journey, He never once promised that it would be easy.
But He did promise something even better than the easy road.
His presence.
He gave us (and all that follow Him) the assurance that He would always, always, be with us. And today, through the worst of it, I know He was present. Pouring out the wisdom, grace, compassion, and nerves of steel that I so desperately needed but severely lacked.
For 45 minutes, I prayed without ceasing and, for 45 minutes, I had inexplicable, indescribable peace.
I’m sure I didn’t do everything right. In fact, I know I didn’t.
But His grace is sufficient for me, for His power is made perfect in weakness.
And if in my weakness, she catches a glimpse of the grace that can heal her heart, then weak I will gladly be.
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Angela Taylor
Angela enjoys being a wife to one wonderful husband and mom to six fantastic kids (three by adoption). Her family just returned home from China in late January with their newest daughter, Lily, who is 8, and enjoys blogging about the ordinary and extraordinary moments of their days together at her
One day, my friend approached me with information regarding a possible adoption. She knew someone who was pregnant and expecting biracial twins. The birthmom wasn’t sure what she was going to do regarding parenting vs. adoption, but we gave her our profile to consider.
We didn’t think of it or talk about it very often, because we didn’t think it would really happen, since the Mom didn’t seem confident one way or the other. She had chosen us and yet kept putting off meeting us or with a lawyer. We weren’t sure what to think and tried to keep our emotional distance.
One day out of nowhere, JC and I discussed what we would name the babies. In a 2-minute conversation, we had our names- almost as if they hadn’t come from us. We never discussed names again, or referred to them by name in conversation or prayer. I never told a soul, nor wrote them down in my journal. I tried to put the names out of mind.
When the babies were born, we began to get conflicted messages. Without sharing too much information in cyber-space, we were on an emotional roller-coaster. At one point, I was in tears on the phone with my dear friend, Lisa. Lisa, who had for some reason always been confident that these were our babies, shared with me the source of her confidence.
Months previous, she had a vivid dream that revealed the names of our babies as well as the verse written on the nursery wall. I thought it was interesting and begged her to share the names, and she was strangely resistant. Eventually she gave in and told me the names.
They were the same names.
Sam and Grace.
And the verse on the nursery wall? The very reason we had picked the name Sam:
“For I have prayed for this child, and the Lord has granted my request.”
~1 Samuel 1:27
In 1 Samuel 1, Hannah, a barren woman, begs the Lord for a child and He eventually answers her prayer with a son whom she names Samuel.
Grace- because she is a perfect gift from the Lord- as is His grace.
How could this be? How could Lisa have known the same names we had chosen- without ever whispering it to a soul? It had to be the Lord. As I praised His name, and sought His voice, I felt Him urge me to let go- to release the wall I had up to guard my heart and to let Him guard my heart instead. In that moment, I knew these were my babies. I knew that I was their mama. I rejoiced. I cried. I wondered what would happen next.
The next day we got a phone call. She was definitely going to parent the babies.
WHAT???? How could this be? Did I hear the Lord wrong? NO! No way! But if not, how could He have led me down this path only go have my heart trampled?
The following is from an email to my parents:
I don’t understand. I did everything right and was obedient. If this wasn’t going to happen, then why did the Lord tell me to open my heart? Why did He keep sending confirmation after confirmation to have hope? Why did He give us NAMES? It seems cruel. Either this is not over according to Him, or I totally heard Him wrong all this time (but why involve Lisa with the dream??) or…what? I know He’s Truth and Good and Love. Yet it would seem my heart doesn’t matter to Him if this is truly over. Or do I hold onto hope against all odds??? At every turn I heard, “God can do what He says He can do.”
It’s not that this adoption didn’t work for us. It’s that I feel like He led us on during these last few weeks. I got attached b/c HE told me to open my heart and bonded me to these babies that I’ve never even held. Why would He do that????? It feels like He’s playing games with my heart.
