I dropped ‘my’ little boys off for their visit with their parents and their 2 year old sister. I watched the joy in their mom and dad’s eyes as they hugged the boys and talked with them. I saw their sister smile excitedly as we drove up, and I watched as LM leaned into his mommy’s arms, giving her a big hug.
As I watched them walk away together I thought, they need to be together. I want them to make it. I want this family to be restored. To know the joy of family. To ultimately know the joy of Jesus.
And I felt so peaceful watching them.
Two hours later, I pulled back in to pick up the boys and as I hugged them and loved on them, I thought, “No. How could I ever give them back? I love them so dearly. They have become part of our family.”
And yet we have to live with the expectation that they are going back home. We live with the reality that most likely, we will be saying goodbye.
My heart says one thing one minute and then another the next. But I’m so thankful that I don’t have to trust my heart, I trust the ONE who never changes. I trust Him with my heart and with my kids’ hearts. Each one.
I never fully realized the full ramifactions of being an orphan until we adopted two orphaned boys from Ethiopia. Other than the obvious and devastating loss of their parents, an orphaned child quickly spirals down an abyss of loss; loss of opportunity, loss of family inheritance, loss of status within their community, loss of protection, loss of … everything.
In Ethiopia, an education requires monthly fees, school books, and a school uniform. Without money to pay for school fees, that child cannot attend school, and the opportunity to get an education and “make something of themselves” is lost. Any family property, livestock, or land is lost. Anything passed down from parent to child, from mother to daughter, from father to son … is lost.
It’s a parent’s most valuable legacy … the things we teach our children. The wisdom gained through hardship and experience, that we attempt to pass down to our children to (hopefully) lessen their mistakes. The advice and counsel we try to give as they navigate through childhood into their turbulent teens. But, for an orphaned child, … there is no such legacy.
This last weekend, my parents came to help us with some house painting and to build a new railing for a deck. My dad’s construction background comes in very handy on these types of projects, and Jay and I are very willing to take instruction and learn from his expertise. This time, we had a new little helper that was extremely curious about all the tools that were suddenly appearing and the fresh load of wood that arrived with Grandpa.
Jayden (9 years old) ended up working alongside his grandpa all day and well into the next day. Little boys are sometimes known for their short attention span, easy distraction, and quickness to boredom – but there were tools involved, and measuring tapes to learn how to use, and levels to hold in place until the bubble reached just the right spot! A dream come true for a curious (and mechanically inclined) little boy!
Jayden tucked himself along his Grandpa’s side, and Grandpa was happy to have such an attentive helper and hard worker. And, amid the hustle and bustle of all the projects, I had one of those moments where it suddenly dawns on me that something momentous is happening.
Planets are alligning,
broken cogs are suddenly meshing perfectly
and a little boy who was once an orphan was in the process of gaining a birthright … a new heritage … a legacy, right before my eyes.
I stopped to watch (and take a few pictures) as Grandpa patiently explained to Jayden how to hold the deck spindle in place so he could screw it securely in place. How to check it to make sure it was plumb and straight. After a few, Jayden caught on, and I watched my Dad smile approvingly and Jayden’s face break into a brilliant smile.
Pretty soon, they had their own rhythm going, and they were working together in perfect harmony with few words needing to be exchanged. When grandpa needed a different drill bit, Jayden anticipated it and presented the right one. When a new railing section was ready to be placed, Jayden was ready with the platforms and jigs to help with the placement. When the drill started to lose power, Jayden walked over to the charger to bring a fresh battery.
Later on, I watched as Jayden demonstrated to his little brother, some of the finer points of the tools. Pointing out the different drill bits and the various screw heads.
Pretty soon, Wesley was trying his hand at the hammer and drill, and sitting patiently while handing deck screws to his Daddy right when he needed them.
Later, I thought about what Jayden’s birthmother had told me about his birthfather. “That’s no child of mine,” he had said, disclaiming him as his son, and setting Jayden on a path of despair, starvation and bitter poverty.
And now … this little boy not only has a Daddy who claims him; he has a Mommy, a brother, 2 sisters, 2 grandpas, 2 grandmas, and more cousins, aunts, and uncles than he can count. And little by little, knowledge and wisdom and experience are being handed down to him within the birthright of his new family.
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Karen Wistrom
“We have a child in nearly every lifestage (preschool, elementary, tween, and teen), and we’re loving every minute,” commented Karen and Jay Wistrom about their four children. Two bio daughters and two adopted sons from Ethiopia keep this family of 6 on the go. Karen is the Vice President of Marketing for a cabinetry manufacturer and also volunteers as a sponsor coordinator for 2 care-points in Ethiopia with 152 orphaned and vulnerable children through Children’s Hopechest. She captures the blessings, the tears, and the momentous occasions of family life, adoption, parenting, and orphan care on her blog.
