Our youngest son William has been home from Ethiopia for six months now, and he continues to make great strides in his attachment process. A while back I posted Sweet Little Breakthrough about how he had started doing little things that seem like no big deal with our bio kids, but mean the world with kiddos who have been adopted at an older age (holding my hand without protest, for instance). In that same vein, the picture above represents so much more than than cute little piggy toes (and chipped nail polish).
When William came home, one of the first things we noticed was that he was obsessed with being fully dressed. First thing in the morning he would go into his closet, pick out his clothes, and get dressed all the way down to his socks and shoes. It was adorable.
Three years ago, my husband and I stood in front of the orphanage in Beijing, China, and promised we”d be back. We knew it was full of children who were dying, who went to bed hungry every night, and cried for someone, anyone to love them.
We”d always wanted four. It seemed logical: two boys and two girls. Everyone would have a best-friend for life. And Evie would know the bond of a sister from her birth country.
It sounded beautiful. And we honestly thought that was where God was leading us. He had given us Evie. He had shown us over and over that Evie was our daughter. We had prayed for months, “Bring her home. Bring her home. Bring her home.”
And then we landed in Chicago. And discovered Evie”s undisclosed special need– developmental delays. Not only did she have tetrology of fallot and cleft lip and palate, but she could hardly sit, stand, walk, talk, chew, turn the pages of a book. She was completely and utterly shutdown.
We saw hints of this in China. But we assumed she would wake up and start acting like a two year old. But she never did.
So my new life–the one with only 3 three kids–consisted of juggling them so we could go to PT, OT, developmental therapy, and speech multiple times a week. Plus, all her other doctor visits.
I was exhausted. And that fourth child seemed further and further away. And the guilt of ignoring my two homegrown kids weighed heavily on me.
As time passed, I got into the rhythm of my new normal. And now three years later, things seem almost under control.
But, still, we won”t be adopting again.
Evie needs too much. She is too traumatized, too emotionally fragile, too needy. The honest, bitter truth is another special needs adoption would take too much of my time away from her. There is only so much of me to go around.
We”ve prayed about this. We”ve agonized about this. Because we know there are kids who need parents who love them. We know there are kids going to bed tonight with empty bellies, who are cold, alone, and afraid. We know, because that was Evie three short years ago. She was starving–not only for nourishment, but for human touch.
We aren”t done with adoption. We just aren”t adopting.
So now we are praying, “Use us. Use us. Use us.”
And I wonder, how God will use us to care for the orphaned.
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Amy Adair-Bode
I am a Christ-follower, wife, mother, and writer. I have two wonderful boys and a princess from China. We became a family of five on August 28, 2009. My new book, One Thousand and One Tears, is now available on Amazon.
as long as i can remember, back to the days of black paten leather shoes, i thought of her. all the important people in my life know her name, and more, the way she is weaved into my story.
on June 7, 2012, my birth mother, Mary, passed from this life.
i am writing today to tell you pieces of a beautiful story. a story written by God, one with much grace, love.
on my thirty fourth birthday, Mary had received a letter from me. it was sent in a small kraft paper envelope. in it, our first communication, i said all the things i had felt prompted to say. things like thank you, if you have ever felt regret…don’t, i’ve had a good life, i am grateful. these are the things i needed her to know, and yet knew i would never say in person, me who runs from awkward.
a few short days later, i received a letter in return. it was the kindest letter written with great detail and honest love. she had things to say. things like, i’m sorry, i loved you, i never forgot. those things she would never say in person, because maybe she like me runs from awkward. at the end of the letter she wrote a phone number with a request for me to call.
for a few months we exchanged brief phone calls, sometimes texts. our conversations were light and random. the only constant was Mary’s request to meet me and my people.
it was only three months ago when we finally drove in, van full of children, to meet her. some circumstances had her moving out of state within days. she was adamant that we meet before her move. we cleared our calendar and drove the two hours to her city. as we made our way down her street, she stood in the yard wrapped in a pink shirt, hair in a bun. within seconds of parking, awkward hugs were exchanged, and just like that i was standing with the woman who carried and birthed me. we, Mary and i, worked hard not to stare at the other.
