Adoption and Faith Archives - Page 7 of 44

April 15, 2015

From Foster Mom to Birth Mom {Letters}

Dear Sara,

My head won’t let go of the last time I saw you.

You stood there, by my dirty Odyssey, clinging to your little girl’s hand. You kissed it over and over again. You spoke these words, “I love you; I’ll see you. If I’m not at the doctor, I’ll be here next Monday.” You reached to the back of the van for your little boy with an “I love you very much.” Still, you held on to your baby girl.

I admit that I rolled my eyes at your, “If I’m not at the doctor…” comment as I sat in the warmth of the driver’s seat watching you through the rear-view mirror. How many times had you already detoxed? Your commitment to the whole thing seemed suspect.

I held my hand over the “Close Door” button, as I waited for you to let go. My face depicted a patience that my head was not claiming. I had to get these kids home. We needed to commence with the terrible transition from you, Mommy, to me, Mama Kim, from candy and toys to dinner with vegetables and rules. We needed to start the conversation about where Mommy goes when she leaves us at the Child Protection Agency. I wanted to get going with all of this, but you wouldn’t let go.

That was Monday.

Today is Thursday, and I’ve just hung up the phone.

D&#n it, Sara!

The caseworker said it was last night. But, they found you this morning. You’re gone. You took your last breath in the dark with a needle in your hand.

I would have waited, Sara. I would have waited to strap the kids into their car seats. I would have waited to push play on the video player that distracted them from your “I love you.” Had I known it would be the last time they saw you and you saw them, I would have waited!

I slap my hand away from that “Close Door” button over and over again in my mind, now. I repent of my impatience. I watch, a million times over, your hand relentlessly squeezing, caressing, and grasping your baby girl’s. It was like, somewhere in your heart, you knew.

You were sick with your addiction, Sara, but you were their home base. You were what their little 3 yr. old and 4 yr. old brains understood to be reality. What words do I use to explain that what was real is gone?

They ask where you are every week. And, every week, they learn all over again that you won’t be back. They say, “ok.” But, I fear what that “ok” will turn into at age 9, 13, 17. Will it be anger, betrayal, fear, recklessness, or a will for something different? I pray that it’s something different, Sara. I pray that what they will know of you is that you loved, and you loved hard. That you didn’t want to let go. That the tide that overwhelmed you, does not have to come for them.

That will be my prayer now. And your hand, holding and reaching, will be the picture I keep and the story I tell, as long as I get to be a part of their new reality.

Rest, Sara. Rest well.

Love, Mama Kim

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Kim Miller and her husband Bryant live in Ohio, where she serves in full-time ministry in the United Methodist Church. They are the bio parents of two, foster parents of an ever-changing number, and pet parents of a nervous Border Collie and a cat who doesn’t care. Kim is a graduate of Asbury Theological Seminary and Ohio University. She shares bits and pieces of her life over at kimberlyrmiller.com.

April 10, 2015April 9, 2015

From Adoptive Mom to Adoptive Mom Who May be Losing Hope {Letters}

Dear hopeful adoptive mom who may be losing hope,

You have been waiting a long time. A very long time. Longer than you ever anticipated. You had an abundance of hope (and were admittedly a little naive) when you first began your adoption journey. You were confident that you wouldn’t be “that couple” waiting longer than everyone else who walked this path before you. It was going to happen fast, right? God would grant you the desires of your heart lickety-split, right? And you would certainly never become an adoption horror story. You know the ones, from a friend of a friend of a friend? They share your story, about how long you’ve been waiting, and all respond with deep sighs and versions of “gosh, I could NEVER do that!” That was never going to be you, right?

Now, here you sit. Still waiting on the Lord, praying that He would bless you with children. Your hope is dwindling, and you wonder if He brought you into this process solely for the sanctification aspect, and possibly not to fulfill your desire for a family. You’ve out-waited all of your friends, and every other adoptive couple you know. Friends who began the process after you have been placed with children before you. Lots of them. Your heart hurts constantly. It’s sick with the hope that has been deferred, and you long desperately for that tree of life (Proverbs 13:12). Yet, your desire is left unfulfilled, and your home remains quiet and empty.

Maybe you came very close to being placed with children and it ended up falling through. Or maybe an expectant mom chose you to parent her baby, and after the birth she decided to parent the baby herself. I understand that pain because it happened to us recently. For almost six weeks we were moving forward with a sibling group we had been matched with. The details don’t matter. It was a complicated situation as every adoption situation is. What matters is that it hurts, and it’s an incredibly isolating experience because there are really no good comparisons for it. I’ve heard others very cautiously compare it to a miscarriage. You’re filled with excitement, and healthy levels of fear and nervousness. You plan and prepare. You shop and you dream. Your life is about to get turned upside down. You’ve started to let the word out to friends and family, and everyone is excited. Your love for these precious children grow more and more each day. Then suddenly it all ends. As quickly as you heard the words “you guys were chosen” from your case worker, you’re back in the state-wide computer system, waiting to be chosen again. The comparison to a miscarriage fails on many levels, I know. These are two very different experiences with uniquely devastating pain. For now though, it has given me some type of category to process this experience through. If you have been there, I hope it helps you process too.

I want you to know that if you have experienced this, it’s good to grieve. Going through this is incredibly heart-wrenching, sad, and will test your faith in a deeply profound way. You ought to grieve it. The best, and most loving advice I was given was “take time to grieve.” This advice came from a friend who experienced something similar in her adoption journey. She’s absolutely right.

Grieving an experience like this will look different for everyone. Adam and I have grieved in very different ways. This is ok, and good. As I’ve processed through this experience, my faith has been tested in ways that it never has before. My heart is in a constant tug of war, frequently doubting that God cares (He does care – 1 Peter 5:7), and wondering if He even sees me in my pain (He does, and weeps with me – John 11:35).

