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The Daily Choice

Some days, I stumble upon a scene like this one and it makes my heart overflow.

I realize it looks like nothing special, but I assure you it is.

June has decided that it is her job to help Kate learn/review/know her letters before she starts preschool this fall. And Kate is actually not only okay with this set up, but tries harder and does better for June than for either of her parents.

So when I came downstairs today and found June and Kate having school in the living room I stopped to soak it all in.

You see, 2 years ago these two barely liked being in the same room together. Forced to share attention, clothes, toys, and space, neither of them liked it all that much.

Then, a year ago something changed, and they decided that maybe just maybe the other wasn”t so bad, and a friendship was born.

This year, we have witnessed this relationship blossom into sisterhood, and it”s a sweet sweet thing. Spontaneous hugs and kisses, laughter, and joy. Their relationship is a beautiful picture of what adoption means.

The feelings that come with adoption are not instant. It”s a daily decision to love. A daily decision to grant grace. A daily decision to forgive. A daily decision to teach. A daily decision to have patience. Each day, every day, you make the choice to accept, love, and cherish. And you have to decide. It is an actual choice. And while in the adoption community, we like to believe that this choice is the parents” choice, it”s not just about the parents. It”s the choice of the sister who was already here. The one who has to share her toys, her room, her clothes, her parents. It”s a choice for her to love daily, forgive daily, and accept a new person for who they are daily. It”s a process and I am humbled that the Lord has so blessed me with not only the opportunity to be in the process, but to witness it between my girls.

It is said that adoption is a beautiful thing. I agree, but I would like to add that adoption creates beautiful things. In witnessing this with my Littles I have a greater understanding of what my adoption into the Lord”s family means for me. When looking at the fruits of the Spirit (love, joy, peace, patience, gentleness, goodness, kindness, self control) I can see that they are a result of my adoption by Christ. These are not natural tendencies, but ones created within me daily as I walk, talk, and live with my new family, my adoptive family.

And it is in this realization that my heart fills to capacity as I watch June hold up flash cards for Kate, and hear Kate say “J like June!” with the enthusiasm of child who is no longer a stranger sharing toys, but a sister who is loved and cherished.

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Ashley Milford

Ashley is the Outreach Coordinator for Voice of the Orphan adoption agency. She also serves adoptive families through The Sparrow Fund. She has been married for 13 years to her husband Mike, who has the power to make her laugh until her sides hurt no matter what is happening. They have three miracle girls, the youngest (by only six months) joined their family from China the summer of 2010. You can check out their adoption journey and musings on life as they know it on her blog.

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He’s Mine

When we brought Eddie home, I wasn’t sure what it would be like. I loved him, that was sure, but I questioned if our bond would be like the one I had with Lute. I thought about him as our “adopted son” every single day. Many times. Add into that the fact that I was half way through my pregnancy with George, and I was not only thinking about my connection with him, but with the other baby soon joining us.

In the four and a half months between Eddie and George’s birth, I poured myself into him. And then when George came, Nick took over almost entirely. He was Nick’s boy and their bond grew quickly and deeply as I adjusted to becoming a mother of three, trying to find a balance between all my boys, while mostly being pulled to the newborn that depended on me for his every need. I loved Eddie, snuggled him and fed him, but I still thought of him as the adopted boy. I thought of his birthmother all the time and wondered what how often she thought of us. Of her son.

When Eddie and George became mobile, that’s when things got hard. Here I was with two toddler boys and a preschooler and I was always tired, exasperated, unsure of how to handle them, keep them safe… I was overwhelmed. I couldn’t imagine my life without any of my boys, but I also wondered if we were a little crazy with our spacing. I was wondering less frequently about his birthmother, started to fall into a more natural routine, and my bond with Eddie came together in invisible ways that cemented us together.

Eddie was always Dada’s boy. He followed Nick everywhere, did everything with him, and I knew it was because of their early bond. But then something shifted. It only happened a few months ago, but Eddie suddenly was a mama’s boy through and through. Where I was, he wanted to be. When he woke up in the morning, he wasn’t satisfied to have his milk with his daddy and go back to bed… he had to have a snuggle with Mama first. He wants to know where I am at all times, is content to play near me while I make dinner, and doesn’t want me to leave him anywhere. It is mostly heart burstingly lovely and just occasionally a little inconvenient.

