Attachment Archives - Page 5 of 17

July 10, 2014June 28, 2014

H. AR. D. {Summer Rewind}

This special season of adjustment for our family, a birthday was kind of a big deal to get through. For Keturah, it probably held some special challenges, but nothing that she didn’t make it through with grace. She’s adjusted to the big sister role beautifully.

It’s the mama in this equation that’s struggling.

Patrick’s presence at Urbana undoubtedly added to how difficult the day was for me in degree, but I somehow think that what I found hard would have been hard had he been here too.

“Hard?” you ask, “how was celebrating Keturah’s birthday hard, exactly?”

Now before I go on to tell you exactly what I mean by hard, let me first state that I share this side of my story not only to acknowledge the less-than-picture-perfect moments of our lives, but more specifically to share some of those moments of our lives post-adoption. I’ve been honest about adoption issues here before. It’s not easy.

I also desire to make perfectly clear that most of the ‘issues’ I speak of lie with me and not Marilla. She’s got her own issues, to be sure, but what I’m writing about today concerns my personal response to the reality of parenting an adopted toddler at this stage in the game.

Please do not mistake my self-disclosure as anti-adoption sentiment. It’s not. I’m being honest too, when I say that I love Marilla, and would absolutely adopt her all over again.

Okay, now to spell it out. Celebrating Keturah’s birthday was:

H. AR. D.

H — Harried, but Holding it together.

I started off the day just feeling pulled in too many directions.

My desire was to celebrate Keturah’s birthday by making her the center of attention. To date in our family life, it has proven to be a reasonable expectation that the birthday girl or boy gets mom and dad’s attention, and is generally given preferential treatment. Because that is our custom, the non-birthday child has enjoyed taking part in this celebration, knowing that his or her day is coming.

Marilla, being new to our family, and over the last four months being the primary recipient of most preferential treatment, has no concept of what it means to celebrate a sibling. Why didn’t she get to blow out the candles? She doesn’t know that she’s got a day of her own marked on a different month of the calendar, and doesn’t realize that there is no injustice, and no threat to her position in preferring jiejie for a day.

Marilla needed explanation and guidance through every element of Keturah’s party. This kind of teaching opportunity I would have been glad to seize during another friend’s birthday celebration—staying close by, whispering instructions and affirmations into her ear as we navigated new territory together—but on Keturah’s birthday, Marilla’s needs just served to make me feel pulled in the wrong direction . . . away from my birthday girl.

I ended up with Marilla on my hip or at my side for the majority of the morning (while administrating party games, and barking all kinds of orders at my poor sister), when I would have preferred to draw Keturah in under my arm. The presence of other moms and my sister’s help (she cleaned up at least one accident while I got a wet little girl to the potty), allowed things to go as smoothly as they could given my own internal tug-of-war, and I managed to keep these growing emotions under control for the morning.

By Marilla’s naptime, though, as my sister manned the older two over lunch, I continued to struggle.

AR — Angry & Resentful.

With the party behind us, I thought that I’d be able to have some quiet moments with Keturah—maybe talking about her party, maybe playing with a few of her presents. An over-tired Marilla required a nap time bottle from me, while my sister manned lunch and party-clean-up for the older two.

I’m ashamed to admit it, but I did not do well with Marilla’s nap time needs. I felt she’d robbed me of special time with Keturah, and I took it out on her. I was impatient as she took her bottle. When she had trouble settling (and remember, she’d spent the morning being overstimulated) I just felt angry. I demanded that she “relax” and “stop moving around,” and “go to sleep”. I resented her presence and her needs because they seemed maliciously in direct opposition to my own desires.

I did eventually get to leave a sleeping Marilla’s side, but I must have carried that anger and resentment along with me. It only escalated when a premature wake up dictated that I excuse myself from listening to Keturah’s pretend play with her stuffed animals in her kitty-cat box to tend to Marilla.

D — Desperate.

I don’t like to admit to anger or resentment. Or desperation. But I’m glad that the range of intense emotions that I felt on that afternoon lead me to that place of admitting that it was so hard that it hurt, and that I just couldn’t hold it together on my own.

