April Swiger, Author at The Sparrow Fund

May 18, 2016

Four Way to Care for the Fatherless When You’re Not Called to Adopt

You may have no intention of adopting, but know (and love) friends and family members who have. I commend you for taking the time to learn about how you can best support these families in your life!

Four-Ways-to-Care-for-the-Fatherless-When-Youre-Not-Called-to-Adopt-700x1050 Not everyone is called to adopt, but Scripture is clear that all are called to care for the fatherless and act on their behalf. I love Isaiah 1:17, which says “learn to do good; seek justice, correct oppression; bring justice to the fatherless, plead the widow’s cause.” Every Christian is called to do good before God, and that includes seeking out justice for those who are being oppressed.

This is one of the main reasons I’ve chosen to write a book about foster adoption (enter your email in the sidebar for updates about a late Spring release!). Adoptive families need their churches, and fellow believers, to come along side them with right thinking and a Christ-like perspective as they follow the path God has called them to. Pastors, elders, and ministry leaders ought to be equipped with a basic knowledge of the different types of adoption, helpful adoption lingo, and an arsenal of how to best support the growing families in their congregation.

I must say though, our church is amazing, and they are very adoption-friendly. We have received nothing but support from them, delicious casseroles when both boys arrived to our family, clothes, books, toys, and gift cards. You name it we probably received it! It’s not about the tangible though (although those things were life-savers). More importantly, it’s the attitude of the people in our congregation that have blessed us the most.

Here are four ways to care for the fatherless when you’re not personally called to adopt:

1) Respect boundaries that have been set

A few months after our oldest son arrived, we noticed some quirky behaviors that alerted us to some possible attachment issues. We kindly asked our small group, and others in our church who regularly interacted with him, to respect a few boundaries we needed to put into place for his good. He needed to learn who mom and dad were, and who was going to meet his needs. It’s not going to be the sweet old lady we see every Sunday who wants to give him candy, or our amazing small group who showers him with lots of love and attention. It’s Adam and myself, and he needed a renewed focus on that goal.

Everyone responded to us in a way that showed they love our little boy immensely, and respected our role as his new parents. Our son learned that high fives on Sunday mornings are more appropriate than hugs and kisses, and “I love you” is reserved only for family (for now). He has grown so much since we set these boundaries, and thanks to our amazing church, they played a massive role in that healing! We are so grateful.

2) Have a teachable heart in regard to birth parents, loss, and race issues

I’ve had countless conversations on Sunday mornings with teachable and open-hearted people in our congregation. I could not be more thankful for where God has placed us. There is a respect for our boys birth parents, an understanding of the loss our sons have experienced, and a growing openness for the fact that, as black boys, they will likely be racialized as they grow older (this one is the most difficult one we’ve encountered, being in a predominantly white community, as it takes time for lifelong false beliefs about different ethnicities to be broken down). There is not much more I could ask for in regard to support for our boys! Our church has done this well.

3) Remember that your words matter

Educating yourself on adoption lingo will bless adoptive couples immensely. Remembering that any child in their family is “their own”, whether through birth or adoption, is one of the greatest gifts you can give them. Acknowledging the loss their child has been through (loss of birth parents, siblings, friends, a prior foster home, and everything familiar to them) is a very important part of caring for adoptees. It’s easy for us to want to celebrate (the orphan has a home!), but that’s not the case for the child who has lost everything. There needs to be an understanding and respect of that.

We had one awkward encounter a few days after our oldest son joined our family. A kind older woman asked him if he liked his “new mommy and daddy.” He looked at her like she had three heads. His little two and a half year old brain was probably thinking “I have a mommy and daddy, and they aren’t it!” We did quickly become “mommy and daddy” to him within a week or two, which we learned is typical for kids in foster care. Up until that point we were Miss April and Mister Adam to him. He had just been removed from his birth mom a few days prior, and was probably so confused and scared about what the future would hold for him. That question was well-intentioned, but highly inappropriate.