at the end of the day we stood in a parking lot saying good bye. i will never forget the way she hugged me. her hug was tight and long, like she had waited all my life to give it. or like a momma holding her baby for the very first time. i couldn’t fully understand it, but felt the need to honor it.
eighty three days after that hug, i stood at her hospital bed, saying good bye once again. she had suffered a severe stroke that only left her alive by machines. a lot of us drove through the night to be with her before she passed.
with Ernest on one side of her bed, and me on the other, i was overcome with thankfulness of knowing Mary. i finally, and awkwardly, said words out loud. i will try to live each day thankful for your gift of my life. i will try to do it in honor of you. thank you, Mary, thank you for loving me.
in case you have ever wondered, God is about love stories. i still can’t get over the sweetness of this grace.
(all of Mary's daughters together)
for years i had thought about Mary, but this particular year, i felt a need to pursue her. it came from a deep place in my bones. a knowing it was time. i would see a vision of releasing her from any hurt giving me away left with her. i felt joy for my story and desperately wanted her to feel the same. still, i always knew these feelings were not from me. they were promptings from a God who loves and redeems.
in fact, when she wrote to me, she said those shame feelings, she never forgot. as a mom, i understood.
in the last months of her life, this chapter of shame was redeemed.
i see it as evidence of God’s wild love for the heart of his beloved, Mary.
and also evidence of his wild love for me.
it is complete grace that i followed through with the stirring in my bones. God loved me through sleepless nights of talking myself out of writing, and then meeting Mary.
it was joy to have known her, and to have been known.
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Debra Parker
Debra Parker was born near the beach in Texas to a birthmom and a couple waiting to adopt her. From the moment of birth, God was teaching her a story of unconditional love. This is a journey that He would continue to pursue throughout her life. As a girl, she could be found wearing black patent leather shoes with frills from head to toe. Today, you will find her wearing faded jeans and a cotton tee as she does life with her four wild but fun kids. She is happy to brave this life alongside her super sanguine husband whom she calls E. You can read her original post here.
I can vividly remember the last week of my mother’s life. She was diagnosed with cancer and one week later, she was gone. As quickly as it was, I will never forget that last week of her life. And one thing specifically I remember was the waiting room and the waiting by her side…watching…wrestling…and finding God.
The normal question after we get back from each family trip is, “When will Kelly be home?” I love and hate that question. I love that question b/c people are not afraid to ask us…they don’t stop asking us even though it has been a year and a half now. I love that people continue to stick along side of us and don’t forget that one of our son’s is in Haiti and not with us. I love that. But I hate not having a real answer to give. How do you really explain all this wait besides blame it on Haiti or government or paperwork or this and that? So I fumble through my words in hopes to explain the realities but inside there is a wrestling that is often unexplainable.
This waiting room, as I think of it, is a place between joy and pain. The joy of the moments we get to visit Kelly and see him grow, the pain that we are not with him daily to help him thrive. The joy that we see him and hold him, the pain that it is only for a few weeks a year. The joy of running to grab him when we arrive in Haiti, the pain of saying “we will return, son” as we get in our cab and head away from him. The joy of meeting his Haitian mother and hearing of Kelly’s life as an infant, the pain as she and I both cry tears of all the brokenness of this story. The joy of our children talking of their brother and loving him far off, the pain as I place Kelly’s clothes in his drawer without him to wear them. The joy of saying hello as we see him over Skype, the pain as he stares at us and we wonder what he must be thinking. The joy of tucking him in bed at night when we are with him, the pain of him crying in our arms as he struggles to trust our love will never go away.
In our waiting room we ask many questions. Many questions of the process to our agency, the orphanage director, the lawyer, other adoptive parents. But most of our questions come screaming from our heart. I can remember the last 24 hours of my mother’s life. I was pregnant with my daughter Sally and had to leave my mom’s side to go lay down in the waiting room. I lay in my husband’s arms silent. And then the tears came flooding. And my heart screamed out, “WHY??!!!!” “Tell me why she must suffer!!!” My heart knew my God and believed Him, but there is something about suffering and pain that will cause you to ask and want to know more of God. “Who are you really?!” “I know you are doing something, but I can’t see?? What about my mother??!!” “Are you there??” “Do you care?” “Do you exist!?”