Maybe you feel deep regret for letting this news spread as far as it did, building excitement among those who have been waiting alongside you for years. Having to backtrack and tell your friends and family that it’s not happening anymore only amplified the pain. Well-meaning people, who love you very much, unintentionally say things that cut to the quick. I know you’re weary of hearing optimistic versions of “It just wasn’t God’s timing!” and “They just weren’t meant to be yours!” and “Everything happens for a reason!” Although these sentiments may be true, the deep pain you’re experiencing is often unknowingly disregarded during those conversations.

Or maybe those closest to you just kept silent. That often hurts the most, doesn’t it? They probably didn’t know what to say, and they didn’t want to make your pain worse by saying the wrong thing, so they retreated. That’s certainly understandable. You know they can’t read your mind, but you would have loved to hear them say something like “I don’t understand what you’re going through but I can imagine this is deeply painful. I’m so sorry. I’m praying for you.” Not many people do understand what you’re going through, and it just plain hurts sometimes.

All this to say, I see you, hopeful adoptive mom who may be losing hope. I understand the pain you’re going through, and the wrestling your heart has been engaged in. You may feel like you’re hanging on by a thread because your hope has dwindled so much. You wish you could go back in time to your naive, optimistic, idealistic self just starting out the adoption process, and give her a swift reality check punch to the gut. But, you can’t. You know it will be worth it if it actually happens one day, so, you move on with the tiny glimmer of hope that you still have. It’s only a glimmer, and it’s dim, but it’s enough to move you forward by faith, trusting in God’s sovereignty, goodness, kindness, and love towards you.

Psalm 77, a lament, has been deeply comforting to my soul during this time. It’s beautiful to see how the Psalmist (Asaph) is so honest with the Lord about his feelings. Sweet, hurting sister, allow these verses to give you the freedom to be honest with the Lord. You may feel like “your soul refuses to be comforted” (Psalm 77:2) and your spirit may be faint (Psalm 77:3). Your heart may be so full of trouble that you find it nearly impossible to put your feelings into words (Psalm 77:4). You may be like me, where verses 7-9 are the cry of your heart right now and you’re tempted to believe that God will never again show you favor.

Allow your spirit to “diligently search” (Psalm 77:6), and then, as it says in verse 11, “remember the deeds of the Lord.” Recall His faithfulness in your life. Even if it feels nearly impossible to do so. Allow this lament to shape your prayers as you fight for hope in Christ.

I cry aloud to God,

aloud to God, and he will hear me.

2 In the day of my trouble I seek the Lord;

in the night my hand is stretched out without wearying;

my soul refuses to be comforted.

3 When I remember God, I moan;

when I meditate, my spirit faints. Selah

4 You hold my eyelids open;

I am so troubled that I cannot speak.

5 I consider the days of old,

the years long ago.

6 I said, “Let me remember my song in the night;

let me meditate in my heart.”

Then my spirit made a diligent search:

7 “Will the Lord spurn forever,

and never again be favorable?

8 Has his steadfast love forever ceased?

Are his promises at an end for all time?

9 Has God forgotten to be gracious?

Has he in anger shut up his compassion?” Selah

10 Then I said (emphasis mine), “I will appeal to this,

to the years of the right hand of the Most High.”

11 I will remember the deeds of the Lord;

yes, I will remember your wonders of old.

12 I will ponder all your work,

and meditate on your mighty deeds.

13 Your way, O God, is holy.

What god is great like our God?

14 You are the God who works wonders; (emphasis mine)

you have made known your might among the peoples. (Psalm 77:1-14, ESV)

He is the God who works wonders. This is true. It doesn’t necessarily mean He will grant you the desires of your heart, but it does mean that He can. He can redeem this ridiculously long, emotionally bumpy, seemingly unproductive, roller coaster ride of an adoption process for His glory. That has always been my prayer, and I’m guessing yours too. If you know Jesus, He has redeemed your soul, granting you salvation through his life, death and resurrection. If anything would be difficult for God (and we know that nothing is), turning our hardened hearts from a life of sin to one that desires to glorify Him would have been it. But that wasn’t hard for Him at all! He can certainly do this too, for the sake of His name. There is hope in the name of Jesus (Matthew 12:21), and He’s the only hope we need.

Fight for hope, sweet sister. Keep your eyes fixed on the One who knows every hair on your head (Matthew 10:30), and sovereignly rules over the smallest details of your life. He can work wonders with your situation, and sprout up a tree of life (Proverbs 13:12) after an exceptionally challenging and long wait. Even if He chooses not to, He is still all of these things, the same trustworthy God today, yesterday and forever (Hebrews 13:8).

Love,

A hopeful adoptive mom fighting for hope by your side

P.S. This old school resource from Pastor John Piper brought hope to my soul recently, and reminded me that “blessed are those who wait for Him.” It’s called Battling the Unbelief of Impatience.

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April is a follower of King Jesus, wife, mother, writer, and adoption advocate. She lives in New England where her husband serves as a worship-pastor. Her introverted nature loves to read, sip coffee, and cook nourishing food for those she loves. Read more on her blog Redemptive Homemaking.

April 6, 2015April 6, 2015

Knowing When to Say Yes to an Adoption Referral

It was just over a year ago that I answered the phone call that changed the trajectory of our lives. It was the call from our adoption agency family coordinator letting me know that she had two referrals for us to consider. As she began to describe the children my heart raced. This was it! This was the moment I had dreamed about and anticipated for so long. Could it be, that I was about to be introduced to my children for the first time?

