The Reflections of a Battered Missionary

I am sharing this post today as we near the five-year mark of serving orphaned and abandoned children here in The Philippines.  It feels like a lifetime and yet also seems were were just landing
in the Manila airport, six kids in tow, wide-eyed and idealistic and with no idea what we were actually doing.

These five years have been fraught  with  highs and lows that I do not believe  are accidents.  God has used every joy and every pain to shape me into the image of  His son and I have come so far. And yet, still have so very far to go.

The joys:

Our first Muslim child (without the hat) is an amazing, strong young man

Three boys from very different and very hard places forging a brotherly bond 

A 'family' birthday party to honor one of our faithful caregivers

By far, with no exception, the JOYS of serving street children outside my first culture are the kids themselves.  I have witnessed startling transformations, seen children come to salvation in Christ, reunited some with long, lost relatives who thought they were dead and have handed others over to nervous and excited adoptive parents who prayed for them before they even knew their names.
And those are just a few of the indescribable joys of life serving the fatherless.

The Pains:
I have become more cynical and jaded about people, their motives, their honesty and integrity since moving to this place. "We are NOT in Kansas anymore, Toto" .  For Reals.


And to avoid using this blog as a place of vengence, I will refrain from calling names but, when we were new here, a woman who is older than I and has been in child welfare for much longer than I reached out to mentor me.  I was grateful. She was a sister in the Lord and someone I respected immensely.  I called her with questions about everything from paperwork to how to register our newly-admitted children to public school here. Everything was so new and different.

One day, she called me to meet for coffee. I was relieved. It had been a particularly hard ministry week and I needed that time away.  When I got to the coffee shop,  she looked right into my eyes and asked me  not to "step into her sphere of influence".   I had no idea what she meant and she would not elaborate.   I did not know if she was asking me not to be friends with her staff, not to have contact with her financial supporters, not to go near her husband . . . WHAT??? What had I done? What was she afraid of?   I still do not know. We haven't spoken except via email since then and nothing has been resolved.  She only responded that whatever I had done was "confidential". That's a big fat cop out.
Just a few weeks after that confusing meeting, I received a very strong letter from someone here who is a government official in charge of the work we do. That letter accused me of kicking one of my own adopted sons out of our home and not allowing him to come near us.  The information was UNTRUE and the situation was nothing like it was presented in the note.  But then I remembered. The mentor "friend" who asked me not to step  in her "sphere" (what even IS a "sphere"?) questioned me previously about the struggles we were having with that particular adopted child.
And  I realized what a naive, trusting, wide-eyed ding bat I had been.   And vowed not to let that happen again.

If that experience had been one-of-a-kind, I would probably still be  giving more grace and less suspicion of  folks. 

BUT . . . 

And staff has stolen from us (in small amounts) and had to be fired.  Kids have told lies about us to deflect from their own misdeeds and we have had to defend ourselves unnecessarily.  But none of that holds a candle to the CALLING we have to stay here and serve street boys.

If the enemy wants us out of this country, he's going to have to do better than that.

And in these nearly five years, I have not only been wounded, I'm sure I have been the one doing the wounding.  I am no better than the "friend" with the "sphere" .  I'm wretched in my own ways.

Aren't we all?  

If you said "no, not me", you probably have a "sphere". 

I know. I need to get over that. 

Five years of living outside the USA has given me a more global perspective than I ever had. I realize that the world outside my home country is huge and different. Better in some ways and worse in others.   And that people inside and outside the States all need the same things:  Forgiveness and a relationship with their Creator, a place to  be loved and belong, the security that someone is FOR them, even when they make poor choices and mess up and just to be respected and treated with dignity - whether rich or poor, brilliant or not, productive members of society or dependent ones.

So, five years has been challenging and a blessing with overflow so rich I can not contain it all.  I would not trade it, nor change it.

Even the pains. They have a place.    

I look forward with great expectation to the next five years, lessons to learn, children to bring off the streets, new families forming and, more than all of that, a deeper walk with my Savior as He uses all the joys and all the pains. 

That is Him. 

The Quandary

There is a lot of shifting going on in our lives right now.   Our two amazing biological children left us and went back to America.
We took one of our Mercy House boys back to his foster family today ( after catching him attempting to steal from us ) and we immediately picked up another child - an eleven year old boy named JayVee.   He is already proving to be a LOT of fun.  He has an amazing sense of humor and, as an added bonus for ME, he speaks a lot of English.   I can usually tell within a few minutes if I'm going to click with a child.
We click.

