A few months after bringing Matthew home from Korea, I began my search. After a while, I thought that things were supposed to be perfect between us, and they weren
One Year Ago Today
One year ago today, I was checking my email like always. Some emails were immediately deleted, other’s were read and responded to, and other’s were read and simply ignored because there really wasn’t anything to say. And then, there was this email…
I forwarded this email to Kevin with this statement: “Kind of random, but I got this email today from an agency that I got information from about three years ago. Isn’t he cute?!”
To which he responded:
“Yeh. Keith. That’s funny.”
Later that evening, when he came home, I let him know that I was very serious about learning more about this little boy named “Keith.” He did not argue, only knew that I would not stop until I was certain that we were not supposed to bring him home. This was on a Wednesday; we had the weekend to decide if we wanted to pursue this. By the time Monday morning came around, I had heard the Lord tell me, “I’m about to do something big, are you going to be a part of it?” It was His way of telling me, “You are such an insignificant part of this whole thing, My work will be done whether you are here or not, but I am going to let you come along if you are willing.” That was it; that’s all I needed. This wasn’t about me; it wasn’t even about the cutest little Chinese boy I had ever seen. It was about God, and only God.
Here we are a year later, and we have filled out and signed TONS of paperwork, travelled to China for 2 weeks, and had and recovered from 2 surgeries. I’m not going to pretend that it has been easy, far from it. There have been a lot of tears, frustration, even anger. There has been lost sleep, lost freedoms, and occasionally lost tempers. But, in the middle of all the adjustments and sacrifices, we have gained a son and become a family of four! We’ve got a long way to go, we’re not perfect (never will be), and we still struggle more than we would like to admit. I often think back to the words the Lord gave to me that weekend one year ago. And, sometimes, that is the only thing that keeps me going. It not about me; it’s not about Xander; it’s not about the McNeelys in Texas. It is about God, for God, because of God!
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I’ve been married for 9 years to a laid back and loving guy. We have virtual twins, a bio daughter and an adopted son born in Fujian, China, who are just 6 1/2 weeks apart. Currently, our “twins” are 2 years old, so “share,” “listen,” and “please stop throwing a fit” are the most common things said in our house. We crave sleep, and coffee is a must. But, most of all, we love the Lord and desire to follow His plan for our lives.
Bring Me Hope Giveaway for WAGI
Have you checked out this page featuring ministries who have taken on the cause of helping orphans and encouraging adoption worldwide?
One of the organizations listed there is Bring Me Hope. Bring Me Hope works with hundreds of volunteers every year to deliver love and encouragement to Chinese orphans. Their mission is to meet the Chinese orphan
Hannah’s Story Review
The movie opens with the image of a young Chinese girl with hair hanging down in her eyes, flushed cheeks, a runny nose, and tears streaming down her face.
And, I
Parenting Backwards
Raising a child from birth to adulthood seems like a cycle of teaching attachment and then teaching how to let go. First, you try to get a newborn to attach to a breast for feeding then after a few months, a few years for some, you ween them off of the breast and onto a bottle. The process starts all over again. Attach to the bottle then ween to a sippy cup and so on. Just think about it: we use things to comfort and nourish and soothe our children just so later on we can teach them that they will have to grow up and move on from them. A blankie, a pacifier, a crib, a toy, a home, etc. It’s a cycle of teaching them to attach and let go because that is what life is all about.
Well, parenting an adopted child feels completely opposite of that to me. I feel like I am having to parent backwards. Instead of teaching Jaydn to attach and let go, I am trying to teach her to let go and attach, let go of her defense mechanisms and the tools she has been using to survive her almost animalistic institutionalized life up until now and attach to us at the heart level, let go of her fears of abandonment and sense of self-sufficiency and attach to us, her loving family who she can trust and feel safe with because we aren’t going anywhere.
It is really hard to parent this way after years of doing it the other way. Call me selfish, but I enjoy the times when Jaxon and Jovie are playing in the other room while I do my quiet time or dishes or whatever I need to do for a little while. I have taught them to trust a babysitter or a Sunday school teacher so that Nathan and I can have a date, or I can enjoy worship with our church body. Teaching even toddler-aged kids to let go has its perks! But, parenting backwards is a conscious sacrifice of those perks. With Jaydn on my lap 24/7, I can only catch bits of the sermon between feeding her crackers or keeping an eye on her as she destroys my notes with a pen. Nathan and I don’t go on dates. Dishes, quiet times, and whatever else I need to do will just have to wait until she is asleep at night. And, to be honest, by then, I’m too tired, so it simply doesn’t get done.
