What You Say Is Not What They Hear

I recently heard William Paul Young, author of The Shack, say something
that so perfectly describes what I have seen in some of our children. He
said, “Shame destroys your ability to distinguish between a value statement and
an observation.”

As soon as I heard this I thought, “That’s it. That perfectly describes
countless parenting moments in our home.”

I would make a statement, completely reasonable and normal, the kind
parents all over the world make as part of the loving raising of a child.
And my child would respond as if I had just asked them to do something
horrible, something no parent would ever require.

There have been times over the years when it felt like my parenting seemed
to always and only affirm their shame.
No matter what I said, or what tone of voice I used, the push back from my
parenting efforts was massive. To the point where many times I would
almost despair of it all.

I would offer, “Let me help you with your vocabulary so you can be ready
for you test tomorrow.”

What I hear myself saying is, “I am here to help you. I know you can do
this. You are not alone. I am proud of you and want to be a part of your
life!”

What they heard was a harsh value statement, “You are such a loser. You
are not smart and you can’t do anything right. You are a disappointment to
me.”

I would observe, “That outfit is probably not appropriate for this event.
Maybe you could wear that nice outfit we bought last month.”

What they heard was, “You are ugly. You aren’t meeting my standards. I
don’t accept you the way you are.”

It is the voice of shame.

If you think this sounds extreme then that is truly wonderful, because
that probably means that shame is not a big part of your child’s
foundations. For many adopted children however, the facts of their early
years have been masquerading in their minds and emotions as truth. Shame
takes the facts of abandonment, neglect, abuse, relinquishment, orphanage
life, and anything else it can wrap it’s tentacles around, and disguises
it my precious child’s mind as a deep truth about his/her identity.

Shame speaks words like rejected, never enough, alone, unwanted, failure,
weak, too much to handle, unsuccessful….

And when those horrifying words are spoken a child may shut down
completely, totally disengaging.
Frozen.
No eye contact. No verbal replies.

Or there might be yelling. “I hate you. You are a horrible mother. I wish
I were never adopted. My life would be much better without you. Get off my
back and just leave me alone. You make me want to die…..”

We have heard all of these words, and more, in our home.

It is the voice of shame.

Or, you might see your child put even more pressure on him/herself to
please, to do everything just right. But the anxiety and anger levels
build over time and at some point you will experience the inevitable blow
up from so much self-imposed pressure.

I am overwhelmed with the reality that my Father God has allowed me to be
a part of His healing work in my children through adoption. For it is in
the context of family that our children have heard, over and over, that
they are no longer orphans, but true and beloved sons and daughters.

It is so easy to allow shame to bait me into an unloving, shame-based
response. And so unhelpful!
So I decided a long time ago to respond with the Truth–to counteract the
shame with the antidotes of love, belonging, identity, understanding.
Over and over again, in so many varying forms of my maternal love I have
the opportunity to speak truth into the lie.
Speak it in season and out of season.
Speak it when your child embraces their identity as the beloved, and speak
it when your child denies the truth of it, either through their words or
through their actions.
Speak it when they are in front of you listening, and speak it when they
have gone to bed and only you and God can hear.
Speak it when your heart is full of the truth of it, and speak it when the
words seem like a lie even to you.

Speak it–
over and over and over and over,
day after day after day after day,
year after year after year after year.

I am seeing the fruit of this in our family. That inner voice of shame is
being drowned out by truth, unmasked by love without conditions and
limits. And where shame is still successful in its ugly masquerade, I am
even more determined than ever to speak truth, for this is what adoption
is all about, right? It is about radical rooted love, both for me and for
my child.
It unmasks us all and reveals the beautiful truth that we are His beloved
ones.

                                        ___________________________________________
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.

From Foster Mom to Birth Mom {Letters}

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Dear Sara,

My head won’t let go of the last time I saw you.

You stood there, by my dirty Odyssey, clinging to your little girl’s hand. You kissed it over and over again. You spoke these words, “I love you; I’ll see you. If I’m not at the doctor, I’ll be here next Monday.” You reached to the back of the van for your little boy with an “I love you very much.” Still, you held on to your baby girl.

I admit that I rolled my eyes at your, “If I’m not at the doctor…” comment as I sat in the warmth of the driver’s seat watching you through the rear-view mirror. How many times had you already detoxed? Your commitment to the whole thing seemed suspect.

