“Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ! In his great mercy he has given us new birth into a living hope through the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead.” 1 Peter 1:3 (NIV)
It was Easter, but I didn’t want to celebrate. My head knew the truth of new life, but my heart felt like I was living in a valley of death.
Every Easter we had sung songs about Jesus conquering death and rejoiced at His resurrection. Normally it was a glorious celebration, but not that year.
An outsider might have scoffed. I wasn’t dealing with real death, thankfully. Instead, an avalanche of daily deaths was burying me. My heart was breaking over the end of a ministry at church I loved.
We thanked God for our adopted daughters, but their severe needs forever ended my family the way it was. And because of those needs, I was having to close doors of opportunity that brought me great joy. One “death” after another faced me.
As I stood that Easter Sunday, arms raised in pleading more than praise, with tears streaming down my face, I begged God, “I know You raised Jesus from the dead. But will You conquer my death? Will You redeem what feels like death here and now?”
The power of my emotions poured out in waves of grief.
Before then, I had not admitted to myself that what I faced felt like death. But there it was. Putting a name to it helped. The song ended, I dried my tears, and the service continued. No lightning bolt flashed, but my heart felt a little lighter.
In the coming weeks I allowed myself to feel the grief of loss. When sadness swept over my heart, I returned to my same questions: God, I know You can, but will You conquer my death?
I prayed for new life to come into my areas of “death.”
Interestingly, a month later I went to a conference where God opened floodgates of inspiration and ideas. I left more excited about the future than I’d been in years. One day that summer, I realized God had eased my heart over the loss of the ministry I had loved.
In late summer, God handed me an incredible gift of another ministry job that I could manage in my crazy schedule. In early fall we found a therapist who could help our family with one of our daughters. Within months of my pleading prayer, it became obvious God was resurrecting what seemed dead.
While my circumstances weren’t changed in every situation, my heart was comforted. My hope was resurrected.
Jesus showed me He is the Conqueror of all death: here in this world and forever. God answered my question and prayer with a resounding “Yes!” Yes, He can and will conquer my death. I don’t have to wait for eternal life to experience my own resurrection of the heart. And neither do you.
Dear Lord, I praise You today for Your power over all death
Today, Cooper was playing play-doh at the kitchen table while I was washing dishes. He was chatting away to me as he did. He told me he was going to make a face with two eyes, a nose, and a mouth.
“I make him sad face.”
Something in me knew exactly where this was going, so I dried my hands and sat down at the table.
“Why is he sad?” I asked.
“He sad ‘cuz mama went to grocery store and he not find her. His mama all lost.”
Ok, think fast. Pray quick. What to say?
“Oh, and that makes him feel sad?”
“Yeah.”
“Yeah, that is sad.”
He continued to play play-doh and I continued to say a few things….honestly, I can’t even remember what now because I was on auto-pilot. In the end, the shape of the plate he was using to make the face sort of “forced” the face into a smile. I didn’t notice this and neither did he till it was done.
“Oh, he happy face.”
“Oh, yeah. He does have a happy face. Why do you think he is happy?”
“He happy ‘cuz his mama find him.”
This is the face of 4 year old grief….and we’re starting to see it and hear it now more and more. It’s a good sign (he trusts us) and, yet, it’s so hard to watch.
It doesn’t wait for you to have “all the right answers”. It humbles you pretty quick.
To be totally honest, I felt like I blew it today (although, while I can’t really remember what I said, I do remember that he never elaborated much on his story no matter what questions I asked). I’m not beating myself up though, because I know this is the tip of a deep, huge iceburg, and I’ll have many more opportunities to respond “better”. But, I did sympathize, let him talk, and tried not to put words in his mouth. I figure that’s a good start.
We’re all new to this- all of us- and I’m sure we’ll figure out our way.
Any advice on how to handle stuff like this when it comes up from those of you who have been there, done that?
