To Pastors on Mother’s Day

for pastor's on mother's dayThis Sunday is Mother’s Day. I know you know that already. It’s been on your calendar all year.

Moms are going to fill your pews this Sunday wearing pretty dresses. Some will have been served breakfast in bed. Some will have received bouquets of flowers already that morning. Some will be looking forward to children coming home that day to take them out for lunch. Some will be anticipating phone calls, hugs, kisses, crayon drawings, and homemade cards.

But, Mother’s Day isn’t always that pretty.

There will be women sitting before you this Sunday who are aching to become mothers. Some of those women are struggling to make it day-by-day as they endure infertility treatment. Some of those women are single and long to be married and wonder if they will ever have the joy of being a mother.

There will be some women sitting before you this Sunday who are mothers but not parents, women who have placed children in other families to be raised by other mothers. They may not look or feel like mothers; they may struggle to define who they are.

There will be some women sitting before you this Sunday who were mothers for a short time and didn’t consider themselves that at all, women who ended their pregnancies and motherhood through an abortion and now wonder what life would have been like had they made another choice and chosen life for their child.

There will be some women sitting before you this Sunday who are broken mothers, mothers whose relationships with their children are strained at best, mothers who haven’t spoken to their grown children in months or even years, mothers whose children are in rehab or prison or who knows where.

There will be some mothers sitting before you this Sunday who are divorced from their children’s father and who are tired, so very tired, whose little ones may not even know it’s Mother’s Day at all.

There will be people sitting before you this Sunday who have lost their mothers and people who still have their mothers but have been hurt by them.

And, all those people? They’ve had Mother’s Day on their calendars all year too. But, they aren’t coming to church dressed in their prettiest clothes ready to stand to be recognized. Instead, they wonder if they should come at all. Some are ashamed. Some are resentful. Some are full of grief. Some are angry at the mothers around them, you for pointing them out, and God Himself. Some are simply sad and have already put tissues in their purses in anticipation of the day.

The ones coming to church in their best with smiles on their faces really don’t need to stand for recognition or be publicly thanked. They’ll get all that elsewhere. It’s the others who need you this Sunday. Speak for them.

To the women who are celebrating this Mother’s Day as mothers for the first time, know that we celebrate with you. 

To the women who serve day in and day out to little ones, cleaning noses and bottoms and sippy cups and car seats, know that we applaud you and support you.

To the women who work outside the home to provide for their families, know that we honor you for all that you carry.

To the women who have been celebrated by their families already today or will be later today, know that we take joy in that with you.

To the women who are not yet mothers and who long to be, whose hearts are heavy with that desire today, know that we walk with you through whatever God calls you to today and for days to come.

To the women who wonder what life would be like if they were mothering now the child who could have been theirs, know that we want to hold your hand and encourage you.

To the women who are separated relationally with painful distance between you and your children, know that we hurt with you and pray for reconciliation and trust for you that there is hope for just that.

To the women who are mothers here who haven’t had the recognition from their children and feel forgotten, know that we remember you.

To those who have been hurt by their mothers in some way, who find this day a painful reminder of that hurt, know that we acknowledge your pain and want to offer hope for restoration to you.

To those who are watching their mothers grow older and change or who are grieving the loss of their mothers, know that we grieve with you and pray for comfort for you.

It’s a big day—Mother’s Day. It’s your challenge…privilege…to communicate God’s love to everyone in your church this Sunday as is your call every Sunday. As you do that, HE will meet each one just where they are and speak the words they need to hear.

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Kelly Raudenbush
Kelly Raudenbush

Kelly has a passion for supporting adoptive families, specifically to encourage parents to be intentional and understand their own hearts more clearly as they seek to care for their hearts of their children. Kelly has a Master’s degree in counseling and has been working with adoptive families since she and her husband Mark founded the The Sparrow Fund. Married to Mark since 1998, they have 3 biological children and 1 daughter who was adopted as a toddler from China in 2010. You can learn more about their adoption story, how they’ve been changed by the experience of adoption, and what life for them looks like on Kelly’s personal blog, My Overthinking.

