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When Your Worst Fear Comes True

What’s your biggest fear as a parent?

Although we all have major fears like our kids rebelling or leaving the faith, I think every parent at some point lies awake at night, panicked that he or she is going to somehow fail his or her offspring in  damaging, irreparable ways. I mean, who hasn’t bemoaned, “My kid is going to end up on Oprah someday,” and was only partly kidding?

The fear of messing up our kids. Of damaging them in some long-term way.

What if your fear came true?

Mine did. Today.

One of my goals in parenting from the beginning has been connection. I want my kids to feel connected to me, to know that I value our relationship; I want them to feel loved, always. Out of balance, this can very much be an idol for me. But connection…security in our relationship…that’s a good thing, right?

The night had been peppered with sarcasm and complaint from one child in particular, with me returning the volleys with patience, then not. I doled out a consequence and removed myself from the situation before it really got out of control. When I returned, I began to debrief with this child (which honestly looked a lot like lecturing), and then the conversation took a turn. This child made a seemingly small, throw-away statement, but then his eyes filled with tears of pain. I took a step towards him. The floodgates opened.

(**Let me pause a moment here and say parents, do not quickly treat your child’s behavior and think that’s enough. Sometimes, they do just need a (metaphorical) kick in the pants to straighten up. But oftentimes the behavior is just a symptom of something deeper, and if you punish and move on, you’ll miss it. This will probably happen late at night. You will be tired. Pursue your child’s heart anyway.)

Through controlled and uncontrolled tears, my child revealed a hurt he has been holding onto for quite some time, an instance where Brian and I were unknowingly careless with his heart. I literally can’t even remember the situation he referred to, but it has deeply wounded him, causing him to question our sincerity and approval ever since.

For years, he’s been living out of fear of failure based on the way he interpreted a careless circumstance Brian and I can’t even remember.

We failed him. We didn’t mean to, but we did. And he is hurting. It will take lots of time, forgiveness, and actively throwing down boards of truth for him to recover from this.

My worst fear came true. I have damaged this child, and I can’t undo it.

As I’ve processed this event with the Lord, here are some truths I’d like to share:

1. As a parent, a friend, a daughter, etc., I will make mistakes. Some of them will be blatant, and some of them I will commit completely unaware that I have done anything wrong. Some will be intentional; some will not. Do I trust Christ to fill in the gaps these mistakes cause, especially the ones that I don’t even know exist? Because can I tell you something? If I don’t, then I am absolutely sunk.

The enemy wants to take situations like this and use them to shame and accuse:

“See? I told you you would fail!”
“The only thing to do is try harder. You must double up on your efforts. Read more books. Buckle down on intentional time.”
“YOU MUST FIX THIS.”

Oh no. I give my kids permission to say to Satan, “Shut up, you stupid idiot,” and those words would definitely apply here.

Do I want to be intentional with my children? Do I want to do everything I can to love them well and provide a secure base for all things in life? Yes. But if it is up to me to make sure that nothing goes wrong in their lives or mine, then I may as well jump ship right now.

What a privilege it was to sit before my child and through his tears and mine, take us both to the gospel—the truth that I will not parent him perfectly, but praise God, He will. Instead of wringing my hands in panic over what I had inadvertently done to his self-esteem, I was able to speak from a place of brokenness as I asked his forgiveness, but also from a place of strength as I knew that God would redeem this and make it right—and it wasn’t up to me. I hurt for my child, but I wasn’t destroyed that I had failed him, because I know that he has a much greater Advocate who will fill in the gaps that my carelessness, laziness, self-centeredness, and just plain humanity will leave.

2. Oftentimes our hurts are based on assumptions that we can’t prove.

Shout out once again to Julie Sparkman and her Idol Addiction study, which nails this point so eloquently. The situation that my child was so wounded by…it could have been interpreted a number of ways. He chose the most painful interpretation, and never asked us for our explanation. The situation itself didn’t cause his pain; the way he interpreted it did.

I can totally relate to him. I remember being super young, and our family was on a long car trip. Let’s pause a moment and think about what long car trips with small children do to parents’ nerves. The car started making a funny noise, and my dad was trying to figure out what was wrong. I saw a noise-making toy down on the floor board and thought I’d found the source of the problem, so I said, “I know what’s making the noise, Daddy!” He quickly shut me down with a, “No you don’t, Jennifer. Now be quiet so I can figure it out.” My interpretation? “He doesn’t think my opinion matters.” The reality (which I know now that I’m a parent and have made these horrific trips): “I am tired, stressed, and just want to get out of this car. Please, no one talk to me.”

How many hurts, how much bitterness do we hold onto, based on our assumptions about someone’s thoughts or motivations? Based on our interpretation of a situation that may or may not be true? The cost of doing so is so very high.

You don’t know what you don’t know. There’s actually a lot of freedom in that.