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Jenna Hardy
Jenna is a teacher, turned stay-at-home mom, turned Children’s Ministry Director who is passionate about children. After hearing God’s call to care for orphans 4 years ago, she has become increasingly passionate about adoption and orphan care. She and her high school sweetheart, Scot, have been married for 13 years and recently brought home their son Cooper who is 3 years old and seriously adorable (go see for yourself!). They are excited to see what God will do in the next chapter of the story He is writing with their family. Jenna and Scot feel strongly about sharing their story so that they might be of encouragement to others in various stages of the adoption process. You can follow along with them on their trip and afterwards at Our Many Colored Days.
So here we are…moving towards a baby and an open adoption. We’re going to be PARENTS!!! The reality has not sunk in at all! There are so many unknowns in adoption. Should we start buying things? How can we not? How can we? But, there are even more questions about what an open adoption is and what it looks like. The Lord has opened my heart beyond belief in this, and I want to share the process with you here.
As I freaked out prayed about the reality of an open adoption, I did what any other rational woman would do. I googled it. (Turns out the birth mother did, too!) As I browsed through blogs and websites, I found four words that struck me to my core: “Adoption begins in pain.”
“Adoption begins in pain.”
“Adoption begins in pain.” I kept turning the words over and over in my mind. I thought about them while I showered, cooked, cleaned, and folded laundry. I kept mulling them over pondering their truth, significance and implications. Then as I was drying my hair one morning, I felt God calling me to my old faithful journal.
I wiped the dust off and cracked my old friend open only to find the last words I had written six months ago. “Your fears are a passport to a new state, to a higher level, to a greater joy” (from A Call to Joy – Living in the Presence of God by Matthew Kelly).
I have never been a big fan of change. The uncertainty of change always creates stress, stress that makes me undone and flustered. It exposes my sinful nature in ways I don
Originally posted on June 2, 2010 as they waited to travel to adopt their son…
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We had hoped to be in the air today on our way to Albania, but we are currently waiting on some paperwork to go through here in the US. God knew we needed this extra time though. We have been so busy in May that had we left today, we would have spent much of our time in Albania worried about what we didn
January 27th was a Thursday. After saying goodbye to friends, and praying with mountains of people, we boarded a plane. It was to be a long trip, possibly 2 months, but we would return with our adopted daughter. There was a chance we would have to return without her. There was a chance we would have to make two trips. That didn’t matter. We were sure that God would provide us a way to come home with her. It was his calling for the Polsgrove family.
It didn’t work out that way. Due to some issues beyond our control, we’re still waiting. When we came home, we thought we would only be home for 3 or 4 weeks before we returned. It’s been over that now. And, even though we hear rumors, there’s no way for us to know when we will be going back to get her.
People have been great. They’ve been encouraging and loving and supportive through every step. Joys and pains have all been shared with our friends and family. The one question we seem to get all the time is “How are you”? That’s a hard question to answer. The most common response is “we’re okay,” which is actually probably a lie. I guess the answer is “most of the time we’re great, but other times it feels like being kicked in the chest repeatedly.”
I’ve gone through a wide range of emotions since we got home. Sad to leave her. Glad to be in a familiar place. Confused why we’re delayed. Thankful for what we have.
The truth is, we stepped out in faith asking God to do something that was highly improbable if not impossible. He didn’t do what we thought he would. In fact, on the surface it seems he didn’t do anything. I thought that would rock my faith. I even thought it might make me doubt if he was even real. That hasn’t happened. This has really opened up the most honest conversations I’ve had with God in my entire life, and I’ve been more assured of his presence because of it.
I am absolutely confused. I am fine one second, impatient the next. There are even times of searing anger towards Him. I’ve been so angry that I wondered if other Christians’ opinions of me would change if they knew about it. All these things have resulted in me having honest conversations with God. I’ve been able to celebrate when He moves in other areas of my life. And, man, he has moved in other areas of my life.
The last time I posted, I was excited about going to get the baby girl. I also said that any semblance of control is an illusion. I had no idea how true that statement was. Although it’s been painful, I wouldn’t have it any other way. I know how much I screw up things when I start to take the reigns. God will bring her home to be with us; I have no doubt. With each conversation and question and prayer, God is asking me to lean on him more, rely on his grace, breathe deep while He does the work.