It had only been the day before that call, that, I had received a text from a close friend, letting me know she had a dream that Kirk and I were walking out of the airport holding hands with Lily and Liam. Both children had excitement and a bit of worry in their eyes—but more excitement. She elaborated and said, “But the look on your hubs face, it was priceless!” She encouraged me that our referral was coming, “But not when you think.”

I woke the morning of January 16, 2014 at 5:30am feeling impressed to get out of bed. I was tired, but felt urged to read my Bible and pray. I’m not even sure how I came to this next verse, but when I did, I felt sure there was a hidden message in it for me. Habakkuk 2:3 says, “For the revelation awaits an appointed time; it speaks of the end and will not prove false. Though it linger, wait for it; it will certainly come and not delay.” I wrote it down unsure what it meant. I had no idea that the calling we had been given, to adopt a boy and a girl, was about to be revealed but in the way I expected.

At 10:33 am my cell phone rang.

I saw the (703) area code but it did not register. Ashley (our family coordinator) was calling to let me know she had two referrals for us to consider. I was beside myself when I realized who it was and why she was calling! After she explained the purpose for her call she gave me some preliminary information about the children to allow me the option of reviewing their files or waiting for another match.

She started by saying, “Okay, I have a little girl that is considered special needs. She is almost 8 years old. She has a vision problem, (crossed eyes). Would you like to review her file?

I swallowed hard. “Yes!”

“Okay.” She went on, “There is boy almost 10. He is only three months younger than your youngest child, would that be a problem if your children are in the same grade?”

“No.”

She proceeded, “Would you like to review his file?”

“Yes!” I squealed.

“Okay, I’ll send you their files. Examine them with your husband and let me know if you’d like to proceed with a full review.”

After the longest ten minutes of my life, I had their information in my inbox.

I was floored with emotion as I opened those files for the first time. This was the moment I had waited so many months for. I can still recall the intense emotions that sunk deep into my chest, as I looked blurry-eyed at their photographs for the first time.

Time stood still.

He was a handsome boy, an older child whose only special need was that he was older and harder to place and she an adorable little girl with what appeared to be a minor vision problem. I called my husband and forwarded the files to him. We were both at work, so we agreed to look them over together later that evening.

During the waiting, I had envisioned what it would be like to receive my children’s referrals. I wondered, how would I know if they were mine? Would I feel a connection immediately, or would that sense of knowing they were mine come gradually over time? The moment of discovery had finally come.

Months earlier we had discussed the list of possible special needs we felt comfortable with. I had done research on the various conditions and reviewed the information with Kirk. Somehow checking the boxes of special needs that we both were comfortable with felt awkward, but this was a required step. Part of the home study is designed to evaluate and approve a family to care for a child with special needs. The family is assessed by the social worker to determine if they are equipped to care for a child with needs noted on the list. Kirk and I had agreed that only special needs that we both were comfortable with would make it on our list. If one was okay with a special need but the other one not, then it was a no. It seemed simple enough.

At first glance the needs of these two children appeared to fit within our list of approved special needs. Yet, as we read through the little girl’s file more closely, we discovered she had significant developmental delays. This was an immediate red flag. We were adopting two children at once and we already have one child whose needs will require life-long support. Neither of us felt comfortable taking a second child whose needs will likely necessitate the same.

Despite the red flag, we both felt paralyzed to make any decision.

We questioned ourselves. Was God calling us to take on more than we had planned or anticipated? Or was our discomfort a signal meant to offer us direction? Either way, we were not ready to decide as we both felt unsure.

We immediately bathed our decision in prayer and then sought additional information to help guide our steps. We started with requesting an update from the orphanage. We sent a list of ten questions, and waited for their reply. Next, we obtained an expert opinion from a physician who specializes in reviewing adoption referral files. Next we reached out to the adoption community, requesting feedback regarding ‘how to know when to say yes’ to a referral.

The orphanage updates were a mix of good and bad news. The boy’s update stated he was on grade level in school and appeared to be healthy in all respects. The little girl’s update indicated that her delays had prevented her from attending school and she was unable to speak full sentences. This news heightened our hesitancy about accepting her referral.

Next, we sought the opinion from a physician who reviewed adoption referrals. She stated very matter-of-factly that in her opinion, the boy was a healthy older child with the exception that he appeared to be very small for his age. She pointed that the little girl had significant delays that would likely prevent her from ever living independently. She held nothing back and gave me the worst-case scenario to think about. At first, I was a bit taken aback by her negativity, but later I realized she had done me a favor by making me see what I did not want to see.

While all of this information weighed heavily on us, we were eased by the encouragement we had received from the adoption community. So many families responded positively regarding how they had come to make hard decisions. Some told us of ‘knowing’ it was their child the moment they saw a picture. Others said they did not know right away but came to their yes more slowly. Others told of stories where they did not accept the first or sometimes even the second and third referral they were given. I was comforted by the fact that there was more than one way to ‘know’ and that not everyone accepted the first referral. It became clear that there was no perfect formula we needed to use, we just had to keep asking, praying and waiting until a clear answer was revealed.

Why was this so hard? The answer I discovered was painful.

In that period of waiting I came to understand that part of my hesitancy to not saying ‘yes’ to adopting this little girl, was the implication that our lack of a ‘yes’ was really a ‘no’.

That was it. I knew that I was struggling with saying, ‘no’ to a child who really needed a family. Despite my gut feeling that this was not our little girl, I was not comfortable sending her file back and saying—no.

I wrestled with this one for several weeks until I found some encouragement from a book I was reading, Kisses from Katie, by Katie Davis, a (single) adoptive mother of fourteen former-orphans in Uganda. As I read her story, I found answers to mine.