3. Past wounds threaten to define us and change the lens through which we see life.

As I listened to my child name his pain—even though the actual incident seems minor all these years later—and watched him walk through how that pain has affected him through the years, I realized that I need to name my own pain.

Oh, the wounds that go so deep, the ones that are 10, 20, 30 years old. They may seem silly when spoken now, but they have defined me to my very core, and my unwillingness to let go has caused me to interpret life through those glasses. I must name them and walk through to the other side. Things like that cruel comment about my new shirt when I thought that finally, finally I was in style. My unfulfilled desire to fit in all those years ago. The notes passed in class, the whispers in the hallways, the invitations not received.

Seems silly, right? And yet, the message permeated deep and I fight it still: Rejection. You are not worthy.

So, hand in hand with my broken child who wants to know for sure that he is loved, I walk through the pain to the other side where Truth awaits and I realize the things I told my baby boy are also true for me: I am worthy, because He is worthy. I am adored. I am His treasured possession. I am His chosen bride. I am accepted. I am safe. I am loved. I am free.

It’s almost too much to take in.

What pain do you need to name today? What wounds hold power over you and have clouded your perspective and robbed your joy? Name them—it’s not too late for you to be free.

What a night. My worst fear came true, and I never saw it coming. But what a holy night it became, as my son and I together fought through the ugly and drank deeply from the well of grace that we both so desperately needed.

The gospel, my friends. It is our only hope for healing and restoration. You don’t have to fear the worst in parenting or in anything else, because the gospel actually works there as well, thank goodness. Let’s rest in that hope today.

“For I am sure that neither death nor life, nor angels nor rulers, NOR THINGS PRESENT NOR THINGS TO COME, nor powers, nor height nor depth nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.” – Romans 8:38-39

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Jennifer PhillipsJennifer Phillips graduated from Samford University. She then worked with Sav-A-Life, a national network of crisis pregnancy centers, eventually becoming its Executive Director. She currently lives in Brisbane, Australia, where her husband Brian serves with Uni-Impact, a franchise of Campus Outreach. You can follow Jennifer at littlelucymei.blogspot.com.

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Did They Ever Notice {Summer Flashback}

Miss A has been with us for about 4 months now. As time goes on, as I watch her playing and interacting, I find myself wondering, did they ever notice?

I mean, she spent 7.5 months in an orphanage being cared for by nannies. It was, as far as I can tell, a really good orphanage. We visited it and got a tour, and it was lovely–for an orphanage. It was clean and bright, and the directors and nannies were cheerful and welcoming and friendly. But, it was still an orphanage. She was still cared for by nannies. And that makes me wonder, did they ever notice?

Miss A likes to feel a blanket or burp cloth with her fingers as she drinks her bottle. Propped up in the crook of my leg so we can see each other face to face, her hands are in constant motion. Seeking out and then rubbing and feeling the piece of cloth. Did they ever notice this?

As her eyelids get droopier and droopier drinking her bottle, she will usually begin lifting the cloth to her face. Covering her eyes, then dropping it down, then bring it back up to her face. She will grab a corner and rub the side of her face as her eyelids close. Did they ever notice?

Should she finish the bottle before drifting off to sleep, she has been known to almost nibble on the fuzzy side of her blankie to fall asleep. Did they ever notice? And, if so, did they ever give her a soft cloth to feel as she drank her bottle?

We first noticed this in China. She would hold her shirt or my shirt as she drank her bottle. Then she would grab her bib or burpcloth. So, when we came home, I got out a blankie square with a silky side and a furry side. She loves it. Peeking in at her at night we will find her laying on it like a pillow. And, it sometimes makes me sad. Sad because I wonder what she did at night when she was (presumably) all alone in her bed with nothing to grasp or cuddle or snuggle.

In all likelihood, given what I know about orphanages, given that the nannies (caring though they be) are taking care of many children at a time, I know that they probably didn’t notice this quirk of Miss A. They didn’t have time to notice. They couldn’t notice.

Instead they had to focus on taking care of each child’s basic needs. Feeding, changing diapers, and sleeping. Straight forward caretaking. Judging from Miss A, they seem to have done a fantastic job of caring for her basic needs while in the orphanage. On Gotcha Day she was a well-fed, healthy, happy, clean, chubby cleft baby who had already been given her first surgery. Her basic needs were well met.

But, just getting your basic needs met isn’t what we were designed for. God created us to know Him and to be intimately known. And He sets the example for us–He knows His children intimately. He knows how many hairs we have on our head. He knows our deepest fears and struggles. He knows our gifts and talents. He knows what makes us laugh. He knows how we laugh. He knows our heart and soul and mind and spirit, for He created us. He notices it all.

There is so much more to be had than to just have your basic needs met. So, God places children in families with parents who, if they are intent on doing it, will know those children intimately. Through relationships and time and noticing we get to know one another intimately. Think of your closest friends, your spouses, your family. What makes those relationships so valuable is that each of those people knows you intimately. They can “read you like a book.” They know your quirks and your looks and your fears and your joys. And, isn’t that a comfort–to be known intimately?