When I hold him, read to him, put him to bed, get him ready for the day, help him with his food, push him on his bike, brush his teeth, tie his shoes, correct him, protect him, console him, laugh with him, dance with him, hold his hand… he is mine. Completely and totally and in a way that makes my heart explode with love and gratitude for the crazy gift he is to me. To us. To our family. I don’t think “adopted” anymore. I mean, he is, obviously, but his heart is fused with mine now and forever. I hope it is always the same for him.

Is my bond with him the same as mine with Lute? No. And my bond with George isn’t either. My boys are vastly different. Each holds my heart in a different way, but completely and fully. I don’t think it has anything to do with being biological or adopted, but it’s just the way it is when you have more than one kid. You love them all differently but equally.

Words can’t express it. But I know that God designed our family the way that it is… and as I allow Him, he keeps giving my heart a greater capacity for love… for tenderness and joy and…cuteness. I am so grateful that this is my life.

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Excuse me while I talk to myself

You are the big person. He is the little person.

He takes cues from you because you are the big person.

Although biology would say he is 5 1/2, he is more like 3 1/2. If you remember that every minute, you will all be happier.

It

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The Contradiction of Adoption

There are not many situations in our lives that are so deeply rooted in contradiction.

Adoption.

The family born through hurt, anger, poverty, disease, and abandonment.

The laughter peeking through years of late night weeping.

The smiles forcing their way out of night terrors and a childhood lost.

The perseverance of parents wanting to love a child deeply, but finding the bricks built higher and higher in his fortress of protection.

The task is not just about loving a child. It’s about allowing yourself to be abandoned. Allowing the words of the Lord speak for you when the end of yourself seems too far.

The time lost to poverty and sickness. God can redeem.

A word spoken in harshness to a child wrapped in hurt and confusion. God can restore.

A child afraid of being abandoned. Again. A parent longing for a hug from a child who sees a hug as threatening, not loving. God can remember.

The heart can seem lost and the days can seem surrendered to impatience. God can refresh.

God never promises us easy days. Quite the opposite actually. He understands having a son betrayed and mocked. He cares for His children who scream curses and walk away, turning their backs on Him.

But only for a time.

His redemption is sure.
His restoration is complete.

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Carrie

 

Carrie and her family have lived in China for 7 years. A homeschooling mother of 5, she makes it through the day with prayer and a bit of caffeine. 3 years ago, God flipped their family’s world upside down through the blessing of adoption. They have watched Him not only orchestrate the adoption but compose a life dependent on His grace. Her first book, Redefining Home: Squatty Potties, Split Pants, and Other Things that Divide My World, came out not long ago. Feel free to follow along and laugh at their crazy lives with them at Rescued Remnant.

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I Want to Go Home

Lauren, Isabelle and Melanie

Several weeks ago during a control battle between Isabelle and I she suddenly announces, “I want to go home.” Hello, you are at home. “No my real home. Where I was born.” The idea that at 4 years old she had put together the tiny amount of information she has and come to the conclusion she used to live with Lauren was so absurd to me that I just had to laugh. I decided she had no idea what she was talking about and ignored her but a week or so later I heard the same thing during another tantrum. I had told her she had to eat one bite of her dinner or go to her room for the night. She had been in her room for a while having her break down and I went in to assess the situation and see if I could convince her to eat. She begins,

“I want to go home”
Me: this is your home.
Her: no my real home. Where I was born.
Me: the hospital?
Her: No with Lauren
Me: Even if you lived with Lauren she would make you take a bite.
Her: She is having the same thing?! Thats….Weird.

I was rolling on the ground laughing by the end of this conversation. She said it all while crying hysterically. I almost called Lauren on the spot to back me up on this food thing. We did talk later and I told her if I ever called with a strange request like, “should Isabelle eat a bite of fish?” she should just go with it. We laughed together at her comments and discussed the fact that neither of us are prepared for her to begin asking about this at such a young age.