After adopting her eleventh child, Katie had decided not to adopt any more children. She felt her family was complete, until the Lord made it ever so clear she was to take another and not just any child. The child presented to her had significant delays. Katie described how she was hesitant to take a child with limited mobility since she already had a large level of responsibility to her other eleven girls as well as to the people she ministered to in the villages. Having a child who could not walk would mean she would have to carry her everywhere. But then one day the Lord made his plan so clear Katie could not deny it, and once more she embraced a new daughter.

I connected with this story, and wondered if this was my answer. Did God want us to take on more than we had planned but not more than He had planned? Though I felt willing to move forward with her, my husband did not. I wondered at this discrepancy. We would have to move on this decision soon. Although the adoption agency had given us a lenient two weeks to decide, the clock was ticking and we would have to give an answer soon.

January 27, 2014 “Not every child that came to Katie was Katie’s child.”

Those were the words I heard the Lord speak that morning as my husband prayed for God to show us his plan for these two little ones. One would become ours and the other one not.

After hearing from he Lord, I recalled the rest of Katie’s story. I realized that many, many, many children came to Katie for help. Sometimes people would bring children to her or ask her to adopt them, but she did not adopt every girl that she ministered to or every girl that needed adoption. Katie adopted only the girls that were her children—the ones that God had chosen for her.

God made his plan for us clear that morning. Our first referral for a girl was a no. She was not ours. My wrestling was over as quickly as it had come. In that moment of prayer, I knew this little one was not my daughter. I realized that even though I was not called to be her mother, she was His child. It wasn’t up to me to save her or any; I only need be obedient to the calling he set before me.

If you are waiting on a referral, here are some tips on how to get ready for your yes:

Pray for your child while you are waiting. (I am in awe at how our Lily’s personality matches the prayers I had prayed over her exactly).
Seek the Lord throughout the process and follow His lead. (Getting behind God instead of running ahead was a hard lesson for me at times).
Seek godly men and women in the adoption community to offer their wisdom when you need help, support, encouragement or direction. (This is vital!)
Seek to understand your spouse’s concerns about the adoption. Move forward only when you both agree.If one spouse is in on board and the other not, take it as either a no and move-on, or a wait-not-yet, but do not push. (There was a lot of waiting I had to do. God will move in a spouse’s heart, you just need to get out of the way and then wait.)
Be prepared that if you do not accept the first referral that comes your way, there may be some people that will not agree with your decision. You may feel rejected and judged, but do not be discouraged. It is only God you need to please.
Do not adopt to try and save anyone. That is God’s job and only He can do it. Adopt out of obedience to your calling then rely on Him to carry you through. (It is hard work but oh so rewarding!)
Realize there is no perfect formula for deciding to accept a referral or what special needs (if any) you’re equipped to handle. “Pray like it depends on God and then work like it depends on you,” (Mark Batterson).

One last note–one of my concerns in writing this is that it would discourage a family from adopting a child with significant delays or offend someone who already has. So before I leave anyone with any negative impression of how we feel about children with severe developmental delays, let me clearly state that we highly value all children, but especially those precious ones with significant needs. They need families too! We are parents to a child with special needs and he is our pride and joy! Our hesitancy to say yes to another child with significant developmental delays was based on what we felt we could manage in the mix of our other responsibilities. We prayerfully considered it and do not want our decision to discourage anyone who has been called to embrace a child with significant developmental delays. Go and do what you are called to do and if you already have, then Amen!

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Tiffany is a wife to Kirk and mother of eight including six biological and two newly adopted from China. With a looming financial crisis at the outset of their recent adoption, God took their family on a journey of faith. Having been home just over ten weeks, they are currently working through the transition phase of their new adoption. Tiffany writes an honest account of challenges of adoption and the redemptive work of her savior Jesus Christ at Extravagant Love. Though her faith and limits have been tested, she points that adoption is paving the way for her to grow and experience God’s presence as never before.

April 3, 2015

God’s Plan

Since coming home with Silas, we get a lot of comments from people about how wonderful God’s plan is and how much better his ways are than our own. Talking about God’s plans with this cliche simplicity is something we Christians love to do. But when it was said to me in reference to infertility and adoption, something about it really irked me, and I couldn’t quite put my finger on it until I really sat down to think about it.

Here’s the thing. Adoption was always a part of our plan. The infertility part wasn’t. So, adoption was not some “new plan” from God that came about because our original plan didn’t work out. In my mind, they are two completely unrelated things. The only thing that ties them together for us is the timing. We didn’t choose to adopt because of infertility. We chose to adopt because God called us to it long before we ever knew we would deal with infertility, and because it was as much a desire of our hearts as having biological children was.

And here’s another thing. I do not believe that the infertility was God’s plan for us. I don’t believe that the pain and struggle our birth mom had to endure in life was a part of God’s plan for her. I don’t believe that parents who can’t have children and children who can’t have parents is ever a part of God’s plan. But I do believe that God, knowing the challenges and pain we would have to face, did make a plan for us and Silas to have each other. Because, God “causes all things to work together for the good of those who love Him.” (Romans 8:28) And this is so, SO good.

And one more thing, isn’t it God’s plan for all of us, as Christians, to care for the orphans….not just those of us who deal with infertility?

“Religion that God our Father accepts as pure and faultless is this: to look after orphans and widows in their distress and to keep oneself from being polluted by the world.” James 1:27

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Mindy and her husband, Nick, adopted their son, Silas, domestically in August of 2013 after seven years of marriage and two years of unexplained infertility. They live in Southern California, where Nick is a pastor and elder at ROCKHARBOR church and Mindy is a part-time teacher. She also hosts an infertility and adoption group each month, where she gets to do life with women who share her deepest pain and her greatest passion. She blogs at Finding Sunday.