This is what has brought me so much joy from being a mother. To spend every day with my daughters has given me the opportunity to know my girls intimately. Knowing that Miss E will probably need extra reassurance when she hears a loud car go roaring down our street. Knowing that Miss A likes to crawl around with a block in each hand. Noticing and knowing the little things, the looks, the cries, the giggles, the quirks. I love knowing–really knowing–my girls.

So, as I watch Miss A, as I study her expressions and movements and quirks, it makes me sad to realize that they probably couldn’t notice them. She had great basic care for the first 7.5 months of her life. And, for that, I am forever grateful. But, she didn’t have the care of a Mommy and Daddy. She didn’t have someone who took notice of how much she liked soft blankies and, in turn, made them available to her. She didn’t have someone who knew her intimately.

 

Now, she does.

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Stephanie Smit18 years in the classroom as a teacher was easy compared to parenting three little ones at home full-time. Through their three daughters, God has revealed Himself most clearly to Stephanie and her husband Matthew. He not only worked a miracle in giving them their biological daughter, He continued to show Himself in mighty ways throughout adoption journeys in China and Bhutan that were anything but normal. Nowadays she enjoys encouraging and connecting with other adoptive families through speaking and her work on the leadership team of “We Are Grafted In” and on the Board of The Sparrow Fund.  

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Why You Should Never Adopt An Older Child…And Why We Did Anyway

“Whatever you do, don’t adopt from foster care. That’s scary stuff.”

Ten years ago, when adoption became more than a hypothetical thought for us, a good friend tried to warn me. She’d been a social work major, and she’d come away scared. I believed her.

Two years later, we adopted a healthy, white newborn through an agency and brought him home from the hospital.

When I felt like we’d adopt again several years ago, and we were not ready to start over with an infant, I talked to another friend about the possibilities we’d considered. Foster care, special needs, HIV-positive. All words that concerned her.

“Why would you put yourself in that position? Why would you ask for that?”

Two years later, we adopted a four-and-a-half-year-old little girl with trauma history who had spent years in foster care.

Thinking back, her concerns were legitimate.

Why would we put ourselves in a position to care for a child with HIV or other special needs? Why would we volunteer to parent a child whose history could mean difficult behaviors and emotional baggage that might last for a lifetime? Why would we get on the adoption roller coaster again?

I have two answers that may seem simplistic at first glance.

First, because kids are worth it. All of them. They’re worth the fears and inconvenience and changes to their new families. They’re worth changing your parenting style to address their needs. They’re worth therapy appointments and grocery bills. They’re worth your tears on the bathroom floor as you question what in the world you’ve done and if it will ever get better. They are worth it.

Second, obedience is worth it. James 1:27 says, “Religion that God our Father accepts as pure and faultless is this: to look after orphans and widows in their distress and to keep oneself from being polluted by the world.” I don’t take that verse to mean everyone is called to foster or adopt. But for us, that’s exactly what it meant. Through His Word, circumstances, prayer, and other people, God made it clear to us over the course of years that this was His plan for our family. To do anything differently would have been disobedience. I know this is different for non-believers, but for us, knowing that we were being obedient was what kept us going on the hardest days. And it was enough.

Why did we volunteer to love and pour our hearts into hurting children? (And yes, children from infant adoption can hurt just as much as older children). Why do our foster parent friends take in filthy, hungry children in the middle of the night? Why do they stay up with screaming babies who were born addicted to meth? Or love teenage foster kids whose behaviors are difficult to say the least, even knowing that love is not enough to heal their hurts?

Because they’re worth it.

And although obedience is costly, it’s worth it too.

____________________________

IMG_8192

Matt and Becca write about marriage, parenting, and life through the lens of a married couple, parenting team, and pastor and professional counselor. They share hope and restoration by giving a glimpse into their lives- the failures, the successes, and the brokenness and beauty of everyday. You can read more of their writing at WhitsonLife.

 

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My Gardening Life.

I am not a gardener, but if I were my garden would look something like this.

 Chateau_de_Bouges_Flower_Garden_1


Pretty, right? Everything in its place, ordered, organized, contained and thriving. Beautiful and fruitful. Yep, that is it right there. 

And that is a pretty good picture of what I was going for with our family. Each child organized, contained within the life-giving boundaries we set up, and thriving, etc. Sounds good doesn’t it? 

But as our family grew through adoption my neat rows of seasonally appropriate lettuce and tomatoes, and those lovely flowers intentionally planted to catch just the right amount of sun, changed into a whole other garden.

Our family metamorphosed overnight into a crazy out of control mess of a garden. A beautiful, willy-nilly kind of place, full of surprising varieties and diversity. 