I held my hand over the “Close Door” button, as I waited for you to let go. My face depicted a patience that my head was not claiming. I had to get these kids home. We needed to commence with the terrible transition from you, Mommy, to me, Mama Kim, from candy and toys to dinner with vegetables and rules. We needed to start the conversation about where Mommy goes when she leaves us at the Child Protection Agency. I wanted to get going with all of this, but you wouldn’t let go.

That was Monday.

Today is Thursday, and I’ve just hung up the phone.

D&#n it, Sara!

The caseworker said it was last night. But, they found you this morning. You’re gone. You took your last breath in the dark with a needle in your hand.

I would have waited, Sara. I would have waited to strap the kids into their car seats. I would have waited to push play on the video player that distracted them from your “I love you.” Had I known it would be the last time they saw you and you saw them, I would have waited!

I slap my hand away from that “Close Door” button over and over again in my mind, now. I repent of my impatience. I watch, a million times over, your hand relentlessly squeezing, caressing, and grasping your baby girl’s. It was like, somewhere in your heart, you knew.

You were sick with your addiction, Sara, but you were their home base. You were what their little 3 yr. old and 4 yr. old brains understood to be reality. What words do I use to explain that what was real is gone?

They ask where you are every week. And, every week, they learn all over again that you won’t be back. They say, “ok.” But, I fear what that “ok” will turn into at age 9, 13, 17. Will it be anger, betrayal, fear, recklessness, or a will for something different? I pray that it’s something different, Sara. I pray that what they will know of you is that you loved, and you loved hard. That you didn’t want to let go. That the tide that overwhelmed you, does not have to come for them.

That will be my prayer now. And your hand, holding and reaching, will be the picture I keep and the story I tell, as long as I get to be a part of their new reality.

Rest, Sara. Rest well.

Love, Mama Kim

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kim millerKim Miller and her husband Bryant live in Ohio, where she serves in full-time ministry in the United Methodist Church. They are the bio parents of two, foster parents of an ever-changing number, and pet parents of a nervous Border Collie and a cat who doesn’t care. Kim is a graduate of Asbury Theological Seminary and Ohio University. She shares bits and pieces of her life over at kimberlyrmiller.com.

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

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Dear hopeful adoptive mom who may be losing hope,

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I cry aloud to God,

aloud to God, and he will hear me.

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

in the night my hand is stretched out without wearying;

my soul refuses to be comforted.

3 When I remember God, I moan;

when I meditate, my spirit faints. Selah

4 You hold my eyelids open;

I am so troubled that I cannot speak.

5 I consider the days of old,

the years long ago.

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

let me meditate in my heart.”

Then my spirit made a diligent search:

7 “Will the Lord spurn forever,

and never again be favorable?

8 Has his steadfast love forever ceased?

Are his promises at an end for all time?

9 Has God forgotten to be gracious?

Has he in anger shut up his compassion?” Selah

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

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

11 I will remember the deeds of the Lord;

yes, I will remember your wonders of old.

12 I will ponder all your work,

and meditate on your mighty deeds.

13 Your way, O God, is holy.

What god is great like our God?

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

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

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

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

Love,

A hopeful adoptive mom fighting for hope by your side

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

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

 

 

From One Mother to a Grieving Mother {Letters}

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Dear friend,
We know what today is. Your baby would have celebrated her first birthday today. We can’t know how you feel today and for the last month leading up to today since the Lord took her home. We can’t know how you will feel moving forward from today and everyday after. We can’t relate on that level. Our vain attempts to imagine being your position fall so obviously short. Even still, though we do not know the loss you know, we know the God you know.

He is present, never distant.
He is active, never still.
His vision is way bigger than the small glimpses we are able to see.
He is the only author of peace.
He loves you.
He loves your marriage.
He loves your family.
You are His.
He is good–but not only good–He is good in you, for you, and to you.

In those times when you may find yourselves looking at each other and unable to even speak, unable to put words to your hearts, may the Holy Spirit who is in you preach those truths and others to you. May they take solid root in your hearts, and may they fill you even in the depths of your being that seem unfillable.

We are trusting in the God we know to provide healing to all of you in a way that only He can. It may look very different that you may expect or even want right now, but we trust that He will build you up in time as you press on and that in so doing, you will see Him in ways others never will.

