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Love is…

This post is a reminder to myself. Because I’m not loving anyone well right now.

And, I am not so lovable or fun to be around.

You see, I am struggling greatly with how to really love.

Love that is absent of jealousy.

Like when I hear how smooth another person’s bonding/attachment is going with their newly adopted child.

Yea, I am jealous like that.

And, yet ,that isn’t love!

It isn’t loving my family or loving the way God brought our family together.

So, instead of seeing the growth and the lessons our Lord is teaching me through hard times,

I get jealous,

and then I start complaining,

about how it was SOOOO much harder for us than them,

and I blind myself to the goodness of my Savior.

I want a love that is does not take into account a wrong suffered.

Where I can walk through a time when I was hurt, deeply, by someone who said they loved me

and forgive them,

and hug them when I see them,

pray for them when they need prayer,

or hurt when they hurt.

Without holding it over their head how much I was hurt,

because that’s not forgiveness, nor is it love.

Am I the only one who feels like this sometimes?

When I should be loving and kind with my child who has been oh.so.difficult

ALL.DAY.LONG.

And I am not.

And I hurt them with my words out of my frustration.

And I ask for their forgiveness, because I was the one who was unkind.

Why is this so hard?

To love others well. To love them like Christ calls us to?

I want to be more than I am now.

Not in a wordly sense like having more money, greater status, or more things to have around my home.

I want to be filled and overflowing with love,

for my family, my friends,

and the stranger I meet in the store.

“The Lord is compassionate and gracious, slow to anger, abounding in love”

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Hannah’s Hair

One thing I prepared myself for when we started the adoption process was the possibility of a transracial family. Remember, we did not request a race or a gender, so we weren”t really sure what we would end up with. One of the thoughts that scared me was the possibility of having to do black-girl hair. Of course deep down inside, I was assuming we would have all boys (and we would shave their heads).

I have read enough about adoption to make sure that I respect Hannah and Olivia”s culture (by that I don”t mean their roots, like whatever country their ancestry is from, but I mean the importance of respecting that their skin and hair are different than mine and have different needs), I watched Chris Rock”s Good Hair, I read I”m Chocolate, You”re Vanilla: Raising Healthy Black and Biracial Children in a Race-Conscious World (which I *highly* recommend to anyone interested in adopting a black or biracial child, or is related to one, or is a teacher, or social worker, or just someone who likes a good read), so I am well aware of the importance of doing Hannah and Olivia”s hair. Out of respect for them, I do their hair (as well as I am able, again, I am still learning) far more than I do my own. Sometimes I get . . . impatient. Annoyed and frustrated are not the words I want to use, so it”s more like an impatient feeling, kind of like, “Dang, I don”t even have time to do my hair, much less my 2 year old”s hair!” But, I make time because I don”t want to embarrass my girls when they look back at their pictures. Sure, embarrassment is not the worst thing in the world, but I want them to look back and see that I made the time and effort to help them embrace who they are.

I have read that it”s typical in black communities that hair is a mother-daughter event–the washing, combing, and styling. That”s what I want for my girls too. I want them to have the memories of their mom spending time on their hair, just like their classmates. My prayer for my girls is that they understand they were created by God and put in our family. I”m sure at some point Hannah and Olivia will wish they had straight hair. I myself have wished for curly hair, and I certainly wish I didn”t have to wash my hair every day. But, I want to invest enough respect into who they are that they can embrace the family that we are.

Every morning, during devotions, I ask my girls, “Who loves you?” and Hannah is finally saying “Jesus loves Hannah” and then I say “Hannah, who has a plan for your life?” and Hannah says “God.”

God put Hannah and Olivia into our family; they are part of His plan for our lives. That”s why I am doing the best I can to fully embrace who my children are.

The main way I get hairstyles (which I will repeat, I am still learning here) is shopping. I spend my time grocery shopping and hairstyle shopping. I study styles that I think I can repeat and then I try it at home. Of course, Hannah”s hair is uniquely her own so there are lots of styles I can”t remake (at least by myself). Also, her hair is getting thicker as she is growing up and the only way to get thicker hair is for more hair to start growing. We are at a stage right now where her hairline is starting to fill in and get thicker so I am having to wrestle with short baby hairs around her entire head. You can imagine that if I don”t pull those back or straighten them, she kind of ends up looking like a mess. Add that to a naptime and a little 2-year-old who doesn”t respect her own hair and rubs it on the couch, or messes it up doing summersaults, or pulls out the round brush and tries to comb it herself, or sneaks a bristle brush to bed with her and ends up with a lion”s mane. So, her hair is not perfect all the time.

But trust me, if you saw her by herself somewhere, you wouldn”t know she was being raised by a crazy white lady.

