How adoption and faith are connected
my baby girl is 11 months old. and as i sit here writing, my mind wanders to what she might be doing at this very moment. my heart begs for her to be held. to have someone smile at her. soothe her when she cries. pick up her favorite toy when she drops it. giggle at her silly antics.
perhaps by her 13th month, i’ll look back and wonder what all this fretting was about.
We recently moved out of our house to remodel the downstairs after experiencing a water leak. In the process, I was forced to confront one of the more unwelcome tasks of moving
“Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ! In his great mercy he has given us new birth into a living hope through the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead.” 1 Peter 1:3 (NIV)
It was Easter, but I didn’t want to celebrate. My head knew the truth of new life, but my heart felt like I was living in a valley of death.
Every Easter we had sung songs about Jesus conquering death and rejoiced at His resurrection. Normally it was a glorious celebration, but not that year.
An outsider might have scoffed. I wasn’t dealing with real death, thankfully. Instead, an avalanche of daily deaths was burying me. My heart was breaking over the end of a ministry at church I loved.
We thanked God for our adopted daughters, but their severe needs forever ended my family the way it was. And because of those needs, I was having to close doors of opportunity that brought me great joy. One “death” after another faced me.
As I stood that Easter Sunday, arms raised in pleading more than praise, with tears streaming down my face, I begged God, “I know You raised Jesus from the dead. But will You conquer my death? Will You redeem what feels like death here and now?”
The power of my emotions poured out in waves of grief.
Before then, I had not admitted to myself that what I faced felt like death. But there it was. Putting a name to it helped. The song ended, I dried my tears, and the service continued. No lightning bolt flashed, but my heart felt a little lighter.
In the coming weeks I allowed myself to feel the grief of loss. When sadness swept over my heart, I returned to my same questions: God, I know You can, but will You conquer my death?
I prayed for new life to come into my areas of “death.”
Interestingly, a month later I went to a conference where God opened floodgates of inspiration and ideas. I left more excited about the future than I’d been in years. One day that summer, I realized God had eased my heart over the loss of the ministry I had loved.
In late summer, God handed me an incredible gift of another ministry job that I could manage in my crazy schedule. In early fall we found a therapist who could help our family with one of our daughters. Within months of my pleading prayer, it became obvious God was resurrecting what seemed dead.
While my circumstances weren’t changed in every situation, my heart was comforted. My hope was resurrected.
Jesus showed me He is the Conqueror of all death: here in this world and forever. God answered my question and prayer with a resounding “Yes!” Yes, He can and will conquer my death. I don’t have to wait for eternal life to experience my own resurrection of the heart. And neither do you.
Dear Lord, I praise You today for Your power over all death
Originally posted on June 2, 2010 as they waited to travel to adopt their son…
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We had hoped to be in the air today on our way to Albania, but we are currently waiting on some paperwork to go through here in the US. God knew we needed this extra time though. We have been so busy in May that had we left today, we would have spent much of our time in Albania worried about what we didn
Our boys have been home for 5 months now. That doesn
January 27th was a Thursday. After saying goodbye to friends, and praying with mountains of people, we boarded a plane. It was to be a long trip, possibly 2 months, but we would return with our adopted daughter. There was a chance we would have to return without her. There was a chance we would have to make two trips. That didn’t matter. We were sure that God would provide us a way to come home with her. It was his calling for the Polsgrove family.
It didn’t work out that way. Due to some issues beyond our control, we’re still waiting. When we came home, we thought we would only be home for 3 or 4 weeks before we returned. It’s been over that now. And, even though we hear rumors, there’s no way for us to know when we will be going back to get her.
People have been great. They’ve been encouraging and loving and supportive through every step. Joys and pains have all been shared with our friends and family. The one question we seem to get all the time is “How are you”? That’s a hard question to answer. The most common response is “we’re okay,” which is actually probably a lie. I guess the answer is “most of the time we’re great, but other times it feels like being kicked in the chest repeatedly.”
I’ve gone through a wide range of emotions since we got home. Sad to leave her. Glad to be in a familiar place. Confused why we’re delayed. Thankful for what we have.
The truth is, we stepped out in faith asking God to do something that was highly improbable if not impossible. He didn’t do what we thought he would. In fact, on the surface it seems he didn’t do anything. I thought that would rock my faith. I even thought it might make me doubt if he was even real. That hasn’t happened. This has really opened up the most honest conversations I’ve had with God in my entire life, and I’ve been more assured of his presence because of it.
I am absolutely confused. I am fine one second, impatient the next. There are even times of searing anger towards Him. I’ve been so angry that I wondered if other Christians’ opinions of me would change if they knew about it. All these things have resulted in me having honest conversations with God. I’ve been able to celebrate when He moves in other areas of my life. And, man, he has moved in other areas of my life.
The last time I posted, I was excited about going to get the baby girl. I also said that any semblance of control is an illusion. I had no idea how true that statement was. Although it’s been painful, I wouldn’t have it any other way. I know how much I screw up things when I start to take the reigns. God will bring her home to be with us; I have no doubt. With each conversation and question and prayer, God is asking me to lean on him more, rely on his grace, breathe deep while He does the work.
This is a hard thing, but if I’m going to say “Jesus is the most important thing in my life,” I need to mean it. If it’s not put to the test once in a while, I can’t really mean it. So, I’ll wait. It’s not always easy, but I have a feeling it’s going to be worth it.