Another example is last night. We went to a worship and music ministry party. We couldn’t get a babysitter because it’s too early in Jaydn’s development to leave her with anyone else so Nathan and I drove separately just in case I would need to leave because of the kids. So, as Nathan wandered around meeting and greeting people he will be working so closely with in the coming years, I sat on a couch with a 40lb 2-year-old squishing my face at an almost painful strength, knotting my hair with her forceful fingers, and then jerking herself backwards at random times with brut force almost breaking my arms as I attempt to catch her each time. A sweet new friend offered to watch her for a minute while I ventured to the chocolate fountain, and I jumped at the chance. “OH! YES! Kid freedom!,” I thought to myself. I returned from the other room a few minutes later, knowing I wasn’t really “supposed” to do that, but Lord knows I needed it (both the break and the chocolate-covered fruit). Then, it was back to my lap she came. I kept thinking about how the other two kids were upstairs, entertaining themselves, and what a gift that truly had become to me as one tired mommy. I went upstairs to join them and sat on the floor while Jaydn would get up long enough to grab a toy and then plop onto my lap again. The process of her seeing me as different than every other woman in the room is an arduous one.
Please know that I am not complaining. Actually, I am learning out loud. I am learning how to parent someone who has no experiential reason to trust/love me. I am learning how to walk through every painful door of her self-sufficiency and place Christ’s redemption story there. I am not Jaydn’s mommy because I had to be. I chose this role out of obedience to God’s command through Scripture. So, as in all things I experience in my life where I feel ill-equipped and unable, I believe that God has placed me here to be more reliant on Him. I know He can parent forwards, backwards, upwards, downwards, sideways and upside down–He is The Everlasting Father. My prayer is that through all of this, He will also teach me how to let go (and let God) and teach Jaydn how to attach.
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I have been married going on 8 years to a worship pastor, a rock star, and the most involved and intentional dad I have ever seen! Together, we have the privilege of parenting three amazing children (Jaxon- 5 1/2, Jovie, 2 1/2, and Jaydn 2). Jaydn recently came to us through adoption from Uganda, Africa. We just moved to Little Rock, Arkansas, but I am a west coast girl at heart. I enjoy photography, adventure recreation, and teaching high-school students about the most important decision they could ever make: to follow Jesus.
Her Inheritance
“And I want Mommy to have a baby in her belly,” I overheard her say as I was walking up the stairs this morning. I stopped in the hallway outside her room just long enough to hear “but sometimes it takes a long long time for babies to come. You have to pray and pray and pray. And wait.”
My daughter delivered a five year-old summary of her mommy’s life.
Nate had been talking with them about Zechariah and Elizabeth. And, to Eden, Elizabeth was another one of those women – like Sarah and Mary … or her mommy – whose story reminded her that pregnancy must come at the hands of a miraculous God.
I’d never told her I want to be pregnant.
She wasn’t my “second choice”, and I didn’t trust her young mind to later process my desire alongside of her own story with a healthy perspective. She was too young to catch wind of her Mommy’s pain.
The first time I remember her mentioning it was after a playgroup where all the women, but two of us, were pregnant. Children built towers, played instruments and read books around their mothers who shared life-stories. Naturally the topic of pregnancy came up. And my little one, who has not yet lost the hyper-vigilance that is a survival mechanism for many orphans, absorbed every word.
Later, in her prayers, she asked God to “send a baby to her mommy’s belly.”
It initially hurt my heart.
I’ve been preparing to field questions and observations about how our family is different for years. I just didn’t expect the first of them to be about my personal scarlet letter. I anticipated that she’d one day feel the pang of our skins’ different colors and her unique entrance into our family, but I didn’t suspect she’d have this other difference on her radar.
While the things that make our family different don’t seem to be a struggle for her now, they may one day become more than observations. I could call it maternal instinct that makes me want to protect her from every potential hurt, every pain. But my heavenly Father’s instincts were different.
His protection came not from avoiding that which would cause pain, but for offering His companionship as I walked through it. The valley of the shadow of death is land claimed by the Father. It is a holy place.
For me. And for my daughter.
At five, she has lived years I want to erase, but that God will redeem. And then, as one grafted in to this family, she has inherited new opportunities for pain.
But the ground I’ve taken in my life and heart, as it relates to processing my lack, doesn’t need to be won over, again, by her.
Her inheritance comes (from God) through me. She is my legacy. What I win in my lifetime — in terms of a hopeful perspective on all He has allowed and joy in the midst of “setback” — she gets to live out.