Eventually, the Lord showed us that only by attaching us emotionally to these children would we be committed to praying for them throughout their lives. And so, we came to terms with the fact that we are their spiritual parents, their God-parents, if you will.
A glance into my journal from that time shows this:
I don’t know what will come or even if its over, but there must be a reason you told me to open my heart and let me get emotionally attached to these children. I will surrender to this bond and take on the role of Mom- if only in a spiritual sense. I will not waver in prayer for them. Perhaps I’ll pray harder than if they were in my care- as I have no control in their upbringing. So we’ll pray. But you’ll have to do the leg work, Father. We will trust them to your care.
It occurred to me later, that if I had only read the NEXT VERSE of 1 Samuel 1:27 and 28 and realized it applied to me as well, I might have been better prepared.
“Now I, in turn, give him to the Lord, as long as he lives, he shall be dedicated to the Lord.’ She left him there.” ~1 Samuel 1:27-28
So we released them to the Lord and pray for them daily. We pray for these children and trust that He will grant our requests.
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Lauren
Lauren is in love with the Lord, the man of her dreams, and her new daughter. She and her husband married in June of 2006 and thereafter began their journey of infertility and adoption. Despite the many wounds, heartaches, and suffering,
Gabe and I spent Saturday night at Stephen Curtis Chapman’s Adoption Tour. It was an awesome and awful night of worshipping our Lord. You may be able to guess if you know anything about the Chapmans’ story of losing their adopted daughter Maria in an accident two years ago that there were many things about this concert that were terribly uncomfortable for us given our loss of our adopted daughter, one of our twins, in April 2010. But, I am starting to learn that discomfort is a good thing. Good grief…if two years after such pain the Chapmans can sing and speak about hope and heaven and dancing with their daughter, I surely can sit in my chair and listen and feel.
There are words that make me physically feel pain that never did before. Orphan. Surgery. Death. Heaven. Heart. Hope. They all bring a kick in the gut that they never brought in the past. Seeing videos and pictures of children in poverty and oppression, seeing a medical facility built to help special needs orphans receive love and care in the name of a lost child, hearing songs about seeing heaven in the face of your little girl, are all things that I would have been emotional about in the past (as I am a crier!). But now, these things bring about such deep emotions of pain, joy, and passion, feelings so real and raw, and I have never before felt this way. At times, it is too much and I want to hide. I want to avoid all things related to these topics that cause me to feel, good or bad. But, I am 100% sure that isn’t what Jesus would do and that I shouldn’t either. So, instead, I am making a conscious effort to make myself uncomfortable. I am looking for ways to be around these things more, to feel more of whatever God wants me to feel. Not to martyr myself, but because God gave me this pain for a purpose and if I ignore it how can I learn?
Can I tell you a secret that is pretty stupid on all sorts of levels? I haven’t opened my Bible in 3 months. That hurts to type. I have studied a lot of Scripture on the computer as I seek, listened to countless sermons, read devotional books, received daily e-mails that include Bible verses, and heard God speak through worship songs and other believers during that time. But, there is something so personal about my Bible and how it brings me to Jesus. It isn’t magical by any means as God obviously has been speaking to me without that one particular Bible that I personally prefer. I imagine there is some bit of control or anger or something that is keeping me from it. There are days I just get busy and forget, but there have been days that I think of it and delibrately choose to not sit down and open it. But. today, I am saying this here in this public way to hold me accountable I am going to open that pink and black Bible today and rid myself of whatever messed up thing I am holding onto.
I hope that you will take some time today to think about what you may be holding onto. Name it, say it out loud, and tell someone about it. It may be small and simple or something that seems to you to be too large to let go of. He just wants it. He just wants you. May you have the strength to give in to Him.
