June 2012 - Page 2 of 2 - The Sparrow Fund

June 11, 2012June 2, 2012

Puzzled

My husband Stephen and I have had front and center seats (the kind so close to the stage that you can see the make up and hear the breath of exertion from the players) for the drama and action of what most recognize as the primary task of adolescence– the grappling with the question of “Who Am I?”

The issue of identity is one we all face, but one that our adopted children must face with added complicating factors. Even those adopted at birth with no conscious memory of their birth parents contend with confusing realities once they enter their teens.

The Border Pieces

As your child grows, whether he is adopted or not, it is as if he is trying to piece together a complex puzzle. As we all figure out early on in working a puzzle, you first separate out the border pieces, right? It seems to me that for our birth children, the rummaging for and connecting of the flat-edged border pieces was an easy task. Their puzzle borders seem to be solidly in place without much searching and confusion. No struggles with missing pieces impossibly hidden amongst the mass of shapes or irretrievably lost in the dark corners of the basement game closet.

Missing and Misshapen Pieces

Borders denote definition and, therefore, identity. The borders of a country, for instance, identify it on a map. Without the definition provided by the border pieces, the process of putting together a complicated puzzle becomes all the more confusing and frustrating. For our adopted children, their relinquishment and the resulting pain have led their identity search to be like trying to work a puzzle without the border pieces or at least without whole sections and with hard to find pieces or misshapen fragments. In 1 Peter 5:10, we see that God’s plan is for our children to live complete and whole, border pieces fitted together and the puzzle finished:

And after you have suffered a little while, the God of all grace [Who imparts all blessing and favor], Who has called you to His [own] eternal glory in Christ Jesus, will Himself complete and make you what you ought to be, establish and ground you securely, and strengthen, and settle you.

The Message says it like this; “[God] will have you put together and on your feet for good.”

Puzzle Pieces in Our Hands

Isn’t that what we are helping our children to do? To partner with the Holy Spirit in “putting together” the pieces of the puzzle? As we get revelation of who our child is from the very One who created them, it’s as if we have a puzzle piece in our hand, a flat-edged border piece that was lost or destroyed along the way by rejection, fear, anger, pain, abuse. We parents are methodically offering these border pieces to our child as they go through the process of figuring out who they are. We have the awesome opportunity to place these pieces back into the pile of puzzle pieces on the table and watch our child pick it up, examine it, and recognize it as a defining part of who they are.

Box Top Parents

Just as we look at the box top of our puzzle that we have propped up on the table for easy reference, so do our children look up at us as they work their complicated jigsaw puzzle. Along the way, they fit in pieces with that sense of satisfaction we all get when we find the next bit of the puzzle. They are looking to us to find out who they are, how they fit in, how to relate, how to give and receive love. You and I are like that box top picture for our children as they discover their identity, scrutinizing the picture and piecing together their puzzle.

Father God, it is so good to know that You are completing our children, making them what they ought to be, “putting them together and on their feet for good.” We so desire to partner with You in this God. Would You give us revelation of who our children are, defining border pieces of their identity. And we trust You to use us so that when our children look to us they will see what is helpful as they put together the puzzle before them. What greater joy is there than being a part of such a project?!

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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.

June 8, 2012June 8, 2012

Perfection

I grew up in a family where perfection was expected. What others thought of us was THE most important agenda. I have to even say way back when my oldest was little I still had that thought process. I was so caught up in what others thought of my parenting based on how my kids acted, what my kids looked like, what car we drove, etc. I found myself yelling a lot more, stressing way more and plain not happy – with anything.

Then almost 6 years ago our little Brahm was born to our perfect little family. You know the one with the 2 kids, boy and a girl,

June 6, 2012June 4, 2012

Her eyes, His hands

I remember the day so clearly as if it were only yesterday…

It was a few days after Christmas, the house was chilly despite the heater kicking off and on through out the morning. The kids and I were sitting on on the couch snuggled up in blankets, doing a devotional, when the phone rang. As I had done for the past 2 years my mind quickly sent up a silent prayer “Please Lord let it be our adoption agency with a referral.” After 2 long years, our prayers were answered. On the other end of the phone was our adoption caseworker announcing “we have a baby girl!”

