Adoption and Faith Archives - Page 16 of 44

April 11, 2014April 11, 2014

Moments – Two Weeks

It turns out, I was right in feeling {unprepared} for all that the last two weeks have held for this gang. Until you’ve lived through something like this, there’s really no way you can fully prepare for the experience. EVEN if you have the most awesome support network of “been there done that” mommas sharing their experiences and advice. EVEN if you have an amazing crowd of friends and family praying you through and supporting you practically and emotionally. Which, I am so grateful to say, I do. But still. {unprepared} I was.

I’m not gonna lie. These last two weeks since Mei Mei’s surgery have been hard. The day of the surgery, frankly, was likely the easiest of the days that we had while IN the hospital. ( We waited. She slept. And oddly, I only felt momentary flashes of nervous anxiety over her care or well-being. SO. SO. grateful for that.)

And just this past Saturday we finally experienced the easiest day-into-overnight since we returned home from our four day stay. In between those good days, we’ve crammed all kinds of hard moments. Sleepless nights. Night terrors. Temper tantrums. Pain management gone awry. Lost patience. Ugly behavior. And not all of it was Mei Mei.

But in between those good days, we’ve also crammed a lot of really great moments. Those are the moments on which I am (sometimes hourly) choosing to focus. Those are the moments that the Lord uses to swing my eyes back to HIM and HIS perfect plan for Mei Mei. For our family. It’s an act of discipline, this choosing to focus. Especially at this time of year.

Mei Mei got the honor of placing the first ornament
on her first-ever Christmas tree. Yes, I cried.

I could (and am sorely tempted to) stress over the anger and aggression that comes bubbling up out of her in those difficult moments. I could keep looking at that “holiday To Do list” that isn’t getting smaller any time soon and despair of ever finishing it in time. I could sink into the flashing moments of Mommy-guilt and inadequacy, wallowing in the fear that I’m not meeting the needs of the other gang members, in the every day and in the fervor of the holiday. I could, I could, I could. And really, I’ve struggled NOT to.

But then there are these other moments. These moments when HE comes to me and whispers to my heart. S nippets of Scripture memorized as a child. Refrains of songs and hymns buried deep in my heart. I’ve said it before but it bears repeating. In these moments, I am so incredibly grateful for parents who trained me in The Word. Who taught me to seek His face in good and in bad moments. Who encouraged me and lived out the example that joy comes NOT in the circumstances but in the confidence and security of being HIS CHOSEN CHILD. It has carried me well in these last two weeks.

First cookie decorating party ever! Not sure how much icing went on the cookies.
Last year, only 3 of our kids were home for this tradition.
This year, The Gang was ALL here. Yes, I cried.

I am convinced, in all of these moments, both hard and healing, that the prayers of the Body of Christ carried us. I am convinced that His Word is powerful and full of Truth that rises above the difficult moments. I am convinced, now more than ever, that HE HAS CHOSEN ME for this time. For this child. For even in those moments where I feel like I’m failing miserably at all of it, He speaks to me. In those moments when I wonder if my inadequate and all-too human response to my daughter’s broken-ness is doing more damage than good, He offers me HIS response.
It’s those moments when I get the second wind to go just a little deeper into her heart. It’s those moments when I get a fresh fire to escort her to the healing He has for her. Those moments, even the hardest of moments, I remember that they are just that: moments. By definition, moments (both hard and exultant) are fleeting. He is not. He holds those moments. Each and every one of them.

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Tracy, aka The Gang’s Momma, has been married to Todd, aka The Boss, for almost 24 years. Together they parent 6 kids (ages 19, 18, 14, 12, 6 & 2 ½). She loves to read, write, cry over weekly episodes of Parenthood, and share a good cup of coffee with a friend. A confirmed extrovert, Tracy has met her match in their newest daughter for both strength of will and love of socializing. While parenting her two youngest who came home through China’s special needs program is definitely the most challenging thing she’s ever done (between attachment issues & some complicated medical needs), the Lord is also using it to make her a stronger, better mommy. (At least that’s what she tells herself over her 2^nd or 3^rd giant Tigger mug full of coffee almost every day!) You can find the occasional musings of the momma at www.whitneygang.blogspot.com.

