If there is one thing I love to celebrate,
it’s progress.
Especially with your children.
It always feels good to begin to see that the things you have been hoping for, praying for, trying your best to patiently teach, finally break through in your child.
That happened for us over the Christmas break.
It was a proud moment for me.
One that not everyone would understand jumping up and down to celebrate.
See, my child acted shy upon meeting his cousins, that live in Texas, for the first time.
Most people don’t jump up and down when their children act shyly.
As a matter of fact, most parents want their children to overcome it.
But for us, it was a major victory.
I really wanted to run around and say,
“My goodness!
Did you just see that?!
My son just hid behind my leg upon meeting new people!!
WHAT?!
YAAAAYY!!”
I mean, no one would really get that, right?
What is wrong with that lady???
But it was HUGE for us!
And for the first time in a while,
I felt the sweet satisfaction of thank-you-Lord progress.
Because it wasn’t even an attention-getting shyness,
which is his usual attempt at coping with new situations.
I was real, legitimate, I-don’t-know-about-this shyness.
And I was proud.
Crazy, huh?
But oh, so real.
But the good news is…progress is being made.
Our little boy is healing.
Spirit, soul and body.
And I am so blessed to be his mama.
______________________
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.
When I was 21 years old, my prayers for my future children began to take shape. It was as if I knew they were already alive, not necessarily waiting for me yet, but growing up in their own places and living their lives apart from mine for a season. That year, I began to pray for the children who would join my family in the future, realizing that they could be currently living through the circumstances that would create a need for adoption in the future. That’s a scary thought, knowing that your future child could be living through trauma and not being able to prevent or alleviate the circumstances.
The surprise of my life this whirlwind fall has been meeting the child who was born that year – the year I began praying for her without ever dreaming she was growing up in Africa. A few years later, her sister was born. My prayers had always been for them, so I should not have been surprised when even our first hours together showed evidence of God’s work in their hearts and mine long before we knew about each other.
But as this adoption took shape, so did my fears. I was afraid that they wouldn’t trust me, afraid that we wouldn’t be able to communicate, afraid that our attachment would take years. Normally, fear cripples me, but during that season I drove a friend’s car and listened to her CD about how God is a builder. It seemed weird to think He could build intangible things like positive emotions, trust, and attachments, but surely those things are easier to build than an atom or an ecosystem? So my fears began to shape my prayers as I asked Him to build a structure for safety and attachment in my girls before we even met. I asked Him to redirect their neural pathways, allowing them to bypass the things that had once caused fear and insecurity and immediately build trust with me. Obviously, we’re only a few months into this adventure, but almost daily I see evidence that my prayers were answered in amazing ways.
The child who was supposedly terrified of light-colored skin walked across a busy parking lot to put her hand in mine, long before she knew I was her mama. She found safety in me, a stranger who did not speak her language. The one who hung back, timid, and described herself as the one who “always kept quiet” when others took her things and made fun of her suddenly can describe her feelings with beautiful language that brings tears to my eyes.
As this beauty has unfolded, I’ve had to wonder if Jesus has been praying for me, His daughter – praying that my attachment to Him would be secure, that I would not respond to Him out of old wounds and habits, that God would build in me everything necessary to enjoy life as His daughter. I don’t know what God did to prepare my daughters’ hearts for me, but I wonder if this adoption (this uncertainty, this absence of home for Christmas, distance from friends and family, fear of inadequacy) have all been deliberate and gracious actions of a God who is building something new in me just as He is doing in my daughters.
What impossible are you asking Him to build this year?
________________________________
Mandie Joy is a foster parent and in-process adoptive mama of two beautiful little girls in Africa. She blogs at www.seeingjoy.com.
It’s hard to believe it has been almost a year since our precious boy walked into our lives that frigid day in Shanghai. I can barely remember life without him. It seems as if he has always been here, and in a sense, he has. God chose him for us before the foundation of the world. He placed Anthony in our hearts before he was even a thought in our finite minds. What a mighty God we serve!
First Photo ever with my new son!