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Abby Brandenberger

Abby is a stay-at-home mom, married to her college sweetheart Matt. Matt is an elementary school teacher, a coach, driver”s ed instructor, tutor, and sports fanatic. Abby just tries to keep up with him and the two little ones they adopted domestically (15 months apart). They are trying to figure out when to start the adoption process again. Keep up with the nonsense at Our Little Hope.

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We”re half way through May! Don”t forget the 30+ businesses supporting adoption, adoptive families, and the work of The Sparrow Fund by giving 10% of their total sales this month. Clicking on the button below to see them all, and start shopping if you haven”t already!

TSF

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Musings of an Adoptive Dad – Part 4

Concluding this series today, I thought I’d post about why we’d do adoption again, particularly international adoption, if God let us. Of course, He just might. But, that’s really up to Him and a discussion to be had later.

First comes the question about money. Money wasn’t an issue when we adopted our little peanut. For our part, I’ll say that we had a few people contribute to the cause, but we also worked really hard on saving for it. It was an expensive process, well over $20,000. That’s a lot of dough. But, God provided. My lovely wife worked some extra, we cut back some, and it came together. Amen. We’re also seeing some of that come back now through the adoption tax credit. Amen to that too. I know others who have struggled significantly. I don’t want to deny that or denigrate them. I will tell you that God provides. Faithful is He who calls you, and He will bring it to pass (1 Thessalonians 5.24). We held tightly to that Truth for so many things through this process.

Second, we’d do it again because through adoption, we changed the world. I don’t mean that in some triumphal, conquering, slam-dunk sort of way. We’re way more humbled by the process than I imagined. But, I also know with great confidence that there’s a little girl sitting in the next room who’s eating breakfast with her brother that this same morning would’ve woken up next to another kid, been untied from her crib, fed porridge because she couldn’t have fed herself, and played the day away with 20 others in a room supervised by 2 nannies. Just now, she walked in having gone to the potty and letting me know that she pulled her big girl undies up “all by myshelf.” It’s not that we changed the entire world. But, we changed it for her and for us and for our sons, our extended family, our church family, our neighbors, and, Lord willing, our grandkids and generations of Hendersons to come.

Third, the need isn’t going away. According to my cool friend, Jon Singletary, there are 120,000 adoptable kids in the U.S. How about this one: 3,000,000 kids in the world ready to adopt. The need isn’t going away. We chose China because it seems about 1,000,000 of those are in China.

Lastly, our family is better because of it. I know some of you walked through the adoption with us, and you saw the sanctifying process that we went through and, hopefully, are seeing its fruit in our lives. I know I can. Perspective. Patience (?). Trust. Compassion. Gospel. Selflessness (?). Love.

I don’t know if God will let us adopt again. I don’t know if He’ll let you adopt. But, it’s amazing.

But that’s just me thinking thoughts…

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Trent Henderson

Trent is the husband of the amazing Ginny and father to the thoughtful Jack, adventurous Sam, and hilarious Ruthie Mei. He also serves as pastor to the saints of Heritage Park Baptist Church near NASA in Houston. He tries to say something worthwhile in his preaching and at his blog. Feel free to go check it out.

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Musings of an Adoptive Dad – Part 3

Because I’m a pastor and think about things in spiritual terms, it’s only appropriate that I spend a moment to comment on how physical adoption reinforced Gospel adoption to me.

Consider…

I didn’t choose God but He chose me because of His great love (Eph. 1.4-5).

I am bought by a significant price and sacrifice on His part (Eph. 1.7).

I am experiencing a life that I never could’ve created on my own (Eph. 2.8-9).

I am, quite literally, a citizen of a different kind of governance (Eph. 2.11-12).

I was a foreigner to God and He took me in, calling me His own son (Eph. 2.13).

I am now a part of a family that is much bigger and cooler than I could’ve imagined (Eph. 2.19).

The beauty of all of this: just as I don’t have a regret in the world, neither does He. Wow.

But that’s just me thinking thoughts…

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Trent Henderson

Trent is the husband of the amazing Ginny and father to the thoughtful Jack, adventurous Sam, and hilarious Ruthie Mei. He also serves as pastor to the saints of Heritage Park Baptist Church near NASA in Houston. He tries to say something worthwhile in his preaching and at his blog. Feel free to go check it out.

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Musings of an Adoptive Dad – Part 2

I had some fears going into the adoption process that I’ll say out loud here so that if you have them or know people who have them, you can at least say you’re not alone.

First fear: Can I raise a daughter? I grew up with two brothers. I had two sons. The only females in my life on any kind of closely-tied relational level were my mom and my wife. I wasn’t sure I could do it. I’m still not sure – we haven’t gotten to the puberty-stage yet. Stay tuned.