It has been a great adventure to discover and appreciate all that our adopted children have introduced into our lives. They brought with them so much that is lovely, fascinating, strong, creative and exciting from their birth families, country, and culture that have made our garden gloriously unique. Like an heirloom tomato imported from a far away place, I haven’t always immediately recognized the special qualities introduced to our family through adoption. But as the years have gone by, 15 now since our first two treasures came home, I have identified so much that I might have at first mistaken as a weed. 

I have learned to not to try to pull up something because I didn’t plant it, but rather clear a space for it in my heart and in the culture of our family. Let it grow and enjoy its fruit and beauty, and make it my own.

And where weeds have come in (to join the ones already there!)–the unwanted and unwelcome residue of rejection, abandonment, trauma and orphanage life–then I have learned to carefully remove them. Not all at once with a hoe of shame, but gently dig them out with the trowel of prayer and love and identity. Some of these weeds continue to sprout up over the years, the lies that threaten to choke out sonship, so I continue to maintain this special plot of land God has given us. 

And I have learned that some plants just need some time to grow before they can set themselves apart from the look-alike weeds. So I garden with care and nurture, waiting for the season of flowering and fruit.  

And I have learned to be at peace with the process of being a care-taker of such a crazy garden. As tempting as it was to take our new transplants and try to force them into my perfect rows, it proved to be destructive to us all whenever I tried it! 

So instead I focus on enjoying the beauty and surprise of it all, and the honor of being a part of such a family. 

                         _________________________________________
Beth Templeton
Beth Templeton

Beth has been married to her husband Stephen for 27 years. They have seven children, ages 18-24. Several years after giving birth to three girls God called their family to 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. Beth’s heart has been deeply and forever changed as she has watched the love of Father God poured out on her whole family through adoption. She leads Hope at Home, a ministry dedicated to help adoptive and foster parents encounter the Father’s heart for their families, partnering with God to transform orphans into sons and daughters. For more parenting insight and encouragement in the Lord, go to Hope at Home.

_____________________________________

We’re building the nest this month!

Head right on over HERE to find out more and learn about the 40+ businesses that support adoption and the work of The Sparrow Fund!

 

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He calls me mama

Today marks 5 months that Dumpling has been in our arms.  It also marks about 2 months of him seeking me out as “mama” and “mom” and “mommy.”  I had to work hard for those titles though, they didn’t come easily.  For the first couple months, he didn’t refer to me or DH as anything.  He simply walked over to us and tapped our leg or arm to get our attention.  Even despite our silly name games when we pointed to and named each family member.  We did that a lot.  For awhile, Dumpling even called himself “mama.”  Oy.  There was a lot of confusion associated with names of people because, frankly, my guess is he may have never understood that people have names.  Oh sweet boy.

After awhile, he began to get my attention with a word/sound he developed after coming home.  It reminded us of the sound one might make while doing a karate chop.  It’s humorous now, but at the time, I’ll admit it was a bit frustrating.  He still defaults to that sound sometimes now, but a quick reminder sets him back on track.  A few months ago though, no amount of repeating “mama” seemed to do the trick.  He just wouldn’t call me mama.  Or couldn’t.  I can’t be sure.  He was able to easily repeat it but just didn’t make the association.  I wondered if maybe it was because of his hearing loss, but he only has minor loss on the one side and has been able to hear and follow multi-step directions from early on.  I’ll never know what was going on back then.  But it was hard to not feel a little hurt in my heart because it felt personal, even though I knew in my brain that it wasn’t.

web 2Slowly though, with time and lots and lots and lots of repeating and reminding, it happened.  His karate chop sound was replaced with “mama.”  And then “mom.”  And even “mommy” like the other children call me.  And then “MOM!!!!”  And like other parents who want so badly to hear their children use words but then sort-of-but-not-really regret they wanted it, he was calling for me all day long.  Sigh.  And now at 5 months home, he even calmly calls for me by name when he wakes up in the morning.  It’s beautiful.

I think this transition closely mirrors his attachment transition too.  It’s as if his willingness or ability to call me by name is representative of his attachment growth.  Although I still think we need more time, I feel more and more comfortable every day with his connection to us.  And our choice to keep him close for these first months is just confirmed over and over for me.  I know it’s been difficult for our extended family to be kept at such a distance, but I’m confident it was the best decision for everyone.  Attachment requires work and intentionality, just as it has to teach him who his mama is.  And that work is worth every bit of time and effort.  I still find myself quietly observing him, simply amazed by him.  By all he’s accomplished in the short 5 months he’s been our son.  By how much I deeply love him.  And I’m overcome with joy and thanksgiving because it is such an honor to be his mama.  The days are long and I don’t always make the best choices or have the most patience, but good gracious I love this child with all of my being.

