Thoughts in the wee morning hours

It's early in the morning and I am alone. My children are sleeping and my husband has left for a weekend workshop. I am weeping and praying and needing to speak.

This week, I ran across this on a friend's blog and, while I read it immediately, I have not had time to process all that it encompasses...until now.

It is the report on Serbian institutions from Mental Disability Rights International. It is only five years old. While I do know that the Serbian government is working hard to change conditions found in this report, I am realistic enough to know that change, even in the best of conditions, is slow, especially when mindsets and culture must change first.

The report freely states that there are good laws about the treatment of adults and children with disabilities, but without funding and public support, the country is in severe violation of its own laws.

There were rows of metal cribs filled with teenagers and young adults. Labeled immobile or bedridden, many of them were kept naked from the waist down on plastic mattresses, covered only with a sheet to facilitate staff clean-up of bladder and bowel incontinence. Staff reported they also eat in the cribs and spend all of their time in the cribs. They never get out. –

MDRI investigator,

Stamnica Institution

I looked into the crib and saw a child who looked to be 7 or 8 years old. The nurse told me he was 21 and had been at the institution for eleven years. I asked her how often he was taken out of the crib and she said “never, he has never been out of the crib in 11 years. –

MDRI investigator, Stamnica Institution

I walked into one room after another, a ward for children 4 to 7 years old. It was the middle of the day and children were confined to their cribs. There was no staff in any of the rooms, no toys, no music – nothing. One boy with Downs Syndrome was hitting his head over and over against the metal crib. Another was tied to the crib in 4 point restraint and still another, with a deep gash on his

ear, had his arms tied to the side of the crib – MDRI investigator

Self-abuse is created and exacerbated among children who receive no love and attention and who are abandoned in beds or cribs. Psychological experts agree that they crave some form of stimulus, so they would rather feel pain than feel nothing.

– Karen Green McGowan, RN, expert on children with complex

developmental disabilities



And on and on it goes.

And my heart breaks.

These are people. So far removed from our lattes and laptops that we do little more than exclaim, "OMG!" before we move on to the next activity.

And so I weep...and I pray...and I worry about MY child. But mostly, I worry about the ones we'll leave behind. I don't even have to wonder what will happen to them. I already know. So much mind-numbing neglect that they will harm themselves to simply feel something. And they will lie, day after day, hour after hour, alone in their cribs.

And we will do nothing.

It's hard to live with a divided heart. I want to hole up in my room and cry and pray and research and advocate...but life must be lived.

I sound so sanctimonious, and yet, it's often me with the latte and my laptop exclaiming about something over which I have no control. It's often me pleading with God to save them with one breath and complaining about my awful passport photo with the next. I have not learned how to live in this affluent, self-absorbed society and care deeply about a world so vastly different.

And so I complain about things that don't matter and joke about things that matter less. I spend time and money on modern conveniences and dull my concern with facebook and reality programming. And I pretend that the world we've created for ourselves is real and lasting.

But it's not.

There is more to this life. There is more than this life. I want to continue to see beyond the nose on my face and I want to live for more than what I see. I don't want to live thinking I'm exempt from acting if the problem is too huge to solve.

11 Rescue those who are unjustly sentenced to death; don't stand back and let them die. 12 Don't try to avoid responsibility by saying you didn't know about it. For God knows all hearts, and he sees you. He keeps watch over your soul, and he knows you knew! And he will judge all people according to what they have done.  Proverbs 24:11-12 (NLT)

It's not easy...

My house is quiet and I am alone. My husband has taken the children camping and I will join them tomorrow. In the meantime, I have time for quiet reflection. It's so wonderful, I can hardly stand it!

So we're adopting a child with special needs. What that looks like from this end alternates between feeling incredibly blessed to partner with God in the ransoming of a child and feeling like we're the biggest dopes on the planet to take on something so huge with so little earthly gain. Which side I land on is directly proportionate to how much time I've spent with God.

I admit to being a bit jealous when my co-worker waxed on about finally deciding on a 14-day trip to Hawaii (7 days on ship, and 7-days on land, in case you were wondering) for her 20th wedding anniversary. I sat there thinking, "Our 20th is next year. We'll have 2 small children with special needs and 6 others with regular needs. Maybe we'll get to go out to dinner." Another friend is excited about building her dream home on a wooded lot. I start to turn slightly green. When joking with another colleague, mother of one, about leaving one place of mayhem (work) for another (home), I'm brought up short when she remarks, "Actually, home is usually pretty calm." Really? What must that be like?