Changed by broken walls

It was never an easy journey to get there.

old location parking lot1

When I said we wanted to visit her orphanage in 2010 when we were there to adopt her, we met resistance. It was too far. The train was too fast for a child. We would be too tired. We would bring germs from America. We wouldn’t want to go. But, that’s where they were wrong. I was determined to go, determined to physically enter into her history even if only for a moment. And so, we went. We drove about 3 hours there to stand at the gate, walk across the grounds, allow the ayis who knew our child infinitely more than we did to dote on our baby, and take lots of pictures.

old location playground1

I had never been more aware of my foreignity as I was at that moment. We were out of place, standing among ayis speed talking in a language only unrecognizable to the two of us. They pointed at us and spoke freely, knowing we would stand still in front of them and smile regardless of what they said. We watched as our new baby responded in a way we could not. She wasn’t a stranger there; they knew her and she knew them. We were the strangers surrounded by grey cement walls and dusty ground. The only thing I felt connected to there were the very walls themselves. I tried desperately to grab hold of something to take home with us, not even knowing really what, while the walls seemed to desperately present themselves as cheerful with some colorful cardboard cut outs stuck to them for now until the next rainfall would turn them into more dust on the ground. I cried. It sorta felt like the grey, tiled walls were crying too.

old location window1

When I said I wanted to visit the location of the old orphanage a few weeks ago, I met resistance. It was too far. We would be too tired. It wasn’t safe. We wouldn’t want to go. And, while I had been determined to get there, I was willing to let it go. I had already been given so much, and it wasn’t the reason why I came.

When the driver pulled our van over and pointed to the right, my heart stopped for a moment.

There I was again, standing at a new gate that looked 50 years old already, looking at what used to be.

Baoji orphanage old location edited1

Most of the walls that had cried along with me four years ago were no more. I stood looking at what was in front of me and cried alone.

It’s China. Buildings are built and torn down and built again to be torn down again. It’s a seemingly never-ending cycle of building and destruction. Standing witness to it before me, I didn’t feel like the foreigner I had four years ago. Everything was different now. At the very moment I stood crying on Bao Ping Road, my daughter who had been there, who had lived behind those gates and inside those broken walls, was sleeping soundly beside her sister in a warm bed in the place she knows and I know as home.

I saw a picture of adoption that day in the form of broken walls and a quiet construction site.

They gave us a bag of dirt the day we received our daughter in March 2010. The director handed us a little bag of stones and dust from the grounds of the orphanage. I thought it was nice, thoughtful, a memento for her to have as she got older. We put it in a special box for her along with the clothes she came to us in and other special things. Now that gift means something entirely different. It is not a memento; it’s a monument. It gently says:

Those walls that were the only home you knew need to come down now. Let God turn them to dust, as hard as that may be, so that He can build new walls, strong walls, walls that will not crumble, walls where you will never be alone. It’s never an easy journey to get there; but, stone by stone, brick by brick, while it may be a painstaking journey, you can get there. Accept this gift so that you always remember your story and so that you can trace the work of the Repairer of Broken Walls, the Restorer of Crumbling Dwellings, the One who makes beautiful things out of stones, dirt, and dust.

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Kelly Raudenbush
Kelly Raudenbush

Kelly has a passion for supporting adoptive families, specifically to encourage parents to be intentional and understand their own hearts more clearly as they seek to care for their hearts of their children. Kelly has a Master’s degree in counseling and has been working with adoptive families since she and her husband Mark founded the nonprofit The Sparrow Fund (www.sparrow-fund.org). Married to Mark since 1998, they have 3 biological children and 1 daughter who was adopted as a toddler from China in 2010. You can learn more about their adoption story, how they’ve been changed by the experience of adoption, and what life for them looks like on Kelly’s personal blog, My Overthinking.

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Wanna learn more about going to China with The Sparrow Fund in October to serve at this orphanage? Click on Upcoming Events to read more, and email us for more information.

Together Called to rest

together called 2014 fireI’ve realized something lately. I’ve realized it over the last few months as we’ve prepared for this day. I’ve seen it; I’ve experienced it. There’s a lot of weary going around. It is not the kind of weary that means tired. Being tired is something a good night’s sleep and a tall cup of coffee can fix. It’s deeper than that. It’s w e a r y, an exhaustion that fills what can seem like a never ending season of winter.