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Shelley Brown
Shelley has been married to her best friend, Gabe, for 11 years. They have 5 children–3 the old-fashioned way: Keaton (9), Kayden (6), and Laney (4). Their family adopted twin girls, Macy (1) and Gaby in 2010. After fighting for 7 months with Hypoplastic Right Heart Syndrome, Gaby is now in heaven with Jesus. Shelley is a preschool director of a Christian school part-time and Gabe works for a Christian insurance company providing insurance for Missions trips. Their family enjoys the adventure God has them on and is always looking to follow Him and give Him glory in all things. Check out their family blog.
I never in all my dreams imagined their relationship being this complete. This strong. When we ventured into the journey of adoption, we uttered the words “a sister for Masyn” often. Never did I dream how completely Eme would fulfill that role.
Eme doesn’t do anything half way. She jumps in full force and doesn’t look back. I should take a few lessons from her. Or at least take notes when watching her in action. It is no different in this role of little sister. She takes it quite seriously, I think.
She might lead you to believe that she’s opinionated and independent, but truth be told, she is a follower. When led by the right person.
And Masyn. I often wondered how she would feel about losing the position of “baby” in our family. It still amazes me that she simply stepped aside, welcomed this new person into our home, shared all of her things, and never once complained. Her love was immediate. What an amazing illustration of Christ’s love for us.
She is nurturing. She leads with a tender heart and a soft hand. In any new situation, she is quick to grab Eme’s hand and lead the way. When Eme’s insecurities creep in without anyone else noticing, Masyn is there to comfort and protect.
I have often wondered if Eme would feel left out. If the mother/daughter bond between Masyn and I would be so strong that she would have a hard time fitting in.
Now, my thoughts are shifting. I am wondering if perhaps I will be the one on the outside.
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Lindy Gregg
Kent and Lindy have been married for 10 years and have three biological children (two sons ages 8 and 6 and a daughter who is four) and our newest addition, Eme, who is 2
She sits in my family room. She is mine, she is a gift from the Lord. Her daddy adores her, her brother and sister think she hung the moon.
Today I ask myself. What if I would have missed it? What if I wasn’t willing to surrender my whole life, my family, my finances, my home, my dreams my desires to the Lord? What if I would have continued to be so self-centered? What if I would have continued to make the excuses? What if I would have continued with the “we don’t have the money” line I would tell myself? I KNOW what if….I would have missed it! I would have missed the opportunity, the blessing the gift of being this little girl’s MOMMY!
I am thankful that I surrendered and let God bring me to my knees. I am glad He “bonked” me on the head. I am glad He took my world and turned it up side down. YES, it hurts sometimes. Because my flesh is/was so strong. SO calloused. My flesh screams sometimes but my SPIRIT is strong because of Jesus in me. He comforts me. He reminds me, He leads me. He is WONDERFUL!
SO, today as I sit here and watch her play with bristle blocks, I am thankful and broken. I am broken because of all of the other MILLIONS of little girls in the world will not have a warm bath and clean clothes and kisses from their mommy. They will not have a full belly and bristle blocks to play with. They will not have the opportunity to hear of God’s love for them. They will sit alone, sometimes cold, most of the time very hungry and all of the time lonely. Wishing they had a mommy, a daddy, a brother or sister. A family. It is not about the big house we think we need to have to add another child. It is not about the big fancy car we think we need to cart the kids around town. It is not about the perfectly decorated bedroom we think we need to have for a child. It is about family and God’s call to care for the orphan.
God places the lonely in families; he sets the prisoners free and gives them joy. Psalm 68:6a
I am leveled when I think of all of the excuses I made. I am leveled when I think about my selfishness. I am leveled when I think of God’s faithfulness and the “fight” He put in me for these kids. I will not stop until He comes back to get me. I will sing of His mercies and grace. I will teach my children HIS ways. I will honor Him with my life. I will care for the orphan and oppressed. I will seek Him each day. I will be a voice for the voiceless.
The Spirit of the Sovereign Lord is on me, because the Lord has anointed me to preach good news to the poor. He has sent me to bind up the brokenhearted, to proclaim freedom for the captives and release from darkness for the prisoners, and to proclaim the year of the Lord