The past year has taken us on an amazing journey far beyond our imaginations. Never in my wildest dreams or fantasies of my future life (of which there have been many) did I ever picture myself adopting an 8 year old boy. When Adam first told me that he wanted Anthony, the fear that rose in me was fierce but stronger yet was the gentle voice of God whispering, “trust Me”.
“‘For my thoughts are not your thoughts,
neither are your ways my ways,’
declares the Lord.” (Is. 55:8, NIV)
Adoption is all about trust.
Trusting that God will provide a child for you.
Trusting that God will provide the funds you need for the adoption costs.
Trusting that God will protect and love your child while someone else holds them.
Trusting that God will comfort them when they are ripped from the only life they have ever known.
Trusting that God will meld and knit your family together for His glory.
And now, here we sit, one year later . . . still trusting, as each new day brings
More love
More joy
More frustrations
More openness
More peace
More trust.
What an amazing year!
_____________________________________
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 on May 8, 2011 (Mother’s Day) from Fuzhou City, Fujian Province, China. And, their son, Anthony Jianyou, joined their family on January 14, 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.
Early this morning, as I was gently stirring my two littlest for K-5.
I suddenly heard a familiar voice in my head accusing me.
The voice was analyzing the way I woke up one daughter compared to the other.
The voice was telling me that it was because I still don’t treat them equally, saying I still have a long way to go, and making those feelings of condemnation rise back up.
You know, the ones you hear when you first meet your new little one and you realize that this attachment thing takes some time because you don’t have all the “feelings.”
Yeah, that one.
The voice was immediately making me doubt myself and how far we have come. Making me feel I should robotically go through certain motions just to think I have attained all the checks on the “Prove Your Love” checklist.
Today, I realized that I want the days of the questioning to be over.
The days where I analyze every action and doubt myself.
I want to just be their mom and stop constantly evaluating my every little action.
It has gone from something to good to being a source of condemnation.
As I spent the day contemplating that thought and talking with the Father about it.
I began to consider what Paul said to the Philippians about attaining our goals.
“Not that I have already obtained all this, or have already arrived at my goal, but I press on to take hold of that for which Christ Jesus took hold of me. Brothers and sisters, I do not consider myself yet to have taken hold of it. But one thing I do: forgetting what is behind and straining toward what is ahead, I press on toward the goal to win the prize for which God has called me heavenward in Christ Jesus.”
Sure I am probably not where I want to be.
But according to Paul, what good am I doing evaluating every action.
What I need to be doing is constantly focusing on pressing on.
This life is a one-foot-in-front-of-the-other journey.
A journey in which Paul said, I will always need to be reaching/straining forward.
I will certainly never attain perfection this side of heaven.
So I might as well just enjoy being a mother with or without my daily failures.
I might as well just trust the love working inside of me.
And trust God to give me ideas at just the right moment
that accomplish just the right thing that is needed for that moment.
Because I can actually hinder the relationships I so desperately want to build
by attempting to treat each of my children exactly the same, all the time.
As if that even proves anything.
Where is the love in that?
I can be the source that keeps these relationships from flourishing,
if I live in a constant state of frustration or condemnation.
I want to live free from that fear.
At the heart of this, I know that is the enemy’s voice-planting fear.
But I refuse to be afraid.
I will press forward.
And I will do it without doubt,
without condemnation,
and without over analyzing everything I do.
And I truly believe that as I build this confidence in God in my own heart,
it will spill over into my children as well.
For this is something they, too, will have to face in their own way someday.
Especially as they contemplate their story and begin to face doubts of their own.
What better model could I give to them as their mother than this!
______________________
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.
When you decide to say yes to a child who might only be in your life for a few days, there’s a choice to be made.
How much will I love? Where will I draw the line of investing in this child’s emotional, spiritual, and physical wellbeing? How much of myself will I allow to be vulnerable so that this vulnerable child can feel safe?