We have not forgotten your sweet daughter on her birthday today. We have not forgotten you. But, more importantly, He has not forgotten you and will not for a single moment. We pray that the impact of Avery’s life would go on and on and that you’d experience those blessings personally and see glimpses of ongoing blessings of her life to others all of your days.

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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 cofounded The Sparrow Fund with her husband Mark in 2011 to serve adoptive families. After a long time using her Master’s degree in counseling informally, Kelly recently joined the team at the Attachment & Bonding Center of PA as a cotherapist. 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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On Saturday, February 28, 2015, 11-month-old Avery Madison of Fulton, Maryland passed away unexpectedly of SIDS. Avery was the beloved daughter of Shaena and Jeff and cherished little sister to Caitlyn.

Shaena and Jeff requested that donations be given in Avery’s honor to a special Avery Fund in lieu of flowers. The Sparrow Fund will be working closely with the family going forward so that whatever funds come in are used in a specific way to support adoption and honor their precious daughter who joined their family via adoption.

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You can donate with a credit card through PayPal below.
Donations can be made even if you do not have a PayPal account.
Please select gift when donating, PayPal will waive the transaction fees.




To donate by check, please make payable to The Sparrow Fund, note Avery Fund in the memo line, and mail it to:

The Sparrow Fund
124 3rd Ave
Phoenixville, PA 19460

A few good men

It’s significant. As a team, we step out in faith, some traveling across oceans for the very first time. It is a big deal with lots of preparing and lots of money, team conference calls, and coordinating. We don’t do it to “give back;” we can’t possibly serve for essentially a week at a Chinese orphanage and come remotely close to giving enough to warrant the phrase. We go for relationships, to enter into life with people–the children who are alone in crowded rooms, the women whose lives are about caring for children so that they can become someone else’s son or daughter, and the men responsible for leading and making decisions that change other people’s entire worlds. We go so the bridge between us can get a few more planks. It’s what He is about, so it’s what we want to be about too.

On February 18th, registration opened up for our next trip scheduled for October 7th-18th, 2015. 3 hours later, registration was closed. In just a few hours, 11 women who had heard about the trip and prayerfully considered the trip opened their hands up and said yes, jumping right on in there. We have room to take 15 people total, but I closed registration with those 11.

Why?

Because we need a few good men.

china125 china172 I have served alongside women on previous teams who are 110% present. I’ve seen God use those women to meet the needs of those children and caregivers in such specific ways. Sometimes I have gotten to be a part of that, and sometimes I have gotten to stand back and simply watch God’s hands around someone using her as His instrument.

But, there is something men are able to do there that women simply cannot. In the orphanage of 300 children, there is not a single caregiver there who is a man. There are men on staff there, but they are the directors, the executives. The ones charged with the daily role of feeding, changing, wiping noses, calming the crying child? They are all women, a good number of whom grew up there themselves. The staff is amazed when a team of Americans is willing to come across the world to build relationships and serve alongside them. When that team has a few men, their amazement is multiplied, more questions are asked as to why we are there, more smiles are exchanged, more pictures are taken of the foreign men who were willing to play with children…and God’s work is magnified. All because a few good men said yes to being used by Him on a team full of women.

If you want to learn more about the trip, email us, and we’ll reply with more details for you. If you think your husband or your son or your nephew may be interested, send this link to him and tell him you think he’d rock it loving orphans and those who care for them.

Our first team conference call is next week. If we don’t get a few good men to join us in the next week or so, we’ll open those 4 remaining spots up for other women.

We can’t wait to see who is on this next team.

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Kelly-NHBO1-150x150

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 cofounded The Sparrow Fund with her husband Mark in 2011 to serve adoptive families. After a long time using her Master’s degree in counseling informally, Kelly recently joined the team at the Attachment & Bonding Center of PA as a cotherapist. 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.

Knowing When to Say Yes to an Adoption Referral

It was just over a year ago that I answered the phone call that changed the trajectory of our lives. It was the call from our adoption agency family coordinator letting me know that she had two referrals for us to consider. As she began to describe the children my heart raced. This was it! This was the moment I had dreamed about and anticipated for so long. Could it be, that I was about to be introduced to my children for the first time?