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Last month when DH and I were at Together Called, DH was waiting with Dumpling in the hallway while I finished leading my breakout session.  When I opened the door of the conference room to the hallway, I spotted them at the other end of the hallway.  DH was chatting with a friend while his wife played with Dumpling at a distance (I love being with other parents who understand adoption attachment!).  Dumpling was having fun and was clearly engaged, but do you know what he did when he caught my eyes?  He pointed at me and yelled, “MAMAAAAAA!!!!!” and came running to me with all his might.  And you better believe that his mama got down on her knees and scooped him up in her arms when he crashed into her.

In that moment, all of my attachment and connection worries melted away to a puddle of mush on the floor.  It’s one of those memories that will always be with me.  Yes, I knew right then that we were going to be just fine.  He knows I am his mama and he is so very certainly my son.

 _____________________________

NicoleNicole is a daughter to the King and a wife to an amazing man. She is a classical homeschooling mama to four, by birth and adoption. She is a part-time newborn photographer, a founder and adoption photographer at Red Thread Sessions, a contributing blogger at No Hands But Ours and an advocate of orphan care and adoption. When she’s not with her family or behind her camera, she loves to blog, create, give life to old furniture, spend time at the beach and read. She strives to live her life to glorify our Heavenly Father.  With His love, all things are possible.

                                          _____________________________________

We’re building the nest this month!

Head right on over HERE to find out more and learn about the 40+ businesses that support adoption and the work of The Sparrow Fund!

 

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My Gardening Life

I am not a gardener, but if I were my garden would look something like this.

 Chateau_de_Bouges_Flower_Garden_1


Pretty, right? Everything in its place, ordered, organized, contained and thriving. Beautiful and fruitful. Yep, that is it right there. 

And that is a pretty good picture of what I was going for with our family. Each child organized, contained within the life-giving boundaries we set up, and thriving, etc. Sounds good doesn’t it? 

But as our family grew through adoption my neat rows of seasonally appropriate lettuce and tomatoes, and those lovely flowers intentionally planted to catch just the right amount of sun, changed into a whole other garden.

Our family metamorphosed overnight into a crazy out of control mess of a garden. A beautiful, willy-nilly kind of place, full of surprising varieties and diversity. 

It has been a great adventure to discover and appreciate all that our adopted children have introduced into our lives. They brought with them so much that is lovely, fascinating, strong, creative and exciting from their birth families, country, and culture that have made our garden gloriously unique. Like an heirloom tomato imported from a far away place, I haven’t always immediately recognized the special qualities introduced to our family through adoption. But as the years have gone by, 15 now since our first two treasures came home, I have identified so much that I might have at first mistaken as a weed. 

I have learned to not to try to pull up something because I didn’t plant it, but rather clear a space for it in my heart and in the culture of our family. Let it grow and enjoy its fruit and beauty, and make it my own.

And where weeds have come in (to join the ones already there!)–the unwanted and unwelcome residue of rejection, abandonment, trauma and orphanage life–then I have learned to carefully remove them. Not all at once with a hoe of shame, but gently dig them out with the trowel of prayer and love and identity. Some of these weeds continue to sprout up over the years, the lies that threaten to choke out sonship, so I continue to maintain this special plot of land God has given us. 

And I have learned that some plants just need some time to grow before they can set themselves apart from the look-alike weeds. So I garden with care and nurture, waiting for the season of flowering and fruit.  

And I have learned to be at peace with the process of being a care-taker of such a crazy garden. As tempting as it was to take our new transplants and try to force them into my perfect rows, it proved to be destructive to us all whenever I tried it! 

So instead I focus on enjoying the beauty and surprise of it all, and the honor of being a part of such a family. 

                         _________________________________________
Beth Templeton
Beth Templeton

Beth has been married to her husband Stephen for 27 years. They have seven children, ages 18-24. Several years after giving birth to three girls God called their family to 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. Beth’s heart has been deeply and forever changed as she has watched the love of Father God poured out on her whole family through adoption. She leads Hope at Home, a ministry dedicated to help adoptive and foster parents encounter the Father’s heart for their families, partnering with God to transform orphans into sons and daughters. For more parenting insight and encouragement in the Lord, go to Hope at Home.

 

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Post-Mother’s Day Blues

I’ve got the post-Mother’s Day blues.

Seems like my family can’t win.   On one hand, there is part of my heart that wanted more from them– more appreciation for how tough this job really is and a deeper understanding of how much I really love them.  On the other hand, despite the wonderful cards and texts from them, somehow I feel terribly undeserving.   If only they knew the depths of my dark heart – the unkind thoughts and resentments that lurk there sometimes.  If needed, I would crawl over cut glass for them, with a triumphant smile on my face for all the world to see – to proclaim my abiding sacrificial love for them.  But inside, I confess, there are days that I grumble, or feel discouraged, or ashamed of my failures.

What grade would you give yourself as a Mom?  Some days I’m feeling pretty good – maybe a B or B+.  Some moments maybe even an A! J  On a bad day, much much worse.  Some days it might depend on who I’m comparing myself to.  And I wonder – do we get to grade ourselves on a curve?  How do you grade a mom when her children have brains altered by past trauma, when their behavior often makes no sense,  when they fight the very love that she is offering?