When that baby is placed in your arms – when that child slips her hand into yours – you hope they will feel safe. But how much safety can I expect to exude if my own heart is guarded by so-called wisdom and held back by fear of letting go one day? It’s well known that I advocate a deep heart-giving in these kinds of situations. There are too many days when a particular child is hard to love, nights when someone wakes up just.too.many.times. On those occasions, I need to be fully invested. I need the attachment even more than they do on those days.
[photo by Morgan Perry]
Of course, this kind of commitment – this emotional and spiritual connection – leaves room for a deep sense of something missing when the child moves on. In fact, Rachel and I have found that when we’re honest about missing our Ugandan kiddos, it makes people uncomfortable. It’s as if the intensity or prolonged existence of the pain somehow calls into question the legitimacy of our grief. A few people have said that we should, “get over it already.” But somehow I don’t think it’s inconsistent to say that you miss someone while still rejoicing and profoundly approving of God’s plan for them to move on. Of course, choosing a heart posture that honors God in that grief is necessary. Maybe the rejoicing brings all the more glory to God because of the place of pain from which it comes.
But this post is not a discussion of how much to attach or how much to grieve. It’s about what to do when you attach all the way and then need to let go. I’m learning that there’s a healthy tension of loving fully, guarding my heart, and allowing myself to miss and it can only be maintained if I remember two things: who I am and who God is.
Let me tell you what I mean:
Everyone has their own style of attachment. Mine is to jump in no holds barred and love each child right nowbelieving, at the same time, that they might be in my life forever and they might be gone tomorrow. Those two very real possibilities call out the same level of commitment, intensity, steadfastness, and purpose in me. If this baby in my arms is my daughter, would I want to remember that I held back from her in our first months together? If she’s someone else’s daughter, loving her someone else means I lay down my life for them by caring for this child as if she were my own, ready to humbly return her to Jesus and allow him to place her in that someone else’s arms when the time comes.
There’s no profound revelation behind this heart stance. It’s simply what I’ve learned from the way Jesus loves me.He chose me before I loved him and he loves me whether or not I choose him. He loves me today with the same passion as tomorrow and yesterday, whether I’m walking close to him or turning by back to him in fear. His love is constant, consistent, sure. It’s this love I’m drawing on most days. There are days when I’m drawing from my own leaky bucket and on those days, he scoots in closer than ever and whispers, “Remember where you started this day? Come back.” It’s his consistent love that compels me to joy even when my circumstances (or those of the children I’ve loved) are not what I think they should be.
Trusting God’s goodness for the children I cared for in Uganda is not difficult at all. They are each living in homes where they are adored, where they are learning love, where they will grow up knowing God’s goodness on every level. But I still miss them, because when you dive in wholeheartedly in love towards a child who suddenly moves on, that place in your heart is left empty. The great thing about having empty places that no one understands and no one else can fill is that Jesus moves into them – if we ask him to.
In the case of several of my foster children (from long ago), the someone else who I was standing-in for turned out to be someone I didn’t trust. When it came time for them to go, I didn’t agree. Seven years later, I still don’t know where they are. This is not ideal, obviously, but sometimes it’s reality and my only salvation in a situation like that is to remember that the God who committed them to me for a season has committed Himself to them for a lifetime. That’s the promise.
My perspective of God’s goodness is too limited for me to attempt to tell him what that everlasting covenant should look like today – for me, for my family, for anyone I love. The fact that I don’t understand his timing is not a reflection on God’s goodness. It is a reflection of my struggle to trust his goodness. I can as soon fully understand the goodness of God as a baby can understand why her loving parents allow the doctor to give her a life saving, but painful, surgery. But whether or not I can fully understand him, I have him. And he is good.
____
The moments of missing are few and far between these days. They’re limited to anniversaries and the times when Rachel and I let ourselves reminisce about the improbabilities and chaos of that year in Uganda. But, when they do surface, my go-to phrase for Jesus is, “OK, I feel lonely here and I miss so-and-so today. What do you want to show me about yourself in this? Where are you for me right now?”
