Difficult Conversations . . . Try Infertility and Adoption {Summer Rewind}

As adoptive parents, we all know this day is coming.

That day where your child starts asking questions that you can’t answer. The thought of it breaks your heart, and so you try to prepare yourself, but you can never really be prepared.

Somehow these conversations always happen when I am putting on my makeup in the morning. Captive audience, I guess!

Grace: “Mommy, when are you going to have a baby in your tummy?”

Me: “Well, baby, I don’t know. Only God knows if that will ever happen.”

Grace: “I was a baby in your tummy.” (she said this directly and without question)

And there it is; the question I knew would come, heading straight for me like a freight train.

Me: “Sweetheart, you may not have grown in my tummy, but you grew in my heart.

Grace: “Well, whose tummy was I in, Mommy?”

Silence. Deep breaths.

Will it be enough for now, Lord?

“Peace, Child, be still and know that I am God.”

Me: “Sweetheart, we don’t know, but you were always in my heart.”

Grace: “Ok, Mommy!” (she hugged me and ran off her usual happy self)

For now, as an almost four year old, that is all she needs to hear, but I know a day is coming when she will not be satisfied with that statement of truth. That is OK and natural, but won’t make it any easier. I hate that I won’t have more information for her. I hate that the truth about her birth parents may hurt her and possibly rock her to the very core. But I must have faith because I know that God will be with her on this journey, guiding her, loving her and protecting her. My job is to teach her about Christ and His Sacrifice and how her worth and significance comes only from Him!

As I look at our recently adopted older Chinese son, Anthony, who has told us that his first mommy as he calls her (he is referring to his birth mother) was bad because she threw him in the trash, all I can do is pray to the One who heals all hurts, knowing that only He can give Anthony the strength and ability to forgive.

Naturally, as their mother, it breaks my heart to see my children suffer, just as it broke God’s heart to watch His only Son die on the cross, taking our sin upon Himself. And yet, God allowed it, because it was the only way we could spend eternity forever with Him. Praise God for His amazing mercy and grace.

Thank you, Father, for your steadfast love. You are our rock and our salvation. Whom shall I fear?!

_________________________________________

After struggling with infertility for 5 years, God led Suzanne and her husband Adam to His Plan A for their lives—adoption! Their daughter, Grace Lihua, came into their lives on Mother’s Day in 2011 from Fuzhou City, Fujian Province, China. And, their son, Anthony Jianyou, joined their family in January of 2013 from Shanghai. Their family will be growing again very soon. After a career in politics, Suzanne is thankful for God’s provision in their lives that now allows her to work part time as a Pilates instructor while home schooling their children and working as a part of the WAGI leadership team. You can follow their adoption journey and life on their blog, Surpassing Greatness.

August 28, 2014August 28, 2014

The Beauty and Brokenness of Foster Care {Summer Rewind}

It was a Wednesday. We received a call from our foster care agency at 3:30 in the afternoon – a newborn baby girl had been taken into custody by Child Protective Services at the hospital and was in need of placement. “Are you interested?”, they asked. Of course we are.

By 7:30 that evening they were at our front door, holding a tragically fragile little girl who needed a home to live in and a family to love her.

It was the best and worst day of her life.

She was wholly unaware of all that had transpired in her short 3-day life. Tragedy, abuse and brokenness brought her to our front door. Hope, love and healing welcomed her in. While we celebrated the opportunity to care for her, we also ached over the reality that someone had put her in a position of needing to be protected in the first place. Two years later, it’s now our joy to call her our daughter and to hear her call us her Momma and Dadda; it’s also our heartache that any of this ever had to happen in the first place.

EQUAL PARTS GOOD AND BAD

Everything…everything about foster care is equal parts good and bad, joy and sorrow, beauty and brokenness. It’s a good day when a child is placed in your home. It represents safety, security and an opportunity for a child to be loved and cared for in a way they likely would not have had available to them otherwise. It’s indeed a good day when a child is placed in your home – it’s also a really bad day. It’s a day marked by hurt and brokenness, that while so much gain has been made available to a child, it’s ultimately loss that has led them to that point. Generational cycles of brokenness within families have perpetuated themselves now into the lives of the next generation – abuse, neglect and abandonment have become a part of their stories. They didn’t ask for this, it was unjustly handed to them by those who were most responsible to protect them from the very things they’ve now been harmed by.