This is a hard thing, but if I’m going to say “Jesus is the most important thing in my life,” I need to mean it. If it’s not put to the test once in a while, I can’t really mean it. So, I’ll wait. It’s not always easy, but I have a feeling it’s going to be worth it.
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Russ Polsgrove
Russ and Anna have been married for 5 years. Even as friends, before dating or marriage, they shared with one another that they each wanted to adopt. After marrying in May 2005, talk of adoption slowly entered its way into their conversations. Russ, working as a youth pastor, and Anna, working as a teacher and at a girl’s group home, saw the need more than ever for children to have loving, safe homes. After coming to this realization, they chose to begin the adoption process to adopt a little girl from Ethiopia who they have named Lucy. You can follow their journey and offer your support as they answer God’s call on their lives on their personal blog.
When we sought to adopt the first time, it was simply for two reasons. First, we felt God had blessed us with abundant love, home and opportunities and we wanted to share that with another child. I never really foresaw having four children, but we wholeheartedly felt God was calling us to that blessing. Second, God’s word clearly calls believers to take care of orphans. We felt that adoption was a pretty cool way to do that. Yes, I know those reasons are not “acceptable” within part of the adoption community, but those were our reasons. Whatever arguments you may have for or against our initial inducements, all I can say is, there is absolutely no way we could love our little Joseph more, and under no circumstance do we consider him a “charity chase” and under no circumstance do we believe he should “appreciate all we’ve done” anymore than our other (biological) children.
Rewind a couple years … we simply wanted to adopt an orphan in need. We knew so very little. As embarrassingly naive as it sounds, I thought ‘an orphan is an orphan’, and how can adopting one be bad? Perhaps we knew just a tad more than that, but not much. I thank God everyday He protected us, because quite honestly one agency with an absolutely terrible ethical reputation was on our “list of considers.”
So, we took the leap, and we sent in our application and began our process to adopt a baby boy from Ethiopia.
It was really then that I began to learn. I joined yahoo boards (several of them) and started reading blogs (lots of them) of families who had adopted from Ethiopia. I read lots of happily-ever-after stories. I also read several horror stories about agencies recruiting babies from hungry, poor (but probably really good) mothers off the streets of Ethiopia. I read of agencies lying to families, selling adoption as something temporary or as a coparenting type of situation. I read scary stories about one of the agencies we had considered, and wondered how in the world I could have been so ignorant. It is what it is, and I’m not proud. All I can say is, you don’t know what you don’t know, until you know it. I will never judge a parent who (unknowingly) signed on with an unethical adoption agency. It easily could have been me. I suppose it’s what you then do with that knowledge that matters.
Fast forward to now. . . we are in the midst of our second adoption, an adoption we did not initiate but one we are no less excited about. This time, however, could not be more different. Somewhere along the way, I misplaced my rose colored glasses. I now question everything, and want to challenge every truth that is thrown my way. I play a mental tennis match between God’s call to care for orphans, how to do that best, family preservation, supply and demand for healthy babies, and what that means for defending the rights of the oppressed. I wonder what was done for my sons’ birth father. If he had been given some assistance, could he parent these boys? My agency never considers “poverty alone to justify international adoption.” I want to know, specifically, what they do to back up their policy. What I blindly accepted as “good form” the first go round, I want details and specifics and proofs of this go round.
I have nagging questions that never existed before. “Did someone approach MB’s dad about adoption, or was it his idea?” “Did he truly understand adoption was forever, that he may never see his son again?” “Did our meeting with Joseph and MB’s dad and the pictures we sent look so appealing, so wealthy, that we somehow convinced him to relinquish another child?” For the record, I have no basis for these questions and I’m pretty sure I know the answers. I have no doubts about our first adoption. I consider our agency to be very ethical and I have no reason, through our experiences or experiences of lots of fellow families, to believe otherwise. However, since I misplaced my rose colored glasses along the way, I do not believe any adoption agency to be perfect, to be above reproach, above questioning.