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 7, 2014April 6, 2014

Changed by broken walls

It was never an easy journey to get there.

When I said we wanted to visit her orphanage in 2010 when we were there to adopt her, we met resistance. It was too far. The train was too fast for a child. We would be too tired. We would bring germs from America. We wouldn’t want to go. But, that’s where they were wrong. I was determined to go, determined to physically enter into her history even if only for a moment. And so, we went. We drove about 3 hours there to stand at the gate, walk across the grounds, allow the ayis who knew our child infinitely more than we did to dote on our baby, and take lots of pictures.

I had never been more aware of my foreignity as I was at that moment. We were out of place, standing among ayis speed talking in a language only unrecognizable to the two of us. They pointed at us and spoke freely, knowing we would stand still in front of them and smile regardless of what they said. We watched as our new baby responded in a way we could not. She wasn’t a stranger there; they knew her and she knew them. We were the strangers surrounded by grey cement walls and dusty ground. The only thing I felt connected to there were the very walls themselves. I tried desperately to grab hold of something to take home with us, not even knowing really what, while the walls seemed to desperately present themselves as cheerful with some colorful cardboard cut outs stuck to them for now until the next rainfall would turn them into more dust on the ground. I cried. It sorta felt like the grey, tiled walls were crying too.

When I said I wanted to visit the location of the old orphanage a few weeks ago, I met resistance. It was too far. We would be too tired. It wasn’t safe. We wouldn’t want to go. And, while I had been determined to get there, I was willing to let it go. I had already been given so much, and it wasn’t the reason why I came.

When the driver pulled our van over and pointed to the right, my heart stopped for a moment.

There I was again, standing at a new gate that looked 50 years old already, looking at what used to be.

Most of the walls that had cried along with me four years ago were no more. I stood looking at what was in front of me and cried alone.

It’s China. Buildings are built and torn down and built again to be torn down again. It’s a seemingly never-ending cycle of building and destruction. Standing witness to it before me, I didn’t feel like the foreigner I had four years ago. Everything was different now. At the very moment I stood crying on Bao Ping Road, my daughter who had been there, who had lived behind those gates and inside those broken walls, was sleeping soundly beside her sister in a warm bed in the place she knows and I know as home.

I saw a picture of adoption that day in the form of broken walls and a quiet construction site.

They gave us a bag of dirt the day we received our daughter in March 2010. The director handed us a little bag of stones and dust from the grounds of the orphanage. I thought it was nice, thoughtful, a memento for her to have as she got older. We put it in a special box for her along with the clothes she came to us in and other special things. Now that gift means something entirely different. It is not a memento; it’s a monument. It gently says:

Those walls that were the only home you knew need to come down now. Let God turn them to dust, as hard as that may be, so that He can build new walls, strong walls, walls that will not crumble, walls where you will never be alone. It’s never an easy journey to get there; but, stone by stone, brick by brick, while it may be a painstaking journey, you can get there. Accept this gift so that you always remember your story and so that you can trace the work of the Repairer of Broken Walls, the Restorer of Crumbling Dwellings, the One who makes beautiful things out of stones, dirt, and dust.

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Kelly has a passion for supporting adoptive families, specifically to encourage parents to be intentional and understand their own hearts more clearly as they seek to care for their hearts of their children. Kelly has a Master’s degree in counseling and has been working with adoptive families since she and her husband Mark founded the nonprofit The Sparrow Fund (www.sparrow-fund.org). Married to Mark since 1998, they have 3 biological children and 1 daughter who was adopted as a toddler from China in 2010. You can learn more about their adoption story, how they’ve been changed by the experience of adoption, and what life for them looks like on Kelly’s personal blog, My Overthinking.

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Wanna learn more about going to China with The Sparrow Fund in October to serve at this orphanage? Click on Upcoming Events to read more, and email us for more information.

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.

March 31, 2014

FROM ATTACHMENT DISORDER TO ATTACHMENT REORDERED

“I know it’s not THAT papaya…..but I still can’t bring myself to try it.”

Years ago, I used to love papaya…..
until that fateful afternoon in tropical Costa Rica, when eating a bad papaya made me so weakly dehydrated from food poisoning that I had to suffer the repeated humiliation of being carred to the commode by my new husband.