While the opportunity to love these kids is good, no doubt the circumstances that brought them to us are probably very, very bad. This is where the call to foster care begins, what it exposes us to and the perspective it demands we keep in order to rightly and lovingly care for vulnerable kids.

THEIR TRAGEDY OVER OUR EAGERNESS

As excited as we may be about fostering kids, they certainly aren’t excited about being foster kids. Our personal sense of excitement does not drive our efforts. Their personal tragedy does. Heartache does. A desire to see good come out of bad does. A willingness to embrace what is broken and do whatever it takes to bring healing does.

Celebrate the opportunity to open your homes to kids in need, knowing that if it be for just a few days or an entire lifetime, you’ve been given the unique opportunity to offer them something special – love. Yet at the same time, never let your excitement about being involved in foster care be separated from the heartache you feel over the tragic reality that something like foster care even has to exist in the first place.

_____________________________

Jason Johnson is the husband to Emily, a dad to four girls (youngest adopted in 2013), a pastor for 13 years, a former church planter and now the Church Engagement Officer and creator of the ALL IN Orphan Care Church & Ministry Campaign with the Arrow Foundation—an organization committed to equipping, resourcing, and mobilizing the Church to help kids and strengthen families around the country. You can follow his ministry at Jasonjohnsonblog.com and find this post originally published on that blog here.

August 26, 2014August 26, 2014

Nothing is Wasted

Although few people would speak the words out loud, sometimes adoptive mamas, who didn’t grow their child in their womb for nine months, who didn’t labor and physically deliver their child, are looked at as less than a mother. Sometimes they do not receive the same support, celebrations, empathy and understanding as the mamas who have children the “traditional” way. But the reality is that all of us mamas, regardless of how we came into this title, need help, support, love, and empathy.

I think for many of us moms who have adopted, we have had to fight so hard for our child, we have had to answer so many questions, we have had to battle through emotionally grueling months. Some of us have suffered infertility. Many of us have faced judgments and criticism, and because of this, we feel like we can share nothing less than a perfect picture of the inside of adoption with the outside world – less we get more judgments and criticism thrown our way. We feel as though we are not allowed to feel anything short of extreme gratitude and joy.

I was there. I was right there.

And it led to something that is hidden, dark, and not talked about very much. It led to post-adoption depression. It is such an ugly word – it is misunderstood, it is ignored, glossed over, and it is shrouded in so much shame, but today I am bringing it to light. I am giving voice to this, and I am admitting my own weakness, because despite believing a lie for a long time, I no longer believe that I am alone in this. I instead believe that there are many of us out there, suffering alone, feeling ashamed and isolated.

Today, although my hands are literally shaking, I am sharing brushstrokes of my story with you, because it just might be your story, too. For too long, I was so desperate for someone to tell me that I was not alone. You, dear sister, are not alone.

We went through grueling months becoming educated to adopt, completing paperwork, going through intense background checks, etc. Every area of our life was picked through with a fine-toothed comb. We jumped through all of the hoops, and we were “approved” as parents. And that’s a lot to live up to. I came home from Ethiopia with a beautiful 15 month old son. He was amazing and more than we dreamed he would be. But we left behind his birth country and his culture, and we knew that this little baby carried with him more loss and trauma than we could comprehend. We left behind a country and people that had destroyed our hearts, and we left behind another son who we knew was supposed to be inside our family. That alone was debilitating – trying to parent three children here and one there. Those things alone changed me. I saw and experienced things in Ethiopia that I was not prepared for. I was exposed to a world that I knew nothing about – poverty, death, starvation, disease, ugliness. My emotions were all over the place, I struggled with guilt, anger, self-righteousness, and heavy, heavy sadness. I came home with a child who needed me in a way that I had never been needed before. We only knew one diagnosis at the time, and we had little to work with. Nothing could have prepared me for the intensity inside our home for those first months. I poured my life out in an effort to make our sweet Jamesy feel secure, loved, and wanted.

