No man’s land.

We’ve been there.

It took me by surprise the first time it happened.

I got the call that the birth mother had relinquished her parental rights.

I cried.

Then, I got the paperwork and cried some more.

Our child was a “ward of the state.”

Orphan.

With no one.

As hard as foster parenting is, somehow knowing that birth parents were still in the picture was better than no man’s land.

That day, I was overwhelmed with sadness for what this mother had done.

What she had given up.

For her child. For my child. For our child. Hers and Mine.

Everyone told me I would be “happy” because the child was now free for adoption.

On the outside, I was, of course.

Moving forward is good. Being a foster child is not good.

But there is no gain without some loss.

I remember introducing her (still quite young) and people telling her how lucky she was to be adopted into our family.

You wouldn’t have seen it, but I did.

The shadow of confusion that went across her face, a split second.

Yes, of course, she was happy. But, she was filled with sorrow, too.

Because gaining a new life means loosing the old one, even if it isn’t so good.

That’s how I am feeling about Joshua today.

I am sad that he has to give up EVERYTHING to be part of our family.

The onus is on him to change.

He has to learn our language. (We have Chinese word charts on the wall.)

He has to eat our food. (We like Chinese food but it’s not the same.)

He has to adapt. (We only have to make another place at the table.)

He will have a family. (Not an institution.)

He will have the best medical care available. (Not limited by status.)

He will know the Savior. (And have eternal life if he chooses to embrace the Hope.)

There is no gain without some loss.

Thank you, Jesus, for giving your life so that we might have ours.

_______________________________________

Jennifer Peterson is wife to one faithful man and mom of 9. After the first three came along, they became foster parents and adopted 5 kids including 2 sets of siblings. Jennifer and her husband Bob are currently in China to adopt an 8-year-old boy with a heart condition who has been waiting a long time for his forever family. Join the journey here as they ponder how and where God will stretch them next.

Today, Rose is working on a scrapbook, carefully placing her pictures from China. Her tears are turning to smiles.

We’ve been seeing more grief from Rose the past few days. It’s hard. And the hardest part is knowing there is no way I can fix it–and as a parent I want nothing more than to protect my child from her pain and sadness.

And yet, perhaps, one of the bigger mistakes we make as adoptive parents is trying to “fix” our adopted child’s grief–to deny it, to cover it up, to take our child’s mind off it, to minimize it, to distance them from it.

Instead, we need to allow our child to experience it, and to find a way to live with it. That is easier said than done.

Last year, an adoptive parent sent me an e-mail asking when her son would quit feeling grief. She felt sad and personally responsible. She said that she was giving him a life full of love, laughter, happiness, good food, an amazing education, and even Disney vacations. And yet, there were times he still cried for the orphanage he had left behind. She couldn’t understand how he would miss an orphanage that was dirty, overcrowded, lacking food and toys.

To answer her question, I think we need to imagine ourselves in a similar situation. Pretend we suddenly became movie stars and were whisked off to a beautiful castle in another world, complete with a personal trainer and chef! We had maids, butlers, a race car, entertainment, horses, doting fans, and even big screen TVs in the bathroom (with continual reruns of Oprah and Grey’s Anatomy)! We were even given a new, perfect family.

How would we feel? Would we become homesick? Would we miss our loved ones?

Some parents might argue that their child didn’t leave loved ones behind, didn’t have a family, didn’t have anyone who loved them–and in addition, their child experienced abuse and neglect. I would gently suggest that even in families (and orphanages) where children have experienced abuse, they still have love for their parents (or caretakers). Children who are taken into protective custody in the US still cry for their abusive parents at night, because along with the bad memories there are good ones.

And even in a “bad” orphanage, there was almost certainly someone that our child felt connected to. It may have not even been an adult, it may have been another child.

Our kids miss their previous caregivers, friends, familiar surroundings, language, foods, and culture. And they always will.

It isn’t our job to help them forget, but to allow them to remember and to support them through those memories. To help them heal from the bad ones and hold on to the good. To validate their feelings, yet keep them moving forward into their new lives, filled with an abundance of life and love.

Not to replace what they left behind but to build on it.

________________________________________

Ann Henderson currently finds herself wife to one and mom of nine, including a son now playing non-stop baseball in heaven. Several of her children are adopted

This is the flower by my front door.

Pathetic I know.

But it is an interesting flower nonetheless.
Stick with me here….I’m going somewhere with this…
I promise.
This is not a horticulture lesson by any stretch.
Not that there’s anything wrong with that.

We have lived in this house for nearly two years.
I haven’t ever planted
nor watered
a thing.

And what amazes me is that each spring this one flower,
among the death and ruin of the remaining flowers of yesteryear
continues to bloom.
It blooms despite it’s circumstances.
Never watered.
Never fertilized.
Never paid any attention to sans a stray nerf bullet that sometimes sails it direction.
Nuthin.

That flower,
I love.
That flower that I walk by everyday when I enter our home

r
e
m
i
n
d
s

me
so much of
them.

Nobody loved.
Nobody cared.
Some were just downright mean and awful.

Yet.
They.
Bloom.

Today I was playing with Jacob and tickling him and that contagious laugh of his was bursting out of him.
I did what I have done a hundred times before with our other kids.
I started gently tapping his mouth as he was laughing which
as all mothers know
makes their voice sound really funny and typically makes them laugh even more.

But today
in that moment
his past
once again
caught up with him.
And he
shut.
down.

That scared traumatized look came right back into his eyes.
The hollowness.
The emptiness.
I had apparently found yet another trigger.
That look that, in the beginning days and weeks of being home, would last for hours
came back.

But this time
it left rather quickly.
“Please don’t do that mama. XXXX in China hit mouth hard. He really mean.”

Oh sweet boy.

I hugged him, he smiled, and we went right back to playing legos.

And he heals a little bit more.
And he blooms a little bit more.
And I get really angry inside and want to get on a plane and have a little what’s what with that man.
And I pray.

And not only is he blooming,
but he is choosing.
Choosing to love.

Captive no more.
Orphan no more.
But free.

The Spirit of the LORD is upon me, for he has anointed me to bring Good News to the poor. He has sent me to proclaim that captives will be released, that the blind will see, that the oppressed will be set free.
Luke 4:18

________________________________________

Sonia and her husband John are an Air Force family with 6 boys ages 14, 13, 8, 8, 7, & 7. Soon, that will be 7 boys–they just received preapproval to bring home another little man who they are naming Joshua John–JJ. She stays at home part time and spends the other part of her time shopping at Stuff-Mart buying large quantities of food to feed said boys. Sonia’s hobbies include cooking, cooking, cooking more, cleaning, cooking, and cleaning bathrooms. They are navigating their way through life attempting to glorify God in all that they do — follow the journey here.