As I rocked an unhappy and over-tired two-year-old in my arms and desperately prayed aloud over her, she finally settled again. At the end of all of my own resources, I crawled to the opposite side of our bed, and just cried my heart out to heaven. No words. Just tears.

It’s uncomfortable to be desperate. And I loathe the process of getting there. I hate that I don’t learn enough from these cycles: holding-it-together –> anger & resentment. I want to be living there in that final place of desperation that’s so inevitable at this particularly challenging stage of life.

It’s in the desperate moments that I realize how high and unreasonable my own expectations are, and how it’s not my job to meet every need of each my children all of the time—however much I’d like to.

So, yes, Keturah’s birthday was really, really hard. That’s the rest of the story. The honest truth.

Funny how that stuff doesn’t end up in the birthday pictures, somehow, but I would hate to forget it.

___________________________

Kim Smith & Marilla - Asia Ramblin — Kim Smith

Kim met and married her husband Patrick while living and working in Asia in 2004. Their first two children, a son and a daughter, both born in Beijing, came along shortly after. Their adopted daughter, Marilla, was born in Henan province in 2010, then joined their family through the China adoption program as a two-year-old. After fourteen years of serving in China, Kim and the Smith family repatriated to Texas just this last fall. She formerly blogged about their lives overseas at Asiaramblin.

July 3, 2014June 28, 2014

Abandonment {Summer Rewind}

Abandonment.

Conscious or unconscious, it is a fear that plagues the adopted child.

Jesus is teaching me, gently and quietly, about this fear and how it takes shape in my own son. I don’t like to think about it, because I want to believe that my son knows he is safe, secure and loved. I don’t like the thought of him feeling afraid or insecure. But the reality is, his beautiful life’s story has a fear woven into it that I may never be able to truly comprehend. And I pray that someday the love of Jesus reaches deep within and heals its scars.

Sometimes I think people believe that when a child is adopted young, that they don’t remember. We think that they happily move from the arms of a grieving birth mother into the arms of a loving adoptive family and never know the difference. And we think that surely after they have been with their adoptive family for a while and seem happy and adjusted, everything must be just roses and butterflies.

My son’s tears tell me otherwise.

We have been incredibly blessed with a beautiful and smooth transition as our son entered our family from his foster family. He didn’t even cry when we took him from the adoption agency’s office back to our hotel. As a matter of fact, he fell asleep in my arms as we rode in the taxi, captivated by our dark-haired angel. At first, the nights were hardest. He would wake up multiple times, screaming and crying. But as time went on, the nights got easier and the days were full of laughter and joy.

He transitioned well into preschool, crying when I left him but stopping quickly after and enjoying the day with his classmates. Leaving him in the church nursery has gotten easier. He has stayed away from us overnight with grandparents. In most ways, he is a completely normal toddler- fully adjusted and secure.

But sometimes.

Sometimes I see the look of panic rise in his eyes when I begin to walk away, even just up the stairs in our home, that can only come from a deep place of hurt and fear. In those moments, he isn’t just a typical toddler wanting his mommy. He is a child who has been abandoned by all things familiar and safe and is overcome by fear of it happening again.

I’ll be honest. Sometimes it is exhausting.

There are days when it seems especially close to the surface and it doesn’t take much to set him off. Being a mom of three, I can’t always just drop everything and hold him. But I am learning that convenience is secondary to fulfilling the need my son has to know he is safe. Loved. Secure.

I know that as he grows, we will continue to deal with the scars left by his past. There may be emotions and situations that are hard to understand. But I am thankful for the grace of God that gives us wisdom and discernment in those situations. And I fully believe in the power of Jesus Christ that can transform a heart that has been abandoned into a heart that finds its complete security in Him. Because, after all, Jesus knows. He was abandoned too.

“About three in the afternoon Jesus cried out in a loud voice, ‘Eli, Eli, lema sabacthani?’ (which means ‘My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?'” Matthew 27:46

Oh, beautiful Savior, that He would endure abandonment from God the Father, just so he could feel and understand the pain my son feels. Jesus knows.