And while I was pouring my life out, life didn’t just stop and wait for me to catch a breath.

The dust settled, and all around us people moved on from the airport homecoming, and life returned to normal for them. And we, in an effort to bond and attach and help Jamesy heal, isolated ourselves for weeks. I do not regret it, it needed to happen for his sake, but it took a toll on me. I didn’t quite recognize my life anymore. Nothing was the same. I was seeing the world with different eyes, my heart was so bruised, I was exhausted in a way I had never been before, and our family was completely changed. Things were hard. I loved my boy fiercely from the beginning, but his needs were so consuming.

I remember many nights where after rocking Jamesy for literally hours, only to have him scream with terror as soon as I laid him in bed and had to start again, and after missing again the nighttime ritual for my other two children, I would lay on my bed and sob feeling so guilty as I whispered to God This is what I was fighting so hard for? I remember nearly choking on cries as I cleaned up vomit again – sometimes for the third or fourth time in a day. I remember looking at Cadi and Scotty and feeling such sorrow and so much guilt for not being able to be the mommy to them that I used to be – I had no energy. I was exhausted, but I never slept. I was a shell of who I once was. I was distracted, irritable, unmotivated, and sad. I was so sad. I felt worthless as a mom, as a friend, as a wife. There was so much guilt on my shoulders. But I was good at faking it, because that is what I felt like everyone was expecting from me. I was scared that if I told the truth, then I would get slapped with an “I told you so”, and I just knew that would have been my breaking point.

We followed God in adoption. I have no doubt that He led us to Ethiopia, and to Jamesy. I regret none of it. But I do regret not asking for more help, not allowing people inside the pain, and not being honest with the ugliness that we were dealing with. I thought that because I had wanted this so badly that I had to be the perfect mom, and that had debilitating consequences. We hit the ground running, and I was running on empty.

Slowly God has been healing me. I finally communicated my post adoption depression to my husband this summer. I believe giving voice to my struggles began the healing process. I found other adoptive moms who were struggling with the same, and knowing that I was not alone lifted some of the isolation. This has been a long, dark road, BUT these past three years have not all been dark. I think that is a misunderstanding with depression as well. It has not all been fake. I have felt intense joy, peace, and purpose in my life. There were smiles, cuddles, and memories made. I have loved big and received love in return. I have cherished moments with each of my children, and my marriage is strong. I have laughed and danced and lived. I have seen more of Jesus and needed Him more than any other time in my life. I have been at His feet over and over again. There has been more of Jesus and less of me, and His strength has been magnified in my weakness. I believe He chose me because of my weakness. He is still working on me, and I still have dark days. But morning is coming! I can see the sun rising, and it is warm and beautiful and beckoning me out of the dark.

I am not defined by this, and even this serves a purpose and will not be wasted. God is making something beautifully new with this broken mess. I trust that – even when it hurts and is hard. God is busy, even now, redeeming this. The same is true for you. This is my story, and I pray that it brings mercy to someone else’s story. I know this is a strange story to share for National Adoption/Orphan care month, but today rather than advocating for the orphan, I feel led to advocate for you – the adoptive mama who is hiding in shame. Dear sister, I see you.

[If you are struggling with any kind of depression, I encourage you to please seek professional medical and emotional help.]

________________________________

Tiffany has been married to Jim for almost 12 years. They are blessed to be mommy and daddy to 4 children. In 2010 God opened their eyes to orphan care, adoption, and Africa. Their third child came into their family via Ethiopia and adoption, and at the same time they fell in love with a teenage street boy from Ethiopia. Today, they call that teenage boy, “son”, and now have two children from Ethiopia. God had bigger plans, though, and He opened their hearts to the needs of street children in a way that could not be ignored. The Darling family is preparing to move to Addis Ababa, Ethiopia, early this summer to serve by reunifying and preserving families, advocating for domestic adoption inside of Ethiopia, and discipling street children into godly adults. To learn more about their ministry visit www.mercybranch.com. You can read about their adoption stories, raising a special needs child, and how they are preparing their family for a life overseas at Tiffany’s personal blog A Moment Cherished.