JayVee (green shirt) posing with our son, Kyle

There's no quandary in these things. We miss our bio kids. We are thankful JayVee is with us and we're sad that, after 8 weeks at Mercy House, a child decided to steal from us.  Easy peasy.

Here is the quandary that keeps us up at night and has us utterly CONVINCED one minute and filled with doubt the next:

                  REUNIFICATION

We have a tiny boy in our care at Mercy House. He has a mother, an aunt and a grandmother who love him.  They want him back.
Seems simple enough, right?  No.  Not right and not simple.

This photo is purposely a little vague to protect the privacy of the people in it.  The little boy being held is our Mercy House child. The lady holding him is his grandmother, who has missed him for nine months. The woman wiping her eyes is his biological mother, who struggles with mental health issues and wandered off with this child nine months ago, unable to tell authorities where they truly belong.
We looked for them for three months and finally found them. They didn't know where this child was. They were frantic.
And now they want him back.
Our ministry philosophy has always been and is still that Filipino children are best off in The Philippines with their biological family whenever that option is a safe one.
But is it?
This child is THREE.  This little family is poor and struggles with basic needs.  We can help them there but is it enough?
Our social worker has the weighty task of evaluating and monitoring this family to ensure that they take care of this little one but none of us can be there around the clock.
And add in the "monkey wrench" of the fact that we really love this little boy.
And you have  THE QUANDARY.
The power of words is startling in this situation. The recommendations we and our social worker make determine the course of this precious child's life.
Our words can send him back to his family or they can start him on the fast track to adoption.
Our words can keep him here at Mercy House for a long time or send him away  in a matter of weeks.
This deepens the quandary.
What if we decide he can go back to the family and something bad happens to him? What if his mother relapses and takes him on another long walk to unfamiliar territory?  Will he be so lucky the second time to be placed in care before an accident happens?
In my pre-missionary days,  there would be no quandary. I would have stated unequivocally that being adopted to the US, Australia, Spain or somewhere "richer" was clearly the best answer to his need for permanency.
But I live here now.  In a developing nation.
And I know that for every child placed on the road to adoption, another child is waiting. And another. And another.
There are simply not enough adoptive parents open to older child with negative birth history to ensure that someone will step forward for this little angel.
And he is.   An angel, I mean.
He's funny and smart and very small for his age.  He understands jokes and tries to speak English a lot.
I know some family out there has been praying for a little boy just like him.  Only they don't know it.
And we could get him all set to be adopted.
But is that the best thing for him?  Not only him.  His mother? His grandmother? His aunt? His two older brothers?
They love him, you know.
Being poor doesn't mean they love less deeply than the rest of us.  They are just more powerless.
THIS is another layer of the quandary. I know what the Bible says about the responsibility I have toward the poor.
This is the reason I cling to the book of James and the promise that God gives wisdom generously to those who ask for it.
I'm asking . . . 

"If We Are The Body . . ."

The title of this blog post is taken from a Christian song by the same name, written by Mark Hall for Casting Crowns sometime around 2002.   You may remember the chorus, that says something along the lines of . . .

AND IF WE ARE THE BODY, 

WHY AREN'T HIS ARMS REACHING?

WHY AREN'T HIS HANDS HEALING?

WHY AREN'T HIS WORDS TEACHING?

I heard it for the first time "back in the day" and,  frankly, was annoyed by it.  I thought it was too cynical. I felt like maybe the writer was talking about his own church, but not MINE.   I felt sad that the people most convicted by it would likely be the ones pouring themselves out for the lost and yet, feeling that they aren't doing enough.

I am now singing this song right along with my youtube Casting Crowns video (with lyrics, of course) and asking if we, all of us, even me, really ARE doing all we can in the body of Christ?  And if we are, why am I staring eyeball to eyeball with SO many orphans every single day?

And on top of that gripping frustration, I have an overwhelming fear. . .

THAT ORPHANS ARE THE NEW 'CAR ALARMS' OF THE CHURCH

What do I mean by that?   Do you remember how, in the "old days", when a car alarm would sound, everyone would look, wonder and react?  Now-a-days, we don't even turn around in a crowded parking lot to see who's car alarm is sounding.

Is the plight of the orphan going the way of the car alarm?   We used to be moved to tears by the faces of the children in orphanages. We used to step out in faith to open our homes to children who we knew might be damaged beyond our parenting skill set.  We did this without enough money, enough room or enough bunk beds . . . but we did it because they were there and we are blessed.  We did this in spite of the fact that our own biological progeny might have to step aside for awhile and get over themselves.   

