Our response to others around us
Published on We Are Grafted In a year ago today…
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Many of us in the adoption world are affectionately referred to as “fundraising families.” For the purpose of this post, we will go with FF for short. Our numbers are growing
Adoption is not Plan B.
Not for us.
We have never looked at it this way, but in conversations with quite a few well-intentioned folks, I realize that the general population often views it that way.
“You know you’ll get pregnant as soon as you finish your adoption.”
“I know a lot of people ‘your age’ who are looking toward adoption because they can’t get pregnant.”
“Do you want to have your own children?”
I’ve learned that adoption is often viewed by many (on the outside looking in) as the consolation prize. Plan A didn’t work. So you’re settling for what is available.
I disagree and so would all the other adoptive parents I’ve ever met.
There is no Plan B.
The journey to adoption is NOT a surprise to God. He’s wasn’t caught off guard by the reasons or the path. For some it’s infertility or health reasons. For others it is how God calls them to add to their family.
For us, it’s because God is made it ABUNDANTLY clear that we are to adopt. Now.
Many people assume because we are adopting first that biological children are not an option for us. At this point, we have not heard otherwise, so we hope to welcome a freckled, type-A, northern/southern hybrid into our lives one day.
But whatever happens, it will be Plan A.
We are adopting now because there is a need, and we have a call. In the DRC alone, there are 5 million orphaned children.
We could not get that figure out of our minds and hearts. There was no reason good enough to hold off on adopting until we had biological children. We couldn’t stop talking about adoption. We needed to start the process.
We know it doesn’t make sense to most of the world. God made it clear, so we’re just following.
Any child brought into our home, biological or adopted, will be real and be our own. We pray that others will come to understand that as well, but we also know that we have the privilege of telling the story of redemption and grace each time someone questions our family dynamic.
The story of Plan A for our family.
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Leslie has been married to her husband Brian for a little over 2 years. They live in Montgomery, Alabama where Leslie works for a nonprofit agency and Brian is a student pastor. They are passionate about caring for the orphan and have helped start ONEfamily, an adoption, foster care, and orphan care ministry in their church. Their free time is made up of watching football, eating Mexican food, and spending time with their rambunctious puppy, Knox. They have chosen to adopt first and are currently awaiting a referral of one or two children from the Democratic Republic of Congo. You can read more about their adventures here.
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We are HUGE fans of the movie Tangled.
But I have to be honest, the night we saw it in the theater, Rob and I both had a reaction to it. Not the giggly, happy one. No. It was a sadness, and I now know it was God preparing us for something important.
We are in the midst of celebrating four wonderful years with sweet Hannah. Last week we celebrated the day Hannah became formally, fully, no-looking-back, no worries,
It all started in the car. Georgia was chattering away as the trees whizzed past outside. “I spy with my yittle brown eye…a shoe!” Yes, she does not quite have the art of it down but loves to say that over and over. Next, Parker piped up, “Mama, if I was born in your tummy, why are my eyes a different color?”
Me: “You did grow in my tummy, and your eyes are a mixture of Daddy and Mama and your eyes are bluish green, a little of both of us…”
Parker: “Georgia and Ravenna have brown eyes. Don’t they, Mama?”
Me: “Yes, just like their birth mamas and daddies, beautiful deep brown eyes.”
Parker: “But, you are their real Mama, right?”
Me: “You bet I am, forever and ever!”
There was a pause and then from the back of the car, eyes filled with tears.
Ravenna said, “My birthmom is my real Mama.”
Me (deep breath and praying for wisdom): “You are right both of us are very real.”
Ravenna: “But, my birthmom is my REAL mom…you are just my new mom.”
Again with the deep breathing…
Me: “Honey, I love you so much, and your birthmom and I are both a part of your story, and you get to choose what you call us. I’m happy to be your new mom. You are such a gift in my life.”
Then, up pops Georgia, “I spy with my yittle brown eye…my shirt!” and soon all three were playing eye spy and giggling. But, for the rest of the day, she called me “Mother” instead of Mama. It took everything in me to not start up the conversation again, to defend myself, to explain why I should be her real mama…but, truthfully, I am her mama but so is her birthmom, both intertwined, both just as important, and I don’t get to choose. It is important that I do not choose, but that I walk alongside and allow her to go where she needs to go. I love her more than I need to be first in her life…but that doesn’t mean that it is not hard.
Later that night, tucking her under all the pink softness of her blankies I saw deep pools of grief in her eyes.
Ravenna: “Mama…will I ever see her?”
Me (also in tears): “With all my heart I hope so.”
For awhile she just rested her head on my chest and let the tears fall then…
Ravenna: “Mama, is she safe?”
Me: “I know that we can pray for her safety, and God is with her just like he was with you while you waited for us to come.”