August 21, 2014August 21, 2014

There May Never Be a Good Time, but Now is the Time {Summer Rewind}

This has been a busy and exhausting week. We are hosting 2 sisters for 3 weeks at our home through Safe Families for Children. Some days I’ve laughed and felt my heart burst at my girl’s ability to share, love them, and be welcoming. And some days I’ve cried and felt defeated at our inability to get anywhere on time, the selfishness that emerges so quickly from the girls (and myself..ahem), and the death of our “normal routine.” It is hard but the best kind of hard. The kind of hard that Jesus asks of us so that we know for sure with every ounce of our being that we are not self sufficient. It has been almost one week and there have been days I was ready to say “this is just too much” but in those moments God has sustained. I have visited a friend who is on the journey with us and has 2 of the siblings from this family as well. I have remembered that when we come to the end of ourselves then God shows up and we cannot take credit. And He does things better and more beautiful then we ever could.

The timing may seem crazy but as I sat in the Safe Families conference last week I felt so convicted that I always can think of a reason why right now is just not the right time. And my reasons are pretty good ones: I’m still feeling sick, I am almost 8th months preggers, we have two kids, we don’t have tons of extra space. But as I examine my heart I know that those are excuses. The truth is there is never a “great time” to serve and love and welcome in a stranger into your home because it is messy. But yet that is exactly what Jesus calls us to do. It is so important to Him because it costs us something, it transforms relationships, and it requires us to live in faith and not just talk about it. It changes others but mostly it changes my selfish heart. I read that the Bible instructs us to love, welcome, and care for the stranger over 100 times. But yet I can always think of a reason why now is just not the best time. I cannot recall a time in recent history when I have sat happily on my couch while perfectly behaved children played in a completely clean home while dinner cooks in the oven. There will never be a “good time” to do this. Our life is messy and real hospitality means inviting people into that mess and chaos and saying we love you. We don’t love perfectly but because we are desperately loved and have received outrageous grace from our heavenly Father we gladly can extend what we can to others. The grace we have been shown is not just nice or great it is ridiculous and life changing. And it spills from us.

We want to support their mother in a difficult time and really show that we take seriously the command to love our neighbor as ourselves. You see it is easy for me to think I am pretty good at that until my personal space and time is threatened. It has been hard for us all to share our lives, our space, our stuff, and our time. And the opportunity to do so has allowed us to loosen the grip on those things. Anni and Evy are counting the cost with us and I am so proud of them. Not because they perfectly share but because they are struggling through and living what it means to love others. It has afforded us so many great chances to talk as a family and work through this all. I am bursting with stories and it has only been a week but this morning as I was puking in the sink and thinking to myself “I just cannot do this one more day” I saw this….

The girls getting their hair did and then Annikah brought me this….

A note the oldest girl wrote about her time here so far (we eat a lot of fruit…be still my heart).

And I remembered that God knows best and His grace is enough. And friends and family are supporting us in this and one will be here with pizza in an hour (crowns in heaven I tell you). It is these things that convince me more and more we are meant to live exhausted and spent for His glory but full of abundant love and peace because of His scandalous grace.

Boasting in my weakness because that is where He is shown to be strong.

______________________________

Roxanne Engstrom is a mama of 3; Annikah, Evangeline, and the newest little boy Abishai. Roxanne and her husband Jason now live in Chicago after returning from 4 years learning, loving, and living on a small island in Africa. They have a heart for adoption and supporting vulnerable families and are now back stateside after a failed adoption overseas. They are currently a Safe Family through Safe Families for Children and becoming Foster parents in the hopes of adopting. She blogs about their family’s adventures and what God is doing in their lives at www.roxengstrom.blogspot.com. She is grateful that even though the journey can be difficult God gives joy and promises abundance along the way.