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Just checking in for the week? Make sure you check out yesterday’s post and leave a comment to enter the giveaway!
One question frequently comes up from curious strangers and prospective adoptive parents: Did you name your children? I love that I was asked to speak to this topic because it is something dear to my heart. I love names. I do not think it is coincidental that the meanings of names often reflect a person’s personality or that certain names are pressed upon our hearts for the child we will steward. I also believe there is purpose in those names. Often, they reflect the work the Lord has done or will do in that family or in the child. Isaac, for instance, means “he laughs” and certainly reflects Abraham’s heart in learning of his baby to be.
How we come to an adopted child’s name is a very personal decision. There are three general options. First,
there are people who choose to keep their child’s given name. They feel this is a part of who they are. It is something that was given to them (usually) by their birth parents. In many cases, they feel it is the only thing they’ll be bringing with them aside from the clothes on their backs. There is a tender sensitivity in these parents towards children and their first families and experiences.
Other people choose to change the child’s name completely. They want the child to feel welcomed into their home and family. They know how precious it is to share with their child the name they prayed to give them. Much like when the Lord called some of his people into new stages or ministries, He changed their names. Abram became Abraham, and Saul became Paul. These parents are reflecting the hopes of a fresh start and future for their children.
Still others choose to use a combination of their given name and a new name. Either keeping the given name and giving them a new middle name or giving them a new first name and keeping their given name as their middle name. We chose this last way in naming our 3 daughters who came home from Haiti. We wanted to give them the names we had chosen for their new start in their new family. However, each of them was coming home as an older child. To do away with the names they had been known by for years entirely didn’t seem right. The names we chose for them reflect their individual personalities as well as their connection in coming home together. Together, their names mean “Happy Life Belonging to God.” That is our hope for them, that their new start would be filled with joy and laughter and that they would choose, Lord willing, to follow Him.
There is no right or wrong way, but I do think there is some intentionality that needs to go into naming a child that comes home through adoption. A careful consideration of your unique child and their unique past and unique future. In many ways, their names will always be the first part of their story. What a beautiful testimony to God’s faithfulness.
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Cate Johnson
Cate Johnson has been married to her best friend, Sean, for 10 years. They currently reside in the Sonoran Desert with their three Haitian princesses who came home forever in 2008. Ada is 8, Nica is 6, and Evelyn is 5. They are passionate about Jesus, adoption, and attachment. They also love coming alongside prospective adoptive parents as well as those struggling through transition and attachment. Cate blogs about all of these topics and more at Gathered From Afar and Attaching Hearts.
Marlie has been having trouble lately with the fact that she just doesn’t look like her Mama. She is always trying to find ways to match me, but it’s difficult to accomplish beyond clothing. For a year, she’s been asking for a purple streak in her hair like mine. For a year, I’ve been saying no.
But, with the increasing frustration she’s had lately over our differences in appearance, I’ve been re-thinking it. Still on the fence, it was Marshall who changed my mind. He was all for Marlie getting a purple streak, telling me, “It’s just hair!” And, he’s right. And, I started to think, if this simple gesture will help her bridge the gap between our physical differences, it will be worth it. But, before I told her yes, I consulted with her African American hair stylist and with my hair stylist (who does my purple streak) to make sure it would be safe to do on a child so young. They both assured me it would be just fine to do. It would change the texture slightly and require more conditioner than the rest of her hair but otherwise be fine.
Soooooo… I came home and told Marlie we could give her a purple streak in her hair. To say she was excited is an understatement. She was elated. It was just before Christmas when we told her she could get it done, and she would ask almost daily when she was getting her purple hair. Finally, I made an appointment for her to get her hair done today.
This week, she was counting down the day until her appointment. She kept informing her big brothers she had an “appointment” to get her purple hair. Last night, she was excited to go to bed and go to sleep early so today would come sooner. This morning she couldn’t wait to get to the hair salon. And while I gave her the option of picking the location of the purple streak, I was unsurprised that she chose to have it in the same place, same side as I have mine.
Here is her “before” picture.
In order for the purple to show up on her hair, they had to first bleach her hair. They have to do the same thing to my hair as well.
Then Marlie had to spend some time under the heat lamp while her hair lightened. I wisely brought along an iPad to help her pass the time.
Surprise! Marlie has “yellow” hair!!! She thought it was so silly.
Now, time to apply the purple!