Although I am very secure in my role as Isabelle’s mother and in her love for me I would be lying if I didn’t admit to having a little pang of sadness when Isabelle announced she wanted to live with Lauren. I had to give myself a little pep talk to remind myself that this is all part of the process and part of what I signed on for as an adoptive mother. I know that understanding Sam and Lauren’s decision is complicated and difficult even for many adults and will take time for Isabelle to mature enough to accept. Everywhere Isabelle turns and all the media that she is exposed to portrays a traditional family where the mother gives birth to a child she keeps rather than giving it to another mother to raise. Guiding her through this understanding will be one of the most important rolls I have as her mother.

After the second comment which I was continuing to try to ignore I felt God encouraging me to talk with Isabelle about her adoption. I simply shared with her that even though she was in Lauren’s tummy that I have always been her mommy. That I was there the day after she was born and brought her home from the hospital. She has never lived with Lauren. She actually hugged me and thanked me for telling her this and looked physically relieved. It is amazing to realize that at such a young age her sense of security can already be under attack. But I think if she didn’t feel loved and secure she wouldn’t feel free to say these things and ask questions.

So far these question have come up when she was being disciplined. It came up again this morning after I sent her to her room for something. I specifically remember during one of our early meetings with Sam and Lauren before she was born Sam telling us that if she ever called them because we were disciplining her for something and she wanted to get out of it that they would always back us up. I think we were all envisioning a pre-teen or teenager calling them not a 4 year old but it is nice to know even at this age they have our backs. (If she really knew what was going on she would run to Grandma and Grandpa, they are the real push overs.)

Never a dull moment around here.

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Melanie Hardacker

I married my high school sweetheart 21 years ago at the age of 19 and ever since we have been on a grand adventure set before us by God. Nearly 4 years after we married I gave birth to a beautiful baby boy and threw myself into the world of motherhood. 2 years later I expected to quickly get pregnant again but it was not meant to be. After many painful years we looked up and realized that God had blessed us with one incredible little boy and embraced life with an only child. Then one day God whispered,

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Adoption is beautiful. But, it’s ugly too.

We like to gush about the beauty of adoption.

I wear a necklace with a cut-out of Taiwan and Christ’s words in John 14:18 – “I will not leave you as orphans; I will come to you” – promising the Holy Spirit and His second coming.

I believe that earthly adoption serves at a metastory and a shadow of the true Story of God’s redemptive power in adopting me and Lee and Jocelyn. Hopefully, one day when they come to know Him, Robbie and Zoe and future children and grandchildren into His forever family.

But to all who did receive him, who believed in his name, he gave the right to become children of God.
John 1:12

For all who are led by the Spirit of God are sons of God. For you did not receive the spirit of slavery to fall back into fear, but you have received the Spirit of adoption as sons, by whom we cry,

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This Just Needs To Be Said

I can always tell when we are starting, praying about or in the middle of an adoption.
I know because of the paper work that lies about,
the emails that clutter my inbox,
and the anticipation that seems to linger in the air.

But more tangibly, I know because the whole world seems to go awry.
The axis of the earth seems to tilt,
the Super Moon graces us a bit longer
and our house starts to come alive.

Not like the house in Ammityville,
but alive with activity
and none of it is the good kind either.

On our date night last week, The Hero and I discussed our second adoption.
We made some very direct goals and hard decisions.
Almost immediately, our house responded.

The vacuum cleaner sparked and died on Friday.
Behavioral issues abounded with our children.
The washing machine keeled over Saturday morning.
And Monday we awoke to the air conditioning units refusing to pump cold air.

The repairman told us both units would have to be replaced.
(For those of you who have not replaced one in quite some time,
it’s about the same cost as an international adoption).

The Hero met me at the door on Monday, smiling.
I found nothing to smile about.
But as we sat at the dining room table,
we started talking about our last date night.
And I started laughing.

Our house was under attack.
Literally.
Spiritually.

While The Hero called our insurance,
I called our adoption agency.
And sent them some money.
And just for good measure,
I made some small financial gifts to some of our favorite places.
And prayed over our house.

It’s Thursday morning.
The Hero called me from his car.
The a/c repairman just left.
Units are fixed and pumping.
And it’s covered by our insurance.
His only words “give thanks baby. This was all HIM today.”