Ravenna: “What did you pray for?” (through deep sobs)
Me: “I would go in your room and pray every day, holding your stuffed animals and praying that God would hold you in safe arms, that He would whisper in your ears that you were loved and that you were so precious and wanted, that He would make the time go quickly until we could be together…”
Then she rolled onto my chest, wrapped her legs around me and bawled and bawled, hot tears soaking my clothes.
“I just want to see her…I want my birthmama…I want my birthmama…I want my birthmama.”
Until she just lay there cuddled as close as she could possibly get, laying curled on every inch of me, my lips pressed into her silken dark hair…silently praying and whispering how very much I love her, how beyond precious she is to me…how I will love her forever. All the while, Georgia, on the other bed is saying, “Nenna and Mama stick together like paper and glue, like paper and glue Nenna Mama always!”….and finally she let go and curled up to be tucked in and whispered, “I love you” as I gave her one final kiss.
And then, I curled up in Doug’s arms and wept, sort of because it hurt to be the “new” mama but mainly for the hurt in my little girl, for the searing pain that I cannot take away, for the fact that she is 7 and should have no deeper care than what kind of ice cream to get or what playground to play at. Because I would give anything to meet her birthmom too. Because I cannot promise that we will ever find her, I cannot promise that the pain will ever go away…because I just love her so much. My tender, deep, searching little girl.
The LORD is close to the brokenhearted
My husband and I teach Sunday school for first and second graders at our church. Until recently, our daughter was in the kindergarten room which uses the same lesson as our group. Earlier this summer, we were teaching the kids about people being made in the image of God. The lesson included this discussion question:
My husband and I talked about our dislike of this question, given that both of our children are adopted. We debated whether or not to mention our concern to the children
Had one of those sweet conversations with my boys last night. The kind that make you all warm and fuzzy about being a parent. It was bed time and I was impatiently telling them to turn off the light, stop talking, get under the covers, no more drinks, when Keaton asked me a question. Now, he very well could have been stalling; it worked.
He said, “Mom which one of us kids do you like the best. I know you love us all, but which one do you like?” I very much wanted to say I like you all the exact same now go to sleep so I could run into my own bed and start reading my book or flip on the TV. But, I decided to take a deep breath and explore what he was really asking me. So, I told the boys that I have so many things I like about each of them, but I would share one thing about each of them tonight. And, we began. And, in case I don’t tell them enough I will put them here in cyber-print…
Keaton, one thing I love about you is that you were my first child. You taught me how to love like a Mommy.
Kayden, one thing I love about you is that I see so much of your father in you and it reminds me why I love him so much.
Laney, one thing I love about you is you were my first daughter and have been so fun, girly, and full of life.
And, Macy…
Keaton interrupted me and said, “I know what it is you love about Macy, Mom. You love that she is adopted. Right?”
My instinct was to jump on that and say I would love Macy if she wasn’t adopted, and I don’t love her differently than you because she is adopted, and you are no less special to me because you aren’t adopted, and ask them do you love Macy any differently than your other siblings? and so on…But again, I was still and listened.
He went on, “because you are in love with adoption, Mom, and you have been ever since we brought Macy home.” Kayden jumped in and said, “because we are all adopted Mom if we choose to love God.”
And, there it was. They said these things with such admiration and clarity that I was humbled. I hadn’t signed them up for an Adoption 101 class, hadn’t made them read a book about it or write a paper, or even made them sit down and talk to me. God was revealing Himself to my boys through me. Through my love for adoption. I was about as giddy as a mommy can be.
And the truth is I am in love with adoption. Sure, I love what it brought to our family in Macy. Sure I go crazy about orphans and figuring out what I can do to help God set them in families. But more than that, I love what adoption has taught me about God. I don’t know anyone else’s story, just my own, so I can only speak for myself. My adoption story isn’t about becoming a mommy to Macy. That was a miracle and a gift, but my adoption story is that God used this time in my life to draw me to Himself. My adoption story included a loss of one of those gifts. A death. And that makes it all the more life changing for me. Because in Gaby’s death, Macy’s twin sister, not the concept of it, but her literal physical death, those last 20 minutes with her on this earth, I experienced the physical presence of God in a way that I have never before in life. I felt the eternal. And, I am forever changed.
This year, I have moved from being a lifelong Christian who God blessed through normal life. I was all high and mighty about my faith and that it could never be rocked no matter what. When in all reality, He had never let anything come into my life to test that. Now, I am someone who saw and experienced pain and hurt that I believe God could have prevented and stopped but chose not to. And, I am okay. I love Him. I believe in Him. I trust Him. And, I still believe that He couldn’t take or do anything that would change my faith in Him. The ONLY way that I can say those things is through His strength and power.