And let me just say, that little series of questions is like a key that unlocks things I didn’t know about Jesus and me. It turns the areas of my life that I don’t understand into spaces where I can go deep with Jesus. It turns fear into the most trusting friendship. It turns shame into the deepest acceptance. It turns loneliness into the sweetest communion with my truest Friend. And I’ll take that over avoiding pain any day.
_________________________________
Mandie Joy is a foster parent and soon-to-be adoptive mama of two beautiful little girls who are waiting in Africa. She blogs at www.seeingjoy.com.
It seems like just yesterday we were in that sultry hotel conference room meeting our 18 month old baby girl.
And almost a year ago we sat huddled in a cold conference room waiting to meet our 8 year old boy.
And over the past months, it seems that my babies are growing up
WAY TOO FAST
No longer the toddler
Ready to take on the world
No longer the baby faced boy we first saw
Growing more mature every day
So we will cherish every moment we have with them
Holding on those memories of laughter, joy, sadness, and love
Thanking our God in heaven for His most precious gifts.
_______________________________________
Suzanne Meledeo
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 on May 8, 2011 (Mother’s Day) from Fuzhou City, Fujian Province, China. And, their son, Anthony Jianyou, joined their family on January 14, 2013 from Shanghai. After a career in politics, Suzanne now works part time as a Pilates instructor while home schooling their children, writing and working as a part of the WAGI leadership team. You can follow their adoption journey and life on their blog, Surpassing Greatness.
Quite a while ago I stopped posting about the unwelcome guest in our home: Trauma. I wish I could say that absence of posting = absence of the impact of trauma. Not.so.much.
It’s been nearly four years since we were first introduced, and I realize I need to take some time to ‘heal thyself’ in order to maximize my ability to help us become a healing home.
I still ask the Lord to change my hard heart, to give me the patience to respond with compassion, the strength to persevere through the trenches and joy to rise above the chaos. I still make the same mistakes. Not because He isn’t answering my prayers. Because I am so very human. I get in the way of His work in me every day. I.am.not.bragging. I’ve been desperately asking God to show me why I am so insistent upon living as the former self, rather than as the new creation He has made me to be.
And He has! It’s all about forgiveness.
Heaven knows I don’t deserve the depth of forgiveness God has extended to me. I can’t begin to express how thankful I am for His redemption. With God’s grace, I have been able to overcome deep wounds and forgive others who have hurt me, only because He has shown me how! But now comes a revelation that shakes me to the core.
I am withholding forgiveness. I am casting blame. Not audibly, but clearly in my heart. And it is spilling over like poison, tainting everything it touches.
What a horrible admission! But maybe you’ve been there? Maybe you are like me and didn’t realize this is brewing in your heart? Let the healing begin!
I realized that I was so beaten down with the impact of my child’s trauma that somewhere in the process I began to blame him. In my heart I held him accountable for the countless hours we spend on the road for therapy, for the constant attention he requires, for taking my focus off the other children, for every time our plans change suddenly because of his reaction or response, for the fact that he must always be supervised, for the fact that I am exhausted because every moment must be a teaching one, and on and on and on… I blamed him for relationships lost, conflict gained, misunderstandings, judgment, and criticism.
Truth is, as critical as someone else may be of my parenting, I am my worst critic.
And so, I was also blaming myself. I couldn’t understand why he would do things he shouldn’t or wouldn’t do things he should, why he would retreat so deeply within himself, why he would lash out for no apparent reason, why he would lie about something so c.r.a.z.y and obvious, and why MY response would typically escalate his reaction. And so I also blamed ME!
Forgiveness starts here!
My child doesn’t need to know that I blame him or that I need to forgive him. He doesn’t need that burden. But it is something that must happen in my heart. Today I began by granting forgiveness…to myself and to him. I will never be a perfect parent. At the end of the day I hope to say I did my best (totally relying on God!).
Raising a child requires commitment and investment. Raising a child with neurological, physical or emotional conditions requires even more. And in the words of Dr. Karyn Purvis, “…the longer a child experienced neglect or harm, the more invested you’re going to have to become in their healing.” In an effort to help my child heal, I’ve focused too much on ‘fixing’ him. That has proven to be frustrating and exhausting because in the process to ‘fix,’ I have not been able to appreciate who he is, making this adventure more about the destination than the journey.