In all this muddied water we call orphan care, I believe we can rely on One truth. God’s truth says “religion that God our Father accepts as pure and faultless is this: to look after orphans and widows in their distress” (James 1:27), and His word says to “defend the weak and the fatherless; uphold the cause of the poor and oppressed” (Psalm 82:3). I still believe adoption to be a good thing. However, to consider the needs of the weak and fatherless, the poor and oppressed, we must realize that sometimes those categories overlap overwhelmingly to our birth families. What do we do with that? What do we do for them?
If I could say one thing to someone who feels called to orphan care, to someone considering adoption, it would be to struggle . . . to research, research, research, ask questions, even the hard ones, and listen to the answers, even the hard ones, even the bitter we-had-a-horrible-experience ones. You don’t necessarily have to agree with their conclusion, but listen to their experiences and perhaps heed some of their warnings. Our children, our children’s birth families, our children’s nation – they are worth this struggle. In the end, seek knowledge, truth, and the Father’s wisdom.
What does the Lord require of you? To act justly and to love mercy and to walk humbly with your God. Micah 6:8
How I have longed to write this post! So many times, I have stared at my sidebar where “Introduction” posts are listed. 1st, 2nd and 3rd unsuccessful adoptions. Dare I write a “1st successful adoption” post, or would there be a 4th? I decided to wait.
Here I sit, one day after finalization, and the world is such a lovelier place! It is with such peace and joy that I am writing! Sometimes, you don’t realize how heavy your heart has been until you can finally sigh in relief. I truly thought finalization would just make the legal reality match the reality of our hearts, that we are, indeed, a family. But, I have such relief and feel so much lighter today! Such sweet joy!
Last night, I couldn’t fall asleep. My usual practice at this point is to picture Christ on the cross while I say my prayers. But, when I summoned the mental image, what appeared was different. Christ was resurrected. I almost cried right there in bed lying next to my husband and baby.
Thank you, Jesus, my Lord, my Redeemer, and my Savior, for resurrecting my cross. Thank you for bringing our hopes and dreams to a reality. Thank you for bringing new life from our wounds and for not sending our love back void. Thank you for this precious, beautiful, sweet baby girl. I am so not worthy, but I will rejoice in this precious gift with all my heart.
It’s difficult to know where to begin Abigail’s story. Is it with infertility? The previous adoption that she came on the heals of? Or just the moment we laid eyes on her at the hospital? I’ve come to understand that it’s all of the above and more. It began with loving my brothers and seeing my parents openness to life. It’s babysitting and learning to nurture. It’s loving my husband and seeing our babies in his eyes. It’s in the Lord who “chose us in Him before the foundation of the world” (Ephesians 1:4). It’s in love!
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Precious Abigail,
I have longed for you for as long as I can remember! Your Daddy and I dreamed of holding you, loving you, teaching you and being with you since we knew we were going to get married! You have always been a part of our lives, before we even knew your name. It took us a long time to get to you, and parts of the journey were very hard, but you were so worth the wait.
Daddy and I wanted our family to grow, and we were hoping to adopt a special baby. Three different times we thought we’d found our baby, but it did not work out. Each time we were heart-broken and prayed for the strength to trust the Lord and try again. A few days after our third heartache, we went to our social worker for help. “How can we get through this?” we asked. “How can we try again? It is so painful when your hopes and dreams end so abruptly.” Ms. Anne listened to the Lord and asked us to be very brave. She told us that even though we were sad about Caeden Michael, there was another Tummy Mama who wanted us to be the baby’s family.
We left that day knowing that a baby girl was going to be born in a month and that we were hoping to be her parents. We were so scared, but the Lord gave us the courage we needed to try again. “Take courage!” Jesus whispered to my heart again and again. I kept picturing a beautiful curly haired girl, and my heart would dare to hope again. I begged the Lord that this time we could be the baby’s parents.
On September 12, 2010, Ms. Anne called us. “The baby girl was born! Can you come to the hospital?” We jumped in the car and started driving before we realized we had forgotten our camera! Quick! Back to the house and out again to see YOU!