Even though that was over 30 years ago and I KNOW that today’s papaya is not THAT papaya, my stomach still turns in disinterest at the sight of one.

My papaya story has helped me understand how some of our children felt after having suffered great harm at the hands of their first parents; while we know and they know that we are not THOSE parents, the experience of fear and rejection and self-protection often seems woven into their very framework.

And all of these emotions often come to the surface during the teen years, when each of us has to work on figuring out who we are.

One particular day I was surprised to hear these words from my beautiful, outgoing, winsome,16 year-old, “Every day when I look in the mirror I always am wondering….”
“Wondering about what?” I asked.
“Wondering if she every thinks about me and remembers me and wonders how I am doing.”

The ‘she,’ of course, was her Russian mama, whom she had not seen since age 4 when she was taken away from her home by the authorities.

It was during this same time period that outbursts of rage would sometimes arise like an unpredictable thunder storm. I would hear things like,
“You are NOTHING to me! I am going to tear up those x*&$@# adoption papers and you will be NOTHING to me! NOTHING!”

I cried because I felt so deeply saddened and confused and desperate for some comfort from above, and for some wisdom and insight into the cause of such outbursts, and for some leading about how to respond in love.

Only later did I come to understand reflection. She was reflecting what she felt in that mirror: one feeling rejected naturally reflects rejection. And as the mama or daddy, at this moment we can choose to reflect rejection or distance or judgment or anger or disdain BACK to them, OR we can, instead, reflect Jesus’ unconditional and indestructible love to them.

In other words, we can respond out of who God is and not out of how we feel (read Ezekiel 20 in the Message!…you will see this 4 times!). When I think about reflecting who God is, I think of being gracious and compassionate, slow to anger and abounding in steadfast love.

It is as if Jesus is ever whispering to us, “Copy me, not them.” It is what Paul says in Ephesians 1 “Be imitators of God, as beloved children. And walk in love.”

I think of this as attachment reordered. God’s love helping me respond rather than react.

Allowing me to reflect Him, not them.

And with time, we are seeing they have this same attachment reordering that I do…..becoming secure in how much God loves them, in spite of the failures of even those they most expected love from.

So how did all this end up?

After years of rebellion, this same child tells me Sunday night, “Mom, you are the person I try to copy!”

Amazing grace….aaammmmaaazzzziiinggg grace!!!!

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Susan Hillis, PhD, MS- has been a believer for 38 years, married to a godly servant for 36, a mother for 27, a US government federal official for 20, and a university professor for 10 years. She is the mother of 11 children, 8 of whom were adopted from Russia after the tragic death of her first-born son on the day before his tenth birthday. It is her deep joy and privilege to have received untold personal blessings from the living God. She has worked and ministered in countries in South America, Africa, and Eastern Europe. She participates widely as an invited speaker at scientific and Christian conferences. She has published more than 80 articles in scientific medical journals and is considered one of the leading infectious diseases experts on the HIV risk among vulnerable youth around the world. Dr. Hillis is a recent recipient of the Outstanding Service Medal as a Captain in the U.S. Public Health Service.

During her married life she has worn many hats, including stay-at-home mom, graduate student, missionary, government official, nurse, scientist, and university professor. She has experienced infertility, caring for a son with a fatal heart condition, loss of her son through a fatal biking accident, and 8 international adoptions of older children from Russian orphanages. She, her husband, and their 10 children recently lost their home in the 2009 Atlanta floods, which were declared a presidential disaster. Her experience suggests that God’s goodness is bigger than all the storms of life.

You can read more of Susan’s encouragement at Hope at Home.

March 28, 2014March 28, 2014

Adoption Update: Masterpieces Take Time

Tonight’s phone call was to tell us that all adoption paperwork has been completed and the final petition will be filed with the courts on Monday.

A huge weight has been lifted. I feel like I could sleep for days. So many times, I wanted to write here and ask for prayers, but I was scared of the questions – “Why is it taking so long?”, “What is the hold up?”