August 19, 2014August 19, 2014

The Battle Belongs to the Lord

A couple of nights ago, I had a dream about Sergey. It was our first meeting, and in my dream, the time with him was tender and sweet. So, it was surprising when I woke up with this 80’s worship song running through my mind:

“The Battle Belongs To The Lord”
In heavenly armour we’ll enter the land
The battle belongs to the Lord
No weapon that’s fashioned against us shall stand
The battle belongs to the Lord

We sing glory and honor
Power and strength to the Lord
[repeat]

The power of darkness comes in like a flood
The battle belongs to the Lord
He’s raised up a standard, the power of His blood
The battle belongs to the Lord

When your enemy presses in hard do not fear
The battle belongs to the Lord
Take courage my friend, your redemption is near
The battle belongs to the Lord

It was a surprising song, in light of my dream, but on the other hand, not so surprising, considering all of the circumstances surrounding Sergey’s adoption.

This one has been hard, my friends.

Along with the initial problem of Sergey not being allowed to come to the US for hosting, we have also encountered crazy delays, having to re-do our paperwork multiple times, and opposition almost every step of the way. At moments, it has caused us to question whether or not we were on the right path. But, as we have prayed, we have become more and more convinced that the enemy of our souls would love for us to give up on Sergey. Our Glorious Savior, on the other hand, never will (and because we love Him and long to be like Him, neither will we!).

So that’s why, when I went to my first DHL service center to mail our dossier, and they told me that they no longer mail things DHL, I could actually begin to see the humor of the situation. And when at the second service center (in a very scary part of town), I had to literally yell above the volume of the music playing inside the building (“No. That’s okay. If you’re not sure that it will make it there, I think that I should probably go somewhere else.”), I could laugh out loud while exiting the building.

I could laugh because I know who will win this battle.
I know who already has the victory, my friends.

But, I also know that we need you. We need each one of you, our precious friends, to pray along with us. We need you to pray for Sergey, that his heart would be kept in peace and joy while he waits for us. We need you to pray for our family, that we would continue to trust in the Lord and not get discouraged by all of these crazy delays. We need you to pray against the powers of darkness, that would do everything conceivable to keep Sergey right where he is at.

We need you, dear friends.
Your prayers matter.
Thank you, for fighting this battle along with our family, and ultimately, with our Lord.
He will be victorious!

___________________________________

David and Sarah have been joyfully married for almost 18 years. They have been blessed with 6 wonderful children (one homegrown son, a daughter from Ukraine and four children from China) and are waiting to travel to Ukraine for another son. They love Jesus and are grateful that He has recently led them to the urban core of Kansas City where they are learning to give their lives away as they build His church in the inner city. You can read more about what God is doing in their lives at http://davidandsarahb.blogspot.com.

August 11, 2014August 12, 2014

Happy Birthday Artem Kayin

To my long awaited child,

Three years ago you broke forth on the world on the wings of the dawn. Night threatened to engulf your brand new existence but it could not because the Spirit of God himself held back that midnight tide, saying this far you may come and no farther. Every force that would threaten to undo you was pushed back and you, my child, were born into promise and light.

In His hand, you rose. Smiling, eating, growing, and learning, becoming your tender self. When I met you, you were so fragile. Your joy easily tempered by fear. I remember your silence as we took you from your orphanage. I remember how you shut down and fell asleep in the car, just to escape it all. I remember how you pulled your brow together in worry and how you whimpered and shook when we took you to that Russian doctor for you visa exam. I remember how you stayed awake until 1am when we flew home, too scared to sleep. I remember how you sat silently in your stroller, hands folded in your lap, with a blank expression in your face.

You didn’t know. You didn’t know what was happening. You didn’t know who we were. You didn’t know who was going to take care of you or even that you didn’t have to take care of yourself. You didn’t know.

Even in the middle of your fear, we saw you shinning. We saw the proud look on your face when you met us in the orphanage with the monkey we gave you. We heard joy in your voice when you laughed, tickled under Papa’s hands. We saw the way you coyly smiled at the Russian doctor when he shook your belly and called you Baby Buddah. We recognized your mischievous smile when you tried to sneak up out of your airplane seat to play with the window shade. We saw your little mind finally finding peace between flights home as you at last lay down on a bench and fell asleep.