Second (and bigger) fear: Can I love my daughter the way I love my sons? I was there when my sons were born. I literally saw them take their first breath. In moments, I knew their APGAR score and was holding their swaddled bodies, singing over them, praying over them, and letting their mom kiss them when I wasn’t. That wasn’t the case for my daughter.

Two things changed my fear. The first were two pictures.

Picture 1: We were sitting in bed one night when the email dinged on my wife’s computer. We had sent over a care package with snacks and clothes and a pillow with our pictures on it. In an email, we got a picture of our daughter holding the pillow. I was done. In an instantaneous moment of divine heart surgery, I knew she was mine, and I was ready to go get her. We cried when we saw…

Picture 2: We got our daughter’s file of all the things she had recorded since being found. Included in that was her finding photo. I’m choked up right now just thinking about it. I’ll not post it here for reasons I will not explain, but I know what she looked like at a few days old (or a few weeks old, we’re not exactly sure when it was taken). I didn’t get to hold her then but I am holding her now. This morning she came down the stairs and into my arms, jammies wrinkled from a long, solid night of sleep and hair looking about the same. She’s mine.

And that leads to the second thing that changed my fear. This thought hit me (and continues to do so): there’s a difference between being her father and being her dad. It’s not just semantics for me. She’s not mine, but she is. She’s not from me but she’s a part of me. She’s not my flesh, but I’d give my life for her. She’s my daughter. I may not be the guy who is responsible for her being in the world, but I am the guy who is responsible for her. And gladly. I may not be her father, but I am her dad.

But that’s just me thinking thoughts…

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Trent Henderson

Trent is the husband of the amazing Ginny and father to the thoughtful Jack, adventurous Sam, and hilarious Ruthie Mei. He also serves as pastor to the saints of Heritage Park Baptist Church near NASA in Houston. He tries to say something worthwhile in his preaching and at his blog. Feel free to go check it out.

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Musings of an Adoptive Dad – Part 1

Having brought adoption up in this sermon I gave at Heritage Park Baptist Church where I serve as the pastor, I thought I’d post some reflections on adoption. First out of the box and hot in my heart right now is adoption is a calling.

What I said in the sermon and I’ve blogged on before I stand behind: I think every Christian couple should ask if God will let you. But throwing the door open like that doesn’t mean there’s not a massive, weighty, spiritual piece to it. Quite the contrary. Should God allow you, you’ll find yourself caught in this gravitational calling and actually depending on it. We did.

I remember when it clicked for us. I remember eating italian food with Ginny and talking about entry into this process. I remember all the waiting.

We waited a year to get a match.

We waited a long time for our PA.

We waited forever for our RA.

We waited longer than anyone under the non-Hague rules for our TA (over 150 days).

We cried while waiting.

We fussed with God and our boys and one another.

We got promises from God. None more precious than 1 Thessalonians 5.24: Faithful is He who calls you and He will bring it to pass. We clung to that truth like a kid to a lollipop. Multiple times, I’d tell myself and my wife that we weren’t going to stand before Jesus someday to give an account for our lives and tell Him that we quit just because the wait was long and too hard. The temptation to give up was there. God’s promises are stronger than the promises of temptation.

I received what I thought was a word of knowledge from the Holy Spirit: January. Turns out that’s the month in which she was born and that’s the month we got matched.

We saw God move in the last minute on both our RA and our TA (posts on my wife’s blog here and here).

We rode roller coasters of unbelievable heights and depths.

None of it – NONE – could we have endured without the sense of calling. It’s what sustained us. And that sense of calling is that gravitational pull toward something, giving weight to what you do and keeping you together when everything else is going supernova around you. We have some friends in the process right now enduring quite a bit of opposition from their family. Harsh words. Sinful attitudes. Guilt. Frustration. Prejudice. You don’t endure those kinds of things (especially from family) with eyes on God without that settling, focusing, steadying weight of calling.

Adoption is a calling. No denying it. But it could be a calling for a lot more families than you know.

But that’s just me thinking thoughts…

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Trent Henderson

Trent is the husband of the amazing Ginny and father to the thoughtful Jack, adventurous Sam, and hilarious Ruthie Mei. He also serves as pastor to the saints of Heritage Park Baptist Church near NASA in Houston. He tries to say something worthwhile in his preaching and at his blog. Feel free to go check it out.

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Mother’s Day Week: The Space {In Between Us}

“Through my pride – Through my shame – You show me love – You show me grace – I’m not looking back – Till I see Your face – I’m running straight to you.” – Building 429

I have never felt God’s pursuit of me more than in my relationship with Mya. He loves me without abandon, the way that I love her. Both of us, adopted. And sometimes, I really feel that space in between us. In between God & I, and in between Mya & I. Through her, I finally understand how much God loves me and cares for me and how much I can hurt His heart.