If you are another adoptive parent dealing with the grief of your child, take heart! You are not alone. Jesus Himself understands the pain of your child and is able to give you the strength you need to love them through their pain.

Maybe you yourself have buried the fear of abandonment deep down inside of you from a past experience that sometimes takes shape in fear. Be encouraged today that Jesus understands. And He can heal that pain, remove the fear and replace it with the security of knowing you are His. Nothing can change that.

Today I am so very thankful for a Savior who loves my son so much more deeply than I could ever dream of.

And I wait in hopeful expectation of the day when my son realizes that he was never truly abandoned, but that His Heavenly Father was with him all along.

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Heather and her husband Derick stay busy raising their two biological daughters and their son who came to their family from South Korea in 2012. They are youth pastors at their local church and Heather is a director of a private Christian preschool. When she is not working or spending time loving on her family, you can find her sharing coffee with friends, writing, making music, or getting creative [messy] in the kitchen. You can follow their family’s journey at www.ourheart-n-seoul.com.

June 26, 2014June 26, 2014

Parenting Backwards {Summer Rewind}

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.

________________________________________

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 came to us through adoption from Uganda, Africa. We 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.

June 23, 2014

Pursuing Joy. Choosing Hope.

Hello Friends. It has been too long.

If you follow me on Instagram, you know that we’ve been experiencing some tough things around here. And to be honest, blogging about the joy in our days just didn’t feel right, when I’ve spent most of the last 2 weeks just trying to remember how to breathe.

But I’m here now.

For Me.
For You.
For Moving Forward.And now it’s time to share.
{breathe in, breathe out}

Our oldest son was recently admitted to an inpatient behavioral health program. He will be there for an indefinite amount of time.
We do not know when or if he will be able to return home.

{breathe in breathe out}

We saw this coming.

The writing was on the wall.

But that has not made it any easier.
It is a nightmare.{I’m going to take a moment to ask you to, please, not try to minimize this event by pointing out that he was adopted & that he had a better life with us than he would have other wise. HE’S MY SON. The End.}

Before today, you knew the basics about my lil’ fam:

I am married to the man of my dreams.

I am the mother of 5 boys.

We had our oldest 2 through fostercare adoption.

We had our youngest 3 biologically.

We like to celebrate.

That is all I let you see.

Because, that is what I want to remember.

I want to live joy, choose joy, remember joy.

But that is going to change.

We are now in the midst of a journey that will not be forgotten.

A journey that demands to be noticed.

And joy is harder to find.

And hope is a constant choice.
{breathe in, breathe out}

So…
Why am I sharing our family secrets on the “big world wide web”?

Why am I telling you his story?

Because I know what it feels like to be alone.

Because I know I am not alone.

Because while this is his story…it is my story too.

So I’m gonna get back to blogging.
Pursuing Joy in our days and documenting it as much as I can.

And every once in a while I’m gonna go here.

I’m gonna let you see inside the not so pretty parts of these days…because even in these dark spaces, hope can be found…and how can I not share that with you?

I will NEVER give up Hope.
Never Ever.

“For we have this HOPE as an anchor for the soul…FIRM & SECURE…”
Hebrews 16:9

I took the above photo’s of our son & his room the day before his latest episode…the day before he was admitted to the inpatient program…I am not sure why I wandered up there for the little photo shoot…but I’m glad I did…I want to remember the little boy in the middle of all of this…because at the end of the day he is just a little boy…a little boy with a broken heart…and I want you to remember that too.

_______________________________

Hello! I’m Tracey Lynne…and I couldn’t be happier to be here today!

So a few tid bits about me:

I am married to the man of my dreams

I am a fost/adopt, bio mom to 5 boys

I am a part time photographer in South Jersey

I am girly

I am tough

I play in the mud

I catch frogs

I love to celebrate…anything & everything.