I confess that, early on, I really did think that, if I was a good enough mom, my efforts would translate into amazing results with my kids.   My husband and I had thought we would be the perfect adoptive parents.  We thought we could provide the ideal environment for our children to heal from past hurts.  We weren’t prepared for how hard the fight would be.  Over the years, each child has both clamored for and resisted our love, and it can be exhausting.  Behavior has been infinitely more challenging than we had anticipated, and I often have felt completely inadequate to the task.  And much to my dismay, I am a very different mother than I thought I would be – too often impatient or distracted or angry or just tired.  What a rollercoaster.  There have been wonderful times of joy and victory – fun family outings, meaningful conversations, signs of great growth.  But at other times I’ve fought deep discouragement.

The good news is that God is the One responsible for the results.  The God who loves our kids even more than we do WILL accomplish His purposes for them.  What a privilege that He invites us into that work.   He chose us for them, and them for us.  All four of my kids are “launched” now,  and I truly marvel at all He has done in their lives.  And as I look back I realize that indeed He sometimes accomplished great things in them through us!  But at many other times, he has done so in spite of us.  He didn’t need us to get it right.  What a comfort.

Certainly He calls us to diligence and obedience. We all work hard to be the best Moms we can be.  We read books, and blogs, and consult friends and sometimes professionals.  We are intentional.  And we should seek excellence in all we do.  But at the end of the day, it seems the most important lesson I’ve learned, is that they just need our constancy, and to know that we ARE their moms.  And that we are FOR them, no matter what, forever.  The rest is details.

So, our part becomes simply to be faithful and leave the results to God.  I am an awesome mom, and YOU are an awesome mom, simply because we provide our kids the opportunities to learn and grow and be loved.  Some of our kids can’t take it all in right away.  It doesn’t happen in our timing.  But we need to trust that God has made them to receive that love and guidance; and eventually it will bear fruit.  And even on the days when they are fighting it, we are awesome because we are faithful.  That is all that is needed.

A constant, faithful, imperfect Mom is exactly what your child needs – an eye-rolling, “Are you serious!?” impatient, too-busy, bought-Kentucky-Fried-Chicken-for-the-church-potluck-cause-I-ran-out- of-time-to-make-homemade,  kind of mom that says “You can never lose my love.” That is what we are called to. That is what they need.

And they’ll get it…someday. I can’t tell you when. But they’ll get it.

Happy Faithful Mother’s Day!

For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways,” declares the Lord…As the rain and the snow come down from heaven, and does not return to it without watering the earth and making it bud and flourish,… so is my word that goes out from my mouth. It will not return to me empty, but will accomplish what I desire and achieve the purpose for which I sent it.  – Isaiah 55:8-11

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cheryl nitzCheryl Nitz, ACSW, LCSW  has worked in the field of adoption and foster care for over 30 years.  She has extensive training in the field of attachment and trauma, particularly in the area of facilitating healing in foster, adopted and post-institutionalized children.  She currently is the director and a therapist at the Attachment and Bonding Center of PA.  But she often says her best education has come from being a parent with her husband to their four kids (two of whom came to the family through adoption) and grandparent to four!

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We’re building the nest this month!

Head right on over HERE to find out more and learn about the 40+ businesses that support adoption and the work of The Sparrow Fund!

 

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Save the date {#TC2016}

A little less than 2 months ago, 220 men and women made meals in advance, set out clothes in little piles, arranged rides to practices, and said goodbye to children (pulled them off their legs in some cases). We set aside life for a weekend to come together, as a couple and as a community, for refreshment and reminders of why they’re doing all this to begin with. In worship, engaging words, and fellowship, over that weekend, we were encouraged as parents to children who have experienced hard things, as couples who need each other to work as a unified team, and as individuals who are called to a big task. That’s Together Called.

We know it’s only the middle of May. But, we’re already planning for TC2016, so we thought you might want to as well.

Mark your calendars with two dates–registration in early October (this thing fills fast) and the weekend in April at Liberty Mountain Resort. We want you to be there with us this year.

TC2016 Save the Date

Make sure you give us your email address below where it says “SUBSCRIBE” to get a reminder email to register. It will fill up fast!

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We’re building the nest this month so that we can continue things like Together Called.

Head right on over HERE to find out more and learn about the 40+ businesses that support adoption and the work of The Sparrow Fund!

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Nesting

Nesting. Hibernating. Cocooning. Shrinking your world. Stripping your calendar.

If you’ve been around the adoption community for any length of time, you’ve heard terms like these and likely have some working familiarity with the general gist of what they mean. Even if you are brand new to the adoption world and all these terms seem like a foreign language when applied to parenting techniques, your basic grasp of the English language gives you at least a working definition to go by. But one thing I’ve discovered over and over in my interactions is that many folks don’t really know WHY adoptive parent ought to consider cocooning. To be sure, there are quite a few philosophies out there that sufficiently cover the ranges of how strictly one ought to consider pulling back from their normal routine and pace of life. But in my studying, the WHY of each philosophy has one common thread that runs through them.
Adoption comes out of tremendous loss for our children.