Praise the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ! Through Christ, God has blessed us with every spiritual blessing that heaven has to offer. Before the creation of the world, he chose us through Christ to be holy and perfect in his presence. Because of his love he had already decided to adopt us through Jesus Christ. He freely chose to do this so that the kindness he had given us in his dear Son would be praised and given glory. Ephesians 1:3-6
Macy, one thing I love about you is that you were my first glimpse into the miracle of adoption.
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Shelley has been married to her best friend, Gabe, for 11 years. They have 5 children–3 the old-fashioned way: Keaton (9), Kayden (6), and Laney (4). Their family adopted twin girls, Macy (1) and Gaby in 2010. After fighting for 7 months with Hypoplastic Right Heart Syndrome, Gaby is now in heaven with Jesus. Shelley is a preschool director of a Christian school part-time and Gabe works for a Christian insurance company providing insurance for Missions trips. Their family enjoys the adventure God has them on and is always looking to follow Him and give Him glory in all things. Check out their family blog.
If a commission by an earthly king is considered a honor, how can a commission by a Heavenly King be considered a sacrifice?
-David Livingstone
I just stumbled on this quote on a website. I fell in love. It SO spoke to my heart. It was the balm God had intended to soothe this soul.
You see, yesterday we were given a little peek into an opposing view. It seems that at least one person out there believes we are “ruining Raegan’s and Alex’s lives” by adopting our littles. I probably don’t have to tell you that this Momma-Bear got hot in a hurry! Thankfully, my awesome husband broke this news to me when we were tucked safely in our home alone.
It’s not that I expect the whole world to agree with us, hardly. I know there will be those who think we’ve lost it, and I am fine with that. These words though, these words hurt. Deep. They hurt because our littles may not be ours legally yet, but they are ours in our hearts. You don’t mess with my babies and this felt like an attack not on me or us, but on my babies. Even typing this out my blood starts pumping faster within these veins of mine.
We’ve heard other lunacy of course as we’ve been on this journey. Satan has effectively put the blinders on many people, which is a huge part of the reason there continues to be an orphan crisis around the world if you ask me.
Alright, this all brings me back to the Livingstone quote above. Why is it that this is EXACTLY how so many consider serving the God of the Universe? Begrudgingly. Sacrificially. Moaning and groaning and sad faces. Yes, the Lord calls us to hard places sometimes. Yes, He calls us to leave things behind. Yes, He changes the landscape of our lives. Yes, He grows us and nurtures us and loves us. He disciplines us and disciples us. Sometimes change, growth, discipline is painful. None of it happens out of anything other than His LOVE for us. None of it.
Please don’t ever look on anything our family is doing as sacrifice to God. It is privilege. It is our honor to serve alongside our Jesus. It is our awesome privilege to walk this path of faith with God. Do me a favor and look on our journey with awe, but not sympathy. Regardless of the road ahead it is all because of LOVE. His love for us and our love for Him and His…and the ones He entrusts to our care whether by biological means, legal means, or just pure and simple heartstrings.
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Chasity is a daughter of the Father, a wife to her soulmate, and mother to 2 children by birth and 2 by heart strings whom they are in the process of adopting very soon. She blogs about life, faith, adoption, orphans, and the occasional random rambling at All Things His.
Izabella is starting to figure out babies come from a Mommy’s tummy. She first started noticing this when we were at church during Christmas–she calls her “Mommy Mary.” Then she’s says, “You Mommy Lisa.” Pretty precious.
But, the other day, she came upstairs holding her baby oh-so-tenderly and with the sweetest, soft little voice, she began this conversation with me.
I: Mommy. I had a baby. My baby come from my tummy. Isn’t she beautiful!
M: Oh yes! She’s very pretty Izabella.
I: Mommy you have baby in your tummy?
M: No. I didn’t grow any babies in my tummy.
I: Izabella in your tummy.
M: No. You grew in your China Mommy’s tummy.
I: Oh. I grew in your heart. China Mommy tummy.
I have never felt a “void” for not having bio children. Never even a pinge of disappointment. It’s not that I didn’t want to have children. I wanted a family. I just never thought that meant giving birth to a child. I always wanted to adopt, and that was as exciting to me as anything, if not more. I will say, the roller coaster ride we were on when we tried to get pregnant early in our marriage was not fun. But that wasn’t disappointment about not being pregnant each month as much as it was the thought of not being a mom at all. As Dan was so opposed to adoption at that time.