Kate Eschbach Photography-7jpga

I guess the biggest reason I was nervous about sharing was because I didn’t have any answers. It seemed like it was just one thing after another. More paperwork, more changes. On Monday evening, I spent an hour in our adoration chapel – on my knees – really giving things over to God. I told Him that I just was at a loss for why things were taking so long. I knew I needed to trust, but I was just tired. I tried to quiet my thoughts and my heart and just listen.

I was met with silence; a peaceful silence. In my short life, I can tell you that I have no doubt, even when my hands are empty, that God is holding it all together. He never fails to follow me into the murkiness of life and bring me out on the other side.

Tonight I am a mix of giddy, relieved, exhausted, and thankful.

Kate Eschbach Photography-5jpga

Next up : the court date – you should start bracing yourselves for the ridiculous amount of pictures that will happen.

Kate Eschbach Photography-2jpga

Is it easy to Praise Him when things happen that we like? Absolutely.

I hope that my heart will always be bound so tightly to His that I will always praise, regardless of the circumstance.

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Kate is a professional photographer, enjoys handwritten correspondance and may break out in musical numbers at any time. She and her husband, Brian, have been married since 1999. They have two biological children – Julia, 13 and Nate, 10 – and they are in the process of adopting an adorable three year old, named Riley. She is a Texas girl and has lived in Scottsdale for 5 wonderful (and hot!) years. She writes a personal blog named, Songs Kate Sang. She is passionate about encouraging and serving others!

March 24, 2014

What Was I Thinking?

It may seem a bit odd, but I love to take pictures of my girls sleeping. Besides the fact that they all seem so sweet as they peacefully sleep, I often find myself marveling at the fact that they are even here. These children, gifted by God, were desperately prayed for, cried over, and pursued. There were many years of uncertainty that they would ever fill this room, these beds. And yet, here they are!

Away from the hustle and bustle of the day-to-day chaos of raising three girls so close in age, watching them sleep is also a time when I think back over what it took to get them here. And while there is mostly just amazement when I think of what God did, I’m surprised by how often recounting their story brings up almost a sense of fear in me. Miss L’s story in particular brings thoughts of I can’t believe God did that and I followed! That is so unlike me! I must have been crazy, because that is something I would never do! What in the world was I thinking…

…saying yes to doing an independent international adoption?

…saying yes to adopting from a country that has only done 6 foreign adoptions in the last 7 years?

…being our own travel agent and navigating travel requirements in Bhutan and India?

…taking the risk that the US Consulate wouldn’t issue her a US visa?

…piecing together what hoops to jump through without an agency’s help?

…riding in a taxi by myself to the Consulate in New Delhi?

Seriously, I was crazy!

But what I’m finding is that just like God is in the business of giving grace for the day, I also believe He gives us bravery when it is necessary. Looking back it is easy to see reasons to be terrified, and while I certainly had a sense of fear at the time of her adoption, I had a greater sense of God calling us to it that overcame my own hesitations.

One of my favorite verses is Habakkuk 3:17-19. (Amplified)

Though the fig tree does not blossom and there is no fruit on the vines, [though] the product of the olive fails and the fields yield no food, though the flock is cut off from the fold and there are no cattle in the stalls,

Yet I will rejoice in the Lord; I will exult in the [victorious] God of my salvation!

The Lord God is my Strength, my personal bravery, and my invincible army; He makes my feet like hinds’ feet and will make me to walk [not to stand still in terror, but to walk] and make [spiritual] progress upon my high places [of trouble, suffering, or responsibility]!

Throughout the longing and yearning phases of building our family, I drew comfort in the first two verses. Though I didn’t yet have what I desperately wanted, I was determined to rejoice in the Lord. My focus was on the word yet.

But in these hurried days of raising these girls who have remarkable God-stories, I find myself drawn to the last verse. Looking back in amazement at how God brought them to us and how He chose to use me in the process, and I am more convinced than ever that He was my personal bravery.

In circumstances that today would make me say no way, He gave me the strength and desire at that moment to move forward.

In situations that today would make me say that is too risky, He gave me the courage in those days to press on.

So today, when I am faced with parenting challenges that seem to great for me, may I lean on Him to give me the strength, courage, and wisdom necessary to press on.