He is treasured. He is valuable. He is wanted. He is a child whom God has entrusted to me. Not so that I can fix him. So that He can change my heart. And so that I can shape, nurture and protect my child.
God has given me a firsthand opportunity to live out Scripture. It is one thing to say, “Sure, I can love my enemies (because I can keep them at a distance); I can speak for those without a voice (because, in all honesty, I get to choose how much effort I put into it); I can fight against injustice (because I can quit when I’m tired).”
What am I to do when the person who acts most like my enemy lives in my home? When the person whose voice I must be doesn’t want to hear? When my fight for injustice is mocked? When I am at the end of my rope but the battle rages on?
Then I lean in close to my sovereign God, and I trust that He will never leave me (Jos 1:5), that He works ALL things for His glory and for the good of those who love Him (Rom 8:28), that His grace is sufficient (2 Cor 12:9), that He gives me hope (1 Pet 1:3), that His strength is enough (Phil 4:13, Heb 12:12).
God is more than able! He has loved me in spite of my hard heart, and He has made a way for me to love. Healing begins with forgiveness!
To HIM be glory!
*Disclaimer* I am not a single parent. My husband and I are very much a team with the attitude of me-and-you-against-the-world-babe, but this is my heart issue.
___________________________
Connie Johnson
Connie is crazy about her Lord, crazy about her husband, and crazy about her 11 kids. You can read more about life in her family and what God is teaching her on their family blog: http://k6comehome.blogspot.com/
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.
_____________________________
Heather Fallis
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.
Ok….like 5 people asked for it.
But since I am a stay at home mom and interact with exactly no one most days during the day
5 people is like a lot.
So here you go
my thoughts on older child adoption.
The question of how we “do” older child adoption
how the intricacies of that play out in our home
how their adjustment is
quite honestly sets me back a bit.
When asked about “Older child adoption” I have to wait for that “older child/hard to place” label that used to define them rise up from the recesses of my brain and come back into my frontal lobe….errr…cerebral cortex?…..I dunno….so that I can remember
because I truly don’t look at them as “older children”.
They just fit.
They fit perfectly into our family.
I don’t know that it is harder.
I don’t know that it is easier than adopting younger kids & cute squishy lil babies.
It’s just
well different.
In the beginning in China it was fabulous.
They were old enough to somewhat have a grasp on what was happening.
All 3 came right to us.
(other than Joshua apparently thinking he was going to live in Italy….sorry buddy)
There were
No tantrums.
No tears.
Just pure
adrenaline induced
excitement.
For them
for us
we were one big group of really, really excited people.
Yet, ironically, if anything illustrates the udder brokenness of these orphans
it is that moment
because really,
children should not be that excited to be handed to
and walk off
with perfect strangers.
But they somehow know.
They know that what is to come
love
life
hope
a future
food
a bed
warmth
simply must be better than what they have now.
Because when I try to picture my biological children being handed over to strangers at the age of 7
and the definite opposite reaction that they would have
it illustrates just how big a void these kids sitting in those orphanages have.
There is nothing like a family.
There is no thing
like a family.
Practically, older kids just aren’t as needy in the physical sense and since we were far beyond diapers and nap times this worked well for us.
They could walk, go to the bathroom, understand that it was time for bed, shower, dinner.
(Man I am SO good at charades now. If anyone ever wants to play, let me know. I’ll kick your butt.)
This I knew was a key to our families successful transition.
These kids were in the same phase of life that we were already in so the adjustment on our part was minimal. (Not to trivialize adoption itself but in this specific context(as it pertains to age) it was a minimal impact.)
I think had we chosen to go back down baby lane it would have been much more difficult (for us).
We just weren’t there.
Our hearts weren’t there.
Our sports filled evenings and weekends weren’t there.
Our older kids weren’t there.
I knew how to do 7 year’s old.