Since you’ve been home, over six months now, the fear and anxiety is slowly slipping away, making room for that joyful side of you to shine. You loved to be tickled and you love to laugh. You put the towel on your head after bath and shout, “Where are you???” through your giggles. When we first left our house with you, you stuck right by our sides not daring to wander even a couple feet. Now you RUN down our sidewalk to the park and yell for us to push you on the swing. You used to rock yourself to sleep and now you ask us to stay and run our fingers through your hair until your eyelids can’t stay open anymore. You used to push us away if we touched you too much and now you snuggle in as close as you can and rest your head on my shoulder when I read you a book.

You are brave. You were scared of the bath and now you plunge your face in the water and tell us to watch while you blow bubbles. You were upset when your feet were without shoes and now you run through sandy shores in bare feet. You were scared to ask for what you needed and now you demand, “More!” a dozen times per day.

You are my long awaited child, but you were a long-waiting child too, weren’t you?

You were rising, even still. Even without us, you were rising. I know why. It’s because even if you rise on the dawn or settle on the far side of the sea, even if you go as deep as the depths or as high as the heavens, God is there. His hand will never leave you. He knit you together in your birth mother’s womb and since your conception, all your days have been ordained for you. Your life is on purpose.

Your story is just beginning little one. Keep rising. He will lift you up.

Happy Third Birthday.

All my love,
Mama

_______________________________

Jillian Burden is still adjusting to this beautiful thing called motherhood; she and her husband are parents to a son by way of a Russian adoption. While her belly might not have expanded, her heart and her faith sure grew as her family did! You can read about this soul stretching journey to parenthood on her blog.

August 7, 2014August 11, 2014

We Look A Little Different {Summer Rewind}

We are your average, American family; dad, mom, three boys, and two dogs that are constantly causing trouble.

Except we look a weeeeeeeeee bit different.

We are actually two white folks, including one with a bunch of freckles who doesn’t tan well, plus three black boys, ranging in age from five months to 18 years old.

Ok, we’re an anomaly and we know it. Some people think we are just plain weird. I’m okay with that.

To be honest, Brian and I really don’t care what people think of us. The choices to form our family have quite obviously not been due to public opinion.

We didn’t plan on adding three children in one year. We didn’t plan on adding children of all one specific race to our family.

We agreed, from the start of our marriage, that our family would include children who needed homes, stability, and love.

This year, three children entered our lives that needed just that. They just all happen to be boys and they just happen to be black.

One through legal guardianship. One through foster care. One through adoption.

At this point, just one has our last name.

But don’t be mistaken, each one has our heart.

A year ago today, I wrote a post about our city and our family. At that point, we had just welcomed our J-man into our home a few months before.

Thinking about Martin Luther King, Jr., his impact, his life, and his role in the city that we live rang especially deep in my heart last year.

Today, I can say that MLK’s words and his mission for equality bears even more weight and significance in my life.

Now, as parents of a black teenager, we have witnessed that misconception and prejudices about race are still prevalent and thriving. The road for our boys will not be easy.

We feel a very strong burden to give them the foundation in which to navigate a world where color is often still the first thing a person sees when making a judgement on character ability.

We believe that their culture and their heritage is paramount to who they are and needs to be cultivated.

We pray that the first and foundational thing in which they identify themselves is their faith in Christ.

We envision a future for them where their relationships and community is not defined solely by their race, but instead by common values and beliefs.

We hope that one day, our son will not be feared because he is walking down the street in a grey hoodie and jeans.

We pray daily that our boys will become Godly men of integrity and honor, who do not believe anything is owed to them, but instead stand and fight for justice of those around them who cannot.

‎Brian and I know that the choices we have made to form our family won’t be accepted by everyone.

We know that we don’t have all the answers on how to raise our boys.

We are quite aware that we will make many mistakes along the way.

But we are very sure that the three boys placed in our home this past year are here because they belong in OUR FAMILY. Not just anywhere, but here, with us and our two crazy dogs.

“Faith is taking the first step even when you can’t see the whole staircase.”

– Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.

We have faith that though we don’t know what the road with our boys looks like ahead, we are a family formed with a purpose. And we are going to move forward and figure this out this crazy life together.