These are the sort of encounters that become opportunities for us as adoptive couples to show tons of grace, and kindly educate. I gently corrected her comment and let her know that he has a mommy and daddy who love him very much, and that we are thrilled to have him be a part of our family right now. I don’t think she understood, and that’s ok, but I believe in situations like this grace will always trump the snarky remarks we may be tempted to make.

It’s important for supporters to keep in mind that their questions and remarks, likely born out of curiosity, could put the adoptive family in an awkward position. If their children are older, and can understand, comments that are not well thought out could be hurtful to them and disrespectful to their fragile past. It’s never ok to make judgments about a child’s birth parents, racial slurs, or comment about how you “can’t believe no one wanted them”.

4) Be committed, with hope, for the long haul

The church ought to be a place where adoptive families can enter in with all of their messiness, and receive love and support as they seek to lead these precious kiddos to hope and healing, and ultimately, to our Savior. You may not be called to adopt, but you are called to care for the fatherless. Learning how to do that in a way that blesses the adoptive families in your life will be a precious gift to them.

This will look differently for each family, so don’t be afraid to ask them what they need, and how you can best support and love them through the years. Some families may be more or less open with you about their children and their needs. Some may not know what they need because they’re still in the fog, trying to get a grasp on what would be best for their kiddos. The love and faithfulness of a church who is in it for the long haul, just as the adoptive parents are, is a beautiful way to show the gospel to families who have grown through adoption.

Love on the family if their placement fails. Pray for their kids when an important court date is near, or they have a visit with their birth parents. Bring them meals when a new child enters their family. Show them immense amounts of grace when their son or daughter acts out during worship. Don’t assume their child is “troubled” or “damaged” or destined to work at the grocery store for their entire lives because X diagnosis runs in their birth family.

If you believe the gospel, then you know that no one is too far gone! Not a single one. Even the most broken, messy, un-attached child, with the most disturbing past is not too far gone for our great Redeemer. It’s not too hard for him to save them, and heal them, and it shouldn’t be too hard for you to believe he can save them and bring them complete healing either.

Let us not forget that he saved you and me in our sin. We need Jesus just as much as our children from foster care do. Believe in the power of the gospel to heal, and save, having great hope for their future, praying for their spiritual adoption into the family of God. This is the best way you can care for the fatherless without actually adopting.

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April is a follower of King Jesus, wife, mother, writer, and adoption advocate. She lives in New England where her husband serves as a worship-pastor. Her introverted nature loves to read, sip coffee, and cook nourishing food for those she loves. Read more on her blog Redemptive Homemaking.

September 28, 2015

Encouragement for the Weary Foster Mom

Last week my husband and I had to make a difficult decision for our son. There was this unspoken pressure from the world to do one thing, when the Holy Spirit was clearly telling us something different. The truth is, we didn’t want to be ‘different’. We already look different as a transracial family in a predominantly white community, receiving stares and questions wherever we go. This decision, if we followed the Spirit (which by God’s grace we did), would likely bring more eyebrow raises and questions.

I’m learning to be grateful for my lot and say with confidence “it is well with my soul.” There was a loss that came with the decision we had to make. It isolates us even more as a foster family and makes us look even more different than the typical suburban family in our area. Our decision was minor compared to most, however it is still an opportunity to trust that God will bless us for being faithful in our particular situation. This decision will likely bring great benefit to our son and, Lord willing, propel him towards more healing and wholeness from the trauma he has experienced.

I was at an event recently, surrounded by beautiful families. From what I could see we were probably the only foster family, and the only transracial family present. This event very unexpectedly stirred up pain in my heart. Pain that I needed to process through and lay at the feet of Jesus. Questions arose in my heart, and bitterness began to sneak in as I watched glowing pregnant women walk by, and children playing together without their parent’s supervision. My son has having a particularly difficult night and we ended up sitting in the car for a while. Selfishly, all I wanted to do was have an adult conversation, something that is precious (and rare) these days.