I REALLY REALLY like taking pictures

I like pretty things

I like to create

I do not like to do the dishes

I do not like to do the laundry

I like high heels

I like dresses

I have tattoos {3 to be exact}

I love a party

I love decorating

I DO NOT LIKE SPIDERS

Pink is my favorite color

I love Jesus

I love my family

I am blessed

Hidden Cupcakes (my little space on the internet) has been where I celebrate the “happy moments”in my days. The moments I want to remember for always…

{I like to think my happy moments may inspire some happy moments for you…}

Nobody’s life is perfect. Mine is no exception. And recently I’ve opened up a little more letting you see some if the “beautiful ick” that mixes with our happy. Still, when I “look back” I want the happy memories to outweigh the not-so-happy ones. It’s a choice…

June 9, 2014June 3, 2014

Why Google Can Never Be a Mom

Let’s be honest. Google is pretty great. It can give you directions, show you photos and sort through billions of facts to deliver the information you want. Its so awesome it is both a noun and a verb. There are nearly 6,000,000 Google searches a day. One of the most common questions people type into Google is “What is the meaning of life?”.

I’m not nearly as smart as Google, but I imagine what people are really asking is “What is the meaning of my life?”. When you type it into Google all kinds of quotes, articles and opinion websites pop up. Data to sort through for days. And yet, that doesn’t really answer the question people are asking.

Rewind a few weeks…

I recently returned from a trip to Burundi. This small country is nestled in the heart of Africa between Rwanda and Tanzania. Currently, my family is in the middle of adopting two children from there. One evening when I was organizing all the things I had to bring with me, I watched a film called Closure. (If you are interested in adoption, I highly recommend it.)

It is a documentary about a trans-racial adoptee, Angela, who searches for her birth family. As someone who is adopting I was struck by her search for identity. Her adoptive family was incredible and joined her in the hunt for her biological family. There was one scene that stood out in particular.

Angela was using Google to hunt down information on her family. And Google was giving her answers, but she was looking for more than facts – she was looking for people.

Fast forward to last week in Africa…

I was sitting in a shelter surrounded by orphans. A little girl who was 5 shared my seat as I listened to the nun across the table talk about the kids who were in their care. She was sharing the facts and stats of all the children there – how old they were, their medical history, how many are available for adoption…

The children in the room were not very interested in the stats and data on their lives. They were focused on this one particular nun who tickled them, looked them straight in the eye and snuggled them while whispering something in their ears. I don’t know what she was whispering, but it sure made them all smile.

so happy to be in Africa

I couldn’t put my finger on it at the moment, but sitting in that room I started thinking of Angela from the documentary. Later that night I sat under my mosquito net and processed out the day. That is when I realized what the connection was.

The similarity between Angela and the children in those shelters is that they didn’t want facts or data. Angela could Google a million personality quizzes to help her shape her identity or search online for her missing family. These kids in Burundi have information in their files which gives a brief glimpse of where they have come from.

However, this information is not what these children are craving. I saw it watching them interact with the nuns. They want people to look into their eyes and really see them. They want a voice to speak their value out loud. Someone to tell them what they are great at and help them dream into what they could become.

For all the information that is out there – personality quizzes, scholarly articles, personal medical histories – there is no substitute for an actual person looking you in the eye and telling you why you matter. It is what everyone craves and I recognized it in the little eyes all around me.

While Google can spit out loads of resources and facts, it can never be a mom. It can never hold a hand, sing an original song or squeeze into a toddler bed to snuggle a sick kid. Google can never really answer the most asked question in the world, “What is the meaning of my life?“.

women in Burundi

For the rest of my time in Africa, I thought about those children’s mothers. Many of them died from HIV or complications in childbirth. My imagination can’t comprehend how hard it must have been for them to realize that they would never have the chance to watch their babies grow up.

They would never get to tell them the story of how they were born, tell them the potential they see in them or share with them memories from their own childhood. Those mamas never got the chance to give their kids what they are longing for – identity.

I am reminded of the powerful privilege of motherhood. The ability we have to touch, speak and develop our kids is one not every woman is given. God has granted us the honor to speak identity into our kids. Who they are in Christ and who they are to us. It is a question the world is asking. Google may be smarter than us, but we have the answers.

_______________________________

Elizabeth is a church planter, speaker, writer and abolitionist. She lives in Texas with her husband and two kids. They are currently in the process of adopting siblings from Burundi. Her other hobbies include wasting time on social media, trying to remember where she parked her car & browsing Pinterest for DIY projects she will never actually make. You can visit her at Lark & Bloom or on Twitter @larkandbloom.