Wow. I'm not proud of my reactions. I'm not proud that I continue to weigh such things as we move forward. I'm not proud that I question our choices, and the ones that we've already made, so easily.

The truth is, I would gladly choose Hawaii over an Eastern European country for our travel plans. I would love to move to a big house with a wooded lot, over staying here and stacking children. I think it would be heavenly to come home to a quiet house that stays clean every day.

It's times like these, that I am so thankful that I can confess my awful thoughts to God. I'm thankful that He gently reminds me that His ways are good, that His timing is perfect, and that there is a reward beyond Hawaii trips and big houses. He shows me that the here and now is just a blip in light of eternity.

My confession turns to praise and gratitude and I'm reminded of all the wonderful in the here and now. Would I notice the moments of quiet, if I were surrounded by it all the time? Would I be so giddy that my house is, indeed, clean right now if it were effortless to make it that way? Would I enjoy my home empty if I were powerless to fill it with children?

I think not. See, for all my grousing, I am incredibly blessed to have this life that's filled with children. I am excited to meet the one, born to another, but mine none the less, in the coming months! I am grateful that I have a husband who adores his wife and delights in his children. And I am thankful for the quiet moments, especially in their rarity.

Following Christ is a gift beyond compare. It's not easy, but one thing I know to be true is that easier is seldom better.

Normal, just like you

"Here," he said, handing me a folded piece of paper. "It's so you won't forget me."

I opened the paper. In a childish scrawl with yellow marker it read, "C-a-l-e-b."

We had been graciously invited to the home of a fellow homeschooling family we know to talk about adoption. Please understand, we are never invited anywhere. There are simply too many of us and we are overwhelming in a group, so this was a big deal. :)

But Julia is excited about international adoption as they've experienced that miracle, twice, and was willing to share their story and let me pick her brain.

They have a beautiful home and dinner was excellent. They confirmed our choice of agencies for our home study having had a good experience with them both times. And they gave us good advice, as well as a listening ear. Our kids had a ball playing with theirs.

But, what struck me most as the evening progressed, was how normal their family is. I watched as the siblings played and bickered and how they, as parents, interacted with all their children. I watched with fascination, having a new interest and perspective on the dynamic.

If it weren't for the skin tone of the younger two, no one would ever suspect that they had been adopted into this family, so complete was the seal.

I'm not sure what I was expecting. I think I've so immersed myself in adoption horror stories, in an attempt to prepare myself for the worst possible outcome, that I'd forgotten that adoption can, and usually does, work.

This average family, with strengths and weakness, perfections and flaws, just like you and me, recognized a universal need for family and responded to it.

They said yes.

Without knowing fully what to expect, they took a leap, collected and filed copious amounts of paperwork, saved and raised thousands of dollars, travelled across the world, and rescued a little boy who had been abandoned because of a cleft lip.

And because they found him to be a delight and a blessing to their lives, they did it again.

They found another child, a little girl with a minor medical issue, who needed someone, and they chose to be that someone....for her.

Guess what? She is a delight and a blessing, too.

Was it easy? No. Was it expensive and costly? Absolutely. Did their lives change? Most definitely. Would they do it again?

In a heartbeat!!!

From an outsider looking in, their lives looked joyful and stressful, peaceful and loud, orderly and chaotic. You know....normal.

They are not super heroes. They are not amazing people. They are ordinary people who did what most of us consider to be an extraordinary thing...but what they consider an ordinary thing.

Two children needed a home and a family, and my friends gave them one.

And because they did, their lives are richer, fuller, slightly crazier, but still normal.

What about you and your normal life? Have you considered adoption? Have you wondered what it would be like to add a child that's already been born to your family? I'll bet of the estimated 147 million orphans, more than a few have wondered what it would be like to belong to a normal family like yours. Will you pray about it?

Instead of praying, "Lord, should we?" Why not ask, "Lord, why shouldn't we?"

And don't worry, Caleb. I won't forget you. If not for your parents, I would never know you, but now I do and I will never forget the blessing that you are.

  

Discrimination: Update

Note: I didn't mention in the original post, Discrimination, that the incident happened at church. I didn't want to anger or embarrass anyone with my musings. I mention it now because I'm proud of the people there and the turn around that I've already seen with just a little education.

Eon went back to class, today, and was warmly welcomed. It was a different teaching team and they were not "warned" ahead of time that he would be there, but they took it completely in stride and were glad to have him.

Before we left for church, I told him that he needed to sit still for story time in his class. "Uh-uh," shaking his head no. "Yes, you will. You have to sit down and listen during story time." "Uh-uh," again. "Eon, if you don't sit still for story time, you will not go to your class." Big, big sigh, and then, a resigned, "Gah." (Yeah.)