If you could see into my sinful heart that evening, you would have heard these questions asked through bitter sobs. God, why did you call us to this? Why can’t we just blend in and have our family grow the “old fashioned” way? Why won’t you heal this precious boy quicker? Why can’t it just be stinking easy?!

“Indeed, I count everything as loss because of the surpassing worth of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord. For his sake I have suffered the loss of all things and count them as rubbish, in order that I may gain Christ and be found in him…” Philippians 3:8-9.

“Then Jesus told his disciples, “If anyone would come after me, let him deny himself and take up his cross and follow me. For whoever would save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for my sake will find it” Matthew 16:24-25.

Knowing Jesus is far more precious than any loss I may suffer. The loss of comfort. The loss of an easy life. The loss of blending in. The loss of typical milestones for our son. The loss of reputation among those who may not understand. The loss of the first two and a half years of my son’s life when I couldn’t protect him from all the hard things he experienced.

Just like I held my son this morning as he sobbed into my shoulder because his birth dad missed the bus again, and his visit would be cancelled, Jesus held me as I wrote loss over my life once again. He is so patient. So kind. So long-suffering. So merciful towards my bitter and entitled heart.

This life is not my own. I was bought with a price. A great price. I am weary, yes, but my little boy is worth it, and trading all my former hopes and dreams for new ones, for the sake of Christ, is even more so.

“The only way to have the power to follow Christ in the costly way of love is to be filled with hope, with strong confidence that if we lose our life doing his will, we will find it again and be richly rewarded.” John Piper, The Power of Hope.

Weary foster mom, your life is not unnoticed by the creator of the entire universe. He longs to be gracious to you and provide for all of your needs. There are great rewards for those who follow Jesus, risking it all, in this broken (but beautiful) world of foster care. It is worth the cost.

Photos by my mother at Ground to Grow On Photography.

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August 10, 2015

One Year

We’re here.

The one year mark as mommy and daddy to this treasure of a child.

I had faith we would get to this point, and here we are. All by God’s grace.

It has been oh so sweet. And oh so difficult.

Three hundred and sixty five days ago Adam and I unpacked our car after a week at the Cape. Sand still between our toes and sunscreen residue on our skin. We ate our Nardelli’s sandwiches, surrounded by beach chairs and suitcases on our kitchen floor. I lifted our empty plates from the table to place in the sink and my phone rang. I knew by the ringtone that it was our case worker. I knew before we even said “hello” that our lives were about to change.

A two and a half year old boy. African American. Can you be ready in four hours?

Time stood still. The shock of that short six minute phone call momentarily paralyzed me. I wanted to give in to it, but I knew there wasn’t time. This was the real deal and we needed to move. Fast.

Unpack as quickly as possible. Install our extra air conditioner in his bedroom. Shower. Race to Target and get him some clothes, toys, a baby monitor, diapers, and snacks. Sizes were a complete guessing game for us. We called immediate family on our way to the store and we missed our exit. I texted friends to pray and asked for advice on what to buy.

Bubbles. Bouncy balls. The video monitor I swore we would never spend money on, but now “we don’t know what an active toddler is capable of.” Sold (and we’ve never regretted it). A Batman hoodie. Cargo shorts. Goldfish. Applesauce.

We arrived home with maybe 30 minutes to spare. Making the tacos I had planned for, pre phone call, was not even a blip on our radar. I may have grabbed a granola bar and I remember telling myself “Breathe deep. Just do the next thing.”

At around 6:30pm a white car pulled into our driveway and two women stepped out. I was too scared to look and could only muster up quick peeks out our living room window as I asked Adam for the play-by-play. We waited for the first glance of our new son’s face and uttered prayers out loud, mostly “Jesus help us!”

The next hour or so was a complete blur. He was sleeping in the car and needed some time to be woken up and brought in. One of the case workers waited with us inside. After a few minutes he was semi-carried to the door in an almost business-like manner. It still makes me cringe to think about. He arrived with a few plastic bags of clothes and toys, including an outfit he had thrown up on earlier that day. Some of the things he had were brand new and likely a care package from the family he was with for two days prior to us. That’s what I remember about his entrance through our front door and into our family.