Thirty minutes later, after the cheers settled down, we received an email of what we thought was the most beautiful baby girl in this entire world…

And 6 long months later the day finally came when our dream came true… the baby girl we had prayed for, dreamed of, and loved before she even existed, was placed in our arms in the comfort of a hotel room in Guatemala.

The miracle of adoption…

there is simply nothing more beautiful in my book.

And yet, as with any adoption story, there is another side that we often choose to ignore. The side that goes unnoticed on our adoption announcements, the side that the photo of the proud parents holding their child for the first time doesn”t show. The side we”d just as soon forget ever existed…

The empty arms of another.

For the past 8 years, from time to time, I would allow my mind to go there… I would wonder if she was okay, what she was like… did she have her eyes, did they share the same laugh?

And I wondered, if she too, wondered the same…

About a month ago I came to the decision that I needed to know the answer to these questions if at all possible. While I didn”t and still don”t feel that Aleigha is old enough to handle meeting her birth family, I also didn”t want her to one day say to me- “we were right there serving the people in Guatemala and you didn”t even try to see if they were okay?” And so, with the help of two friends- the search began.

It didn”t take long actually… we had the general area from her adoption paperwork and so Felis and I simply drove my Guatemalan friend (who speaks the native language Cakchiquel and Spanish) to that area and we started asking if anyone knew of her. We were careful not to let them know why we were asking out of respect of her privacy. We also didn”t know if she would even want to hear from us and we certainly didn”t want to cause her any harm.

After about the 12th stop we landed at the home/store of her brother-in-law..

There we were told that she no longer lived in the area, that she and her children and husband worked in the fields somewhere near the coast- but that sometimes they came back to visit. And so, with little hope, we left them a phone number, knowing we had at least tried.

Two days ago my Guatemalan friend called and told me that he had just received a phone call from her because her brother-in-law told her a Guatemalan man and two gringo”s had come by looking for her. (so much for trying to be nonchalant). Apparently it is rare for Americans to visit their area in the mountains. 🙂 Anyway, after a short conversation she was thrilled to hear it was us and agreed to meet with us. We warned her that Aleigha would not be with us, and while she was of course disappointed, she understood and we promised her we would bring pictures.

I have to admit I was pretty nervous. So many thoughts and emotions kept going through my head- I can only imagine how she felt. We sat in the car waiting and waiting, ready to give up when all of a sudden I looked up and saw a family standing near the side of the street and our eyes met. There was something about her- something so familiar. Then suddenly I felt myself needing to look away because the look of saddness I saw in her eyes pierced through me like a sword. Eyes that told a story of a loss deeper than any I could ever imagine. This woman, who had given me one of the most precious gifts I have ever been given, stood before me now, dirty, unkept, and yet beautiful all at the same time. A woman to whom I owed- more than I would ever be able to repay.

The first few minutes of our meeting felt somewhat awkward… neither of us knowing where to begin or how to break through the barriers of culture, language, and lifestyles that stood between us. We exchanged a quick hug and were then hustled into a small, Guatemalan restaurant that held 2 picnic type tables. Not knowing what to say or what to do- I thrust 5 pictures of Aleigha towards her that I had held in the grip of my hand. As she and her family poured over the pictures I began to search their faces… I saw traces of my daughter… her nose, his eyes, her silky straight hair, his hands. Something I knew Aleigha and I would never share, no matter how much she was now ”my daughter”. And in an instant, just like that, my love for this family became fierce. A part of them, was a part of me- and I felt a sense of protectiveness I didn”t expect to feel.