April 1, 2015

In Honor of the Foster Siblings I So Fiercely Loved

“Silence in the face of evil is itself evil: God will not hold us guiltless. Not to speak is to speak. Not to act is to act.” – Dietrich Bonhoeffer

I remember the way she stared. Bound tightly in a double leg cast, her eyes begged for freedom. She had only been in this world for three months. She didn’t understand. I held her and winced as her broken ribs popped with each breath. I was only 8-years-old. I didn’t understand.

I remember the way he cried. Born addicted to drugs, his crying never stopped. His body was tense. He went through withdrawals from a substance never designed to be in the body of an infant. The effect this would have on his life was astronomical. I failed to understand.

I remember the way she gorged herself with food. She was left at the scene of a crime. Neglected. It was her first birthday, but her guardian left her. She had the most beautiful smile. She knew that food was comfort. I was 9-years-old. I could never identify with that level of abandonment.

I remember the way he struggled to suck on a bottle. Fresh from the hospital, the drugs had significantly manipulated his reflexes. I watched my mom meticulously and persistently care for him. Each day he swallowed a little bit more. He became strong, and for 11 months he was my brother. I felt pride in his achievements.

I remember the way her skin turned red. Trapped in a spicca cast, it repeatedly rubbed against her once-soft baby skin. The hardest bone to break in a human had been broken in an 8-week-old. Her dad had been mad that day. I was angry.

I remember the way she talked about getting to ride in a police car. Her mom was going to jail, but she learned that day that police are there to help. She loved her mom deeply. Her loyalty was both admirable and heartbreaking. Her loss was too deep for me to understand.

I feel lucky that I called these babies my foster siblings. They were, without a doubt, the most courageous little human beings I ever had the privilege of loving. These kids, plus many more, are a vivid part of my childhood. Their stories are real and their faces appear in my mind often. I wonder about them and sometimes even worry about them. They were astonishingly resilient, but I wish they had never been forced to know the depth of that human resilience.

National Child Abuse Prevention Month. It’s a month where we, as a nation, stand up and say ‘no more’. It’s too easy to remain quiet, to pretend like it doesn’t exist, and to push away the faces and names behind the statistics. But in doing so, we inadvertently are minimizing the hurt of 686,000 children who experienced abuse and neglect in 2012 (source). We’re saying that hurt and that pain and those experiences aren’t big enough to bother us.

On the other hand, I see my generation treating philanthropic work as a fad. Come to my college campus, and you’ll see that short term non-profit volunteering and instagramming photos with at-risk kids is all the rage. These kids deserve to be advocated for, cherished, loved, heard, protected, and wanted. That’s not a fad. That’s life-long pursuit and deeply-rooted intentionality, friends. I want my generation to hear that. There’s a longevity associated with this cause. We need to be in it for the long-haul.

For the past seven months I have been completing an internship at an emergency shelter for foster children. I often times sit in the office reading through endless case files filled with some of the most horrific stories I’ve ever heard. Tears frequently fill my eyes as I further grapple with the reality that children in my own community face. I complete intakes and hear things from 6-year-olds I pray I never will grow accustomed to hearing. God, it’s awful.

Then, I go inside the shelter right as the van pulls up from school, and I am met by kids who choose to be so much more then their horrific pasts. They sit at the table and work on multiplication tables, talk to me about art class, eat chicken fingers, watch movies, and sing along to the latest Katy Perry song.

It’s not that they live care-free lives. Their needs are deep, please hear me say that. The reality of their abuse has devastating repercussions. The calendar is full of psychological appointments and counseling appointments because healing is hard. Their situation, living in an emergency shelter, is not the normative, and it is far from ideal. Even still, many of them choose to be more than what life has given to them. That’s admirable.

I want to be like that.

The image for National Child Abuse Prevention Month is a pinwheel. It is childlike and playful, but represents the many different people and disciplines actively involved in ending a nationwide tragedy. It takes teachers, social workers, nurses, first responders, investigators, health-care professionals, social and family service workers, and educated citizens to get the wheel turning. It truly takes a village, friends.

{I recently attended a community child-care conference where I received a pinwheel. This 6-year-old sister was elated.}

The statistics are deafening, but necessary to understand. (These were taken from the Child Maltreatment 2012 Children’s Bureau Report produced by the U.S. Department of Health and Human Services)

In 2012, There were 678,810 unique reported accounts of child abuse and neglect (meaning that each child was only counted once, regardless of the number of times he or she was a victim during the reporting year). The total number of reports of roughly 686,000, broke down into 78.3% neglect, 18.3% physical abuse, and 9.3% sexual abuse.

In 2012, there were 1,593 recorded fatalities due to child maltreatment. What that means is that every day we have upwards of 4 children dying in this country due to abuse or neglect.

Tears fill my eyes just typing that.

I think of my foster siblings and the kids I see every day at my internship. Their lives matter so deeply. They have personalities and passion and value. They matter. We cannot have four kids dying every day. It is unacceptable.

Prevention is hard, we know that. But I have to choose to believe that this number can decrease. Our kids are worth it. It has to decrease. We tell our kids they are important all the time, but I want to show it to them. I have so much to say about this topic, but for now, know this:

Awareness is important. It is so, so vital that we are not only aware of the magnitude of child abuse, but that we are also aware of our surroundings. As citizens, we have a responsibility. All of us come into contact with kids in some form in our daily lives, and that means that if we see something, we are held responsible to report it. If you don’t have your state’s abuse hotline number saved to your phone, do it. A phone call could save a child. Calling a hotline does not mean automatic removal of a child. Please know that. If you report what you see, and leave it to investigators to do the rest, you will never, ever, ever be responsible for “ripping apart” a family. Let that one go. The result of not calling for a sighted abuse case could be devastating.

I plead with you today to educate yourself on the signs of abuse and neglect, and to not grow idyll in protecting the kids that walk through our school halls and play in the neighborhood park, alongside your child.