He played with toys and jumped off our ottomans while Adam and I signed a mountain of paperwork. A smell filled the room that indicated his diaper needed to be changed. We hardly remember a word that was spoken to us that evening. One of the case workers called his birthparents on the phone and they said goodnight and “I love you” to each other. He is so very loved by his birthparents.

It was getting late and we asked the case workers about his bedtime. We were given shrugs and told “maybe 9pm?” We’ll just figure it out, I guess.

Then, they left. We were all alone. Now what? Let’s give him a bath. That may help calm him if he’s scared. I’ve never bathed a child before, but we figured it out (and were glad we bought a rubber ducky at Target earlier that day).

After his bath we gave him some goldfish crackers and watched an episode of Jake and the Neverland Pirates. At that point it was the only kids TV show I had heard of. I fumbled into our Netflix account, hands still shaking from the shock of the day, trying to add it to our list.

Our first picture together, an hour after we met

Bedtime was hard. We assumed he was sleeping in a crib because no one told us otherwise (actually, no one told us much of anything). We found out many months later, after we had transitioned him to a twin bed, that he had never slept in a crib before. He was probably terrified being in a “cage.” After about three hours he finally dozed off. Adam and I were up most of the night watching him sleep on our new video monitor.

Life has never been the same since July 21, 2014, and it never will be again. We are forever ruined, in the best possible way, by this little man.

Today, one year later, we are home from another week at the Cape. This time with our little J in tow. We got home last night with a car full of plastic beach toys, a deflated orca whale, and countless sweet memories.

We traded quiet road trips for stops on the side of the road to “use the facility.”

We sacrificed peaceful days on the beach reading, for digging in the sand making “cement” for creative factory operations.

We gave up exclusively tending to ourselves, to make sure baby skin was covered in SPF and sleep wasn’t sacrificed too much for watching sunsets over the bay and going out for ice cream.

It is all worth it. Every difficult moment of the past year was, and is, tremendously worth it.

This boy is a treasure. A true gift from the kind and generous heart of God. He is astoundingly valuable and worthy of love and care and all the complexities that go with adopting from foster care. I can’t imagine life without him, and it’s hard to imagine life before him anymore.

Our culture says these kids aren’t worth it. They’re too “damaged” and “troubled.” Or that it’s not worth the hassle to work with the broken state agency. One person said to me that J’s birth mother should have been sterilized. I’m certain some would say that he should have been aborted and his parts sold for a cheap profit.

By God’s astounding and abundant grace, He gave little J life. A life that has hope and a purpose. A life that has experienced an immense amount of healing and maturity over the past 365 days. A life that is precious to Adam and I, our families, his birth family, and those who have met him.

His life is not a mistake. He is an absolute joy, a priceless treasure, and is worth fighting for every single day.

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April 10, 2015April 9, 2015

From Adoptive Mom to Adoptive Mom Who May be Losing Hope {Letters}

Dear hopeful adoptive mom who may be losing hope,

You have been waiting a long time. A very long time. Longer than you ever anticipated. You had an abundance of hope (and were admittedly a little naive) when you first began your adoption journey. You were confident that you wouldn’t be “that couple” waiting longer than everyone else who walked this path before you. It was going to happen fast, right? God would grant you the desires of your heart lickety-split, right? And you would certainly never become an adoption horror story. You know the ones, from a friend of a friend of a friend? They share your story, about how long you’ve been waiting, and all respond with deep sighs and versions of “gosh, I could NEVER do that!” That was never going to be you, right?

Now, here you sit. Still waiting on the Lord, praying that He would bless you with children. Your hope is dwindling, and you wonder if He brought you into this process solely for the sanctification aspect, and possibly not to fulfill your desire for a family. You’ve out-waited all of your friends, and every other adoptive couple you know. Friends who began the process after you have been placed with children before you. Lots of them. Your heart hurts constantly. It’s sick with the hope that has been deferred, and you long desperately for that tree of life (Proverbs 13:12). Yet, your desire is left unfulfilled, and your home remains quiet and empty.