In a waiting room when suffering or pain is involved, you panic to know “Is there more than what I see?” I begged my husband to explain to me, what the Bible means when it talks about the gain in suffering. He was wise and let me wrestle in silence after my question and then he answered with grace and truth. If anyone knows about suffering, it is my Lord, Jesus. “Jesus understands better than we do that many times the most effective way for the glory of God to be advanced is through the suffering of His people.” – As author Kelley who wrote, “Wednesdays were pretty normal,” reminded me and my husband in that waiting room with my mom. On May 18, 2008 I got up out of the waiting room and went to my mother and helped her fight with faith until her last breath. I reminded her who her God was. I told her not to be afraid. I assured her that He was who He says He is and will do what He says He will do. And 10 hours later, she met that truth face to face and all of her tears were wiped away. All of her sickness was gone. And I had tasted faith and a greater understanding of my Lord.
So, I find myself again, in a waiting room as we wait for Kelly to come home. It is a place between countries, a place between joy and pain, a place between questions and faith. I have to go to the end of all my fears and questions, because it is there that I find who God really is. He has been faithful to give us grace and faith in Him and what He will do.
Our waiting room is a place were we are becoming. We are being changed. Though I can’t see all things, we are all changing.
Though we are in a waiting room, we still must live. We must go on with school, neighbors, friends and family in this journey of life. But this waiting room makes us see all these things we are living in differently. And I am thankful for that. One day Kelly will come home, and we will enter a new journey. But in the meantime, we are finding who God is. We are experiencing love and generosity from so many people who help us fight in this waiting. In the meantime, we are finding new life.
Today is Kelly Josiah’s 5th birthday. When we met him when he was 3 1/2 years old, I never imagined we would be apart on his 5th birthday. But it is what God had for us. Not because He is not or He can’t. But because He made us and knows what is best. Because He sees all things. He has all power. He is who He says He is. He will do all things right and bring our son home, when it is good for us and for kelly. For now, we will celebrate in the waiting room and live until God sees fit to end that time. And then, the waiting will be over. We will take a deep breath and breathe new life, not because it is over, but because we persevered and God’s grace helped us endure the Waiting Room and bring us to a place were we came face to face with God.
Some of my favorite mom moments happen without me even being a part of the moment. You know, listening to the kids playing together nicely in another room (which always seems to happen when I need to be ushering them to bed), overhearing one of their conversations, watching as my husband makes them all laugh.
Yesterday was one of those moments for me.
Soaking in the last days of freedom this week, we spent the afternoon at a local park. Evan found some sort of seed that he got all excited about planting in the dirt where we were sitting under a big ole tree. All three of the big kids got right on into it with him, using sticks and little rocks to carve out a very shallow little hole in the dry dirt where they were convinced this little seed would thrive. They buried it under dusty dirt and used shovels to bring water up to get it off to a good start.
They hunted and found one or two more of the same seeds. More digging, more burying, more watering.
“They can be a family.” – Ashlyn
“Yeah, the big tree is the mama and all the little trees are the babies.” – Evan
I”m sitting there, just smiling to myself, looking all deep in thought in my reading.
Then, their hunt turned up some different kinds of seeds. Who know what they were from really. They may have been rocks. Whatever they were, they looked different.
Then, I heard:
“I know, let”s plant all different kinds of seeds. Then, they can be adopted!” – Evan
“Yeah!” – Ashlyn
Digging, burying, watering. Repeat. Until a handful were seemingly safe and sound in the dirt, and it was over.
Nothing extraordinary. Just my children playing. But, my smile to myself got a little bigger and my heart swelled a bit as I was reminded how comfortable they are with how our family has grown.
Our adopting our fourth child hasn”t been an issue for our biological children one bit. In their eyes, it”s just how their sister came home.