There is no separation. The hand of abuse is everywhere. This has become your cause, too.

In honor of the foster siblings I so fiercely loved as a child. Because, friends, I whispered in their ears that I loved them, that I wanted to take away their pain. As a child, I held them close to me and cried many, many tears over them. They deserve this. They were lovely. In honor of their courage and fight, and my promise to them, I ask that you understand the importance of this topic.

Stand with me this month, friends. May our words and gained awareness be moved into diligent, life-changing action. May fierce, protective love be our heartbeat this month, and every month.

“They deserve a voice. Not a quiet, meek, timid, and reserved voice, but a resounding and reverberating cry for justice, for unconditional love and the right to live in safety and peace. Granted, that voice may not be their own, but they deserve to have someone embrace their cause and make sure it is heard. They deserve to be valued, to know that value and have it instilled in them. They deserve to internalize the truth that they are worth fighting for.” -Christine Erwin, The Middle Mom

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Kylee is a college student who is passionately pursuing a degree in Social Work while simultaneously learning what it means to be a big sister to kids from “hard places”. Her parents jumped into the crazy world of foster care just days before her 8th birthday for numerous infants and toddlers over a ten year time span; four of those children became permanent family members through adoption. Kylee loves sharing about foster care and adoption and is passionate about advocating on behalf of vulnerable children on her blog Learning to Abandon.

March 27, 2015March 26, 2015

Praying While You Wait: Prayers for Adoptive Parents

As Adam and I wait for our final piece of paperwork to arrive at our adoption agency, we continue to pray for our children daily, and ask that God would be so kind to bless us with them. This is a habit we have cultivated since the early days of our marriage, and has proved to be very helpful during our wait (along with some other habits).

Certainly our theology shapes our prayers. What we know to be true about the character of God will move our hearts, and words, as we boldly approach the King with our requests. In addition to that, the adoption education we have received during our wait has greatly influenced our prayers as well. There is so much we have learned over the past two years, much of it a heart-wrenching reminder of the brokenness that comes with every single adoption situation.

If you are also waiting for an adoption placement, we understand the “heart-pain” that accompanies your prayers. I hope this list blesses you, and encourages you to boldly approach our gracious God with your requests. If you have been following our journey, and feel led to pray for us, we would love for you to use this list to pray with intentionality.

We know that God hears every single prayer we lift to Him, (whether He chooses to bless us with children through adoption or not). We continue to walk by faith, and ask that He would do so.

1) That they would be protected from harm

We, especially women, love to be in control, don’t we? If God has children for us, somewhere in the foster system, there is absolutely nothing we can do right now to protect them from harm. All we can do is ask for God, the Father of the fatherless (Psalm 68:5) to keep our children safe. God is sovereign over insignificant events, like the end of a sparrow’s life (Matthew 10:29), He is more than able to protect our children and keep them safe from harm.

2) That all of their needs would be met

We don’t know the type of conditions our children may be living in right now. I am constantly wondering if they are with their biological mom and dad, in a potentially unsafe environment? Or are they with a loving foster family? Maybe they are still in their mother’s womb? We have no idea, but we frequently ask that God would meet all of their needs, whatever those may be. This is similar to the above request. We ask that they would have food to nourish their bodies, shelter over their heads, and clothing to keep them warm. We especially pray that they would feel loved and protected by those caring for them, and by God who cares for them infinitely more.

3) That their loss would be minimal

This is a tough one to pray for. Adoption is born out of loss and brokenness. Whether the child is a newborn infant, a teenager in foster care, or a toddler from Africa, there is always loss involved.

I always get squirmy when I see adoption sentimentalized, giving the appearance of “they all lived happily ever after.” Don’t get me wrong, I love a good adoption story, and I have wept over quite a few “gotcha-day” videos! Adoption is beautiful, Biblical, and emulates the heart of the gospel. However, in order for us to gain children into our family, these children will lose everything and everyone they have ever known.

Do you see the tension here, in regard to our prayers for them? Any child who is adopted will experience a great loss when they enter an adoptive family. That is inevitable. The two-day-old infant has lost the comfort of their mother’s voice, and the warmth of her womb. The older child from foster care has lost (potentially) years with their biological mom and dad, perhaps multiple foster families who they attached to, and maybe even siblings. The child adopted from another country has lost all of that, along with their birth culture, language, and familiar food.

We need to try and understand what these precious children have been through, and connect with how deeply their hearts have been broken over the loss they have experienced. Our compassion must grow for them. We know our children will experience great loss when they enter our families. They are losing everything they know, and will enter a place that is new, foreign, and possibly terrifying for them. We pray their loss, whatever it may be specific to their situation, would be as minimal as possible.

4) That they would experience healing

Going along with loss, we pray that our children would experience great healing, in spite of the circumstances that brought them into our family. We know they will carry that loss with them for the rest of their lives. We also know that God, our great healer, is absolutely capable of performing surgery on their hearts. He is near to the broken hearted and saves the crushed in spirit (Psalm 34:18). We pray that one day our children will trust God to heal them too. He knows their pain more than we ever will.

5) That their hearts would be soft, and open, to trust and obey us

When we begin to understand the loss that our children will experience, it’s understandable that it may be difficult for their little hearts to trust us right away. We often pray that their hearts would be softened now, and that they would easily attach to us, bond with us, and trust us to provide for them. Undoubtedly, we will need to build their trust. This is very different from a child, born into a family, who has had their needs met from the start. We ask that God would be working on our children now, wherever they are, opening their hearts to trust again, and eventually obey us as their mom and dad.