He was my personal bravery in the amazing circumstances of Miss L’s adoption, may He be so again today. __________________________________________

18 years in the classroom as a teacher was easy compared to parenting three little ones at home full-time. Through their three daughters, God has revealed Himself most clearly to Stephanie and her husband Matthew. He not only worked a miracle in giving them their biological daughter, He continued to show Himself in mighty ways throughout adoption journeys in China and Bhutan that were anything but normal. Nowadays she enjoys encouraging and connecting with other adoptive families through her work on the leadership team of “We Are Grafted In”. You can read more about their family on their personal blog We Are Family.

March 21, 2014

An Unwelcome House Guest

It’s been pretty quiet here in my little corner of the blogosphere. I know. We’ve been in a hard season with things. This season has been exhausting. Frustrating. Desperate. Isolating. Painful. Exhausting. Draining. The pace of our household has hardly relented in deference to the hard season. It couldn’t.

I can tell you exactly when it started.

Let me tell you the story.

In early December, Trauma came to visit. He snuck into the house, bringing Control, Anxiety, and Fear with him. They are the kind of house guest that rolls into your pretty little guest room unannounced. The kind of house guest that brings his unpleasant friends stowed away in his suitcase before you can even process that his suitcase has been tossed on your guest bed. On the good linens no less. They are the kind of house guest the adage speaks of: “Company and fish start to stink after three days.”

Let me tell you, it stunk way sooner than three days.

It seems as if Mei Mei’s first surgery brought Trauma out of hiding. It’s totally understandable and we knew to expect it from lots of previous experiences – Trauma lurks in those hospitals for lots of kids. Kids from great, loving, nurturing beginnings. Kids from hard places. Kids with serious sicknesses. Kids with simple playground accidents. But it really feels like he was waiting for her in that room. Hiding under that oh-so-institutional crib cage. Hovering under the ugly, rough blankets.

Worse, he felt it necessary to follow her home from the hospital. He toyed with her, making a game of randomly waking her. He got his buddy to help. Fear clutched at her throat. Trauma whipped Control into a frenzy of raging tantrums over peanut butter and jelly sandwiches that weren’t cut “just so.” He’d whisper in Anxiety’s ear a teensy little musing, thus starting the “Telephone Game” of insecurities repeated and grossly warped beyond recognition by the time they got to my girl’s ear. It took us a few weeks of muscling through our own sleep deprivation and the dirty laundry of these unwelcome guests to figure out that they thought they were here to stay.

When the awareness took root that these weren’t visitors, but squatters, The Boss and I dug into our bag of spiritual warfare tactics and started making things very uncomfortable for these intruders. It’s been hard work, this remediation of the damage they sought to inflict. It’s taken all of our energies. Certain Fruits of the Spirit have gotten extra work-outs, through the muddle of sleep deprivation.

{Really, moms, isn’t the irregular sort of sleep deprivation the worst kind of all? I think I could probably get used to 4-5 hours of sleep if that was the new norm. But 8 hours, then 4, then 6 then 4 again? Oh.MY.WORD.}

Scripture is being spoken, sung, hummed, and prayed. The new rocking chair is logging many, many miles. Old hymns of Truth and Promise are being called to mind, used as lullabies, even if the verses are mixed up and tunes are badly mangled. The security and anchor of The Word that my folks encouraged me to memorize and sink deeply into my heart as a young believer are pouring out when I’m too tired to coherently put together my own prayer.

Practical things had to be tended to, to aid the eviction of the unwanted tenants. So January was spent re-establishing household routines and my beloved systems.(Gasp! Yes, even I was shocked at how long it took me to get back on that bandwagon I so love!) I grocery shopped multiple times between snow storms. I baked and cooked whenever the snow dumped on us, and we were snowed in. Menu planning, preparation of the daily dinner, and laundry days all were re-instituted. Many days those tasks were literally ALL that I could handle. But handle them I did. Anxiety had no choice but to pipe down in the wake of the loud, proud boasting of permanence and structure that our return to routines gave. I much prefer when Security and Confidence hang out with my gang, don’t you?