Our youngest 5 are all within a 21 month block of time.
The twins are 6 minutes apart. Push em out, push em out, waaaaaayyy out!
Sorry, that was a throwback to my brief cheer-leading days in high school.
But I digress…
Jacob is 14 months younger than the twins.
Joshua is 3 months younger than Jacob.
Joey is 4 months younger than Joshua.
If we could do anything,
we could do the 6-8 year old age range.
I knew what their maturity level was, what would appeal to them, how to speak to them.
We were there.
Granted, some of it may have been lost in translation but I think the message is this…
Kids are kids.
Red, yellow, black and white they, at their core, are kids.
Obviously
Experiences will color that, Trauma will cover that, Abandonment will change that, Institutionalization will harm that
but somehow I could see right through all of that muck and mire
and I could see that underneath it all
there was a little boys heart.
I didn’t know how long it would take to unearth.
I didn’t know the hardships would come along
I didn’t know how much pain was in the process
but the heart
the heart is there
it’s just waiting.
It’s the uncovering of all of the “stuff” that comes along with adopting older kids that is where the challenge can rise up
and
smack
you
in
the
face.
So though I don’t change diapers
or warm bottles
or wake up for 3am feedings
and I don’t hurry home for nap time
I fight a battle that is larger than myself.
A battle that will consume them if it weren’t for love.
So yes.
It’s hard.
I do sleep all night
They do go to school all day
but I have to be ever mindful that though their neediness doesn’t lie in the physical sense
there are still 3 little hearts under my roof that are still in a state of mending.
Because not only do I have my own parenting wisdom, tips, techniques and training to impart on them,
I am simultaneously un-parenting all of the bad habits, harsh words, and lack of love that they endured when I wasn’t there.
Have you ever tried un-parenting and parenting at the same time?
It’s ummmm……fun?
Nope.
Pretty sure that’s not the word I am looking for.
It’s not just “Hey buddy, this is how we do this.”
It’s “Hey buddy, I know that was how things were done before and I’m sorry that happened, ~ hug ~ hug~ but here’s why that’s not ok. Now let me show you what we do. ~ teach. train. model. ~ hug ~
Then it’s “Good job! I knew you could do it!” ~ hug~
All whilst speaking Chinglish and having about 50% of what you are telling them get lost in translation.
Repeat.
8,000 times a day.
They will be 14 years old before we ever even break even.
They will be 14 before their time in our family becomes longer than their days spent in an orphanage.
This is a marathon.
I am not who I used to be.
My patience is bigger
My heart is heavier
My joy is tempered.
Just like a normal marathon
it’s exhausting.
It takes an inordinate amount of energy
of patience
of love
of patience
of patience
of teaching
of training
of patience
of love
to bring these kids out of the darkness.
And if I’m being honest….
it.
empties.
me.
And if I’m being more honester. (yep I know, not a word)
it’s the reason I haven’t been blogging.
It takes SO much to be continually pouring love, encouragement, discipline, and training into these kids that I often find myself
empty.
And most days
when the sun has set
when 7 sleepy heads are happily snoring on their pillows
I have nothing left to give.
Are we happy?
Yep.
Would we do it again?
No doubt, yes.
Is it the hardest thing I have ever done?
A
b
s
l
u
t
e
l
y
Are there moments when I think to myself,
“Am I being punked?”
7 boys? Seriously?
Totally.
I vastly underestimated the amount of life training that they would need at their age.
Things like
A stove is hot.
You knock on the door before you walk into people’s houses, you can’t just walk in.
Seatbelts.
Walk on the sidewalk, not in the street.
Kindly do not remove the food from your plate that you don’t care for and place a big blob of it directly on the table.
Don’t walk down the hallway from your room to the bathroom stark neked. You’re 8.
Small things of course.
But when each and every moment,
each and every action
each and every transition
requires explanation it takes awhile to get the hang of that.
Rather…
it took me awhile to get the hang of that.