It’s a hard truth. A truth that brings me to my figurative knees quite often. A truth that puts the responsibility for bringing the healing and hope of Jesus Christ to that loss squarely on the shoulders of my husband and me. A truth that pushes me to seek resources, support and training that will increase my ability to be used by The Father to see wholeness come to my daughters. That loss is the common thread that drives many families to consider some form of cocooning with their newly adopted child.

In the early days home with both of our girls, I confess that I was far more excited about sharing our beautiful new daughters with the wonderful community that we had built around us. This dyed-in-the-wool extrovert wanted everyone to coo over chubby cheeks and marvel over sweet smiles and sassy personalities with me. “Shrinking our world” felt like serious potential for the kind of cabin-fever about which nightmares are made! But choosing to spend our early days and weeks attending to their adjustment and transition from “orphan” to “daughter,” was my way of honoring the truth of the tremendous losses they were experiencing. In the beautiful but messy process that is adoption, we gained two beautiful daughters. But in that same beautiful messiness, our daughters lost everything familiar to them in their daily lives.

Our home smelled different than their foster homes. We looked different than the ayiis. Our food tasted strange. The language in our home, even our faltering attempts at pre-school level Mandarin, was odd and dissonant to their ears. Every single sense that my daughters have was assaulted with difference for days and weeks on end.  Bigger than that, and long before we came and took them into our family, they lost their first family. Certainly, the exuberant love and joy of welcoming them to our home was evident even in our awareness of their losses. Our hearts were filled with great joy and pride in our older kids’ understanding of this process and their abilities to attach to their new sisters. And yes, the attachments my husband and I formed with each daughter had good strong roots already going deep thanks to wonderful isolated travel-time together in China. But the differences they experienced, the loss these girls had suffered in those early days cannot be minimized.

So, in light of this truth, WHY cocoon? One of my favorite adoption experts, Dawn Davenport of Creating A Family puts it very succinctly:

The idea of “nesting” is to simplify life, settle into a routine, and limit the care of the child to the mom and dad. This is especially important when adopting a child past the newborn stage – in other words, when adopting from foster care or internationally. With adoption, the baby/child’s life has been turned topsy-turvy. The idea of cocooning is to allow life to settle down for the child and parents and to firmly cement in the child’s mind who are mom and dad.

The general gist is to hang close to home for a while: [simplify] life, reduce the number of toys and trips away from home, set up a predictable routine. Generally allow time and space to get to know each other, and to allow the child to learn to trust and rely on her parents. It is the first step in establishing attachment.” Taken from Dawn’s blog.

As Christians, the WHY of cocooning felt a bit weightier even than nesting to simplify. We found that the loss our daughters had experienced was also about the loss of the deep care and nurture that The Creator intends for all the precious lives that He crafts. It was also about the loss of the original plan that He made for them when He looked at them in their mothers’ wombs. His redemptive plan to bring them to our home carried great joy for us but also required great responsibility to serve their little hearts. Hearts that He was entrusting to us for healing and restoration of hope.

The weight of this charge pushed me past the natural tendency I would have had to share my joy with the whole world around me. I put myself on a bit of a leash, if you will, and moved toward focusing on and prioritizing their needs for unconditional love, constancy, structure, and learning that Mommy and Daddy are Forever. That their place in our home is permanent – physically, emotionally, and spiritually. That this family is theirs to rely upon and will be the example of Christ’s healing and hope that their little hearts needed.

Our efforts to cocoon with our girls looked different between our two adoption journeys. How could they not? The adoptions were five years apart. A lot of learning and growing occurred in The Gang’s home in those five years. NOT the least of which was our expanded understanding of the trauma that this loss brings to a little heart and mind. While our methods were very different, the intentions were the same. At first, when bringing home our youngest daughter, our cocooning looked and felt so very different than before. This difference was stressing to me. I was out-of-sorts over trying to make this time resemble the cocooning of five years ago. But after praying about it and finding ways to negotiate our expectations better with our older kids, we found our groove again. A new groove! I found that once the older kids better understood (by both example and years of hearing Mom talk about what she was learning!) the “WHY?” behind cocooning, the easier those negotiations became. It was such a remarkable lesson to me about my heart and its intentions: keeping my motivation for cocooning was paramount. The change in how we implemented it was different but still a healthy out-flow of both that motivation AND our family’s season of life.