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Russ and Anna have been married for 5 years. Even as friends, before dating or marriage, they shared with one another that they each wanted to adopt. After marrying in May 2005, talk of adoption slowly entered its way into their conversations. Russ, working as a youth pastor, and Anna, working as a teacher and at a girl’s group home, saw the need more than ever for children to have loving, safe homes. After coming to this realization, they chose to begin the adoption process to adopt a little girl from Ethiopia who they have named Lucy. You can follow their journey and offer your support as they answer God’s call on their lives on their personal blog.
When we sought to adopt the first time, it was simply for two reasons. First, we felt God had blessed us with abundant love, home and opportunities and we wanted to share that with another child. I never really foresaw having four children, but we wholeheartedly felt God was calling us to that blessing. Second, God’s word clearly calls believers to take care of orphans. We felt that adoption was a pretty cool way to do that. Yes, I know those reasons are not “acceptable” within part of the adoption community, but those were our reasons. Whatever arguments you may have for or against our initial inducements, all I can say is, there is absolutely no way we could love our little Joseph more, and under no circumstance do we consider him a “charity chase” and under no circumstance do we believe he should “appreciate all we’ve done” anymore than our other (biological) children.
Rewind a couple years … we simply wanted to adopt an orphan in need. We knew so very little. As embarrassingly naive as it sounds, I thought ‘an orphan is an orphan’, and how can adopting one be bad? Perhaps we knew just a tad more than that, but not much. I thank God everyday He protected us, because quite honestly one agency with an absolutely terrible ethical reputation was on our “list of considers.”
So, we took the leap, and we sent in our application and began our process to adopt a baby boy from Ethiopia.
It was really then that I began to learn. I joined yahoo boards (several of them) and started reading blogs (lots of them) of families who had adopted from Ethiopia. I read lots of happily-ever-after stories. I also read several horror stories about agencies recruiting babies from hungry, poor (but probably really good) mothers off the streets of Ethiopia. I read of agencies lying to families, selling adoption as something temporary or as a coparenting type of situation. I read scary stories about one of the agencies we had considered, and wondered how in the world I could have been so ignorant. It is what it is, and I’m not proud. All I can say is, you don’t know what you don’t know, until you know it. I will never judge a parent who (unknowingly) signed on with an unethical adoption agency. It easily could have been me. I suppose it’s what you then do with that knowledge that matters.
Fast forward to now. . . we are in the midst of our second adoption, an adoption we did not initiate but one we are no less excited about. This time, however, could not be more different. Somewhere along the way, I misplaced my rose colored glasses. I now question everything, and want to challenge every truth that is thrown my way. I play a mental tennis match between God’s call to care for orphans, how to do that best, family preservation, supply and demand for healthy babies, and what that means for defending the rights of the oppressed. I wonder what was done for my sons’ birth father. If he had been given some assistance, could he parent these boys? My agency never considers “poverty alone to justify international adoption.” I want to know, specifically, what they do to back up their policy. What I blindly accepted as “good form” the first go round, I want details and specifics and proofs of this go round.
I have nagging questions that never existed before. “Did someone approach MB’s dad about adoption, or was it his idea?” “Did he truly understand adoption was forever, that he may never see his son again?” “Did our meeting with Joseph and MB’s dad and the pictures we sent look so appealing, so wealthy, that we somehow convinced him to relinquish another child?” For the record, I have no basis for these questions and I’m pretty sure I know the answers. I have no doubts about our first adoption. I consider our agency to be very ethical and I have no reason, through our experiences or experiences of lots of fellow families, to believe otherwise. However, since I misplaced my rose colored glasses along the way, I do not believe any adoption agency to be perfect, to be above reproach, above questioning.
In all this muddied water we call orphan care, I believe we can rely on One truth. God’s truth says “religion that God our Father accepts as pure and faultless is this: to look after orphans and widows in their distress” (James 1:27), and His word says to “defend the weak and the fatherless; uphold the cause of the poor and oppressed” (Psalm 82:3). I still believe adoption to be a good thing. However, to consider the needs of the weak and fatherless, the poor and oppressed, we must realize that sometimes those categories overlap overwhelmingly to our birth families. What do we do with that? What do we do for them?
If I could say one thing to someone who feels called to orphan care, to someone considering adoption, it would be to struggle . . . to research, research, research, ask questions, even the hard ones, and listen to the answers, even the hard ones, even the bitter we-had-a-horrible-experience ones. You don’t necessarily have to agree with their conclusion, but listen to their experiences and perhaps heed some of their warnings. Our children, our children’s birth families, our children’s nation – they are worth this struggle. In the end, seek knowledge, truth, and the Father’s wisdom.
What does the Lord require of you? To act justly and to love mercy and to walk humbly with your God. Micah 6:8
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Shonda is
Gentle 6 will be officially named
William JiaLe Gentle
So, where and why did we pick Will? I’d like to share a little about Mike’s and my creativity level.
So, why Will? Jia Le means happy family. I didn’t really see any American names that meant the same thing. We resorted to reviewing the Social Security Administration list of popular names. Mike suggested Will along with two others. I too liked Will. So, after going public with the name, I felt bad. The other boys have a story to go with their names. This kid’s name just seemed right. Thinking it over, maybe there is a bigger story, and here’s my first attempt at documenting its significance for me.
Wikipedia has this to say about the meaning and origins of William:
It was always so cold in the waiting room.
That is the question I ask myself almost daily.
When we accepted Kalia