Then she got her hair blown dry and flat ironed. While the purple was still soaking in her hair, I had my hair washed and blown straight as well, so she and I would both have “flat” hair together. As soon as her hair was finished and I took her out of the salon chair, she hugged me tightly and thanked me for letting her have purple hair. Once we got home, Daddy wanted to take some pictures outside with his fancy camera.
Some people might judge me for letting her do this. Heck, a few years ago, I would’ve judged someone for coloring their young child’s hair. But, having seen Marlie increasingly struggle with our differences in appearances and knowing how much this small gesture means to her… I wouldn’t hesitate to do it again. Of course there are some lines I won’t cross, like chemically straightening her hair or coloring the entire thing, but when it comes to a purple streak… it’s just hair.
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Julie
Julie is a Christian, stay-at-home, biological and adoptive mother of three (one bio child, one domestic adoption, and one international adoption from Ethiopia). She lives in Los Angeles, CA with her husband of 14 years. She’s a former recreational therapist, avid reader, and blogger. And, she loves purple more than you.
Our sweet tender Ravenna has been walking through some deep grief and questioning over the last few months. She has been really wrestling with wanting to see and know her birthmom, to tangibly feel her and be known by her. We have both curled up and wept together, talked to God about the pain and agreed that we will love and honor her birthmom and these feelings in every way that we can, she and I. I wrote more about this intense and intimate, sweet and searingly painful moment here. Then and few weeks later, after all of my attempts at things to help (draw a picture of birthmom, give her a name Ravenna creates, etc.) fell completely flat with almost hostile indifference, Ravenna came up with this:
It was a moment I hope to never forget. It was so beautiful.
Read the story here.
Well, about a week later, her class started a section on families. The teacher wanted to share something about adoption with the class. When I asked Ravenna what she wanted the class to know, she frowned and said, “I don’t want to tell them anything, Mama.”
Her teacher was wonderful, and we talked through some of what has been coming up for Ravenna. Instead of family trees, they made adorable family gardens.
Her garden with 6 flowers for our family of 5 now sits where she lovingly placed it on our mantle.
But, she kept mentioning wanting to make a family tree.
And, I kept trying to figure out how to honor Ravenna’s whole story in that family tree.
What does it look like when there is a birth family, a foster family, and all of her immediate family now?
Which thing goes where on the tree?
How do I guide her as to where those things go?
In true Ravenna style, she led me.
She proclaimed one morning, “Mama, I want to make a fabric family tree!”
Fabric?
The girl is crazy about fabric. She took a whole box of it all the way to Mexico as her one main toy during our Whatever Project roadtrip and has already started piling some up for when we go this year!
So, we headed off to the fabric deptartment, and I stepped back and finally let Ravenna lead. She lovingly and deliberately picked out fabric for everyone. Ladybugs for Georgia, space for Parker, Lighting McQueen for Daddy…and horses, two different horse fabrics. One for her birthmmom and one for her foster mom. She included her birthdad and foster dad as well with dog and buffalo fabric. It was a garden with birds and sparkly see-through candy canes.
During all of this, she twirled in the aisles, hugging her fabric and saying, “Oh, I love this day, Mama, I wish it would never end!!!”
We bought a pack of two canvases, and she diligently went to work.
I let her decide where and how everything went, and it was totally different and far better than if I had forced structure on it.
This is her masterpiece, her family, filled with love–her love for these people in her life.
So, do you see it? the candy cane fabric?
She insisted that she did not want to be a part of the tree. At first, I paniced thinking maybe she did not feel like part of the tree or part of the family. I could not be more wrong…
She wanted to be touching everyone. She said, “I love them all, Mama!” So, if you look closely, that candy cane fabric is around and ontop of every piece there.
Then, as we were working away, she cutting and placing fabric and I glueing it down, she stopped and said, “Oh no!!!” and ran to her room to get something. She came back with that big striped piece (from her Mexico collection) that is now across the top saying, “Mama, we forgot God, and this would be perfect!”
So, God gets to hang out all striped and sparkly at the top of our family tree!
She made me the top of the tree flanked with Doug on one side and my mom on the other and she is nestled up close to us.
She then brought it to school, wrapped in more fabric so her special secret would not get out
and proudly showed her class.
Showing Daddy over and over again!
“God sets the lonely in families…”
Psalm 68:6
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Shannon Miller
Shannon and her husband Doug live in Washington State with their three wild kids: Ravenna (China), Parker (Big surprise guy!), and Georgia Mei (China, special needs program, heart condition). They are working hard to love the Lord and wrestle with what it means to fully live, serve, and love in the name of Christ. You can read more about their family on Shannon’s blog. And, you can read Ravenna’s very own blog here.