But last I checked my goal isn’t to take up residence on Easy Street,
I think that is a crowded, overpopulated neighborhood.
go. serve love. be more like HIM It’s what I want to do. It’s where I want to live.
So is older child adoption really more difficult?
I don’t know.
It’s just different.
________________________________________
Sonia M.
Sonia and her husband John are an Air Force family with 7 boys. She stays at home part time and spends the other part of her time shopping at Stuff-Mart buying large quantities of food to feed said boys. Sonia’s hobbies include cooking, cooking, cooking more, cleaning, cooking, and cleaning bathrooms. They are navigating their way through life attempting to glorify God in all that they do — follow the journey here.
I’m reading Blessed Childand in the book something just jumped off the page last night.
In it Ted Dekker writes:
“Whoever said that a straightened [leg] is more dramatic than a healed heart??”
So which is better having straightened [legs] or a healed heart?
That got me thinking.
Because of course we want Josie’s legs to be as straight and strong as possible but her heart “health” is way more important.
And just in the last month we have sensed a difference in her heart.
She is truly happier.
The biggest change we have seen is that she is now praying at bedtime.
We knew she “did” that before she came to us and we were told she prayed wonderful sweet prayers. But we didn’t see or hear them.
But now she does. And she thanks God for her family.
There are times when I wonder why in the world I am called to parent a child with special needs?!?
I have zero qualifications.
(and just the other week I was telling a friend that if we would have known all of Josie’s “needs” I doubt we would have had the faith to adopt her….just being real.)
But as I sat at therapy on Tuesday and took in the sights and sounds of the PT room I was amazed and overwhelmed with gratitude that I get to be a part of this awesome group of “normal” moms who happen to have special need kids.
There were 4 kiddos doing therapy, all at different levels, and one therapist was trying to bribe her “student” into taking steps in the gait trainer. Helen did NOT want take steps until Kristie told her she would do a cartwheel for her if she walked the length of the room. (Kristie is about 32ish and a “retired” gymnast.)
So of course we all start cheering for Helen to take steps and she does!
And the look on her face when she saw Kristie do the cartwheel was priceless.
I see some of the moms at therapy watch Josie and I. And I can almost read their minds as they watch and think to themselves …she chose a child with special needs?!?!!? She must be crazy!
And I guess in a sense we kinda did. We could have said NO! We could have kept running away from “Niveveh.”
(And honestly some days the thought of getting swallowed by a big fish sounds inviting and almost like a vacation!)
But if we would have kept running I wouldn’t be getting this front row seat into this special world called “special needs.”
These moms at therapy didn’t get to “chose” what needs they were comfortable “accepting” but they chose to parent and chose life.
And so I’m learning to be grateful for this unique window I get to look through and be a part of each week and I pray that I can be as much of an encouragement to them as they are to me. I hope my words and actions will be an encouragement to these precious moms. That we really CAN’T do it on our own strength. It is only by God’s grace and strength that I make it through the days.
I am finding out how h.a.r.d. it is parenting a child with special needs. It is time consuming, tiring and expensive!!
But as our eyes lock across the PT therapy room no words are needed as we celebrate the successes but also feel the pain and frustration when the therapy session isn’t going “as planned.”
Just relating to the fact that we really are just “normal” moms just trying our best and wanting the best for our kiddos. We aren’t “super heroes” nor we do have any “super powers.”
We just put one foot in front of the other and try and keep first things first.
Because it is way more about the heart issues then about having straight legs.
_________________________________
Lynnea Hameloth
Lynnea is blessed to be a child of God and is also thankful to be able to stay at home to raise (and school) the children God has entrusted her with. She has been married to her best friend for 20 years and really enjoys just “doing life” with him by her side. The Hameloth’s have three (awesome and/or amazing) sons born the old fashioned way and three precious daughters, who just happen to have been born in China, but found their way into their lives and hearts through God’s awesome plan. This (sometimes) fun and wild ride has been full of many ups and downs but worth it all. He who calls is faithful. Find out more about their crazy but fulfilling lives at www.hamelothjourney.blogspot.com.
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.
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