We added something new to Together Called this year. Some couples come this weekend to be fed and simply be able to reconnect with each other. That’s great. Other couples come to Together Called to be fed, maybe reconnect with each other, but also connect with other couples who “get it.” This year, we wanted to be intentional about helping them do that. The weekend goes by fast, so we have tried to do some work ahead of time so that they can skip some of the higher level conversation and get to the conversation that we all really are looking for anyway. We asked couples to fill out an online survey of sorts, noting areas they could use someone’s connection and areas where they may be able to pour into others.

As the responses came in, the weariness became visibly apparent in the form of an Excel spreadsheet on the screen in front of us. Nearly 1/4 of the couples coming this weekend shared that they fell into the category of coming up for air and asked for someone to connect with them to encourage them.

Weary.

Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. -Matthew 11:28

That’s what we want these couples to get this weekend. We’ve got great stuff planned, gifted speakers, good food, warm fires. But, we don’t want Together Called to be their tall cup of coffee. We want to point them to the One who called them in the first place and calls them still when they’re in the hard places and when things seem to be working out okay.

We are coming weary and burdened. We pray that we will leave having experienced rest and understanding that life with Jesus can be rest even in the midst—perhaps more so in the midst—of brokenness and the tender pain of the grafting process, that He desires to us to experience rest in Him because He is our Father and simply loves us because we are His.

Come, friends. Come, and let’s share the weariness and find rest together.

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Wanna learn more about Together Called 2015? Join our mailing list for more information.

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Kelly-NHBO1-150x150
Kelly Raudenbush

Kelly has a passion for supporting adoptive families, specifically to encourage parents to be intentional and understand their own hearts more clearly as they seek to care for their hearts of their children. Kelly has a Master’s degree in counseling and has been working with adoptive families since she and her husband Mark founded the nonprofit The Sparrow Fund (www.sparrow-fund.org). Married to Mark since 1998, they have 3 biological children and 1 daughter who was adopted as a toddler from China in 2010. You can learn more about their adoption story, how they’ve been changed by the experience of adoption, and what life for them looks like on Kelly’s personal blog, My Overthinking.

Call to the Home Team

photo courtesy of KC Photography

There are a lot of countdowns going on here—our biggest annual event Together Called is only days away, and our trip to China to serve at an orphanage pretty much immediately follows.

For months, the team has been raising funds, filling out paperwork, considering schedules and preparing logistically. We’ve been coming together on conference calls so we can work better together as a team, creating t-shirts so we look like a team, and going through material to grow us as we are a part of a bigger team. Some of us have already started packing bags, making sure we squeeze everything in and stay under 40 lbs. which can be a wee bit of a challenge for overthinkers like me. Regardless of who much overthinking we’re doing about those bags, we’re nearly on our way. On February 27th, we’ll be able to put everyone’s faces with the voices we’ve come to recognize from those conferences calls and get on a China-bound flight together.

Though our team numbers only 13 as we serve at an orphanage in Shaanxi, we know our team is exponentially bigger than that. Each one of the home teams of those 13 members from across the country makes this Visit and Serve team huge! What a comfort it is to know that while we may be the hands there doing the work through His grace, the rest of the body is supporting us and enabling us to be there. It’s so not just the 13 of us.

It’s not too late to be a part of the team. You may not be on that plane with us as we nervously chatter and try to cat nap as we’re able, but we want you there. And, you can be. We’re rallying our home teams to lift us up throughout our travel day February 27th-28th in very specific ways. Can you commit 30 minutes on that day to sit with us and advocate for us from your living room as you sip on a cup of coffee? Can you maybe do a harder thing and set your alarm to wake up in the middle of the night to do the same as we are still flying across the world?

Feel that nudge to join us? Email me. I’ll reply with some info for you and maybe my own form of nervous email chatter. Heading back to my daughter’s home city, meeting her ayis, holding the babies who are there waiting can produce some nervous chatter in me.

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Kelly-NHBO1-150x150
Kelly Raudenbush

Forever changed by our experience of being adopted and adopting, Kelly is a stay-at-home mom/manager to 4 children and a professional juggler, juggling her calling as wife and mother with her secondary callings (editing and serving adoptive families through The Sparrow Fund). You can learn more about their adoption story, how they’ve been changed, and what life for them looks like on their personal blogMy Overthinking.