Maybe you came very close to being placed with children and it ended up falling through. Or maybe an expectant mom chose you to parent her baby, and after the birth she decided to parent the baby herself. I understand that pain because it happened to us recently. For almost six weeks we were moving forward with a sibling group we had been matched with. The details don’t matter. It was a complicated situation as every adoption situation is. What matters is that it hurts, and it’s an incredibly isolating experience because there are really no good comparisons for it. I’ve heard others very cautiously compare it to a miscarriage. You’re filled with excitement, and healthy levels of fear and nervousness. You plan and prepare. You shop and you dream. Your life is about to get turned upside down. You’ve started to let the word out to friends and family, and everyone is excited. Your love for these precious children grow more and more each day. Then suddenly it all ends. As quickly as you heard the words “you guys were chosen” from your case worker, you’re back in the state-wide computer system, waiting to be chosen again. The comparison to a miscarriage fails on many levels, I know. These are two very different experiences with uniquely devastating pain. For now though, it has given me some type of category to process this experience through. If you have been there, I hope it helps you process too.

I want you to know that if you have experienced this, it’s good to grieve. Going through this is incredibly heart-wrenching, sad, and will test your faith in a deeply profound way. You ought to grieve it. The best, and most loving advice I was given was “take time to grieve.” This advice came from a friend who experienced something similar in her adoption journey. She’s absolutely right.

Grieving an experience like this will look different for everyone. Adam and I have grieved in very different ways. This is ok, and good. As I’ve processed through this experience, my faith has been tested in ways that it never has before. My heart is in a constant tug of war, frequently doubting that God cares (He does care – 1 Peter 5:7), and wondering if He even sees me in my pain (He does, and weeps with me – John 11:35).

Maybe you feel deep regret for letting this news spread as far as it did, building excitement among those who have been waiting alongside you for years. Having to backtrack and tell your friends and family that it’s not happening anymore only amplified the pain. Well-meaning people, who love you very much, unintentionally say things that cut to the quick. I know you’re weary of hearing optimistic versions of “It just wasn’t God’s timing!” and “They just weren’t meant to be yours!” and “Everything happens for a reason!” Although these sentiments may be true, the deep pain you’re experiencing is often unknowingly disregarded during those conversations.

Or maybe those closest to you just kept silent. That often hurts the most, doesn’t it? They probably didn’t know what to say, and they didn’t want to make your pain worse by saying the wrong thing, so they retreated. That’s certainly understandable. You know they can’t read your mind, but you would have loved to hear them say something like “I don’t understand what you’re going through but I can imagine this is deeply painful. I’m so sorry. I’m praying for you.” Not many people do understand what you’re going through, and it just plain hurts sometimes.

All this to say, I see you, hopeful adoptive mom who may be losing hope. I understand the pain you’re going through, and the wrestling your heart has been engaged in. You may feel like you’re hanging on by a thread because your hope has dwindled so much. You wish you could go back in time to your naive, optimistic, idealistic self just starting out the adoption process, and give her a swift reality check punch to the gut. But, you can’t. You know it will be worth it if it actually happens one day, so, you move on with the tiny glimmer of hope that you still have. It’s only a glimmer, and it’s dim, but it’s enough to move you forward by faith, trusting in God’s sovereignty, goodness, kindness, and love towards you.

Psalm 77, a lament, has been deeply comforting to my soul during this time. It’s beautiful to see how the Psalmist (Asaph) is so honest with the Lord about his feelings. Sweet, hurting sister, allow these verses to give you the freedom to be honest with the Lord. You may feel like “your soul refuses to be comforted” (Psalm 77:2) and your spirit may be faint (Psalm 77:3). Your heart may be so full of trouble that you find it nearly impossible to put your feelings into words (Psalm 77:4). You may be like me, where verses 7-9 are the cry of your heart right now and you’re tempted to believe that God will never again show you favor.