It had only been the day before that call, that, I had received a text from a close friend, letting me know she had a dream that Kirk and I were walking out of the airport holding hands with Lily and Liam. Both children had excitement and a bit of worry in their eyes—but more excitement. She elaborated and said, “But the look on your hubs face, it was priceless!” She encouraged me that our referral was coming, “But not when you think.”

I woke the morning of January 16, 2014 at 5:30am feeling impressed to get out of bed. I was tired, but felt urged to read my Bible and pray. I’m not even sure how I came to this next verse, but when I did, I felt sure there was a hidden message in it for me. Habakkuk 2:3 says, “For the revelation awaits an appointed time; it speaks of the end and will not prove false. Though it linger, wait for it; it will certainly come and not delay.” I wrote it down unsure what it meant. I had no idea that the calling we had been given, to adopt a boy and a girl, was about to be revealed but in the way I expected.

At 10:33 am my cell phone rang.

I saw the (703) area code but it did not register. Ashley (our family coordinator) was calling to let me know she had two referrals for us to consider.  I was beside myself when I realized who it was and why she was calling! After she explained the purpose for her call she gave me some preliminary information about the children to allow me the option of reviewing their files or waiting for another match.

She started by saying, “Okay, I have a little girl that is considered special needs. She is almost 8 years old. She has a vision problem, (crossed eyes). Would you like to review her file?

I swallowed hard. “Yes!”

“Okay.” She went on, “There is boy almost 10. He is only three months younger than your youngest child, would that be a problem if your children are in the same grade?”

“No.”

She proceeded, “Would you like to review his file?”

“Yes!” I squealed.

“Okay, I’ll send you their files. Examine them with your husband and let me know if you’d like to proceed with a full review.”

After the longest ten minutes of my life, I had their information in my inbox.

I was floored with emotion as I opened those files for the first time. This was the moment I had waited so many months forI can still recall the intense emotions that sunk deep into my chest, as I looked blurry-eyed at their photographs for the first time.

Time stood still.

He was a handsome boy, an older child whose only special need was that he was older and harder to place and she an adorable little girl with what appeared to be a minor vision problem. I called my husband and forwarded the files to him. We were both at work, so we agreed to look them over together later that evening.

During the waiting, I had envisioned what it would be like to receive my children’s referrals. I wondered, how would I know if they were mine? Would I feel a connection immediately, or would that sense of knowing they were mine come gradually over time? The moment of discovery had finally come.

Months earlier we had discussed the list of possible special needs we felt comfortable with. I had done research on the various conditions and reviewed the information with Kirk. Somehow checking the boxes of special needs that we both were comfortable with felt awkward, but this was a required step. Part of the home study is designed to evaluate and approve a family to care for a child with special needs. The family is assessed by the social worker to determine if they are equipped to care for a child with needs noted on the list. Kirk and I had agreed that only special needs that we both were comfortable with would make it on our list. If one was okay with a special need but the other one not, then it was a no. It seemed simple enough.

At first glance the needs of these two children appeared to fit within our list of approved special needs. Yet, as we read through the little girl’s file more closely, we discovered she had significant developmental delays. This was an immediate red flag. We were adopting two children at once and we already have one child whose needs will require life-long support. Neither of us felt comfortable taking a second child whose needs will likely necessitate the same.

Despite the red flag, we both felt paralyzed to make any decision.

We questioned ourselves. Was God calling us to take on more than we had planned or anticipated? Or was our discomfort a signal meant to offer us direction? Either way, we were not ready to decide as we both felt unsure.

We immediately bathed our decision in prayer and then sought additional information to help guide our steps. We started with requesting an update from the orphanage. We sent a list of ten questions, and waited for their reply.  Next, we obtained an expert opinion from a physician who specializes in reviewing adoption referral files. Next we reached out to the adoption community, requesting feedback regarding ‘how to know when to say yes’ to a referral.

The orphanage updates were a mix of good and bad news. The boy’s update stated he was on grade level in school and appeared to be healthy in all respects. The little girl’s update indicated that her delays had prevented her from attending school and she was unable to speak full sentences. This news heightened our hesitancy about accepting her referral.