________________________________

Leslie and her husband, Brian, live in Montgomery, Alabama where he is a youth pastor and she coordinates ONEfamily, an orphan care ministry. She’s a mom to five boys, some with two legs and some with four legs. All of them are amazing and usually stinky. Leslie enjoys quiet places, watching SEC football, and drinking an entire cup of coffee – none of which happen on a regular basis. She blogs about life with her boys over www.waitingonaword.blogspot.com

August 5, 2014August 5, 2014

Tiny Steps to Victory

One of my greatest joys in life is to see my children learn new things. Some of them master new things fairly easily. Others have to overcome incredible obstacles in order to have the smallest victories.

There was a time in my life when I understood victory as being highly successful in the big things.

Win a big race.

Achieve great grades.

Quit an addiction.

Climb the corporate ladder in record time.

Win a pageant.

Beat an opponent.

But these days, I understand victory to be so much more than crossing the finish line ahead of the pack or mastering the most difficult of skills.

I see great victory in the small things. The things the old me would surely have taken for grated.

Every doctor and therapist told us that Kael would definitely learn to walk within six months of being home. No doubt about it. They were wrong!

Fifteen months down the road, our tiny little guy (who is ten years old and weighs 32 pounds) is still not walking independently.

BUT…

We see victory! HUGE victory in the baby steps that he takes.

Like standing on a balance beam for the first time (instead of putting his feet on either side).

I think I can. I think I can. I think I can.

And mastering the art of cruising!

I know I can. I know I can. I know I can.

These are the things that make me tearful.

Seeing my darling boy learning to overcome such huge obstacles.

Each little step, an unfolding miracle.

A gift.

And one of these days, we know that he’ll be running all over the house.

But for now we’ll go at his pace and trust that our God is able to do exceedingly, abundantly MORE in his life.

And restore EVERYTHING that the locusts have eaten.

Shine, Jesus, shine!

_________________________

Adeye is a blessed daughter of the King of Kings, wife to the most amazing man in the world and mommy to nine beautiful children. Three sons the good old fashioned way, two special needs princesses from China, two angelic treasures who have Down syndrome from Ukraine, and two amazing blessings who also have profound special needs recently adopted from Bulgaria. We’re crazy about Jesus, learning daily about total surrender, passionate about adoption, and learning every day how to live life to the fullest with various special needs and medically fragile children. I share my passions, my heart, my victories, my struggles, and my daily life on my blog, No Greater Joy Mom.

July 31, 2014July 5, 2014

Forgiveness

“Forgiveness.”

This is the word the Lord has given me recently.

Quite a while ago I stopped posting about the unwelcome guest in our home: Trauma. I wish I could say that absence of posting = absence of the impact of trauma. Not.so.much.

It’s been nearly four years since we were first introduced, and I realize I need to take some time to ‘heal thyself’ in order to maximize my ability to help us become a healing home.

I still ask the Lord to change my hard heart, to give me the patience to respond with compassion, the strength to persevere through the trenches and joy to rise above the chaos. I still make the same mistakes. Not because He isn’t answering my prayers. Because I am so very human. I get in the way of His work in me every day. I.am.not.bragging. I’ve been desperately asking God to show me why I am so insistent upon living as the former self, rather than as the new creation He has made me to be.

And He has! It’s all about forgiveness.

Heaven knows I don’t deserve the depth of forgiveness God has extended to me. I can’t begin to express how thankful I am for His redemption. With God’s grace, I have been able to overcome deep wounds and forgive others who have hurt me, only because He has shown me how! But now comes a revelation that shakes me to the core.

I am withholding forgiveness. I am casting blame. Not audibly, but clearly in my heart. And it is spilling over like poison, tainting everything it touches.

What a horrible admission! But maybe you’ve been there? Maybe you are like me and didn’t realize this is brewing in your heart? Let the healing begin!

I realized that I was so beaten down with the impact of my child’s trauma that somewhere in the process I began to blame him. In my heart I held him accountable for the countless hours we spend on the road for therapy, for the constant attention he requires, for taking my focus off the other children, for every time our plans change suddenly because of his reaction or response, for the fact that he must always be supervised, for the fact that I am exhausted because every moment must be a teaching one, and on and on and on… I blamed him for relationships lost, conflict gained, misunderstandings, judgment, and criticism.