Allow your spirit to “diligently search” (Psalm 77:6), and then, as it says in verse 11, “remember the deeds of the Lord.” Recall His faithfulness in your life. Even if it feels nearly impossible to do so. Allow this lament to shape your prayers as you fight for hope in Christ.

I cry aloud to God,

aloud to God, and he will hear me.

2 In the day of my trouble I seek the Lord;

in the night my hand is stretched out without wearying;

my soul refuses to be comforted.

3 When I remember God, I moan;

when I meditate, my spirit faints. Selah

4 You hold my eyelids open;

I am so troubled that I cannot speak.

5 I consider the days of old,

the years long ago.

6 I said, “Let me remember my song in the night;

let me meditate in my heart.”

Then my spirit made a diligent search:

7 “Will the Lord spurn forever,

and never again be favorable?

8 Has his steadfast love forever ceased?

Are his promises at an end for all time?

9 Has God forgotten to be gracious?

Has he in anger shut up his compassion?” Selah

10 Then I said (emphasis mine), “I will appeal to this,

to the years of the right hand of the Most High.”

11 I will remember the deeds of the Lord;

yes, I will remember your wonders of old.

12 I will ponder all your work,

and meditate on your mighty deeds.

13 Your way, O God, is holy.

What god is great like our God?

14 You are the God who works wonders; (emphasis mine)

you have made known your might among the peoples. (Psalm 77:1-14, ESV)

He is the God who works wonders. This is true. It doesn’t necessarily mean He will grant you the desires of your heart, but it does mean that He can. He can redeem this ridiculously long, emotionally bumpy, seemingly unproductive, roller coaster ride of an adoption process for His glory. That has always been my prayer, and I’m guessing yours too. If you know Jesus, He has redeemed your soul, granting you salvation through his life, death and resurrection. If anything would be difficult for God (and we know that nothing is), turning our hardened hearts from a life of sin to one that desires to glorify Him would have been it. But that wasn’t hard for Him at all! He can certainly do this too, for the sake of His name. There is hope in the name of Jesus (Matthew 12:21), and He’s the only hope we need.

Fight for hope, sweet sister. Keep your eyes fixed on the One who knows every hair on your head (Matthew 10:30), and sovereignly rules over the smallest details of your life. He can work wonders with your situation, and sprout up a tree of life (Proverbs 13:12) after an exceptionally challenging and long wait. Even if He chooses not to, He is still all of these things, the same trustworthy God today, yesterday and forever (Hebrews 13:8).

Love,

A hopeful adoptive mom fighting for hope by your side

P.S. This old school resource from Pastor John Piper brought hope to my soul recently, and reminded me that “blessed are those who wait for Him.” It’s called Battling the Unbelief of Impatience.

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March 27, 2015March 26, 2015

Praying While You Wait: Prayers for Adoptive Parents

As Adam and I wait for our final piece of paperwork to arrive at our adoption agency, we continue to pray for our children daily, and ask that God would be so kind to bless us with them. This is a habit we have cultivated since the early days of our marriage, and has proved to be very helpful during our wait (along with some other habits).

Certainly our theology shapes our prayers. What we know to be true about the character of God will move our hearts, and words, as we boldly approach the King with our requests. In addition to that, the adoption education we have received during our wait has greatly influenced our prayers as well. There is so much we have learned over the past two years, much of it a heart-wrenching reminder of the brokenness that comes with every single adoption situation.

If you are also waiting for an adoption placement, we understand the “heart-pain” that accompanies your prayers. I hope this list blesses you, and encourages you to boldly approach our gracious God with your requests. If you have been following our journey, and feel led to pray for us, we would love for you to use this list to pray with intentionality.

We know that God hears every single prayer we lift to Him, (whether He chooses to bless us with children through adoption or not). We continue to walk by faith, and ask that He would do so.