Next, we sought the opinion from a physician who reviewed adoption referrals. She stated very matter-of-factly that in her opinion, the boy was a healthy older child with the exception that he appeared to be very small for his age. She pointed that the little girl had significant delays that would likely prevent her from ever living independently. She held nothing back and gave me the worst-case scenario to think about. At first, I was a bit taken aback by her negativity, but later I realized she had done me a favor by making me see what I did not want to see.

While all of this information weighed heavily on us, we were eased by the encouragement we had received from the adoption community. So many families responded positively regarding how they had come to make hard decisions. Some told us of ‘knowing’ it was their child the moment they saw a picture.  Others said they did not know right away but came to their yes more slowly. Others told of stories where they did not accept the first or sometimes even the second and third referral they were given. I was comforted by the fact that there was more than one way to ‘know’ and that not everyone accepted the first referral. It became clear that there was no perfect formula we needed to use, we just had to keep asking, praying and waiting until a clear answer was revealed.

Why was this so hard? The answer I discovered was painful.

In that period of waiting I came to understand that part of my hesitancy to not saying ‘yes’ to adopting this little girl, was the implication that our lack of a ‘yes’ was really a ‘no’.

That was it. I knew that I was struggling with saying, ‘no’ to a child who really needed a family. Despite my gut feeling that this was not our little girl, I was not comfortable sending her file back and saying—no.

I wrestled with this one for several weeks until I found some encouragement from a book I was reading, Kisses from Katie, by Katie Davis, a (single) adoptive mother of fourteen former-orphans in Uganda. As I read her story, I found answers to mine.

After adopting her eleventh child, Katie had decided not to adopt any more children. She felt her family was complete, until the Lord made it ever so clear she was to take another and not just any child. The child presented to her had significant delays. Katie described how she was hesitant to take a child with limited mobility since she already had a large level of responsibility to her other eleven girls as well as to the people she ministered to in the villages. Having a child who could not walk would mean she would have to carry her everywhere. But then one day the Lord made his plan so clear Katie could not deny it, and once more she embraced a new daughter.

I connected with this story, and wondered if this was my answer. Did God want us to take on more than we had planned but not more than He had planned?  Though I felt willing to move forward with her, my husband did not. I wondered at this discrepancy. We would have to move on this  decision soon. Although the adoption agency had given us a lenient two weeks to decide, the clock was ticking and we would have to give an answer soon.

January 27, 2014 “Not every child that came to Katie was Katie’s child.”

Those were the words I heard the Lord speak that morning as my husband prayed for God to show us his plan for these two little ones. One would become ours and the other one not.

After hearing from he Lord, I recalled the rest of Katie’s story. I realized that many, many, many children came to Katie for help. Sometimes people would bring children to her or ask her to adopt them, but she did not adopt every girl that she ministered to or every girl that needed adoption. Katie adopted only the girls that were her children—the ones that God had chosen for her.

God made his plan for us clear that morning. Our first referral for a girl was a no. She was not ours. My wrestling was over as quickly as it had come. In that moment of prayer, I knew this little one was not my daughter. I realized that even though I was not called to be her mother, she was His child. It wasn’t up to me to save her or any; I only need be obedient to the calling he set before me.

If you are waiting on a referral, here are some tips on how to get ready for your yes:

  1. Pray for your child while you are waiting. (I am in awe at how our Lily’s personality matches the prayers I had prayed over her exactly).
  2. Seek the Lord throughout the process and follow His lead. (Getting behind God instead of running ahead was a hard lesson for me at times).
  3. Seek godly men and women in the adoption community to offer their wisdom when you need help, support, encouragement or direction. (This is vital!)
  4. Seek to understand your spouse’s concerns about the adoption. Move forward only when you both agree.If one spouse is in on board and the other not, take it as either a no and move-on, or a wait-not-yet, but do not push. (There was a lot of waiting I had to do. God will move in a spouse’s heart, you just need to get out of the way and then wait.)
  5. Be prepared that if you do not accept the first referral that comes your way, there may be some people that will not agree with your decision. You may feel rejected and judged, but do not be discouraged. It is only God you need to please.
  6. Do not adopt to try and save anyone. That is God’s job and only He can do it. Adopt out of obedience to your calling then rely on Him to carry you through. (It is hard work but oh so rewarding!)
  7. Realize there is no perfect formula for deciding to accept a referral or what special needs (if any) you’re equipped to handle. “Pray like it depends on God and then work like it depends on you,” (Mark Batterson).