Today is a special day for the Clark Family. It is the day we expanded–the day we welcomed a new member and became 6 strong. It is Ruby’s “Chinaversary.” On this day, 3 years ago, we met her for the very first time in person. Of course, I had already fallen head over heels for the little girl whose picture I carried EVERYWHERE and showed to EVERYONE! Oh–that picture–of a chubby little girl with a shaved head…I BONDED with that picture and then of course with the curly headed little girl who would be mine. We met on a cold day in Nanjing in a government office in a crowded room full of crying parents and children. It was CHAOS. But, when I think back, all the noise fades, and I see my precious husband tearing up as he coaxes a little girl with an orange dum-dum lollipop. I remember that child falling asleep on my chest in the midst of the chaos and I remember feeling like the LUCKIEST woman in the whole wide world.
I STILL feel that way…wow…it all comes back.
So, today, I am dropping the Rubester off in her class, and we always kneel and say a quick prayer that she will make good choices…believe me, it’s a daily struggle. It’s a minute-to-minute struggle some days! We’ve already been talking about why this day is special and, as we wrap up the brief intercession with the “Great Overseer of Good Choices,” she looks up at me and says, “Mama, I’m so glad I’m here!”
“Oh, baby, I’m so glad you’re here, too!” I say back.
And, she gives me a wise smile, and I know she means HERE–on this side of the world…in THIS family–
H . E . R . E .
Thank you, Jesus. My cup runneth over.
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Tiffany Clark
As a busy mama of five mischievous children, Tiffany tries to maintain some sanity through sewing, blogging, & reading. She is a 38-year-old homeschooling wife who is crazy in love with her prince and a daughter of the King… Her family includes 3 “homegrown” children as well as two children born with special needs in China. It’s been an incredible ride the whole way! She dreams of getting an adoption ministry up and going in her hometown of Columbus, GA but, for the time being, encourages couples seeking information about adoption. Tiffany volunteers her time as a member of a Citizen’s Judicial Review Panel for the juvenile court system in her district of Georgia where she reviews foster care placements and helps to reunite and build families for children in foster care. She is also a member of the blog writing team for An Orphan’s Wish, an organization striving to meet the needs of special needs orphans in China.
Of course, there is a lot of Cooper’s story that is missing. I expected that.
But, there are other things missing too….things that bother me, and I don’t know why.
I am missing pictures of what we were doing on some significant dates in Cooper’s life.
I have no pictures of us on the day he was born. Although this picture was taken two days later:
I do happen to have a picture of what we were doing on the day he was found. And, in a way, that’s tougher than having no picture at all:
We were celebrating at a family party. While our son suffered the biggest loss of his life.
I do have one other picture. I took this picture the day Cooper arrived at the orphanage.
I have no picture of what we did on the day when he arrived at New Day a year later needing oxygen upon arrival. However, this picture was taken just one day later.
I have no picture of what we did on the day (6 short days later) his heart was repaired, although again, one day later, this picture was taken.
I have no picture of what we did on any of his birthdays. Not one.
I also know that these pictures just highlight all the years, all the stuff we missed. He missed.
How much he lost, and how much we lost.
And looking at them would make me really sad- to think of what I was doing here, oblivious to the fact that my son was lying in a hospital bed recovering form open heart surgery or blowing out the candles on his first birthday cake or being left alone in a hospital to hopefully be found.
But still. I wish I had pictures.
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Jenna Hardy
Jenna is a teacher, turned stay-at-home mom, turned Children’s Ministry Director who is passionate about children. After hearing God’s call to care for orphans 4 years ago, she has become increasingly passionate about adoption and orphan care. She and her high school sweetheart, Scot, have been married for 13 years and recently brought home their son Cooper who is 3 years old and seriously adorable (go see for yourself!). They are excited to see what God will do in the next chapter of the story He is writing with their family. Jenna and Scot feel strongly about sharing their story so that they might be of encouragement to others in various stages of the adoption process. You can follow along with them on their trip and afterwards at Our Many Colored Days.
Each week seems to bring about a new surprise in the grief and attachment area. Pei seems to be grieving a bit this past week. No trigger, just a bit sad and far away.
It is in the midst of our after-dinner routine that Pei decides to have a meltdown. I really do not think much about it. She is two and occasionally will cry and call my name . . . repeatedly. So, I lean down and ask her what is wrong. And, that is when it happened. She pulled away from me while she was still calling momma.
OUCH!
At that point I realized it was her foster mom that she was calling for not me.
I would be lying if I said that it did not hurt a little bit, but it was like a lightbulb went on in my head. She has done so well with us that I really thought that she was moving past the grief.