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Are you looking for an opportunity to go and serve orphans? Consider joining us from October 9th-19th for an opportunity to do significant work in the lives of both children and adults and prepare for life-change yourself in the process.

Visit The Sparrow Fund for more information!

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June 3, 2014June 3, 2014

Two Years In {Madly In Love}

I stir – barely. Two dark eyes stare at me and a little voice whimpers – Mommy, I had a bad dream that I lost my family. I lift him up, pull him close and in a moment, back to sleep.

It’s morning, but dark. I’m aware that there’s a child next to me, sleeping deeply, body twitching. I don’t even remember who it is. So I reach over and find the head – oh, that coarse hair belongs to no one but him. And I stay in bed, hand on him, bodies close, hearing our inhales and exhales.

A while later and I’m looking at him, that dark brown back, shoulders incredibly broad and strong, made for throwing and catching. And my thoughts catch up to me, and I’m taken back by my feelings, because I realize I’m madly in love.

Madly in love? See, love is a verb – and for nearly two years, two LONG years, I’ve been doing agape love. DOING love, and feeling grief. Doing love, and feeling exhaustion. DOING love and feeling hopelessness.

Agape love may be a verb, but madly in love, storge, is a feeling. And I was feeling it.

It’s that feeling I’ve felt with my infants, when I wanted to drench myself in their beauty and sweet scent, when I couldn’t snap enough pictures or share enough stories. But when rocking, a hug and a good-night kiss is met with snarls of THAT WAS TOO SHORT and then an hour of mad screaming, love is negate of feeling but instead pure obedience, unconditional, agape, following Christ, attempting to love as He loved, and and feeling my deep ineptitude the entire time.

I’ve wanted to adopt all my life, and I naively thought I would be able to mother children not born to me because of the affection I felt towards children who weren’t mine, how I could agape difficult campers during my many years at Royal Family Kids Camp. And I felt affection for him from the moment I met him, how could I not? But initial affection is not enough to carry a Mother through when it’s your son’s birthday and you wake up excited to celebrate him and he wakes up spitting in your face.

But it was that day, a month or two ago where I tenderly responded to defiance with You act so tough all the time but you’re just a little boy who needs his Mommy. His body softened, face perplexed, not knowing what to think. Up until now his Mom had felt threatened by those torrents of anger, by the non-stop arguing.

And then that night after an hour of non-stop arguing and I found those dark steeled eyes and I ask a sincere question: I wonder if right now you just need a bottle? He melts, literally collapses his body into mine, walls down now.

And in this past month he has come more and more to me – for affection, for hugs. Even when he’s angry I’ve noticed that he is willing to melt into my arms to calm himself down. Our nap time snuggles are long and sincere. And one nap as he fell into REM twitching I thought about my infants and how I would peel away from them once they were in REM sleep. And I realize we are both experiencing redemption – I am experiencing delight and joy in my son and he is feeling safe in his mothers’ arms – something we both had lost.

Joe comments how much this son loves me. And I realize – madly in love takes two – WE are madly in love. He storges me, and I storge him. Now as lovers do, madly in love is a feeling that ebbs and flows. He’s still a difficult child. I still lose my my patience.

I think these stories are crucial for adoptive parents to share. I think there is a great deal of pressure to have a “positive adoption story.” But the pain must be shared to give parents hope who are experiencing homelessness. And there are many, many more despairing adoptive parents than most people could ever imagine. But redemption is real, and praise God, it happens.

______________________

Jenny was just 15 when she felt God’s call to spend her life with foster care and adoption. Shortly thereafter, she started working for Royal Family Kids’ Camp and did so for the next 10 years, even asking her then boyfriend to join her at camp. Her vision became a shared vision and she married her best friend Joe in 2002. By 2012 they had two children ages 4 and 6 and were planning on fostering babies and toddlers. But instead God brought a sibling group, ages 1, 3 and 5 into their lives and made it clear that they were to adopt them. Her professional background in Child Development and Early Intervention has made her passionate about forming healthy attachment relationships with her children and helping them heal from trauma. Her personal blog has been her way to seek God’s heart along the journey and you can read at lifewiththebrackmans.blogspot.com

May 21, 2014May 20, 2014

Turning the corner.