Again and Again and Again

There was no getting it out of my head. It had become my heart’s background music.

How great is our God. Sing with me. How great is our God.

Ashlyn had invited Lydia to watch her adoption video again…and again and again. As I buzzed around the kitchen, I could hear the song from the other room over and over with Ashlyn’s sweet narration of the images that have become as much a part of the song as the notes and lyrics themselves for our family.

As I danced between the stove and sink to prepare our meal as mothers often do, a small person ran into the room and hugged my legs tight, forcing me to still as small people often do.

I love being adopted. I want to be adopted again!

Chinese adoptionCaught up in the words of praise and moving music and dramatic images, she recognized in her little 4 year old way the significance and beauty of that moment when we received her in our arms after years of anticipation.

I told her then and write now to preserve the words and my heart here for when her little 4 year old heart is an 8 year old heart or a 12 year old heart or it bursts one day as a mother’s heart.

I love you “being adopted” too. I am so happy to be your mother. When I see you sleeping in the car or watch snuggled up with your sister or listen to your long prayers before dinner, my heart smiles along with my face and I hear the words of “How Great is Our God” in my heart again. The day I saw you enter that office room in the arms of a woman who had cared for you for a year, wearing your big puffy pants, I was amazed and filled with wonder. Years of desiring you had come to fruition. I remember every moment of that day—the songs of the street cleaning trucks, the echoes in the marble halls, the cough that rattled your little frame. I can get caught up in wanting to relive that day too. But, my love, there is no need now to pine for that day. When we adopted you, it was done. Finished. You become ours. Grafted in. If I were able to go back and do it again, I would because I love you even more fully now than I did that day. But, there’s no do overs with that. Our vows that day still stand today and will tomorrow and forever more as every part of you is every part of us.

Yes, I love you being adopted. I loved that day when we adopted you. And, I’d do it again 100 x 100 times if I could. I love you that much.

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Kelly-NHBO1-150x150
Kelly Raudenbush

Forever changed by our experience of being adopted and adopting, Kelly is a stay-at-home mom/manager to 4 children and a professional juggler, juggling her calling as wife and mother with her secondary callings (editing and serving adoptive families through The Sparrow Fund). You can learn more about their adoption story, how they’ve been changed, and what life for them looks like on their personal blogMy Overthinking.

He is There. He is Here

Christmas 2009. Four Christmases ago. I was a wreck. We were so close to finding our new daughter. I just knew it would be a few weeks after Christmas; I hoped it would be a few weeks after Christmas. I was filled with expectation that Christmas.

And, that meant that though I didn’t know who she was or where exactly she was, what she looked like or how old she was, I knew she was. I knew she was somewhere across the world, alone on Christmas, what turned out to be her first Christmas.

I was anxious and wondering and thinking all the time about her. Yet, there was something that gave me great peace.

God was there.

In Luke 2:6-20, Luke mentioned the manger three times. Why?

The manger was messy. It wasn’t what we picture and what our children play with as part of our little nativity sets they can hold in their hands. It wasn’t a symmetrical wooden contraption with a sweet bed of hay. It was more like a box looking thing or basin made out of clay mixed with hay or stones and held together with mud. All kinds of food for animals was put into it, not just nice yellow hay. It was dirty, likely moldy, smelly, not anything we’d want our child anywhere near.

And, God was there. Very literally, God was there.

As spunky and full of life as Lydia is now, there was a time that she was in a pretty messy place. I believe her orphanage was one of the better ones—her needs were met, and we’ve learned that there were quite caring women who took to her there. There was a wall of windows with natural light in the room where she lived 24-7. In that room were 40 cribs and a few toys for all to share to pass their days until they graduated to another room and then another. There were older children in that orphanage too, children we weren’t allowed to see. I wonder what their days were like.

OrphanageTrip-1

I’ve heard a lot of stories, stories about adopted children who flinch when someone moves their direction in fear that they will be hit; children with flat heads who were never held; children who have come to accept that no one wants to bring home a child their age, only babies; children who suffer significant consequences from not having the medical treatment they needed earlier.

chinese orphanage baby-1

And, yet, I believe God is there.

God is not only not afraid to get his feet dirty; He is about getting His feet dirty. That’s what advent is all about, isn’t it? God coming down, the perfect to the broken, the holy to the unholy.