But I was wrong.
Since we have been home from China, we have not shown her any photos of her foster family. I thought that we should wait a bit and let her settle in a bit more. So, after this, I decided it was time. I cannot even begin to imagine what is going on in her little mind and heart. The only momma that she has ever know and loved was there one day and gone the next.
So, the next day, I pull up a photo of Pei and her foster mom. I think I held my breath until I saw her reaction. She looked at it and smiled. So, I am thinking, “Okay, you can breath now!” I pointed at Pei and said “Who is that?” and she said “Pei Pei.” Next , I pointed to the foster momma and said “Who is that?” and she answered “Momma”.
[Insert a sigh ]
I have to say it felt like someone had kicked the air out of me. But, worse than that, my heart just broke for her.
So, then I pointed to my chest and said “Who am I?” At that very moment, that little girl came over to me and wrapped her arms around my legs and sweetly said “My Momma.”
[insert a really happy sigh]
So, there you have it. My beautiful daughter has three mommas.
She has her birth mother who held and loved her for 4 days before she picked a place to leave her where she knew she would be found.
Next, she has her foster mom in China who was not afraid to love Pei, knowing that she too would have to give her away. But, despite that, she loved and cared for her like her mother.
And last, she has me, her final and forever momma. I am the one who gets to reap the benefits and sacrifices of the first two mommas. I get the greatest gift of all – Pei as my forever daughter.
So, one day, when she asks about her life story, I will tell her that she was so special that God gave her three mommas to love her.
As we sat down for Thanksgiving dinner this year, I could not help but think back to last year. When we awoke on Thanksgiving day 2009, we received an email that we had received our preapproval for Pei. Along with that PA, we received some updated photos. I honestly was scared to death! It was so real at that point; we truly had found our little girl.
Now, that same little girl is sitting right beside me. I cannot help but watch her and think how last year, I could only dream about her. Now, she is sitting as close as she can possibly get to me, meowing like a baby kitty. I cannot help but feel so thankful that my baby girl is finally home.
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Nicole Settle
In 2008, we walked into an orphanage in Russia, and our lives were forever changed. The blessing that adoption has brought to our lives is amazing. As Ava spent her first birthday in a Russian hospital, a beautiful baby girl was born in China and destined to be our daughter. In August 2010, we became a family of six!
The other day, Gracie—my 3-year-old—pointed to the top of her hand and said, “I’m the color of chocolate cake, but my family’s the color of this…” She turned her hand over and touched her palm. “How does that make you feel?” Kristin asked. Gracie touched her fingers to the sides of her eyes and pantomimed tears running down her face.
Kristin expressed sympathy and Gracie moved on to the next thing, but the image of her palm and of her sad mime tears had burned into my memory. I felt I had utterly failed as an adoptive parent. We’ve talked a lot about color in our home. We’ve read books, talked about color in terms of flavor, and discussed (sometimes at length) what flavors and colors and shades of brown each of is. But, this was the first time my adopted daughter expressed sadness because her skin was a different color.
At first, I was troubled. I felt a bit intimidated by the comment. I wasn’t sure how we should respond. I was also a little hurt. We’ve done a lot of work over the past several months to build a stronger connection with Gracie. I interpreted her comment as a failure on my part and that stung. Honestly, I was kind of scared too. In the 2 seconds it took to drag her fingers down her cheek, my little girl exposed an ocean of grief and confusion I feel unequipped to help her navigate.
Slowly, my sadness turned to gladness. Hearing my daughter express these feelings is a good thing simply because she’s expressing them. Sometimes, I forget that. At the young age of 3, she’s already processing complex emotions and trying to make sense of the differences she notices between herself, her sisters, and the rest of her family. If her mom and I are too timid, hurt, or scared to listen and dialog, it’s then that we fail her.
I feel sad when my daughter says she feels different from her family. I’m sad that she longs for a fuller sense of belonging. But, I’m really glad she feels like she can tell me about it. I want for her to always, always, always tell me about it.
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Matt Donovan
Matt and Kristin have three girls–Jaimes, Sevyn Grace, and Davy. Gracie came home at 1-year-old in March 2008. They were foster parents for two other children before adopting her. They loved it and plan to foster again some day. Matt and Kristin are on the leadership team for FAM, the Foster Care & Adoption Ministry at The Village Church in Highland Village, TX, whose mission is to provide resources and community for people connected to foster care and adoption. He works as a web designer for Captura. You can read more from him over at Adoptive Dads.
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The Bring Me Hope Giveaway winners were randomly chosen and are the following three readers….