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Kelly Raudenbush
Forever changed by our experience of being adopted and adopting, Kelly is a stay-at-home mom/manager to 4 children and a professional juggler, juggling her calling as wife and mother with her secondary callings (professional editing, WAGI, and serving adoptive families through The Sparrow Fund). You can learn more about their adoption story, how they”ve been changed, and what life for them looks like on their personal blog. If you are expecting (waiting to bring your little one home via adoption, that is), click HERE and enter to win a little giveaway just for fun.
While I realize that our family has been formed a bit differently than most, to my children it is completely normal…as evidenced by some of the funny things they say:
Overheard as we drove past an airport…
That’s where people go to get their babies!
We often talk of traveling to get Miss A and Miss L, which always leads Miss E to ask…
Mom, where was I from?
She seems less than thrilled that she just came “from my tummy”.
Watching the Olympics we would often point out the athletes from China. To which Miss A replied,
“Just like me!”
At one point I think I said how a particular athlete was from China like Miss A, but he still lived there. Miss E was aback and said,
You mean he actually eats and sleeps there?
(As if it had never occurred to her that people live in China, but only come from China.)
Miss A came running into the room distraught during Olympic coverage saying,
Miss E say I not Chinese!
Oh, honey. You’re Chinese.
But she say I not Chinese! She say I USA!
Well, you are actually both.
_____________________________
Stephanie
18 years in the classroom as a teacher is nothing compared to teaching three little ones at home full-time. Through their three little girls, God has revealed Himself most clearly to them. He not only worked a miracle in giving them their biological daughter, He continued to show Himself in a mighty way throughout adoption journeys in China and Bhutan that were anything but normal. You can read more about their family on their personal blog We Are Family.
I found her sitting on the stairs all by herself. Head bowed and those little 8 year old knees drawn up to her chest. We were in those early stages of non-stop intensity (and, therefore, physical and emotional exhaustion) having just brought our first two adopted children home from Russia.
Julia, who you can see in the tea party photo above with the yellow scarf, was trying to grab hold of something that would steady the rocking of the boat of her life a little. She was trying to make sense of it all I think. As soon as I saw her sitting alone on the stairs, my mother’s heart was moved. I knew I was up against another need, a deep and important need, in our family. Could I handle this? Could I calm the storm enough for my sweet daughter?
She simply asked one question.
“Mommy, didn’t you like it the way it was?”
Loss is Loss
That one question, spoken in her sweet little girl’s voice, was one of the most moving times in my life as a mother. It was a question weighted with the pain and fear of change, the cost and sacrifice of giving, and the sadness of loss. Because as wonderful as adoption is, and it is truly truly wonderful, there is much pain and loss that accompanies it. For our adopted children, there was the loss of their culture, their birth family, the loss of literally all that was familiar to them– every smell, every taste, every sight, every touch, every sound.
And loss is loss, isn’t it? Even when the loss is the door through which a wonderful gain and blessing from God is secured.
For Julia, the youngest of our three birth daughters, there was also loss. The loss of the comfort and familiarity of her home, her family relationships, of her schedule. Comfort and familiarity was regained as we all got our adoption sea legs, but that time of transition was a huge adjustment for us all. Julia was grieving her loss, and needing to know that we saw her in the midst of it.
A Question of My Own
I remember silently asking God for help. You know those moments as a parent when you know you have been given a weighty opportunity– those uncomfortable moments when you wonder if you have what it takes. So, I did exactly the same thing Julia did, I asked my Daddy God a question of my own.
“Father, You are the Wonderful Counselor. How do I answer this question?”
When I try to describe how it felt for me–being the mother of three biological daughters whose worlds had been rocked, and the new mother of a 5 year old boy and a 10 year old girl whose worlds had been utterly and completely and permanently altered– I use the analogy of a swimmer treading water, just barely keeping up high enough to take a breath. That’s how it felt in those early months. Do any of you relate? It wasn’t as negative as it sounds; actually it wasn’t negative at all. But, boy, was it hard!
And I felt the lapping of the water rippling under my nose!
A Glorious Moment
Oh how thankful I am to know that God speaks to me and to be in relationship with Him! Dear mothers and fathers, your Heavenly Father is speaking to you. He has so much to say to you about your children!