Psalm 34:18 tells us He’s close to the brokenhearted, and there are so many, so very many. I can only imagine that He is very close indeed to brokenhearted children—here and there—whether they are aware of their brokenness or not. He’s there.

chinese orphanage-1

I prayed for our daughter four Christmases ago, that He would be close to her, that He would remain close to her. That He would be tangibly felt in that room where she slept. That He would wrap His arms around her when she was cold. That He’d rock her when she needed comfort. That He’d be in the manger with her.

I know He was there.

And, somehow, in the dark places of orphanages around the world, I can’t explain how or what He always looks like there, but I believe that He’s there. In the warmth of the sun pouring in the windows, He comforted my child. In the smile of a nanny. In the gaze of another orphan. In the provision sent by charities around the world. In her broken heart—emotionally and literally.

Somehow, He was there.

Now, as my children listen to us read about His story every night, sing familiar and unfamiliar words together to prepare, sneak Hershey kisses in their mouths as we make reindeer eyes, and use entirely too much scotch tape on crafts and wrapping paper alike, He is here…and, He is there, somehow making an unholy place, holy.

That’s what advent is about. That’s what He’s about.

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Kelly-NHBO1-150x150
Kelly Raudenbush

Forever changed by our experience of being adopted and adopting, Kelly is a stay-at-home mom/manager to 4 children and a professional juggler, juggling her calling as wife and mother with her secondary callings (editing and serving adoptive families through The Sparrow Fund). You can learn more about their adoption story, how they’ve been changed, and what life for them looks like on their personal blogMy Overthinking.

Overthinking Foster Care

Rewind 7 years.

We’re going to do foster care.

My sister and her husband shared the news. And, I shared my thoughts, which really were a number of reasons why foster care was not a good idea.

should I do foster careEloquent argument #1: It is a lot of work. There’s paperwork and training and meetings and appointments just to get permission to foster in the first place. After you have a child in your home, those meetings and appointments won’t end. Then, add in the normal care-for-a-child stuff inherent to caring for a child. That’s a lot of work for a child who isn’t your own. Wouldn’t it be so much easier to just avoid it altogether?

And…

They have worked hard. A lot of training. A lot of meetings. A lot of teacher conferences and doctor appointments and social worker visits. It hasn’t been easy. But, you know what? It’s been worth it. They’ve been developed individually and as parents together. But, greater than that, they’ve experienced the blessing of getting to play a significant part in a child’s life and getting a front row seat to witnessing every child they’ve served grow and learn and experience healing in part or in whole. I admit that it’s been pretty amazing to watch from the sidelines.

Eloquent argument #2: You have to face hard stuff. If a kid needs a foster home, something has broken that should not have been broken. And, when you start foster parenting, you step into that brokenness. Simply acknowledging the messyness can be hard. But, when you step into that mess, you have to not only recognize that that mess exists, you get messy too. Hard stuff. Wouldn’t it be so much more comfortable to just avoid it altogether?

And…

They have faced hard stuff—a toddler found walking on the highway, a teenage girl given only a few clothes she could fit in a backpack and enough money for a one-way bus ride, and children having children. But, you know what? They can do hard stuff. They have been changed as they have come face to face with brokenness in their own neighborhood. They’ve gotten messy as those caring for children from hard places inevitably do, but they also know the God who is right there in the mess and, because of Him, they know how to wash the feet of the children in their home, bringing restoration into broken lives. And, that is what it’s all about.

Eloquent argument #3: Your heart may get broken. The goal of foster care is not adoption. While there are adoptions out of foster care, fostering isn’t designed as a way to grow a new family; family reunification is the goal. That means you are likely going to give and give to a child only to see him or her go to another family long term. Wouldn’t it be so much safer to just avoid it altogether?

And…

Their hearts have more texture than they had 7 years ago. Some newborns stayed for only a few days. Some children stayed for over a year. We’ve watched them open gifts on Christmas morning. We’ve clapped when they’ve blown out birthday candles. My mother made a teenage girl jump up and down with pure joy when she gave her a pair of big-girl footie pajamas after she said she had always wanted a pair and never had them as a little girl. They have braided hair, left quarters under pillows from the tooth fairy, helped with homework, read bedtime stories, and taught them how to pray. The family celebrated when the first child they fostered became their son. But, we’ve said goodbye to many more. All of our hearts have more texture today than they did before we knew these children. If you took an x-ray of my sister’s heart, you’d see a lot of cracks and craters of stories in there, stories of children they loved and served for a time. But, that heart is also bigger than it was before, capable of even more love than it was before they took that step to become foster parents and stand in the gap for the children who need it the most.

