My mother has a friend, an elderly man, who was preparing to go on a cruise. This first required a flight and before leaving for the airport the man, knowing that he might be walking on some uneven territory, grabbed an old cane, a walking stick that had belonged to his grandfather. It had sat in the corner, used only occasionally.
The man and his traveling companions stood in line for security at the airport. They noticed that those to whom they had entrusted to keep them safe were eying his cane very carefully, examining it from every angle. Suddenly, to the extreme surprise of the gentleman, the agent pulled on the cane and out whisked a very long, very sharp sword.
Chaos ensued. The travelers were rushed away, interrogated, but fortunately were deemed harmless and allowed to travel, sans the antique threat to national security.
It’s been dry around here lately. My heart, I mean. My spirit is parched.
Last November I spoke at a retreat on the extremely weighty issue of how God uses our suffering for His glory. I believed that God had called me to tackle this topic but the stress of it was overwhelming. After reading every book I could find on suffering, listening to every podcast, and pouring over every bible verse, and trying not to throw up in between sessions, I was drained. I had immersed myself in the Word for weeks and when it was all over, my sin nature immediately said “No more! Bring on the chick lit! DVR up the drivel! I need a break from all things deep and godly!”
It’s disgusting, actually.
About this same time, I discovered things about the adoption industry in Ethiopia that ushered in more nausea. Overwhelmed by information and confronted by the shocking ugliness of sin, plus accepting that bringing our daughter home is probably not on God’s agenda for 2012 caused my spirit to withdraw even more. Am I angry at God? I don’t think so. Am I jaded and cynical? More than ever before. Am I in despair? Yes.
Throw in the all the other worldly diversions and my bible has sat neglected for weeks.
My soul almost recoils at the thought of reading it. My short prayers consist mainly of, “I’m really sorry God. Thank you for loving me anyway.”
Oh wretched woman that I am! Who shall deliver me from this body of death?
We’re experiencing the tension of being foster parents.
Our foster baby’s mom has come into the picture for the first time since he was born. He’ll start to have regular visits with her next week.
There is much tension in my heart as I want the woman who birthed him to know how much we love him and how we have done everything we can to protect and nurture him.
And, I want her to know that SHE is loved, because I know this life hasn’t been easy for her. She’s where she is in life because of some things that aren’t her fault.
And, I want her to know I’m not the enemy. That I want the best for him. Whatever and wherever that may be.
I want redemption for her: restoration for her body, her spirit, and her life.
But, I love this sweet baby boy who currently lives in our home. As all this has played out this past week, I’ve wanted to grab him and hold him and not let go.
And, I want to make her earn the right to see him because she’s left him for the last three months.
I want to grab her face in my hands and say, “Don’t you know what you’ve missed? Was it worth it?”
But, I realize that she has given me a gift for the past three months. And her gift is the result of a life that has been littered with heartache and devastation.
And there is the tension.
We need loads and loads of prayer as we navigate these new waters.
________________________________________
Leslie Word
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 fostering a little guy and awaiting a referral of one or two children from the Democratic Republic of Congo. You can read more about their adventures here.
When we started the paperwork to adopt Emery, I thought and prayed deeply about the impact and impression it will make on our family.
Could I handle the unknowns that were sure to come?
Surgeries, doctors visits, therapy sessions, emoptional scars, family counseling, attachment issues, etc.
The possible negatives could mount up quickly if not kept in check with God’s ability to heal.
Now, 6 months in, I’m finding I have so much yet to learn. So many days that I wonder if the choices I am making as a parent are the right ones. I struggle. It’s hard.
My dad always says:
Anything highly worthy of doing is the hardest thing you can do
and he’s right…oh so right.
But there is another side to the challenge…it’s the reward. today, I was present for something God needed me to see…one of the many rewards of adoption: its impression on my family.
I’ve seen an incredible change in Foster and Rowan over these past few months. Especially in Foster.
When we sit to eat, he often asks
I’m sitting in the play area at Chick-fil-a and the kids are climbing, running and playing. A girl of about eight walks up to me and points to Emma.
“Was she adopted?”
I was a little surprised. Most people just assume my African-American daughter is adopted. But of course, eight year olds don’t assume. They ask.
It also struck me that she used the past tense. The few adults who ask usually say “is she adopted” as if the act of adoption is a status (like “I’m American” or “I’m married”) instead of an event that happened (like “I was born”).
“She was adopted,” I replied.
The little girl beamed.
“I was adopted, too,” she said.
I blinked back surprise again. A moment I had thought was about my unusual looking Korean-Ethiopian-American family was actually not about us at all.
Instead, it was a moment of affirmation for this precious eight-year-old girl, who knows that a piece of her history is different from many of her friends, but caught a glimpse that told her it was normal. Good. Positive. Accepted.
I smiled back at her. “That’s very special. I’m sure your mom and dad are so happy you are their daughter, just like me with my Emma.”
“They are,” she said. “They are.”
________________________________________
Aaron Klein and his wife, Cacey, are the adoptive parents of two beautiful kids: Spencer, who was born in South Korea, and Emma, who was born in Ethiopia. The Kleins serve on the board for Lifesong Ethiopia and advocate for adopting, fostering and caring for orphans in their community. In his spare time, Aaron is CEO at Riskalyze, a technology startup changing how we make investing decisions.
Three blog drafts later, I am giving an update. But it might be shorter than those three and perhaps a bit sweeter too.
We need prayer.
I got a phone call today from their preschool. I was asked to come get one of the twins.
The same twin who missed preschool yesterday, and all last week, and once or twice a week since their first week.