February was focused on establishing some kind of social schedule for the little extroverted Mei Mei and her extrovert momma. Too many unstructured days staying home all day gave Trauma and Control way too much freedom to wreak their havoc. Play dates here at home and busy mornings out to do our errands made way for Joy, Cooperation, and Peace to hang out with us. It continues to amaze to me just HOW much of an extrovert this little girl is!

And while we aren’t certain that Trauma has left the building just yet, we do feel as if he’s recognized that his days are numbered. When he slinks off into the darkness and muck from whence he came, he will have no choice but to pack up his traveling mates with him. The foundation upon which we have built our home has made Trauma’s stay an uncomfortable one and he’s learning that we cannot, WILL NOT co-habitate with him.

Since our name is on the mortgage, he’s the one that’s got to go.

________________________________________

March 19, 2014March 19, 2014

What Adoption Won’t Do

Adoption is a topic close to my heart. My husband, Matt, and I adopted our twoyoungest children. After having our oldest son, we were not able to have morebiological kids due to a rare medical issue I didn’t even know I had. We adopted ouryounger son as an infant and are still waiting to go to court to finalize the adoptionof our daughter, who came home in November at age four. Their stories are here

and here.

In our seven years as part of the adoption community, we’ve noticed some common

misconceptions. I want to help clear some things up for you, especially if you’re

considering adoption for your family.

What Adoption Won’t Do:

Erase the pain of infertility. We tried for longer than I would have liked to have

our son, and I distinctly remember the grief that came every month. I didn’t expect

the same kind of pain with secondary infertility (after all, at least I already had one

baby, right?), but there it was. It turns out that having a child (or more than one)

doesn’t make infertility any easier. Our biological son is now nine, and I still grieve

the loss of the ability to conceive, carry, and deliver another child. Our two adopted

children bring such joy to our lives, but they do not erase the pain of infertility and

cannot be expected to. If you are considering adoption after infertility, please give

yourself time to really experience and grieve your loss before adopting.

Make you a savior. If you are going into adoption with the idea that you’ll ride in

on a white horse to rescue a child who will in turn be appreciative and loving, you’re

setting yourself up for disappointment. No matter the age of the child being adopted,

you are not their rescuer. God is. When you reverse those roles, you will set the

stage for resentment and an unhealthy dynamic. God is the only one who rescues. If

He calls you to adopt, let Him do the rescuing. The best thing you can do is to obey

and thank Him for letting you play a part in that child’s life.

Allow you to parent the same way you parent your biological kids. Adoption

is born out of loss. The birth family and child have all experienced deep loss, and

the adoptive family has often had their own losses as well. Adoptive parenting has

to be different from parenting our biological kids because of the child’s history.

Whether infant or older child adoption, the loss of their birth family plays a role in

their development, attachment, self-concept, and relationships. We can love our

children the same regardless of how they joined our family, but we need to parent

them differently.

Make your marriage better. Whether you’ve endured years of infertility or are

adopting because it’s what God has put on your heart, adoption will not make

your marriage better. It’s easy to think “if only we had a baby, things would be

better.” No more hormones, no more monthly disappointments, no more doctor’s

appointments. Or maybe for you, it seems like your marriage was so much better

when you were both focused on your babies; and now that they’re older, things are

more difficult again. Whatever the case, adoption is difficult and adds stress to a

marriage and family. It doesn’t “fix” anything.

Make your life easier. This one is probably obvious. Adoption, when done with

intentionality, is hard. And that doesn’t end when the baby or child is in your arms.

That’s only the beginning. Adoption is heart-wrenching and overwhelming at

times. I’ve sat with our six-year-old son while he wept over not knowing his birth

family and not being able to fully understand why he was placed for adoption. Our

daughter has wounds only God can heal. She has emotional triggers that we may

never know the root of. And we grieve too because we didn’t see her first steps or

hear her first words. We didn’t get to rock her to sleep or soothe her when she cried.

Whatever the circumstances, adoption is hard for everyone involved.

But what adoption does is more powerful than anything it doesn’t do.

Adoption has brought our family together in a way only God could orchestrate.

His hand has been evident in every step. He literally provided a father for our two

fatherless children, and is the Heavenly Father for us all. We will forever be grateful

for the gift of all three of our children and on our knees with humility that we have

the honor of parenting them.