Her words to Nate this morning were not pain-filled. Sure, something in her – I’m not quite sure even why – wants her mommy to be like the other mommy’s with babies in their bellies. She longs, in the way a five year-old has capacity to. But what she has come to know as commonplace Christianity has taken me years to receive:
You don’t always get what you want, but in the face of delay, you pray and pray and pray. And wait. Sometimes for a long, long time.
And in the meantime you worship the One who holds beauty.
My highest aim as a parent is not to try and protect my children from all that might befall them, but to, instead, seek the healing touch of Jesus in every area of my own life, knowing that they will inherit what I leave behind. The “unfinished” will be theirs to finish or to pass along. And those ashes subjected to beauty, will remain their crown.
At five, Eden doesn’t wonder if God will still be who she believes Him to be if, next month, Mommy isn’t pregnant. “God is good, He is so so good to me,” she sings as her bare feet dangle from the potty.
Bracing myself against the hits I fear might come from the Father is a distant memory. After many years of having my soil tilled and turned, the ground is supple to receive the God of Hope.
And because of His great mercy in my life, to save me from my fearfully expectant heart, my daughter receives new land on which to plant.
My freedom won is her inheritance to build upon.
The fullness of God I pray almost daily for in my own life, isn’t just my platform for the next age. It’s hers too.
And her daughter’s.
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Sara and her husband, Nate, have been married for nine years and brought home their two children from Ethiopia last year. They recently started the adoption process for two more from Uganda. They have a heart for prayer and to see people touched by the love of Jesus. What started as a blog chronicling the ups and downs of adoption has become a passion for Sara. You can read more of her musings on orphans, walking with God through pain and perplexity . . . and spinach juice at Every Bitter Thing Is Sweet.
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Beauty From Ashes
Ashes: The remains from something destroyed.
The enemy: Referred to as the “destroyer” {1 Cor. 10:10, Ps. 17:4, Job 15:21, Ex. 12:23}.
Sin: Leads to destruction/death {James 1:15, Romans, Due. 24:16}.
Many of us have seen first hand the effects the destroyer and sin have on children.
Their lives become mere ashes.
If you would have told me 5 years ago {when we first started adopting} just how far the destroyer would go to destroy children to ashes, I would not have believed you.
Now I know differently.
I understand the lengths the enemy will go.
I know that sin, even in the life of a child, truly will lead to destruction/death.
My heart has been broken.
I have read about {and experienced first-hand} 5 year olds in bondage to,
sexual sin
idolatry
thievery
deception.
I have watched as my own 5-year-old daughter attempted to eat out of a garbage heap {despite the fact that she has never known hunger}.
BUT.
We have a promise, mamas.
One that is much, much bigger than the plans of the destroyer.
One that breaks the bonds of sin.
JESUS.
The Spirit of the Lord God is upon me, because the Lord has anointed me to bring good news to the poor; he has sent me to bind up the brokenhearted, to proclaim liberty to captives, and the opening of prison to those who are bound, to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor, and the day of vengeance of our God; to comfort all who mourn, to give them beauty from ashes, the oil of gladness instead of mourning, the garment of praise instead of a faint spirit, that they may be called the oaks of righteousness, the planting of the Lord, that He may be glorified. Isa. 61:1-3
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Zane and Summer McCourtney met and married in 2001. They have been ministering in Uganda since 2004, first at a Bible college and church planting and now working with the unreached people in Northern Uganda, a region of the country devastated by 25 years of rebel war. They
You Have Enough Kids
Over the years, starting even when we had just two kids, I have heard statements (from friends, family, and strangers alike) such as
She’s ours
Dear Mum, Dad, brothers and sisters:
I’m very happy to hear from you and receive your pictures. I love all the toys you send to me. Thank you Mum and Dad. Hope to see you soon as possible. I’ve been working hard with English. When we meet each other, we can make simple conversation.I hope to get a electronic dictionary which can help me to study English easily. I’ve been dreaming of becoming a member of your family and start a new life in the States. In the end, Merry Christmas and Happy New Year.
Miss all of you, Mum, Dad, Brothers, Sisters.
I can’t even begin to tell you all the emotions I am feeling right now. The idea of this beautiful teenager living in my home. My daughter, who we don’t know. But, there is something about this adoption that goes beyond my understanding. The Lord bound us together; this is His plan.
I’m not foolish. I understand all the risks, all the issues that can occur. But, I see a joy in her that I did not see before. The first photos we saw early spring 2009, when we were still waiting for Asher to come home. She
This Christmas: Why Christmas Stinks Sometimes
It was the third day in a row or maybe the fourth. I don