Somewhere along the way, my eloquent arguments seemed to lose steam and the reality of foster parenting became a bit more real to me. When Mark and I spoke last month to a group of foster parents about connecting with the children in their care, it became even more real to me. My textured heart was stirred.

Foster care. It’s all about life. Life giving all around. Life changing all around. For children. For those ordinary heroes we call “foster parents.” It’s not easy or comfortable or safe. But, the best things in life simply aren’t.

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Kelly Raudenbush
Kelly Raudenbush

Forever changed by their experience of being adopted and adopting, Kelly is a stay-at-home mom/manager to 4 children and a professional juggler, juggling her calling as wife and mother with her secondary callings (editing and serving adoptive families through The Sparrow Fund). You can learn more about their adoption story, how they’ve been changed, and what life for them looks like on their personal blog.

A Letter to My Daughter from Her Homeland

My dear daughter,

When I came out of the airport concourse and saw the sea of dark heads and Chinese faces calling out for the person they were waiting for, it all came flooding back to me. I remember turning to look at your Daddy with wide eyes and the frantically searching for an unfamiliar someone with a sign who was waiting for us. This time, it was a friend who yelled my name and ran to meet me. Last time I was in China, I came for my daughter—you. This time, I came for a different purpose as we start a new season of our lives.

As I walked around Beijing today, I was surrounded by people taking pictures of the landmarks—the old city wall, Tiananmen Square, the Forbidden City. They are breathtaking. But, I found myself taking pictures of something else entirely—families. In a city full of one of the richest histories in the world, I am looking at a mother walking along the sidewalk with her son, letting him dictate the speed of their stroll based on his curiosity alone. I am studying the father comforting his crying baby, seemingly unaware of the fanfare going on around him. I am zooming in on the mother and father laughing as their little one begs to play with his phone.

kids in china5

kids in china4

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I think of you constantly here. In every child’s face, I think of yours. And, like a bride-to-be longs for people to see the ring on her finger and know she will soon be walking down the aisle, I find myself longing to show the people around me some sort of sign that I have a daughter who is Chinese too. When the mother smiles back at me, I want her to know. In place of a ring, I wear the charm around my neck with your name.

“Ah, Mei yue? That is your name?”

“No, it’s my daughter’s name. I have a daughter from Baoji.”

“Baoji? Shaanxi? Ah….”

It doesn’t change a thing—I’m still an American; they are still Chinese. The differences between us are obvious, enough to often cause them to stop and stare. But, they see my eyes light up when I speak of you and can begin to understand why I’m here. You are a bridge between us, my dear daughter who is both fully Chinese and fully American. Because of you, my sweet one, a living, breathing, walking expression of love, the people can start to understand why I’m here, why I love this place, why I feel as if it is an extension of our home on the other side of the world.

Last time I was in China, I came for a daughter. This time, I came with a daughter.

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KellyRaudenbushForever changed by our experience of being adopted and adopting, Kelly is a stay-at-home mom/manager to 4 children and a professional juggler, juggling her calling as wife and mother with her secondary callings (editing and serving adoptive families through The Sparrow Fund). You can learn more about their adoption story, how they’ve been changed, and what life for them looks like on their personal blog.

{Hitting Repeat} We’re Adopting

This week alone, I connected with two families actively fundraising for their first adoptions and two families who just announced they are adopting for the first time and adopting again. I have the joy of hearing a lot of “We’re Adopting!” and “We’re adopting again!” announcements. And, each one gets me pretty excited. ONE MORE child with a forever family; ONE LESS orphan in the world. It’s a pretty beautiful thing, folks.

Some of you may not hear that announcement as often and may not always know how to respond when you do. I don’t claim to be an expert—I’m an adoptive aunt to one and we’ve embarked on this adventure only once ourselves. Though my experience is limited, I think some principles are pretty universal.

So, next time you hear someone say, “We’re going to adopt” . . .