6) That they would come to know Jesus and be saved at a young age

By far, this is the most important of our daily requests. Would we love to have healthy, well-adjusted, obedient, attached children? Of course we would, and we pray for that boldly! But, none of that matters if they don’t know Jesus, and ultimately trust and obey HIM. We frequently pray that God would be revealing Himself to our children, and that He would be opening their eyes to Him right now, no matter where they are, or how old they are. We desire for our children to come into a saving faith at a young age.

If you pray one thing for our children, let this be it.

“Consequently, he is able to save to the uttermost those who draw near to God through him, since he always lives to make intercession for them” (Hebrews 7:25).

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March 20, 2015March 20, 2015

On the Inside

“God is knitting our hearts together – but it turns out stitches hurt, and
what goes on inside a ‘cocoon’ is messy.” My mother e-mailed that to a
friend when she asked how things were going.

We’ve glimpsed a sweetness in my sister that is wonderful, but we’re
grieving hard – and this grief is coming out like anger. I was recently
asked to share my post “Broken”, and I feel guilty about it because I
don’t feel that way now.

But I’m realizing that I still love her – a brutal kind of love that holds
on when everything turns ugly. A love that sometimes almost feels like
hate. And Mama told me the fact that I get this worked up about her
behavior is good – because IT IS WRONG so it shows I know what’s right.

But that doesn’t mean I can act on my feelings. And what makes things worse
is that no one else does either. I just sit there and watch this grief
come out and wish someone would do something! But my part is going to
be hard, because I’m *inside* the cocoon. And all these people are asking,
“How’s it going?” while they’re waiting for it to pop open…. And I want
to say “awful” but I smile and say “good” because, considering, it is – and
people don’t understand what Lucy’s been through so it isn’t fair to tell
them.

So you smile, and say “good” and tell them about the “ups.”

Someday we’re gonna’ pull outa’ this and look back and exhale. And the
brutal ugly love will give way to something beautiful and graceful without
the brokenness and ugliness.

Someday this cocoon will pop open. We’ll break out. We’ll be ready.

And someday this little butterfly and I will dance together. In the
sunshine. And we’ll forget about the time we were cooped up together with
that ugly love.

But the words of “Broken” don’t bother me that much anymore. Because I’ve
found my heart is still capable of shattering. It isn’t strong enough yet,
and I hope it never is! Our girl can still tear me apart like cobwebs when
I let her. And I probably stick to her fingers and she doesn’t know what to
do. She probably looks at the girl who says “I love you” when you yell
at her and smiles when she’s yelling on the inside, and doesn’t know what
to do – and I don’t know what to do either, and here.we.are. And we’re both
torn apart and messy, and we’re both broken, confused, and scared.

I thought I knew how to love unconditionally, and then the full force of it
hit me and I couldn’t take it. And I wonder *what in the world’s wrong with
me!* And other people reach their max and flare up, and it doesn’t shake
me; and I find myself mad at my little butterfly when she didn’t do
anything! And I don’t get it – any of it.

Things are calming down now. I’m able to look back and see progress. I’m
able to understand things a bit.

Little brother and I are grounded; little sis and I are still taking root.
We’re taking root fast, but we’re not deep yet – and Satan is trying to
pull us out and throw us away. He wants to pull us off the vine. He doesn’t
want me to love my sister, period. But he can’t stop me.

I wish I could say I’d-like-to-see-him-try, but I have and it’s ugly. He
will always try. He has been trying – and he almost succeeded in getting us
off. But our girl doesn’t have the Branch to stay grounded in, so if I snap
we both crumble.

I have to stay strong, but I don’t feel that way. Because the world is
broken, and our girl is broken, and she’s breaking me.

Our friend wrote my Mom back:

“Stitches hurt – but they *heal*.”
Our butterfly’s wings are growing, and I’m struck breathless by their
beauty.

____________________________________

My name is Hanna Rothfuss. I am 14 and in eighth grade. I have lived in the suburbs of Omaha, Nebraska for my whole life. My interests are reading and writing, mainly about fantasy and orphan care–often adoption. I have four siblings, two of which are adopted. I’m a homeschooler and a child of God. I pray that all my writing is encouraging, empowering, and brings glory to Him.

You can read more of Hanna’s writing on her blog: Taking My Time.

March 16, 2015March 16, 2015

Waiting is Hard, Y’all!

As a child, I remember the excruciating wait from Christmas Eve to Christmas morning. I would lie awake for what seems like hours wondering how I was ever going to fall asleep and what the morning might hold.

Now as I lie awake at night, gone are the visions of sugar plums dancing in my head. Instead, my heart is on the other side of the world, as I think about my sweet girl who is waiting too. Waiting for a family she can call her own and who will love her forever.

Waiting for an adoption is hard, y’all. When I was young, I thought that one night of waiting for Christmas morning was tough. I had no idea what was to come.

First, we waited for years and years for a biological child who never came, because God had a different plan. Then we waited for our first adoption, our second and now our third.

Waiting may be hard, but so worth it because God’s plan is so much greater and more wonderful than ours. And even though the wait is hard, once it is over, and we see God’s plan fully accomplished, we know why He made us wait on His timing.

This is a truth I cling to right now when I lie awake at night wishing my child were in my arms. I know that His plan and timing is perfect. I’ve seen it realized twice before, but that hasn’t made the wait any easier. However, because I trust Him based on past experiences of seeing Him work, I know that I will look back on this time and again see His hand behind the scenes in our life and her life, preparing us for the exact moment that He has ordained that we should become a family.

How often has God had to wait for us to respond, believe Him, love Him, or follow Him?

How patient He is with us!

He longs for us, searches for us, and seeks us just as I long for, searched for and sought my sweet little one. So I will trust in the Lord who is my God, Father, Savior and friend, remembering that He loves her even more that I do.