So I think I am finally turning the corner with my son.

We have made it through that 1st year…

you know, the one where you are just trying to keep your head above water.

The one where you just try to figure out how to function as a family of “plus one”.

The one where you are usually delving into uncharted waters of special needs, and loss, and trauma;
all the while trying to also fix supper
and maybe get your other kids
…oh, that’s right I have other kids too
to softball practice on time.

Yeah, that year.

We made it through that one.

And now, we have even made it 3/4 of the way through that 2nd year…

you know, the one where you finally feel like you can see glimpses of the “real” them.

The one where you actually begin to stop doubting your survival.

The one where you begin to see real, honest attachment taking place.

Finally, some light at the end of the tunnel.

That’s where we find ourselves right now.
And it’s such a beautiful, encouraging place to be.

Such little things, but absolutely some of my most precious memories.

-The other day, as I was dropping him off at school, I was suddenly prompted to lean over and give him a kiss goodbye. Well, he planted me one right on the lips and skipped off like he has been doing it everyday. No excessive giggling, no awkwardness just honest affection.

-We were leaving the ball field the other night, and he ran up beside me to take my hand. Just wanted to hold it as we walked to the car. Wasn’t trying to be manipulative-again, honest affection.

-This letter for Mother’s Day. Scribbled down at the ball field one night while doodling on some paper. The third sentence just makes me cry puddles of tears. For him to know…

These moments envelope me from head to toe.
I don’t even really know what to say about it.
It’s almost like wooing or courting someone in a prearranged marriage.
Goodness! You KNOW those first signs that it’s working are so fulfilling!
Well, it may be silly, but that’s the only thing I can think to compare it to.

I’ve never experienced anything like it and I will take all the hard just for these most precious moments. It’s absolutely worth every mile walked, and worth all the miles we still have yet before us.

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Anna Lokey and her husband Shaun have four girls (one from China) and FINALLY a boy (also from China). She’s a normal mom, living a life for God, raising a family that does the same, homeschooling, and trying to keep up with everyone’s schedules. She says, “If I can get my kids to school and gymnastics on time and then fix a real meal for dinner, it’s been a good day!” You can read more about them and their anything but LoKEY life on her blog www.anythingbutlokey.com.

April 23, 2014April 23, 2014

The Blessings of Adoption

As adoptive parents, we partake in so many blessings along the adoption journey. There are also many times of trial, heartache, and grief, but wouldn’t you say that the blessings out weigh all this. Over the past few days, God reminded me again of the many blessings that enter our life through His amazing plan of adoption.

At our Good Friday service, I witnessed our precious son, who last year was struggling to understand English, our love for him and his place in our family, lift his hand in praise to the Lord. We were singing “Amazing love” and I looked over at him to discover this sweet boy singing his heart out to God. His little hand went up in praise even though no one else had their hands up. He then told me later that that was the first church service where he had really focused on God. AMAZING! HIS AMAZING LOVE!

Then, on this very afternoon that I am typing these words, my son, after giving me a big hug, proclaimed, “I like this family. I am so glad you are my family, my new family!” That’s right, precious boy, we are your Forever Family!

My heart is filled with immeasurable gratefulness and love for our Father who brought my boy from China into our family and held him tightly until he began to understand the depth of His love for us.

One little hand
One little hand raised in praise
One little hand where there were none
One little hand signifying love
Love for the Savior.

One little heart
One little heart filled with understanding
One little heart praising God
One little heart full of love
Love for the One who saved him.

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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 May 2011 on Mother’s Day from Fuzhou City, Fujian Province, China. And, their son, Anthony Jianyou, joined their family in January 2013 from Shanghai. After a career in politics, Suzanne now works as a part time Pilates instructor while home schooling their children, writing and working as a part of the Sparrow Fund Blog leadership team. You can follow their adoption journey and life on her blog, Surpassing
Greatness.