One last note–one of my concerns in writing this is that it would discourage a family from adopting a child with significant delays or offend someone who already has. So before I leave anyone with any negative impression of how we feel about children with severe developmental delays, let me clearly state that we highly value all children, but especially those precious ones with significant needs. They need families too! We are parents to a child with special needs and he is our pride and joy! Our hesitancy to say yes to another child with significant developmental delays was based on what we felt we could manage in the mix of our other responsibilities. We prayerfully considered it and do not want our decision to discourage anyone who has been called to embrace a child with significant developmental delays. Go and do what you are called to do and if you already have, then Amen!

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Tiffany Barber

Tiffany is a wife to Kirk and mother of eight including six biological and two newly adopted from China. With a looming financial crisis at the outset of their recent adoption, God took their family on a journey of faith. Having been home just over ten weeks, they are currently working through the transition phase of their new adoption. Tiffany writes an honest account of challenges of adoption and the redemptive work of her savior Jesus Christ at Extravagant Love. Though her faith and limits have been tested, she points that adoption is paving the way for her to grow and experience God’s presence as never before.

God’s Plan

Since coming home with Silas, we get a lot of comments from people about how wonderful God’s plan is and how much better his ways are than our own. Talking about God’s plans with this cliche simplicity is something we Christians love to do. But when it was said to me in reference to infertility and adoption, something about it really irked me, and I couldn’t quite put my finger on it until I really sat down to think about it.

Here’s the thing. Adoption was always a part of our plan. The infertility part wasn’t. So, adoption was not some “new plan” from God that came about because our original plan didn’t work out. In my mind, they are two completely unrelated things. The only thing that ties them together for us is the timing. We didn’t choose to adopt because of infertility. We chose to adopt because God called us to it long before we ever knew we would deal with infertility, and because it was as much a desire of our hearts as having biological children was.

And here’s another thing. I do not believe that the infertility was God’s plan for us. I don’t believe that the pain and struggle our birth mom had to endure in life was a part of God’s plan for her. I don’t believe that parents who can’t have children and children who can’t have parents is ever a part of God’s plan. But I do believe that God, knowing the challenges and pain we would have to face, did make a plan for us and Silas to have each other. Because, God “causes all things to work together for the good of those who love Him.” (Romans 8:28) And this is so, SO good.

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And one more thing, isn’t it God’s plan for all of us, as Christians, to care for the orphans….not just those of us who deal with infertility?

“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.” James 1:27

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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.

Praying While You Wait: Prayers for Adoptive Parents

Prayingwhileyouwait1-700x525As Adam and I wait for our final piece of paperwork to arrive at our adoption agency, we continue to pray for our children daily, and ask that God would be so kind to bless us with them. This is a habit we have cultivated since the early days of our marriage, and has proved to be very helpful during our wait (along with some other habits).

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

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

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

1) That they would be protected from harm

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

2) That all of their needs would be met

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

3) That their loss would be minimal

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

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

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

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

4) That they would experience healing

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

There is Wonderful Joy Ahead {TC 2015}

“You need connection; you need each other. You need rest so you can press on in what you have been together called to do.

Together Called isn’t another conference. It is an opportunity to come together, a place for husbands and wives to be step out of the chaos called everyday life and be encouraged, a place for us to learn and fellowship together as a couple and as a community.”


So reads a quote from our Upcoming Events page describing Together Called 2015.  In just two short days over 100 couples will be gathering at Bear Creek Mountain Resort to do just that, connect, rest, learn, be encouraged, and enjoy fellowship with our spouses and with each other.

When asked to share why they are coming, couples shared many of these same reasons:

     to connect

“Just thankful for the moments together without kids and for connecting with our most beloved family and friends!”

“Taking time for us to build and strengthen our relationship.”

“Looking forward to “getting off the hamster wheel” and having time to talk in complete sentences.”

{We would love} “a connection with even one other couple that we could carry forward and continue after the conference.”

“Looking very forward to connecting as a couple as well as forming connections with other couples!”

     to rest

“We are looking to rest and regroup.”

“Sanity! We are burned out and exhausted.”

     to learn

“We need some strategies that we can keep each other accountable with.”

“We’re looking forward to meeting those who have been down these same paths as we look for guidance and wisdom moving forward.”