The Hero found a part for the washing machine.
And fixed it for less than $30.

Behaviors have been identified and specifically prayed over.

The only total loss was the vacuum cleaner.
But considering it was almost 12years old,
it didn’t seem like too big a loss.

Whatever is keeping you from adoption, remember:
THE DEVIL HATES IT
AND WILL TRY ANYTHING TO STOP IT.

Ephesians 6:12 “For our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rules, against the authorities, against the powers of this dark world and against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms.”

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Lindsey Andrews

We are a family of God’s perfect design. With two adopted angels (2, 5) from Ethiopia in 2010 and more on the way soon. The Andrews family are one of three founding families of LoPa Art, buying Ethiopian art fair-trade and proceeds benefiting an Ethiopian non-profit, currently serving 210 orphans in Korah, a trash dump outside Addis Ababa, Ethiopia. Lovers of gardening, advocating for Children’s HopeChest, swimming and traveling to Africa, the Andrews continually seek to connect those they know with the things they love. Mommy is a writer, lawyer, speaker and chief laundry distributor. Daddy “The Hero” is a fireman, handyman and human jungle gym. “The Angel’ is now eight and loves reading, drawing and dreaming about buying a bunk bed. “The Dinosaur” is now four and stomping his way through home, hearts and life. The family is loved by Jesus and protected by a french bulldog, Walter. Mommy blogs at www.africaboundandrews.blogspot.com

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It’s All Good Hair

She”s beautiful just the way she is. Each hair an uncanny reminder of who God made her to be. African, tightly wound, a coil of boundless energy, full of spunk, with a mind of her own, and wild. I”m glad I remembered that before we decided to change it.

Satan speaks his lies in the subtlest of ways. And he is relentless…and his lies so predictable. “You don”t have what it takes to care for her,” he whispers. He”s been whispering this since the day she imprinted herself on my heart. Most of the time, I don”t pay any attention. Most of time, I remember all of the ways that God has made her mine and marvel at the miracle of adoption.

But sometimes….sometimes, his whisper sneaks it”s way inside. It wraps itself around my heart and I feel that familiar sadness. I feel all of the distance and the differences that separate her from me. The flesh and blood and DNA that prove that the miracle of her had nothing to do with me. And sometimes, in that state, I come up with ways to minimize the differences, and convince myself that it”s best for all of us.

So, we almost relaxed Hope”s hair last month. I came really close. I”m not saying we won”t do it someday. I don”t have firm feelings on whether it”s right or wrong. I don”t really think it”s a moral issue. But, if we do it someday, it won”t be so that I can avoid learning ALL I need to know to properly care for her naturally beautiful hair texture. And it certainly won”t be so that I don”t have to think about our differences.

I”m glad I was reminded that it doesn”t honor Hope when I pretend we aren”t different. Because we are. And most of the time, I remember that that is something to celebrate! I don”t need us to be the same. I don”t want us to be the same.

And besides, what does flesh and blood and DNA know about love, anyway?

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Amada Kolman

Amanda lives in Canon City, Colorado with her husband Loren where he serves as the Young Life area director. She is a stay-at-home mom to three fabulous kids, all adopted, and all girls, which means she also spends a lot of time sweeping up glitter. Recently, she has begun serving as the team leader for YoungLives, Young Life’s ministry to teen moms. She blogs whenever the mood hits about adoption, ministry, and raising girls.

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My Find at Salvation Army

Today, I was heading to the grocery store, but I had a feeling Max wouldn’t do well. We had already been running errands for a little over an hour, so I decided instead to go to The Salvation Army to see if I could find any treasures. I was going to do a quick walk-through – maybe I would find a cool piece of furniture or some clothes for Max. I found something much more amazing.

This nice lady was helping me figure out the price for a play kitchen set. She looked familiar, but I didn’t really think much about it.

I went on my way to hunt some more.

As I was walking up and down the isles, I heard another worker say the nice lady’s name. It’s a unique, unforgetable name and it’s the name of the first birthmom we met when we were going though our adoption journey. It clicked and I realized why she looked so familiar. I made a bee-line for her.

January 2010 – A birthmom wanted to meet us. We found out that she was from the Gary area, but was in a rehab center in the town we live in.