And some of you still are.  I fear your numbers are shrinking as you are still redeeming, serving, opening . BUT . . .

In walks "orphan care", telling us that adoption is not for everyone and if we just box up our old clothes and shoes and mail them to Haiti or Guatemala or The Philippines, we have fulfilled James 1:27 because we're "looking after orphans".  And we ARE!  We, on the front lines, do not want you to stop participating in orphan care.  Adoption is NOT right for every family.  But I believe it is right for many who are running the other way because it's expensive and messy and so unbelievably risky.

WHY has our beloved adoption agency in the states (www.christianadopt.org) had such a hard time finding families for just 12 children slated to come to the US for summer hosting?   WHY does a beautiful 12 year old boy in my Saturday class not have a long line of families hoping to adopt him? Or even a couple?

Is it because consciences are assuaged by "orphan care"?  How better to "care" for an orphan than to be the ones to remove that stigma and make him a "son" ?  What shows MORE love of humanity than calling her "daughter" who was once rejected?  

Let me assure you of a few things if you decide that God is calling your family to serve orphans in this way:

1. You WILL bite off more than you can chew

2. You WILL question your decision a thousand times after your child comes home

3. Your life WILL get exponentially harder when you bring a once-abandoned child into a loving home

4. Your biological children WILL suffer in some ways - but grow and flourish in others

5. You WILL want to find the blog writer who pushed you over the edge toward adoption and have a few words with her (ha ha)

6. You MIGHT have to make decisions about whether keeping your new child is worth it. And you will be unlikely to ever face such dark, painful choices in life again

7. You MIGHT struggle to encourage others to adopt because it's so darn hard, but you'll look at your child and realize adoption is a good thing.  And you'll still encourage others

8. You MIGHT find that blessings come in unexpected ways and your own walk with Christ EXPLODES with "realness" as you walk the path of an adoptive parent.

9. You MIGHT lean on your spouse more than you ever have before, and strengthen that marriage in new ways

10. You MIGHT understand concepts like selflessness, going above and beyond, faking it until you make it, putting your own needs way down the priority list and "growing" into love rather than having it thrust upon you.

But never forget, that He who has called you is faithful.  He is oh, so faithful, friends!  He pays for what He orders, He gives us our daily bread, He makes us more than we thought we could be for the sake of His great name and His own glory.  Some of these things, I am sure I never would have known up close if it had not been for our adoptions - both the smooth ones and especially the bumpy ones. 

I know that, personally, I have so far to go in knowing Him and in fulfilling the responsibility He has given us toward orphans. 

So far,  I have barely stepped foot onto the path. 

How about YOU?  Are you called and running?  Are you certain you are among those for whom adoption is not the right path? Do you even know what His word says about Believers and Orphans?  There's a free adoption Bible study at the web site of Home For Good Foundation (www.hfgf.org) that might set your feet toward whatever God has for you.   No matter where He leads, my prayer is that your are always moved to reach out.  That orphans are NOT the car alarm in your church and in your life.

They are real, living, breathing children who long to be claimed.  They wait, growing a little older each day and understanding a little more fully their plights.

Consider it, my friends.  Ponder it.  Seek and Ask.  Be intentional.

Most of all, do not fear . . . 

 

 

 

Older Child Adoption . . . Do You Hear What I Hear?

 This post is especially typed (with love in every word) for my bloggy friends who are adopting or have adopted older children.

First, let me share with you my definition of an "older child". . . a child who comes home after the age of two.   I know many authors define an "older child" in adoption as any child who is no longer a newborn.  I resist that definition, especially for orphanage-raised treasures.

Here's why: a child raised in an orphanage - even a WONDERFUL orphanage - tends to have notable delays in meeting his milestones.
It is not at all unusual for an 18-month old orphanage-raised child to be unable to walk.  A 9-month old may not be sitting  yet. A 6-month old may still have trouble lifting and controlling his head.   None of these little factoids means your child is relegated to a lifetime of battling special needs.  It simply means he wasn't someone's "one and only baby"  and that tends to cause delays in development.   It usually means he was not breast fed nor did he spend copious hours listening to his caregiver's heartbeat while she sat marveling at him on the couch contemplating putting him down but deciding not to.   That's just the nature of "group care".

For all intents and purposes, your two-year-old adopted child may still be very much a baby when he comes home - diapered, bottle fed, mouthing anything he can get his hands on, few or no spoken words.   In most cases, he will catch up given plenty of time and stimulation.   Sometimes he won't.   The only way to know is to raise him.