So whatever you choose to call it, I strongly urge you to consider some kind of cocooning with your newly adopted child. If you’ve been home for a while now and feel like your attachment to your child could use some re-anchoring, give some thought to temporarily stripping down your family calendar and get intentional about relationship-building time. It’s never too late to adjust your course and hone in on some things that need your time and attention. That’s the gift of parenting, isn’t it? The time and care you put into bringing healing and hope to any of your children is never wasted. His grace and mercy offer us daily do-overs! My favorite Scripture in recent days has been Lamentations 3:22-24:

“Because of the Lord’s great love we are not consumed, for his compassions never fail. They are new every morning; great is your faithfulness. I say to myself, “The Lord is my portion; therefore I will wait for him.”

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Below are some of my favorite resources that I have shared with friends over the years with regards to cocooning. Enjoy exploring the ideas presented!

“Finding Balance with “Cocooning” Newly Adopted Kids” – http://creatingafamily.org/adoption-category/finding-balance-cocooning-newly-adopted-kids/
“Should Grandparents Be Allowed to Care for a Newly Adopted Child” – http://creatingafamily.org/adoption-category/grandparents-allowed-care-newly-adopted-child/

“Creating Attachment with Your Adopted Child In the First Year” –  http://creatingafamily.org/adoption-category/creating-attachement-with-your-adopted-child-in-the-1st-year/

“How to Be The Village” – http://jenhatmaker.com/blog/2011/11/02/how-to-be-the-village
“After The Airport” – http://jenhatmaker.com/blog/2011/09/06/after-the-airport

And from my own blog:

“Speaking of Attachment, Part 3” (with links embedded for other parts of the series) – http://whitneygang.blogspot.com/2009/12/speaking-of-attachment-part-3.html

“Wow, I’m REALLY Glad That Is Over” (with part two following) – http://whitneygang.blogspot.com/2012/07/wow-im-really-glad-that-is-over.html

“To CSmith” – http://whitneygang.blogspot.com/2013/04/to-csmith.html

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Tracy WhitneyTracy, aka The Gang’s Momma, has been married to Todd, aka The Boss, for almost 25 years. Together they parent 6 kids (ages almost 21, 19, 16, 13, almost 8, & almost 4).  She is passionate about post-adoptive care and family support. In her downtime, she loves to read, write, cry over weekly episodes of Call The Midwife, and share a good cup of coffee with a friend. A confirmed extrovert, Tracy has met her match in their youngest daughter for both strength of will and love of socializing. Parenting her two youngest who came home through China’s special needs program is definitely the most challenging thing she’s ever done (between attachment issues & some complicated medical needs), but she’s trusting the Lord to use it all to make her a stronger, better mommy. (At least that’s what she tells herself over her 2nd or 3rd giant Tigger mug full of coffee almost every day!)  You can find the (very!) occasional musings of the momma at www.whitneygang.blogspot.com.

 

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We’re building the nest this month!

Head right on over HERE to find out more and learn about the 40+ businesses that support adoption and the work of The Sparrow Fund!

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Gratitude

Yesterday afternoon, Silas fell asleep on my chest for the first time in a long time. I laid there soaking it in, feeling his heart beat on top of mine. This kid’s heart beats so in sync with mine that sometimes I forget he grew in another mama’s belly. I never forget her. I just sometimes forget that Silas hasn’t always been a part of me. He hasn’t always been mine.

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I began imagining what it would have been like to have had him growing in me. I don’t feel any lack in our relationship because we missed out on that time together, but there’s a part of me that does grieve for that time. Not because we lack a connection, but because I know he has a connection to another mom too.

I started to wonder…if I could have grown him in my own womb and given birth to him myself, would I have?

Well, sure, if he could still be the same Silas that he is now. But, the reality is, he would be a different kid if he had been born to me. And, I don’t want a different kid.

So, my grief is drowned in the depths of my gratitude.

Gratitude for his birthmom, who carried and cared so well for my baby for 9 months and then selflessly gave him the life she wanted him to have…one that did not include her. My privilege is her pain. And her connection to Silas does not diminish mine. In fact, I think it strengthens it, because I carry with me every day the knowledge that he could belong to someone else. And yet, he’s mine.

And my gratitude for a God who breathed a deep desire for adoption into my heart long ago, before infertility was something I even knew could be a reality. For a God who gently guided us through our pain down the road that led to Silas. For a God who redeems and restores and who causes all things to work together for good.

I feel this overwhelming gratitude daily, and I often ask Silas in these moments, “How did I get you?” and “Why do I get to be your mama?”

I live every day in awe that he is mine.

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Kinnier-3 copyMindy and her husband, Nick, adopted their son, Silas, domestically in August of 2013 after seven years of marriage and two years of unexplained infertility.  They live in Southern California, where Nick is a pastor and elder at ROCKHARBOR church and Mindy is a part-time teacher. She also hosts an infertility and adoption group each month, where she gets to do life with women who share her deepest pain and her greatest passion. She blogs at Finding Sunday.

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We’re building the nest this month!

Head right on over HERE to find out more and learn about the 40+ businesses that support adoption and the work of The Sparrow Fund!