April 9, 2014April 8, 2014

The Fall

Lucy fell

Lucy always falls

but this was a bad one

this one was down our stairs

like all – the – way – down!

She hit hard

and so did I…

For you adoptive Mamas out there, you know the moment when you have that kick in your heart, the moment you have that “oh my gosh, I REALLY DO LOVE this child” moment?

Well today was that moment.

Not that I have not loved sweet Lucy, cause I have.

I loved her before we brought her home and I loved her when we met her and all the days after and the day we stepped foot into the R Hospital where she lived for 4 years, I knew that we would be ok cause this was so not ok.

Know what I mean?

Today though…

today was my kick in the heart moment when I realized just how strong, how deep, how real my love for this precious child is.

As I watched Lucy plummet down the stairs and land in a heap in the floor…

my world stopped

and I was terrified.

As I held her and comforted her and kissed away her tears and wiped away the blood on her lip and told her that she was ok and that I loved her and cried with her…

I knew…

I also knew that, even though she seemed ok, she needed to stay home from school…

I needed her to stay home from school…

and as she rested all tucked in on the sofa with a blanket and a doggie or two, her heart began to open up and she began to tell me a bit more of her story and I got my second kick of the day.

What Lucy told me did not shock me as I have heard many stories, heartbreaking stories, from other older adopted children and I saw first hand what I thought her life had been in China, so I was not shocked but still completely heartbroken for this beautiful child – my child.

Lucy told me that she would fall down all the time and that no one would help her. She shared that she would fall in the bathroom a lot (here my heart broke as I saw what this bathroom looked like) and that she called for help and no – one – would – come.

(heart shattered)

I asked her if her sweet BFF at the hospital would help her and she said yes. This sweet boy, who is now home with his family (praise God), told his Mom that he would help Lucy up and down the stairs and pick her up when she would fall.

Sigh…

Again, heartbreak for my sweet girl and for her BFF as he was just a child too. They apparently just decided one day that they were going to be big brother and little sister. He took care of my girl!

Lucy told me that she would get scared in her bed at night and that she would cry but no – one – would – come…

She said that when she fell down and hurt herself, no one would kiss her and make it better and that they would be angry with her, always angry with her.

Oh sweet Lucy, would that I could have come to you…

I know, however, that I cannot stay “there”

I know I have to be here for her – now

so we talked and we hugged and we cried and then we watched “I Spy”

I know there is more to come and Maggie’s story has really turned us inside out (more to come on that later) but for now, we just keep on coming when she calls and kissing her when she falls and loving her through it all!

This is why we have 3 more children than most people thought we should have had.

I cannot and I will not ignore their plight or His call.

Praying more will begin to hear this call and not just to adopt but maybe to help others who are adopting or sponsor a child or at least be supportive of those who do hear the call and choose to answer!

My heart is heavy for my daughters but I know they will be ok

My heart is heavier for those who will never have a Mom or a Dad to come to them when they call or kiss them when they fall.

Please pray for all of these precious ones who wait and all of the families who step out in faith and ignore the promptings of this world to follow the promptings of our heavenly Father.

“Peace I leave with you, My peace I give to you; not as the world gives do I give to you. Let not your heart be troubled, neither let it be afraid.” John 14:27

It is not easy but we were not promised easy and nothing that comes easy is treasured nearly as much as that which comes out of true hard work and challenge and we are so incredibly blessed by our challenges right now.

“My brethren, count it all joy when you fall into various trials, knowing that the testing of your faith produces patience. But let patience have its perfect work, that you may be perfect and complete, lacking nothing.” James 1:2-4

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Annie H. and her husband, Chris, live in Charleston, SC along with their 7 children, Christian, Charlie, Caleb, Emmeline, Lizzie, Maggie and Lucy. After Annie and her family adopted their daughter, Lizzie, from China in 2008, Annie’s heart was forever changed and following the Lord’s call, she became an advocate for those precious children still waiting. Annie now works for Lifeline Children’s Services as their International Adoption Advocate and has loved working with the same wonderful agency who helped her to bring her daughter home in 2008 as well as their two newest daughters in August of this year. Annie manages the Lifeline advocacy site Wonderful Waiting Kids where she advocates mostly for older children and those with more significant special needs and blogs about their family and adoption at Cornbread and Chopsticks.