“Here I am saying I need you – I know I need you – Here I am, I’m coming to meet you – Cause I want to see you.” – Building 429

I have only begun to grasp His Redeeming Love. He has worked miracles in Mya’s life; in our lives, through her. He has revealed to us what He meant by His Commandment, “Love each other as I have loved you” (John 15:12). I have admitted during this journey that had someone told me how hard it would be to love someone who didn’t necessarily love you – I would have “passed”. And oh, the joy I would have missed. I am so thankful for the secret things of the Lord (Deuteronomy 29:29) that He chooses to reveal to us at the perfect time.

“All I really want to do is to fall into the emptiness that is the space in-between us. Erase it and bring us together again.” – Building 429

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Sara McClintock

Sara was blessed by marrying her best friend 15 years ago. Then, found The Greatest Love of All in Jesus Christ in 2004. Having already had the privilege to parent two football-loving sons, Sara and Bill had international adoption laid on their hearts. They were blessed beyond belief when they welcomed the cutest, spunkiest Chinese girl from Luoyang into their family in December 2008. Having left pieces of their hearts in China, Bill & Sara are praying for God’s will to retrieve them. Please stop by their family blog for random musings on life, redemption, grace, hope, love and faith.

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Mother’s Day Week: Waiting

my baby girl is 11 months old. and as i sit here writing, my mind wanders to what she might be doing at this very moment. my heart begs for her to be held. to have someone smile at her. soothe her when she cries. pick up her favorite toy when she drops it. giggle at her silly antics.

perhaps by her 13th month, i’ll look back and wonder what all this fretting was about.

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Mother’s Day Week: I Hope I am as Good a Mother

I was at one of my classes. We were on break, and there was an older lady sitting diagonally across from me. We made eye contact and the uncomfortableness (is that a word?) of the moment made me talk….ok, I could talk to a rock, but still….so anyway, I just started rambling on about this and that and somehow we got on the topic of her mother. Her mother is 95 years old. She lives alone in Iowa somewhere and this lady (her daughter) goes to spend 1 week of each month with her. Her mother is completely independent. She lives in her home by herself and goes up and down stairs to do laundry…just aced her driving test and she has her own garden. She freezes her food for the winter months and gets one meal a day from meals on wheels. Truly amazing. She went on and on about how healthy she was and what an incredible lady she was…how she still drives to church, the post office, and the store when she needs something….so, I said, “Boy, you must be happy to have such good genes.” She said, “Actually, I was adopted, but I hope that the lifestyle my mother taught me will help me with that.” She kind of smirked and turned away towards the speaker who was just getting ready to start speaking again.

Hmmmm. Dangit. I didn’t get a chance to share, I thought to myself. She doesn’t know….did that matter? Probably not. Why did it matter so much to me that I share with her? I knew I might not get a chance to talk to her ever again. Would she know how much she blessed me that day? I mean…do you as adoptive parents ever wonder if your children are going to love you so much that they will stay with you when you are 95? I mean…really with you, like come and stay with you for a week. every month. Ok, the Momma in this situation CLEARLY did something right, right? I think I need to go and stay with her for a week to learn from her.

So, yes, I did grab the lady during the next break and made sure that I told her that three of my children were also adopted. I told her that I hoped that I was as good a mother as her mother so that when I am 95 my children will come and take care of me for a week. She just kind of giggled and said how blessed my children were. “No, my children are in fact the blessing in my life,” I answered. It was so interesting the connection we had during such a very short time frame.

Here was this adoptive mother (me) in my very late thirties talking to a lady who was in her 60s and was an adopted child, and we were able to share what a blessing that an adoptive mother and adoptive children are to each other. I know, I know, common sense, right? But, it was as if we had heard it for the first time. For some reason, it meant so much more to me coming from her than it would from someone who doesn’t have any adoption connection.

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Kristine

I am a stay at home mother of four kids, two dogs, and one cat and am very blessed to be able to do so. I am married to a wonderful husband who works very hard for all of us. In addition to being a mom, I am also an occupational therapist and, in the past, spent most of my time working in long-term care facilites with the elderly. We struggled with infertility issues after the birth of my oldest son, and God led us to adoption…3 times…from Russia. I have also spent time counseling birthmoms and enjoy doing this very much. Hopefully, as my children get older, I will be able to spend most of my time doing this. One of my favorite things to do in my spare time is blog. Currently, I post on two separate blogs–I Love You More Than Peanut Butter and Lakeshore Cottage Living.