He sat still for story time.... Of course, he took his shoes off about four times during the class. (Baby steps...:)

It happened to be a "Celebration of Giving" Sunday in which all of the little kids parade in front of the congregation to drop their coins into a bucket.

It thrilled me to see him be a part of it, marching to the front with his peers and dropping the money in (with prompting:). At the same time, it saddened me a bit to think there might be others watching and thinking he shouldn't be there, but he'll prove them wrong.

After chuch, one of the teachers, an older gentleman, that had issues with Eon's presence last week approached me and asked me how to relate to him. I explained that Eon is just like any other three-year-old boy who is new to the class and doesn't know the routine. He just needs some closer supervision and guidance, but he'll get there. He seemed very concerned that he didn't know how to communicate with Eon. I explained that, even though he doesn't have very many words, he understands everything we say to him. He seemed surprised by that. He finally asked me what health concerns he has and what he should watch out for. He was visibly surprised when I replied, "None. He's perfectly healthy."

Then it was his turn to surprise me, "Sounds like I just need to spend more time with him and get to know him."

Exactly. I could have kissed him!


A class coordinator apologized to me over the whole fiasco from last week. In talking with her about it, I mentioned that I had been tempted to just go to another church that already has a special needs ministry. She responded, "Oh, don't leave! That would just make it easier for us, and easy is not what we need. We need to learn!"

Wise words. She's right. They do need to learn.

But so do I.

This experience has taught me the value of standing up for my son with humility, that most people have good hearts, that change can occur rather quickly when people want to learn, that sticking out the hard times in community is worth it, and that I should have taught Eon to put shoes on before I taught him to take them off. :)

This kid continues to teach us all.

Discrimination

Discrimination. The dictionary defines it as:  making a distinction in favor of or against, a person based on the group, class, or category to which that person belongs rather than on individual merit.

One problem with those who discriminate is that they usually have no idea that they are doing it.

My child was discriminated against this week, although I doubt the parties involved would recognize it as such. People in authority made a distinction against him because he has a disability. Rather than saying what they thought to be true, that he is unteachable and can't learn the routine or the rules, they couched it in acceptable terms and turned it back onto themselves..."We are not equipped to handle special needs." But I see it for exactly what it is.

It's not about their abilities...it's about his. Or rather, their assumption of his lack of abilities.

They were scared. I see that now.

They're from a different era, when those with differences like Eon's were pitied or safely hidden from view.

They are also people who value control and structure. Eon was a threat to that. They thought he'd be unpredictable...that he might say or do something beyond their control. Rather than engage him and treat him like the three-year-old boy that he is, they cowered and became defensive.

We are not equipped to handle special needs.

Thankfully, there was someone else in charge. This person has taken the time to know Eon. She believes in him. She stood up for him, uncovered the fear, and challenged their response.  

She also successfully talked this mama-bear down. I'll be honest. I wanted to turn tail and run, never to return. She showed me that I need to stay and educate. I will do what I can.

Ultimately, it's Eon that's going to change hearts and expand minds.

PTL for friends who help!

My friend, Christie, herself an adoptive momma, graciously offered to hold an online Scentsy fundraiser for our adoption! This is a win-win! If you order a Scentsy product, a percentage of your purchase goes directly to our adoption fund. So, you get a great product and an orphan gets closer to coming home.
So, click on the link and shop, shop, shop! :)

Or, if you prefer to skip the shopping and just give directly, that's always welcome, too. :) Just click on the Chip In on the right side of the blog.

Please don't forget to pray...for us, our child, and the funds. Thank you SO much!

Oh child of mine in a land beyond the sea...

I don't know what makes you smile,
or if you've ever had a reason to.


I know you probably don't cry.


Are your eyes blue like the ocean,
with spots and flecks like Eon's?


Or the color of mud and mine?


Do you run and play outside,
or do they keep you in a dark room?


Have they ever let you try?


I spend my days wondering what you are like
and what you'll think of me.


Have I lost my mind?


Will you watch me with wonder
or drop your gaze in fear?


You don't know what mama means.


Will you let me hold you
or will you want to know me slowly?


I'll try to be patient.


When our eyes finally meet,
Will my heart melt with instant devotion?


or will love need time to kindle?


So many unknowns, so many worries, so many fears.


But this I know: God sees. God knows. God cares. 


And this: You are wanted. You are loved. I am coming.


Hold on, little one. Hold on.