You were SO BEAUTIFUL. You were so AWAKE! You didn’t want to miss ANYTHING! You were looking all around and stared at your Daddy. He stared right back at you- totally in love! We held you and loved you as long as we could before we had to go back home. The whole way home I looked at all the pictures and show them to your Daddy. We could not get enough of you!!! When we got home I dared to cut the tags off the girl clothes that we bought and washed them! I packed the diaper bag and moved the cradle from the guest bedroom closet into our room. Would there REALLY be a baby there soon? We were still so scared!
The next day we picked up breakfast and drove to the hospital. Daddy and your tummy mama’s friend went to get coffee in the hospital and your tummy mama and I got to talk and stare at you. She loves you SO much, Abigail. She was one hundred percent convinced she had the perfect family for you. She held you and cuddled you and kissed you- and then she handed you to me. We drove her home, and then we had you all to ourselves!
Ms. Leslie and Ms. Robin came to see you and we proudly showed off our new daughter!
The next morning, your Daddy had to do a few things, so I had you ALL TO MYSELF! I savored every moment and could not get enough of you. I stared and stared and stared at you. I could not believe I was in charge of feeding you and changing your diapers. I was in complete awe. This was the day we would take you HOME!!!!
But not before we got some bad news. Right before you were released from the hospital, we found out there was a legal technicality, and that you may not get to stay with us. I wanted to die. Never before have I been SO SCARED in my whole life. You were our daughter. We were totally and completely in love with you. It was with joyful and heavy hearts that we signed our papers and brought you home. It was the best and the worst week of my entire life. The best because YOU were HOME! OUR home!!! And we were MADE to be your parents! But it was the worst because we were TERRIFIED of losing you.
Grammie and Gabbie came to visit and they fell in love, too!! They stayed until Monday when Ms. Anne came. She knew more about our situation and we were able to breath more easily.
Months have gone by. You were Baptized into God’s family and adopted by the Lord! And now you’re officially ours! We are overwhelmed with gratitude to the Lord for trusting us with your care. We are in awe of the sacrifice it took to bring you to us. You are our living miracle. You are our tangible reality of hope. You are our daughter, and we love you with all our hearts.
With all our love
Mommy and Daddy
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To anyone who’s been hurt and is afraid to try again,
I could have sobbed. The kind where you make crazy, uncontrollable noises. The kind where your face makes some unsightly expressions. The kind that gives you the worst headache ever. But, I didn’t.
Right in the middle of the chaos of Chuck E. Cheese, I was watching my son being held by his birthmom. It was beautiful, awkward, and humbling all at the same time.
It was beautiful.
She was staring at him, and Max was staring right back at her. I could see the love she has for him and I would love to know what is going on in her mind. I will never know all that she thinks and dreams about for our little Max, but I do know one thing. She loves him bad.
It was awkward.
There were times when I felt so insecure. I found myself being very guarded about what I told her in fear that one of my parenting choices would disappoint her. I need to get over that. It’s also hard to know how much to tell her. Does she want to know that he smiles now when I go to his crib in the morning? Or that he’s especially fond of “Merle the Monkey” on his activity mat?
It was humbling.
It hit me. She gave her son to us. Talk about feeling unworthy. I wish everyone could know what that feels like.
I wanted Max to smile for her. He didn’t. The entire 2 hours we were together, he didn’t crack one little grin. I was so bummed. I wanted to give her that gift. As we were heading to our cars, Max woke up and she wanted to take just one more picture. She leaned down to him and said, “I love you,” and he gave her a huge toothless smile. I’m pretty sure she did a little dance.
I think we were both very satisfied with how well the evening went, and we’re ready to do it again soon.
Oh yeah. When I got in the car, I sobbed.
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Abby Akers
Abby has been married to her college sweetheart, Wes, for 7 years. After 5 years of infertility, they began the journey of domestic adoption. Blessed with a (more than they had planned) open adoption experience, they were able to witness the birth of their first child, Max, last summer. Wes and Abby are trusting God as he leads them in their relationship with Max’s birth family.
by Matthew Kelly). 