As the moments passed we both seemed to begin to relax. Questions that both of us had carried for years were asked- and answered. One thing that is important to me that you know is- quite often people somehow believe that a child placed for adoption is ”unwanted”. While I know that every story is different I also believe that often that is the farthest thing from the truth. Aleigha was placed for adoption for one reason and one reason only- poverty.

And her precious birth family still faces this same struggled 8 long years later.

Aleigha was born just a year after her brother. There was simply not enough food. And, not enough food equals not enough breast milk for a mother to feed two children. My heart breaks just thinking about it.

I will never understand, as long as I live, why one of my greatest blessings had to come in the form of someone elses greatest loss. But what I do know is that God understands- first hand-about the loss of a child. His one and only. And I trust that He and only He can bring about complete healing to this family.

And I also know He has us here now, for this very reason… to teach others the way to receive that healing and to bring hope to those who have so little.

Along with the pictures of Aleigha I gave to her birth family, I gave them the one thing I know that is more valuable than anything else in this world- a Bible.

And my biggest prayer is that through it they find the answers to eternal hope and salvation… and if they and the Lord allow it, I am more than willing to walk by their side through it.

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AMY BLOCK is mom to 9 beautiful blessings, 4 biological, 5 through the miracle of adoption: 2 from Guatemala, 2 through the Texas foster care system and 1 from Ethiopia. We are currently missionaries serving in Guatemala providing orphan care to the least of these and trying our best to prevent others from becoming orphans through feeding centers and outreach. Read more of her adventures at her blog Building the Blocks!

June 4, 2012June 2, 2012

Turning Worry Into Worship

Mei Mei is doing well. Really well. She is sweet and loving and happy. She is an “easy” child who goes-with-the-flow and fits into our large, crazy family perfectly. She delights in everything life has to offer. Mei Mei has been our easiest child to transition. She LOVES having a family, and she LOVES being loved. She is blossoming before our very eyes.

I find her easy transition ironic because coming to terms with the magnitude of her delays has been challenging.

In the beginning, I felt overwhelmed. I felt overcome with worry. I worried about how to best address her delays, where to take her for testing, how to access services, how to prepare her for school.

I worried about school in general, how she would fit in socially, how an appropriate classroom could be found. I worried about whether she would succeed, graduate, get a job, live independently.

Yes, I am sorry to say my worry was going out a decade and more, even when she had only been home a week!

But then something wonderful happened. God stopped by. At least, His hands and feet did.

My wonderful friend, Cheryl, listened to me as I poured my worries out. Across the phone lines, she was my nonjudgemental sounding board and praying partner. I cried. She cried with me.

Ten minutes after our conversation ended, Cheryl called back. She was bringing us dinner and wouldn’t listen to all my reasons why she shouldn’t.

It was the full meal deal with homemade soup, bread, salad, and brownies. Comfort food.

She spent the afternoon with us, delighting in watching our children interact together. And then she shared a recent sermon she had heard. When we worry, we aren’t trusting God. Instead of giving it all to Him, we try to figure it out all alone–all by ourselves. We feel overwhelmed, because we know we can’t solve our problems.

But God can.

And we have to turn our worry into worship, fully trusting that He is going to lead the way. We can do our part (like making appointments), but then we have to leave the rest to Him.

So true.

So now, when I worry, I turn my worry into worship. Often, I have to do it all over again 5 minutes later–I’m a slow learner! Each time, I feel the burden on my shoulders lift as I praise God, knowing that He has a plan. A great plan so much bigger than I can ever imagine.

A plan I am blessed to be part of.

A plan that brought this angel into our lives.