“We know we are making mistakes and doing things that are clearly NOT working. However, we can’t seem to fully right the ship. We need this weekend to sleep, recharge, reconnect, and brain storm!”

     to be encouraged

“Prayer from and with those that “get it”.”

“We’re coming in at a very heavy hard time in our marriage. I so appreciate the prayer.”

     to fellowship

“Friendship.”

“Time to see old friends and make new ones.”


 

We couldn’t be more excited to see what God is going to do in and through this weekend!  And we covet your continued prayers over this weekend that in all and above all His Name would be honored and glorified.

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On the Inside

“God is knitting our hearts together – but it turns out stitches hurt, and
what goes on inside a ‘cocoon’ is messy.” My mother e-mailed that to a
friend when she asked how things were going.

We’ve glimpsed a sweetness in my sister that is wonderful, but we’re
grieving hard – and this grief is coming out like anger. I was recently
asked to share my post “Broken”, and I feel guilty about it because I
don’t feel that way now.

But I’m realizing that I still love her – a brutal kind of love that holds
on when everything turns ugly.  A love that sometimes almost feels like
hate.  And Mama told me the fact that I get this worked up about her
behavior is good – because IT IS WRONG so it shows I know what’s right.

But that doesn’t mean I can act on my feelings. And what makes things worse
is that no one else does either.  I just sit there and watch this grief
come out and wish someone would do something!  But my part is going to
be hard, because I’m *inside* the cocoon. And all these people are asking,
“How’s it going?” while they’re waiting for it to pop open…. And I want
to say “awful” but I smile and say “good” because, considering, it is – and
people don’t understand what Lucy’s been through so it isn’t fair to tell
them.

So you smile, and say “good” and tell them about the “ups.”

Someday we’re gonna’ pull outa’ this and look back and exhale. And the
brutal ugly love will give way to something beautiful and graceful without
the brokenness and ugliness.

Someday this cocoon will pop open. We’ll break out. We’ll be ready.

And someday this little butterfly and I will dance together. In the
sunshine. And we’ll forget about the time we were cooped up together with
that ugly love.

But the words of “Broken” don’t bother me that much anymore. Because I’ve
found my heart is still capable of shattering. It isn’t strong enough yet,
and I hope it never is! Our girl can still tear me apart like cobwebs when
I let her. And I probably stick to her fingers and she doesn’t know what to
do. She probably looks at the girl who says “I love you” when you yell
at her and smiles when she’s yelling on the inside, and doesn’t know what
to do – and I don’t know what to do either, and here.we.are. And we’re both
torn apart and messy, and we’re both broken, confused, and scared.

I thought I knew how to love unconditionally, and then the full force of it
hit me and I couldn’t take it. And I wonder *what in the world’s wrong with
me!* And other people reach their max and flare up, and it doesn’t shake
me; and I find myself mad at my little butterfly when she didn’t do
anything! And I don’t get it – any of it.

Things are calming down now. I’m able to look back and see progress. I’m
able to understand things a bit.

Little brother and I are grounded; little sis and I are still taking root.
We’re taking root fast, but we’re not deep yet – and Satan is trying to
pull us out and throw us away. He wants to pull us off the vine. He doesn’t
want me to love my sister, period.  But he can’t stop me.

I wish I could say I’d-like-to-see-him-try, but I have and it’s ugly. He
will always try. He has been trying – and he almost succeeded in getting us
off. But our girl doesn’t have the Branch to stay grounded in, so if I snap
we both crumble.

I have to stay strong, but I don’t feel that way. Because the world is
broken, and our girl is broken, and she’s breaking me.

Our friend wrote my Mom back:

“Stitches hurt – but they *heal*.”
Our butterfly’s wings are growing, and I’m struck breathless by their
beauty.​

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Hanna Rothfuss
Hanna Rothfuss

My name is Hanna Rothfuss.  I am 14 and in eighth grade.  I have lived in the suburbs of Omaha, Nebraska for my whole life.  My interests are reading and writing, mainly about fantasy and orphan care–often adoption.  I have four siblings, two of which are adopted.  I’m a homeschooler and a child of God.  I pray that all my writing is encouraging, empowering, and brings glory to Him.

You can read more of Hanna’s writing on her blog: Taking My Time.