They are defiant, rebellious, deceitful and disruptive….Over the last 22 months, I’ve watched some people favor this struggling twin, and I know that that is not helpful. Our children – both of them – should never feel like they are or aren’t on the end of favor from someone – against their own twin or a peer. They need to understand that winning people’s attention is not a result of sympathy, but an outcome of their right spirit. Yes – I want people to love my children, and to understand them. But not pity. I definitely don’t want them seeking out that same pity when they are older, because the world has little time for adults on the victim train. And it certainly is not biblical to go about life believing the world owes us something grand.
This child has struggled a lot these last 3 weeks, and it has gotten much worse this week. We have been careful to exercise grace to them, since God is quick to give it to us. Yet, today, we saw how perhaps we were possibly enabling them to continue even further down their path to wrong choices. Perhaps, sometimes the grace was being given out of pity. If you’re a parent, you know! Seeing your child saddened to be held accountable is awful. I hate it! We are learning. But apparently even we – their own parents – tip the scale and pity them too much to their detriment. Their flippancy about their own bad behavior is almost scary. Yesterday, they were asked if they obeyed their preschool teachers on Tuesday, to which they replied, “NOPE!” very casually. Almost giggling. Argh. I thought my schpeel about respect and rebellion towards authority was being listened to.
Apparently it took 3 adults 5 minutes of struggle to calm them down for a little time out. And one of the teacher’s got hives because it upset her so much.
They have been confronted a LOT of late with Biblical truths about rebellion. Andrew and I are striving to communicate Truth to them. They have been clearly given an explanation of authority. The whole reason we want them to do preschool is because they do not respect other adults. If they don’t learn this, we are in for serious issues in kindergarten.
Anyway, I’m not here to defend our decision to do preschool. We absolutely believe it will be extremely helpful for them to learn to respect other adults. Apparently we were RIGHT ON with that being an area they had to grow in because now we can see how far they still have to go.
We have spent a lot of time in prayer over that child (to make me concerned we aren’t praying for the other one as much as we should!), and we have been quoting several scripture verses to them. And talking about how pleased S*tan is when they rebel, or lose their temper or whatever. How much he hates them. How happy he is that they are in trouble.
Then we have explained how Jesus loved THEM SO MUCH that HE DIED on a cross for their sins. How He is grieved when they do wrong. And despite it all, He loves them very much.
This decision to start bringing it home in this way could very well be the reason they are under so much attack. NOT PRESCHOOL. NOT BEING AWAY FROM ME FOR 2 1/2 HOURS. NOT NEW FAMILY MEMBERS. NOT THEIR BACKGROUND. NOT THE TIME OF YEAR. NOT SOME PSYCHOLOGICAL JUNK GOING ON IN THEIR HEAD. Though those things have weight in describing who they are, IT REALLY SEEMS TO BE A SPIRITUAL STRUGGLE. WE ARE IN A WAR ZONE.
PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PRAY for US AND FOR THEM. We will NOT hold back from sharing the GOSPEL OF CHRIST to our children. We will NOT hold back from quoting THE BIBLE to them. JESUS CHRIST CAN CHANGE THEM! And, He can change all of us–and all the children–adopted or otherwise–who are struggling as they are.
Please pray for strength and encouragement for us. We are especially weary and often confused as to what is going on in their head. Please pray that CHRIST changes them. He is our only hope.
I don’t like sharing as much as I did. But if I’m not honest, people won’t know how to pray. And as you can tell, we need prayer.
I know I put a lot in caps. I know I was snarky at times. But I am quite rattled as to why they rose the stakes. Why on earth they acted out in such a violent way that was totally reminiscent of Spring, Summer and some Autumn of 2010. The teachers are tired. And as of this afternoon, scared. We are bewildered and frustrated.
Thankfully the preschool hasn’t given up and kicked them out yet. We are so grateful to have their support. It’s been priceless. To have yours too would be amazing.
________________________________________
Esther Brunk
Esther and her husband Andrew became first time parents to twin toddlers with 24 hours notice, and a year before planned. Though they still have far to go in the healing process, Isaac & Mikayle have come leaps and bounds from their arrival date almost 2 years ago. Andrew and Esther accepted Christ as their Savior when they were much younger, but only recently have begun to scratch the surface in understanding the miracle of their own spiritual adoption. Currently Andrew and Esther are also host parents to two sweet Korean sisters here for a school exchange program. They hope to adopt more children in the future. Esther is the caretaker of their children (who as of last week are no longer in preschool and are home with her full-time [insert sigh]), the cook, the baker, inventory control manager and home manager. Andrew works with Bethany Christian Services in Church and Community Relations assisting South Eastern Pennsylvania, New Jersey and Delaware area churches in fulfilling the command to care for the orphans around the globe and close to home (you can connect with him at abrunk@bethany.org).
Recently we were told by people whom we love and respect why they oppose our plans to adopt. One of the reasons given was that we would not be able to pay for your college education.
It’s true.
You all have college funds – college funds which recently took a terrible hit – but “they” say that by the time you’re 18, college will cost anywhere between $200,000 to half a million dollars each. You might as well know now, we won’t be covering that. I’m telling you now, babies.
The people said that the day would come when you would look at us with resentment because you had to apply for school loans while many of your friends got a free ride from their parents.
Maybe you will. Maybe you’ll resent us. I really hope not. But maybe I should tell y’all now why your dad and I have decided to do what we are doing.
I know you’re going to think I am going off topic (I do that a lot) but several years ago I saw a story on a TV show about how the latest trend was for parents to give their daughters boob jobs for high school graduation (I don’t know what they gave their sons.) When interviewing one of the moms, she said, “I just want my daughter to be happy.” And as I tossed a throw pillow at the television, this really huge thought occurred to me:
Adopting is tough. I don’t think anyone will disagree with that statement. But for me, the most difficult part of this journey has been the loneliness. It