“For I know the plans I have for you,” says the Lord. “They are plans for good and not for disaster, to give you a future and a hope.”
Jeremiah 29:11

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Ann Henderson currently finds herself wife to one and mom of ten, including a son in heaven and a daughter waiting in China. Several of her children are adopted

June 1, 2012May 31, 2012

Together

When we were waiting to adopt, I remember sitting in adoption training and workshops as speakers attempted to paint a realistic picture of adoption. Although I’m convinced no one can fully prepare someone to adopt, we’re thankful we were not sold the lie that adoption is glamorous and easy. Beautiful, yes. Necessary, sometimes. Easy-breezy? Never. The adoption community around us helped our family understand that we were volunteering to walk into a life-long situation built on loss, hurt, pain, and the unknown. There would be varying degrees of loss, pain, and the unknown for every adoptive household, but we knew…those elements would exist in our story moving forward. Most painfully, they would exist in our child’s story.

No matter what labels or adjectives we assign to the conversation of adoption, here’s one thing I know with certainty; adoption is miraculously brave. When families have been well-educated about what real-life adoption looks like and sign up to take on an innocent child’s grief, loss, rage, and insecurities, I’m not sure if there is anything that requires more faith and courage. Not courage in the “Pass me the cape, I’m heroic, I’ll save you” sort of way. Courage in the “we’re already imperfect in this house, feel like fat parenting failures most days while raising kids without a lot of emotional scars, and yet we’re willing to rearrange our own dysfunction to make space for another life filled with hurt and fear.”

What I did not know at the time I was sitting in adoption training and conferences was what a mess I was as an individual. I think I ignorantly thought that we could offer a stable home, hold a hurting child, and make it a little better for them. When I imagined life as an adoptive, therapeutic parent, it was mostly the child needing the therapy…the support…the love. We would be there for them. We would do what it took to help them.

Simply stated, our child would need help. We would be the ones helping. The healthy, helping the unhealthy. The strong parenting the weak. The whole raising the broken.

Nothing could have been further from the truth.

If there is one prevailing message we have been learning as a family over the past five years, it’s this one…

You can’t be near the broken without coming face to ugly face with your own brokenness.

Fear, shame, pain, anger, and insecurity cause my child to break down and lose it. My own fear, shame, pain, anger, and insecurity fuel my embarrassing responses to his behavior. To say this isn’t how I imagined these scenarios playing out pre-adoption would be laughable.

Before adopting I thought I’d be here for my child, the instrument of help and healing to my child. The real truth is, I’m simply here with my child. Walking through our hurt and dysfunction together. Holding my child after an episode that leaves us sweaty and breathless admitting that we’re both a wreck in need of healing. In need of a miracle.

Me, needing to be parented by God while I attempt to parent.

Me, a child of this fallen world and thus a child of trauma to some extent, attempting to parent a child of trauma.

On paper this seems like such a bad idea, and I guess it would be if we fail to admit that we need healing just as much as our kids do.

We’re neck deep right now in evaluations for our son, counseling, and adoption support groups. We’re learning tactics, modifying diets, getting much-needed support, education, love, and understanding. These resources are extremely valuable. Most valuable is finding ourselves in a safe community where we feel free and encouraged to fully acknowledge our own shortcomings that keep us from responding to brokenness and pain with love, empathy, and patience. Prior to adopting, I thought adoption meant inviting loss, insecurity, and hurt into our story. Instead, adoption has been just as much about realizing to what extent those elements were already a very real part of our story and what it looks like to parent a hurting child out of our own rich bank of emotional deficits.

As painful and exhausting as this part of our life is in the moment, it’s surprising how hopeful and thankful I feel.

Adoption is the gift that you never quit opening, isn’t it?

I remember sitting in adoption training and conferences while we waited to adopt. I was scared but eager to be a small part of redemption in our future child’s life. I foolishly thought our family would be used (even if it was only in a minuscule way) to bring healing and health to a child who was coming from a place of loss and pain. Instead, our son is forever the reason why God is bringing healing and health to us. Oh, the irony.

We are learning that we rarely walk before our kids through pain, loss, insecurity, and fear. We walk with them. It’s less about healing them, and more about healing together.

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bcs-families-family-pic — Heather Hendrick

Heather Hendrick is wife to Aaron and mom to four crazy boys.

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Month: June 2012