1) That they would be protected from harm

We, especially women, love to be in control, don’t we? If God has children for us, somewhere in the foster system, there is absolutely nothing we can do right now to protect them from harm. All we can do is ask for God, the Father of the fatherless (Psalm 68:5) to keep our children safe. God is sovereign over insignificant events, like the end of a sparrow’s life (Matthew 10:29), He is more than able to protect our children and keep them safe from harm.

2) That all of their needs would be met

We don’t know the type of conditions our children may be living in right now. I am constantly wondering if they are with their biological mom and dad, in a potentially unsafe environment? Or are they with a loving foster family? Maybe they are still in their mother’s womb? We have no idea, but we frequently ask that God would meet all of their needs, whatever those may be. This is similar to the above request. We ask that they would have food to nourish their bodies, shelter over their heads, and clothing to keep them warm. We especially pray that they would feel loved and protected by those caring for them, and by God who cares for them infinitely more.

3) That their loss would be minimal

This is a tough one to pray for. Adoption is born out of loss and brokenness. Whether the child is a newborn infant, a teenager in foster care, or a toddler from Africa, there is always loss involved.

I always get squirmy when I see adoption sentimentalized, giving the appearance of “they all lived happily ever after.” Don’t get me wrong, I love a good adoption story, and I have wept over quite a few “gotcha-day” videos! Adoption is beautiful, Biblical, and emulates the heart of the gospel. However, in order for us to gain children into our family, these children will lose everything and everyone they have ever known.

Do you see the tension here, in regard to our prayers for them? Any child who is adopted will experience a great loss when they enter an adoptive family. That is inevitable. The two-day-old infant has lost the comfort of their mother’s voice, and the warmth of her womb. The older child from foster care has lost (potentially) years with their biological mom and dad, perhaps multiple foster families who they attached to, and maybe even siblings. The child adopted from another country has lost all of that, along with their birth culture, language, and familiar food.

We need to try and understand what these precious children have been through, and connect with how deeply their hearts have been broken over the loss they have experienced. Our compassion must grow for them. We know our children will experience great loss when they enter our families. They are losing everything they know, and will enter a place that is new, foreign, and possibly terrifying for them. We pray their loss, whatever it may be specific to their situation, would be as minimal as possible.

4) That they would experience healing

Going along with loss, we pray that our children would experience great healing, in spite of the circumstances that brought them into our family. We know they will carry that loss with them for the rest of their lives. We also know that God, our great healer, is absolutely capable of performing surgery on their hearts. He is near to the broken hearted and saves the crushed in spirit (Psalm 34:18). We pray that one day our children will trust God to heal them too. He knows their pain more than we ever will.

5) That their hearts would be soft, and open, to trust and obey us

When we begin to understand the loss that our children will experience, it’s understandable that it may be difficult for their little hearts to trust us right away. We often pray that their hearts would be softened now, and that they would easily attach to us, bond with us, and trust us to provide for them. Undoubtedly, we will need to build their trust. This is very different from a child, born into a family, who has had their needs met from the start. We ask that God would be working on our children now, wherever they are, opening their hearts to trust again, and eventually obey us as their mom and dad.

6) That they would come to know Jesus and be saved at a young age

By far, this is the most important of our daily requests. Would we love to have healthy, well-adjusted, obedient, attached children? Of course we would, and we pray for that boldly! But, none of that matters if they don’t know Jesus, and ultimately trust and obey HIM. We frequently pray that God would be revealing Himself to our children, and that He would be opening their eyes to Him right now, no matter where they are, or how old they are. We desire for our children to come into a saving faith at a young age.

If you pray one thing for our children, let this be it.

“Consequently, he is able to save to the uttermost those who draw near to God through him, since he always lives to make intercession for them” (Hebrews 7:25).

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Blog

Author: April Swiger

Four Way to Care for the Fatherless When You’re Not Called to Adopt

Encouragement for the Weary Foster Mom

One Year

From Adoptive Mom to Adoptive Mom Who May be Losing Hope {Letters}

Praying While You Wait: Prayers for Adoptive Parents