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After struggling with infertility for 5 years, God led Suzanne and her husband Adam to His Plan A for their lives—adoption! Their daughter, Grace Lihua, came into their lives in 2011 from the Fujian Province, China. Their son, Anthony Jianyou, joined their family in January of 2013 from Shanghai, and their little girl, Eva Hanting, will be joining their family very soon from the Hunan Province. After a career in politics, Suzanne is thankful for God’s provision in their lives that now allows her to work part time as a Pilates instructor while home schooling their children and working as a part of the WAGI leadership team. You can follow their adoption journey and life on their blog, Surpassing Greatness.

March 9, 2015March 9, 2015

Hard Hope

He was laying in his bed, head shoved into the hard wood between the rails of his crib and the thin mattress, desperately sucking his thumb and whimpering. I picked him up, kissed his little head — burning up. The nanny turned to me, “He’s not feeling well,” she said. I nodded, and held him close. He nuzzled closer and looked up at me.

Only an orphan for a little more than a week and already he has to learn about being alone the hard way. Feverish and uncomfortable and mama’s got two arms and eleven babies.

my arms are yours for now, little one

We pray for families to come quickly for these little ones, but when it has only been days since he last knew the touch of his mother’s hand, or the voice of his daddy… it’s hard. It’s hard to hope for a future that shouldn’t be. It’s hard to get excited about adoption, when a little one has so recently been abandoned.

Do you get me? Do you understand? I’m all for adoption, I think that it’s beautiful – God works through His body to restore and redeem and paint for us, His children, a picture of His great love. But it’s still hard… there is pain and scars and brokenness, and the brokenness is so much more evident in the beginning few pages of a child’s story. What will happen next? I don’t know. But what I do know is that today a little one is grieving the loss of his parents. He’s grieving the fact that he is not their Precious One anymore.

come, Lord Jesus, come

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When Hannah traveled to China in 2002 with her parents to adopt her sister Elisabeth, she fell in love with the country and people. In 2004, when her other sister Naomi was adopted, she started dreaming of going back. It took 5 years for that dream to come true. She now serves in a foster home for special needs orphans in China. Hannah spends her days studying, writing for the foster home and on her personal blog, Loving Dangerously, and most importantly, holding babies. Hannah loves the adventure of living overseas with her family. It’s not always easy, but it’s always worth it.

March 2, 2015

Is Love Enough?

I hear the Lord saying, ‘I will stay close to you, as I instruct and guide you along the pathway of your life. I WILL COUNSEL YOU along the way, and lead you forth with My eyes as your guide. So don’t make it difficult, don’t be stubborn when I take you where you’ve not been before. Don’t make Me have to tug you and pull you along. JUST COME WITH ME!’ (Psalm 32:8-9, The Passion Translation)

Do you hear echoes of your own parental voice in these words? I know I do! Look how our Father starts with connection–oh how I love that about Him!

When my eyes are on Him, I see the way forward, because I see it in His eyes.

So often we parents don’t know what to do to help our child, to parent well and wisely. The options either seem too many, or they seem to have disappeared altogether! We busy ourselves scanning all the possibilities, but sometimes we forget to simply look at Jesus to see what direction He is going.We are so quick to run to counselors when we recognize the effects of trauma and all that surrounds our adoptions and fostering. Stephen and I are so very thankful for the therapists that have helped us and our children. We have received significant help and guidance, and God has used these counselors to help our children. But as my dear friend Susan Hillis says, there is a difference between a counselor with a small ‘c’ and THE COUNSELOR! The One who promises, “I will counsel you along the way…”

His love for you and your child goes beyond–deeper and higher than your child’s need.
Deeper and higher than the limits of your parenting abilities.

I have found Him to be so practical in His guidance as Stephen and I make tough parenting decisions. Certainly adoption is constantly taking me “places I have not been before”–I often find myself on unfamiliar ground as a parent.
I suspect you know exactly what I mean!

So today, I just want to encourage you my fellow parents that you do hear God’s voice– you are created for it! God would not promise His counsel if we were incapable of receiving.

For all the counselors in the world, and all the best parenting practices you can put in place, will not heal your child. We co-labor with God for our child’s healing, but in the end, each one will walk in wholeness not by our own effort, but by His!

I used to think that the love of our family would be “enough” to carry our children into healing and freedom.

Is love enough? If we are talking about my love, then I will have to say NO.

But, if we are talking about God’s love for my child, and for me, then a resounding YES is my response to that question. YES YES YES! Greater than hope, Greater than faith– LOVE IS GREATER than any loss your child has faced.Even if a king has the best equipped army, it would never be enough to save him. Even if the best warrior went to battle, he could not be saved simply by his strength alone. Human strength and the weapons of man are such false hopes for victory. They may seem mighty, but they will always disappoint…. The Lord alone is our radiant hope and we trust in Him with all our hearts. His wrap-around presence will strengthen us. (Psalm 33:16-17, 20)

So, wherever you are in this parenting journey, remember you have a Wonderful Counselor, free of charge and available for home visits 24/7. And remember that you always have hope, a radiant hope, that comfortably surpasses your own parenting abilities and far outstrips your child’s needs.

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Beth has been married to her husband Stephen for 27 years. They have seven children, ages 18-24. Several years after giving birth to three girls God called their family to the adventure and blessing of adoption. In 2000, they brought home a brother and sister, ages 5 and 10, from Russia. Then they returned to the same orphanage 18 months later and brought home two more brothers, ages 7 and 10. Beth’s heart has been deeply and forever changed as she has watched the love of Father God poured out on her whole family through adoption. She leads Hope at Home, a ministry dedicated to help adoptive and foster parents encounter the Father’s heart for their families, partnering with God to transform orphans into sons and daughters. For more parenting insight and encouragement in the Lord, go to Hope at Home.

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Category: Adoption and Faith