Truth is, as critical as someone else may be of my parenting, I am my worst critic.

And so, I was also blaming myself. I couldn’t understand why he would do things he shouldn’t or wouldn’t do things he should, why he would retreat so deeply within himself, why he would lash out for no apparent reason, why he would lie about something so c.r.a.z.y and obvious, and why MY response would typically escalate his reaction. And so I also blamed ME!

Forgiveness starts here!

My child doesn’t need to know that I blame him or that I need to forgive him. He doesn’t need that burden. But it is something that must happen in my heart. Today I began by granting forgiveness…to myself and to him. I will never be a perfect parent. At the end of the day I hope to say I did my best (totally relying on God!).

Raising a child requires commitment and investment. Raising a child with neurological, physical or emotional conditions requires even more. And in the words of Dr. Karyn Purvis, “…the longer a child experienced neglect or harm, the more invested you’re going to have to become in their healing.” In an effort to help my child heal, I’ve focused too much on ‘fixing’ him. That has proven to be frustrating and exhausting because in the process to ‘fix,’ I have not been able to appreciate who he is, making this adventure more about the destination than the journey.

He is treasured. He is valuable. He is wanted. He is a child whom God has entrusted to me. Not so that I can fix him. So that He can change my heart. And so that I can shape, nurture and protect my child.

God has given me a firsthand opportunity to live out Scripture. It is one thing to say, “Sure, I can love my enemies (because I can keep them at a distance); I can speak for those without a voice (because, in all honesty, I get to choose how much effort I put into it); I can fight against injustice (because I can quit when I’m tired).”

What am I to do when the person who acts most like my enemy lives in my home? When the person whose voice I must be doesn’t want to hear? When my fight for injustice is mocked? When I am at the end of my rope but the battle rages on?

Then I lean in close to my sovereign God, and I trust that He will never leave me (Jos 1:5), that He works ALL things for His glory and for the good of those who love Him (Rom 8:28), that His grace is sufficient (2 Cor 12:9), that He gives me hope (1 Pet 1:3), that His strength is enough (Phil 4:13, Heb 12:12).

God is more than able! He has loved me in spite of my hard heart, and He has made a way for me to love. Healing begins with forgiveness!

To HIM be glory!

*Disclaimer* I am not a single parent. My husband and I are very much a team with the attitude of me-and-you-against-the-world-babe, but this is my heart issue.

___________________________

Connie is crazy about her Lord, crazy about her husband, and crazy about her 11 kids. You can read more about life in her family and what God is teaching her on their family blog: http://k6comehome.blogspot.com/

July 28, 2014July 28, 2014

Two Worlds

My world. Their world. Two different worlds. I entered their world for a brief time then returned to my world. And I cannot reconcile the two.

They are too different, these two worlds. I return to the comfort of my home and family. And it is good to return to these familiar comforts. They do not know this comfort. Can you wrap your mind around that? They don’t know what it is to have a family.

I go about my normal, everyday life. Dishes, laundry, errands, children… all the normal stuff. Then something reminds me of one of them and I’m suddenly half a world away in thought.

I sort through the pictures I took. Thousands of pictures in an attempt to capture their everyday life. I smile, I cry, I work diligently at editing and uploading these pictures because it is the one way I can merge the two worlds. My photos transport them here and take me back there in memory. I hope and pray that these photos help to make the children “real” to people, that they show the precious value of each and every child.

Already some of our children’s families are finding them. It is exciting and rewarding, but always, always, there are more children, more needs. It is why we do what we do. Working in every way we can to bring these two worlds together for the good of our children.

_______________________________

Erin Martin is a stay-at-home, wanna be photographer, budgeting, homeschooling Mommy to five amazing children. She is also waiting child advocate who believes that every child deserves a family and that there is no such thing as an “unwanted or unadoptable” child. She and her true soul-mate, Keith, have three son who were given to them via the homegrown method. Their daughters are rare gems from afar (Kazakhstan and China). As a family, they are passionate about orphans and believe that caring for those least esteemed among men is one of the most important things that Christians are called to do. You can follow Erin on her blog God Has Answered.