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.

Nonsensical and Weak

"What?!?"
"Why would you want to do that?"
"What about your other kids?"
"You're already busier than most. Why would you add more on your plate?"
"Why don't you just have another one of your own?"


These are some of the reactions we've received when people find out that we're adopting a child with Down syndrome from the country of Serbia. 


I've answered most of these questions in a previous post on adoption that was written almost a year ago. Go on, click on it and read it. I'll wait. :) 


Everything except the last paragraph is still true, today. 


Our circumstances have changed and we are moving forward to adopt, currently working on our home study. I wrote in my last post on this subject a few months ago that I couldn't choose our child from a picture and my good friend, Christie, suggested we look into adopting from Serbia, as they only do blind referrals. Our first step was to send our bio info to the Ministry of Adoption and see if they would overlook our already large family size and let us start the process. They agreed. 


So now we're sharing our good news and getting the above responses. Each and every time, I find myself grasping for a succinct answer that reflects our hearts, but doesn't bore the listener or sound like I'm justifying myself and my choices. (That's really hard to do. So much easier to write things...with the delete and backspace buttons, than to speak them.)

Sometimes, people actually are judging us and our choices and I get a little flabbergasted. My pride rears up and I want to assure them that we know what we're doing. (Even though, we really don't. ) Most of the time, though, people are genuinely curious and I can appreciate that.


I think my problem lies in that, to me, it's very simple: 

• There's a child who has no one. 
• I am someone. 
• He/she can have me.

But, of course, in the simplicity is a whole host of complexity. 


If I'm simple in my response, I'm thought to be too cavalier and have, obviously, not thought this through. They have no idea the tears, the endless calculations, the constant-can't-shut-them-off-thoughts that swirl through my brain at all hours, the deep discussions, and the what-ifs that have all conspired against our pursuit of this child that we've never met. They have no idea that our faith in Jesus teaches us to do the hard things, to put aside our selfishness, to help widows and orphans, and to care for the least of these. They can't comprehend that we really do feel blessed to have the privilege of parenting Eon. We welcome the opportunity to parent another kid like him, even if there are additional health concerns or behaviors.


We have counted the cost (as we know it...I've mentioned before that no one can accurately predict the future.) We've found our reasons not to go through with this to be lacking when confronted with the life of a child. 

If not us, then who? 


God purposely chose what the world considers nonsense in order to shame the wise, and he chose what the world considers weak in order to shame the powerful. I Corinthians 1:27 (GNT)


Nonsensical and weak. I guess we qualify.