For me, this was one of those glorious moments when I suddenly knew what to say. Holy Spirit showed me the path forward, what my sweet girl needed to hear from me. It went something like this:
Julia, when Daddy and I got married we were so happy together. We loved being married! After a time we began to think how wonderful it would be to have a baby. Not because we were unhappy or because we didn’t like the way it was. Not at all! It was because we were so happy and content together that we wanted to share that with a child. After Emma was born, we were so happy. We loved her and did not ever think, “Emma is not enough for us. She does not satisfy, so we need to have another baby…” No. We liked the way it was, so much that we wanted to have another baby. After Rachel was born, the same thing happened. We wanted to have you, not because we were dissatisfied, but because we had a Julia place in our hearts. And you were born.
When we brought Kristina and Pasha home we did not do so because we didn’t like it the way it was. NO! We so loved being the mommy and daddy to Emma, Rachel and Julia! So much that we were able to hear God when He said that there were more children for us.
As I spoke these words it was like I could see the boat begin to steady; I could see the peace settle on Julia. Even now, I consider this time as quite special in my years as a mother.
Limitless Supply of Wisdom for Every Hard Question
Since then, we have had many such questions from our children. Some have been harder to answer than others. Many of the questions, especially the ones from our adopted children, have been filled with pain and all have expressed great need.
How wonderful that each one of us has full access to the limitless supply of wisdom and insight that is ours through inheritance, ours not because we are especially clever parents, or always full of compassion and understanding. But ours because Jesus opened the way for us and made us heirs, simply by believing, to His eternal kingdom, a rich and glorious inheritance!
By having the eyes of your heart flooded with light, so that you can know and understand the hope to which He has called you, and how rich is His glorious inheritance in the saints (His set-apart ones)
-Ephesians 1:18
What is a hard question your children have asked you?
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Beth Templeton
Beth has been married to her husband, Stephen, for 25 years. They have seven children, ages 16 to 22. Several years after giving birth to three girls, God called their family into 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.
When we began this journey the number 1 question or concern people had were for our bio children. This past weekend proved that adoption is possibly the single BEST thing we could ever do for them!
Our big boy is 13 and spent last week away at a church camp with 5 other of his buddies from school. WE didn’t sign up with them, this was just something that happened. BUT once we found out that all six were going we made sure that they were in the same cabin (already taken care of). I only tell you this because my son was surrounded by his peers.
At the very last minute, I decided to take both Brahm AND Cav, even though we didn’t have room for his wheelchair or stroller.
As we walked into the chapel area (me holding Cav) and waiting to find a seat I noticed a boy walking around us looking at Cav’s amputated legs. Now that isn’t unusual and we are fine with it until they are rude or direspectful.
Suddenly, he looks at me and says, “I know what happened to him, your older son gave a testimony!”
Hmmm, that was interesting I thought.
Finally, after hearing about how incredible camp was for TWO days, I asked my son about this encounter.
My larger than his momma, kind hearted son told me how he felt led to present a testimony about Brahm being born little and how we got Cav and FeiFei.
He didn’t tell me much more than that – cuz you know he is a 13 year old boy.
When I told him about my encounter, I found out that this boy was actually a very small 6th grader. Not as in small due to dwarfism but just a late bloomer.
I stand in awe of my sons obedience of sharing when led
and how God has already used a 13 year old and 4 year old.
Two boys who were separated by an ocean,
became brothers,
looking past differences,
to do God’s work,
and affect the life of another.
Several weeks ago during a control battle between Isabelle and I she suddenly announces, “I want to go home.” Hello, you are at home. “No my real home. Where I was born.” The idea that at 4 years old she had put together the tiny amount of information she has and come to the conclusion she used to live with Lauren was so absurd to me that I just had to laugh. I decided she had no idea what she was talking about and ignored her but a week or so later I heard the same thing during another tantrum. I had told her she had to eat one bite of her dinner or go to her room for the night. She had been in her room for a while having her break down and I went in to assess the situation and see if I could convince her to eat. She begins,
“I want to go home”
Me: this is your home.
Her: no my real home. Where I was born.
Me: the hospital?