April 2, 2014April 2, 2014

It’s Different

One of my friends recently shared on Facebook that she was struggling with being newly home with her second Chinese son. She received so many encouraging comments, it was beautiful! But she also received a hurtful comment implying that parenting biological and adopted children is exactly the same, and she should roll with the punches because everyone else had been through the same things with their new children. Although I know this could be true in some cases, I also know that parenting adopted children is sometimes very different.

Of course, each child is unique and different. There is no one-size-fits-all status for any child, biological or adopted. But as a parent of both biological and adopted children, I see the differences, especially when they first become part of your family. Parenting a new child who may have been institutionalized for the first part of their life – who may not have had someone to meet their needs consistently, who may not have been loved or told how precious they are, who may have been neglected and/or abused – can be very challenging and delicate compared to parenting a child who was loved and had his/her needs met consistently from the beginning. While I know that biological children can also offer significant challenges, institutionalization introduces a number of issues not typically common with biological children. Children who have been institutionalized can be traumatized, hurt, and delayed. Children generally lose one month of development and linear growth for every three months they are institutionalized. Our children often come to us with behaviors learned to survive. We usually do not share most of those behaviors with others to protect our hurting children.

Teaching them that they have parents who love them unconditionally and will meet their needs often takes a lot of intentionality and time. This may include not letting anyone hold our children or help with any basic needs until he/she is firmly attached and bonded to us as their new parents. As much as we may want and desperately need the help that is very naturally accepted when we bring biological newborns home, we oftentimes hold off with adopted children because we know it’s best for our children. There may not have been a consistent caregiver in their past. They may have depended on only themselves to survive. Survive is defined as “to continue to live or exist, in spite of danger or hardship.” Survival is the most basic human instinct that children shouldn’t have to worry about. If consistency is lacking, our children may think they can only depend on themselves. Oftentimes the only way to teach them that mama and daddy will always be there for them is to be the only people to meet their needs. It can be exhausting and isolating.

Add in the fact that you are parenting a new toddler (or older child in many cases) with a very clear personality for the first time … the road can be much harder and may look a lot different than parenting biological children. Throw in a the possibility of a language barrier, institutional delays, weekly therapies, and medical special needs … it all just compounds how difficult adoptive parenting can be. It may be easy to look at the beautiful airport homecoming pictures and new family portraits and think the family is filled with love and everything is perfect. The truth is the family is filled with love and it is very beautiful indeed, but things are not always perfect. Fortunately we are filled up daily with His perfect love and that shines through. It is only from the Father that we have the strength in those first few months (or sometimes years). Only He makes beauty from ashes and has the ability to redeem the brokenness of adoption. His beauty and truth always shine through.

I do not think everyone should feel sorry for anyone or adoptive parents deserve a big pat on the back. We all mess up daily (often minute by minute) just like every other parent on the planet and need Jesus desperately! I write it only to offer a different perspective and to hopefully share that parenting biological and adopted children can be very different. It’s hard to understand for most people who haven’t parented children from hard places. I get that. But when adoptive parents are struggling through something tough and are asking for support and prayer, it may not always be the normal everyday parenting stuff. Of course, it is ALL worth it. Totally worth it. Biological or adopted, it doesn’t matter – every bit of it is worth it. Every child who we have the privilege of parenting here on earth is precious and unique. We get such a special opportunity to borrow them for a bit from the Father to train them up! It is surely beautiful and we are overwhelmed with love. Our children are gifts from the Lord and it is our privilege to parent them.

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Nicole is a child of God and a wife to an amazing man. She is a classical homeschooling mama to three (two homegrown, one who came to them through the beautiful gift of international adoption). She is also a part-time newborn photographer, founder and adoption photographer at Red Thread Sessions, a contributing blogger at No Hands But Ours and an advocate of orphan care and adoption. She loves to blog and learn new things. She strives to live her life to glorify our Heavenly Father. With His love, all things are possible.