Adoption has given us a glimpse into God’s grace like nothing else could.

The grace I show my children when they act out is only a tiny shadow of the Grace I’ve received(and continue to need daily). The financial and emotional cost of adopting ourchildren is nothing compared to the cost of my own adoption by God. In order forme to become His daughter, God sacrificed His only Son.Adoption has revealed God’s love for us like we hadn’t seen before. When we look at

our adopted children with the same love we have for the one who shares our genes,

we grasp a little bit more the love God has for us. When He looks at me, He doesn’t

see second-best. He sees His daughter.

Adoption is hard. But it’s worth it.

____________________________________

Becca Whitson writes with her husband Matt at WhitsonLife.com. They write about marriage, parenting, and life through the lens of a married couple, parenting team, and pastor and professional counselor. Their desire is to provide hope and restoration by giving you a glimpse into their lives- the failures, the successes, and the brokenness and beauty of everyday.

March 17, 2014

Trust

As a mother, I am always measuring my parenting by the Word.

I especially desire to have my parenting be a foundation for my children as they begin to develop a relationship with God of their own. My prayer and my hope is that the things I have taught them, the way I have disciplined them and trained them, the character I have shown them will be a good reflection of our Heavenly Father. I know that I am not perfect and that I will make mistakes, but my desire is that my parenting and actions help them to have an accurate idea of who the Father is.

This is my desire for all of my children,
but I can see the need for this even more clearly with my adoptive children.

And so often as a parent, you learn about God from your children.

But even more so, with my adoptive children,
I see the parallels of myself and my own salvation.

I can see how much they need to see a reflection of that kind of love through me, because I remember how much I needed to know that love. I remember how hurt and bruised and empty and broken and distrustful of people I was when I first came to Him. I remember how I had grossly inaccurate perspectives of the kind of God He was. I remember how much I needed to learn to trust Him.

Trust.

Years of suspicion, fear, rejection.
Being let down and forgotten.
Stepped on, abused, taken advantage of.

This was me at once.
To some degree this was my children.
This was some of you in one form or another before we knew Him,
or when we have walked away and rejected His love.

I see a HUGE need for me to teach all my children to TRUST me,
and especially my adoptive children.

What they deeply need me to instill in their hearts with my everyday actions is that they can TRUST me. They can trust my love for them and ultimately God’s love. To show them I will be faithful to love and forgive them, stand by and defend them. And that when I make mistakes, I will honestly seek forgiveness and own up to my own wrong actions.

I know this may sound elementary.
I know you guys have all read the Connected Child.

But I think if you’re like me and miss it ~~sometimes~~
…ok
ALOT,
you probably need to be reminded of these things ~~sometimes~~,
…who are we kidding,
ALOT.

When I am trying to control myself as I kindly correct my child, and they hear that slightly detectable change of tone and completely shut-down.

I hear the voice of the Lord whispering,
“Teach them they can trust you. Teach them they can trust Me.”

And I remember how patient the Father is with me.

When I see them again doing that behavior I thought we had addressed.

I remember how faithful God has been to me to help me renew my mind to His Word.

When I see them have a physical need and not come to me with it for help,
either from lack of sensitivity to pain or from the lingering misconception that nobody cares.

I remember how loving and gentle the Father was to me as the wounds of my past healed.

My actions need to help them build trust in me.
This year.
Next year.
As long as it takes.

Just like I had to learn and am still learning to trust My Heavenly Father.

That I can come to Him when I am sad, nothing is too small for Him.
I can come to Him when I am fearful, nothing is too BIG for Him.
When I need provision, there is Someone who is faithful to His promises.
When I am distrustful of people, I can remember His forgiveness and love for me.

Help my actions in parenting, Lord, to help my children trust you more.
Help them to trust me and my love for them, Lord.
And help me to be faithful to the task, worthy of the calling.
I pray that when I am tested that I will remember all You have done for me,
how patient You have been with me, how much You love me, and I will use that wisdom as I teach and train my children.
Help them to turn from the fear and rejection they may have known to the freedom of love, faith and trust.
I know that you are the Healer and are working in us spirit, soul and body to make us whole.
Thank you for your grace to finish the race you have set before us.

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Category: Adoption and Faith