BUT, for some reason, this question, coming from this precious little girl–looking up at me with those dreamy brown eyes, holding her little beautiful baby doll I got her for Christmas touched me in a very deep way. It was as if I was hit with a JOLT of reality, as the words poured out in answer, “No. I didn’t grow any babies in my tummy.” Brings a tear to my eye now just writing this. Oh goodness!! I thought to myself, “Wow. I never grew a baby in my tummy. AND I never will.” Good thing Izabella was sitting next to me, or I might have melted into a complete emotional wreck right then and there. Good thing the question came from the lips of the most precious thing I’ve ever met–even if I didn’t grow her in my tummy. God is good to have delivered this jolt of reality from such a beautiful source of love–His gift to us–her.
Deep breath, exhale, and on with our evening. In the coming days, she started asking at least once a day, usually at bedtime. “Mommy, did you ever hold me like this?” As she cradles her arms together as if to cradle a tiny baby. This conversation is equally as difficult…although I think for me more than her.
Then a few days ago, I was cradling her in my arms, like “my baby.” And I realized I do this a lot. And often when I do it, she will talk and act like a baby. And, I have to admit, I love her complete submission to me in those moments as I look in her eyes and tell her how very much I love her and kiss her forehead sweetly. She coos like a baby then is up and off doing her toddler thing.
Recently, we were doing this and instead of running off–she locked eyes with me. She stared at me for what seemed an hour but was probably more like 15 minutes. All the while, I watched her scan my face with the most blank look. As if she was taking in every detail of my face. I couldn’t look away. It was as if I was hypnotized by her face, her look.
She’s done this before for brief moments–always memorable, but this one will remain so clear in my heart.
Next time she asks me if I cradled her like a baby. I will tell her, “Yes, and I will do so until you’re a very old woman if I can.”
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Lisa had the spirit of adoption laid on her heart the young age of 13 and longed to be a mom all her life. After meeting Dan at age 39, they married and began life as a couple in 1999. In 2007, with no children yet, a desire to have a family and the dream to be an adoptive mom to fulfill–they started their journey to grow a family–through international adoption. And God delivered their dream in the sweetest, most joyfully spirited, compassionate, and courageous little girl from Shaanxi, China they named Izabella Daniellei. Lisa feels passionately about following God’s plan for her, her family, her friends, and the miracle of adoption. She is a freelance graphic designer with an in-home design studio that has blessed her with the ability to be a stay-at-home mom. Dan is a big hearted, Harley riding, heavy equipment operator who’s completely in love with his new family of 3. Izabella rocks their world to levels they never knew possible–as evidenced in their family blog.
I am, obviously, an adoptive parent. I like to read blogs (some being adoption blogs). I read adoptive parent forums. I have even read a couple books written for adoptive parents. I don’t consider myself an expert, not even close. But, I do want to say something to adoptive parents, and I respectfully hope they’ll listen.
Over the past few years, I have read MANY posts and articles written by adoptive parents about what everyone else should and shouldn’t say to adopted children, what people should and shouldn’t ask an adopted, more specifically. an adopted, non-white child. I’ve read posts that lecture the general public about what they should ask, where it would be appropriate to ask it, what not to ask, etc. And, I’ll be frank, it wears me out. I find all of the pointed advice overwhelming to the point of giving up, and I often hear a small voice saying, “Forget it! I just won’t ask you, or any other adoptive parent, anything about adoption since it’s such a sensitive topic.” After such articles, my thought is always this, “If I feel this way, how must the non-adoptive general public feel?!”
Here’s the reality–when a family decides to adopt, more specifically, adopt a child who is of another race, then they have kicked the door wide open for curious questions because racially blended families aren’t the norm. This isn’t just a United States thing; they aren’t the norm anywhere in the world. It is pretty much common knowledge that whenever you make a decision to go against social norms, you’re inviting questions, opinions, and curious looks. This is reality, and it is a reality everywhere in the world because people who break tradition or don’t follow “normal” paths ALWAYS get this reaction, no matter what country you live in.
For example, when a teenager dyes his hair red and spikes it into a four-inch Mohawk, people look. Why? because it’s not the norm. When a family chooses to have no TVs in the home, people ask questions; its not the norm. When a family moves half-way around the world to be missionaries, people question and inquire about it because it’s not normal. If I’m going to be honest with you, I too am curious as to why people do these types of things. Why did that boy put his hair in a red mohawk? Why did you make the decision to not have TVs? What led you to uproot your family to be a missionary? I truly want to know (
I have to say that I have been pleasantly surprised! We have actually received no negative comments to our announcement that we are adopting again.
That includes negative comments from family as well!
Well, at least none that were made directly to US.
:inhale:exhale:smile:
But, we have had lots of questions. Mostly the regular ones:
How expensive is it?
What made you decide to do this again? (asked with true sentiment)
How many kids do you have now? Do they all get along?
How do you find the time and energy?
Here is my favorite funny one: I guess China expects you to come back every year now?
And then I received the most profound comment the other day.
I don