  • Please demonstrate excitement – It’s a good thing! It’s not a consolation prize that a couple is settling for because they “cannot have children of their own.” If the couple has experienced infertility, they have made the decision now to invest themselves in becoming a family through adoption. Do some cartwheels and jump up and down.
  • Please don’t offer the infamous cliché – “Oh, now I’m sure you will get pregnant!” or “Oh good! Seems like as soon as someone decides to adopt, they get pregnant.” Not true and a downright not good thing to say. Just don’t. Please.
  • Please don’t freak them out – Just like how you don’t tell a newly pregnant woman about the woman you know who just miscarried or the tragic story of a baby lost at birth, please don’t hear the word “adoption” and proceed to share some stories about a tragic story you heard on the news or someone you know who waited forever or a birthmother who changed her mind after a month or whatever. Couples starting out in the adventure of adoption likely already have a bit of fear in them—as all new parents do—and you don’t need to grow that fear.
  • Please respect their child’s home country – While we have a passion for China, I recognize that not all adoptive families may have a particular passion for their child’s home country if they are adopting internationally. But, even if they don’t, please do not insult the people of that country or the child’s birth family for the choice they made. Feel free to ask questions if you do not understand the culture and why there are orphans there available for adoption. But, in so doing, do not make judgmental or negative remarks about the people particularly in front of biological and/or adopted children. And, part of respecting their child’s home country includes not critiquing their choice of programs (i.e., “Why wouldn’t you just adopt from here?” or something along those lines). Simply encourage.
  • Please be intentional with your verbiage – While not all adoptive parents are sensitive about what words people use, it’s always better to be cautious and respectful with your words. Their child is their child, not like their own child. Use the terms birth mother and birth father, not real mother and father. The adoptive family is very much the child’s real family.
  • Please don’t make saints of the adoptive family – There are many more families now making the choice to adopt to grow their families for reasons other than infertility. Amen! But, don’t praise the family by telling them how lucky the child is to have them or how wonderful they are to rescue this child. It can be pretty uncomfortable. And, that type of praise actually can be harmful if said in the presence of their children—biological and/or adopted children. Instead, simply encourage them for following God’s call for their family. That’s enough.
  • Celebrate! – The typical baby shower typically won’t work to celebrate the arrival or pending arrival of an adopted baby, toddler, or older child. Think creatively! Consider getting girlfriends together for a Nesting Party during which you can help your friend paint the child’s room or even simply clean her house. If the family doesn’t know the age or gender of the child who will be coming home, consider having a book party simply to grow their children’s library. Gifts for new parents can be super helpful and needed. But, perhaps more than the gifts, simply the attention given to the family (okay, fine, mother) and the message sent that friends and family are rallying around this child can mean a whole lot more than gifts and last a whole lot longer.
  • Assure them you will care for them after the fact – In our circles—and I hope in most—when a family brings home a newborn, their church and/or neighbors help through providing meals, babysitting for other children, grocery runs, etc. This is not simply because a woman is recovering from childbirth; it’s because a family has just completely changed their dynamics, and it takes a while to get your bearings. Adopting a child is no different. In fact, having brought home biological newborns and one toddler via adoption, I think I needed care more after our adoption than after recovering from labor and delivery. Please don’t equate labor with need for care. Adoptive moms need that care too.

Anything you’d add to that list?

 ________________________________________

Kelly-NHBO1-150x150
Kelly Raudenbush

Forever changed by our experience of being adopted and adopting, Kelly is a stay-at-home mom/manager to 4 children and a professional juggler, juggling her calling as wife and mother with her secondary callings (editing and serving adoptive families through The Sparrow Fund). You can learn more about their adoption story, how they’ve been changed, and what life for them looks like on their personal blogMy Overthinking.

{Hitting Repeat} Grafted In

I’ve been doing some research about grafting lately. And, believe me, research is needed because gardening is not my thing. Maybe it will be my thing when my kids are a bit older. But, as I look out my back windows and see my garden overtaken by grass and weeds, I have to remind myself that I’m growing kids not prize-winning tomatoes.