Her: No with Lauren
Me: Even if you lived with Lauren she would make you take a bite.
Her: She is having the same thing?! Thats….Weird.
I was rolling on the ground laughing by the end of this conversation. She said it all while crying hysterically. I almost called Lauren on the spot to back me up on this food thing. We did talk later and I told her if I ever called with a strange request like, “should Isabelle eat a bite of fish?” she should just go with it. We laughed together at her comments and discussed the fact that neither of us are prepared for her to begin asking about this at such a young age.
Although I am very secure in my role as Isabelle’s mother and in her love for me I would be lying if I didn’t admit to having a little pang of sadness when Isabelle announced she wanted to live with Lauren. I had to give myself a little pep talk to remind myself that this is all part of the process and part of what I signed on for as an adoptive mother. I know that understanding Sam and Lauren’s decision is complicated and difficult even for many adults and will take time for Isabelle to mature enough to accept. Everywhere Isabelle turns and all the media that she is exposed to portrays a traditional family where the mother gives birth to a child she keeps rather than giving it to another mother to raise. Guiding her through this understanding will be one of the most important rolls I have as her mother.
After the second comment which I was continuing to try to ignore I felt God encouraging me to talk with Isabelle about her adoption. I simply shared with her that even though she was in Lauren’s tummy that I have always been her mommy. That I was there the day after she was born and brought her home from the hospital. She has never lived with Lauren. She actually hugged me and thanked me for telling her this and looked physically relieved. It is amazing to realize that at such a young age her sense of security can already be under attack. But I think if she didn’t feel loved and secure she wouldn’t feel free to say these things and ask questions.
So far these question have come up when she was being disciplined. It came up again this morning after I sent her to her room for something. I specifically remember during one of our early meetings with Sam and Lauren before she was born Sam telling us that if she ever called them because we were disciplining her for something and she wanted to get out of it that they would always back us up. I think we were all envisioning a pre-teen or teenager calling them not a 4 year old but it is nice to know even at this age they have our backs. (If she really knew what was going on she would run to Grandma and Grandpa, they are the real push overs.)
Never a dull moment around here.
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Melanie Hardacker
I married my high school sweetheart 21 years ago at the age of 19 and ever since we have been on a grand adventure set before us by God. Nearly 4 years after we married I gave birth to a beautiful baby boy and threw myself into the world of motherhood. 2 years later I expected to quickly get pregnant again but it was not meant to be. After many painful years we looked up and realized that God had blessed us with one incredible little boy and embraced life with an only child. Then one day God whispered,
Today, I was heading to the grocery store, but I had a feeling Max wouldn’t do well. We had already been running errands for a little over an hour, so I decided instead to go to The Salvation Army to see if I could find any treasures. I was going to do a quick walk-through – maybe I would find a cool piece of furniture or some clothes for Max. I found something much more amazing.
This nice lady was helping me figure out the price for a play kitchen set. She looked familiar, but I didn’t really think much about it.
I went on my way to hunt some more.
As I was walking up and down the isles, I heard another worker say the nice lady’s name. It’s a unique, unforgetable name and it’s the name of the first birthmom we met when we were going though our adoption journey. It clicked and I realized why she looked so familiar. I made a bee-line for her.
January 2010 – A birthmom wanted to meet us. We found out that she was from the Gary area, but was in a rehab center in the town we live in.
I love little bare feet.
, is now available on Amazon.
a few short days later, i received a letter in return. it was the kindest letter written with great detail and honest love. she had things to say. things like, i’m sorry, i loved you, i never forgot. those things she would never say in person, because maybe she like me runs from awkward. at the end of the letter she wrote a phone number with a request for me to call.
I can vividly remember the last week of my mother’s life. She was diagnosed with cancer and one week later, she was gone. As quickly as it was, I will never forget that last week of her life. And one thing specifically I remember was the waiting room and the waiting by her side…watching…wrestling…and finding God.
I remember silently asking God for help. You know those moments as a parent when you know you have been given a weighty opportunity– those uncomfortable moments when you wonder if you have what it takes. So, I did exactly the same thing Julia did, I asked my Daddy God a question of my own.