So, here’s what I’ve learned so far:

Grafting by a master gardener takes two separate plants and binds them into one so that they now grow together as one plant, a more beautiful plant at that. You could graft two apple trees to make one tree that produces two different kinds of apples. Or, you could graft rose bushes to produce a plant with many varied colored flowers. Rather than create a genetically new plant variety through grafting, the plant actually keeps the two separate genetic codes but grows together as one, maintaining both the two original identities as well as creating a new identity as one.

Besides producing an interesting or more beautiful plant, grafting is also sometimes necessary. For example, if a plant does not have a good root system, it will die. Grafting it into a larger, more established tree which will become its root system will save the plant. Furthermore, grafting enables a plant which is no longer fruitful but has deep roots to become fruitful and useful again.

In order for grafting to be successful, 4 conditions must be met:

  • The two plants must be compatible to begin with. And, sometimes the only way of knowing this is through research and trial by a master gardener.
  • Each plant must be at the proper physiological stage. The plant grafted in should have buds that are present but dormant. The plant receiving the graft must be healthy and have strong roots—often determined by the quality of the soil surrounding the plant since you can’t actually see the roots. The best time of year to graft plants is late winter, on the cusp of spring when new growth is close. If the plant to be grafted in has a disease, the receiving plant will be affected and the graft a fragile one. But, if the receiving plant is healthy and the graft is done well, success can still be experienced.
  • The cambial layers of both plants must meet; they cannot simply have their bark touching. They cannot be attached on the surface; rather the plants have to be attached on a deeper level, under the bark, a process that is painful for both plants but absolutely necessary. Without the peeling back of the top layer and a connection at the core, the graft simply won’t take.
  • The graft union must be kept moist and warm until the wound has healed. It must be watered, nurtured, cared for carefully and regularly until the wound has healed. If you neglect the graft, the wound may not heal. And, even if the plants are able to grow, the growth will be poor and the scars on the plants apparent.

Now, read this:

But some of these branches from Abraham’s tree—some of the people of Israel—have been broken off. And you Gentiles, who were branches from a wild olive tree, have been grafted in. So now you also receive the blessing God has promised Abraham and his children, sharing in the rich nourishment from the root of God’s special olive tree.” (Romans 11:17, New Living Translation)

Do you get that? Do I really get that? As a Gentile believer in Christ, I have been grafted into God’s family, a full member of God’s family, receiving the blessing promised to His chosen people. I grow there; I bear fruit there; and I am pruned there as all branches should be—not as a punishment but as a way to keep me fruitful and productive.

Now read this:

“God decided in advance to adopt us into his own family by bringing us to himself through Jesus Christ. This is what he wanted to do, and it gave him great pleasure. So we praise God for the glorious grace he has poured out on us who belong to his dear Son.” (Ephesians 1:5-6, New Living Translation)

Do you see the word synonymous with being grafted in—adopted.

Now, read again about the gardener’s rules of grafting and consider not only our spiritual adoption but our adoptions as lived out in our families on earth.

God’s word is so rich, so absolutely applicable to our lives.

We are grafted in. We are grafted into God’s family, an adoption process initiated by our Father and one that brings Him great pleasure. He has poured out His glorious grace on us and made us—even in our dead state—His own, a coheir with His son.

My earthly family is also grafted. We believed God was calling this rooted family to become fruitful again. We researched and prepared and then had to simply take the leap of faith. We peeled back our layers as our daughter was forced to peel back her own. No doubt, this was not comfortable for either of us. But, comfort without roots is short lived. And, comfort without fruit is purposeless. We’re still quite aware of this new graft and daily caring for the wound, nurturing both the branches (new and old) and the roots of all of them and keeping the wound moist and warm in hopes that it will heal in time and produce a fantastic tree, one with two distinct identities—Chinese and American—but one root system, one life together.

Is this easy? No. It can be scary and overwhelming. But, not only is the end worth it all, but the process of getting there is worth it as well.

_______________________________

Kelly-NHBO1-150x150
Kelly Raudenbush

Forever changed by our experience of being adopted and adopting, Kelly is a stay-at-home mom/manager to 4 children and a professional juggler, juggling her calling as wife and mother with her secondary callings (editing and serving adoptive families through The Sparrow Fund). You can learn more about their adoption story, how they’ve been changed, and what life for them looks like on their personal blogMy Overthinking (where she’s going to have some super sweet giveaways this month, by the way).

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