Our boys were 4 years old, 8 years old, 2.5 years old and 15 years old when they came home to us.   Without calling any child's name or sharing too much, let me list for you some textbook behaviors I have seen in my older children.  No ONE child of mine has exhibited all of these behaviors but each child has exhibited at least one:

1. Hypochondria - I have a son for whom even the slightest tickle in his throat or cramp in his stomach is a 4-alarm event. When I pick him up from a sporting event, the FIRST thing he does is list for me each and every injury and pain he has suffered as a result of playing said sport.  I have read countless articles that describe a child such as mine and just as many solutions to this issue. My own personal approach involves listening sympathetically and trusting my "gut" to tell me when medication or a doctor's visit is merited and when he is just fishing for an arm around the shoulders and a let-me-have-a-look.

2. Food Issues-  for an older child in adoption, food is a very touchy subject. ALL of my boys over ate tremendously upon arrival home. None of them came from an environment of starvation - NOT ONE!  Each of my boys was lovingly provided for in his orphanage.   The reason I believe my boys over ate (one to the point of vomiting on a regular basis) is the lack of CHOICE in food selection and portion sizes in an orphanage environment.  My boys were fed three nutritious meals a day before they were mine. But they did not get to choose their food, neither did they get to snack very often.  When brought into a family setting, they were literal "kids in a candy shop".   Some of my boys had no "shut off" valve and would out eat their father (and that man can EAT)!  Others would get right up from dinner and ask for a snack. Still others would take food to their rooms and keep it in a drawer so they never had to feel far from it.   For three of my boys, I found the best approach to be "just go with it".  I let them eat as much and as often as they liked within reason.  I DID NOT make a big deal about the amount or selection of food they ate.  The same result was yielded in each case.  My boys spent about a month or two pigging out and then returned to a normal, controlled, less-than-obsessed type of eating.
There are no more food issues in this house (unless you count me buying myself jars of cake frosting and hiding them in my nightstand for my own private "get away").

3. Clamming Up - this is, by far, THE MOST FRUSTRATING aspect of older child adoption for me.  There were times when I could clearly see one of my sons copping an attitude about something but he refused to discuss it with us.  Even when asked in his native language, he insisted all was well - with pursed lips and a distant gaze.  If ever a mother had to resist "reaching out and touching someone" . . . it was me when a son of mine chose to throw the silent treatment at us.  For this particular behavior, I am far less gracious than for those discussed above.  Refusing to answer and adult who is talking to you is RUDE and DISRESPECTFUL and, frankly, you don't get the luxury of being rude or disrespectful in our home.  I generally send the child to his room until he decides to respond when spoken to. .  and trust me, it's in HIS best interest to be far away from me when he's clamming up (ha ha).  In time, an apology and explanation are usually forthcoming.  Sometimes I have to apologize, too.  I never handle this one very well.

4. Grief-  my boys all missed their "old lives" to one degree or another.  Sometimes their way of coping is to talk about life in the orphanage with great grandeur. Other times, it is to refuse to talk about it at all.  I thought it would be a very loving act to make a bulletin board for one of our sons before he came home.  I printed pictures of his house parents, friends and other caregivers and covered the board with them.  Within two days of coming home, he promptly removed every photo and replaced it with sports pictures he printed from the internet.  Okay, point taken.  Either I was not close enough to him to choose the fodder for his bulletin board or he did not want a reminder of all the loved-ones he left behind.  No matter what the reason, I let him steer the ship on this one.  The same goes for talking about the "old life" or sharing birth history.  I let my boys pick the tempo on that. If they want to talk, I'll listen. If they have questions, I will answer them.  One of my boys even asked to read his paperwork.  I let him.  He seemed relieved afterward.
Their lives are a puzzle, even to them, and they deserve to have the pieces when they ask for them.  It's their story. They have the right.

5. The desire to be "White" - one of my boys asked to die his hair blond within the first week home. When I asked why on Earth he would want to do that, he plainly said "I wish I was white".   This same child refused to speak his native language with my husband, much to the chagrin of Daddy.   This is a behavior that I might have expected if my boys came into an all-white family and just wanted to blend but my husband is full-on Filipino, speaks the language, we cook the food, etc.  I am the oddball in this home and that's just fine with me.   You may find your older child rejecting his birth heritage for a time after coming home and all the dance classes, play groups and Brown-is-Beautiful books may not reach him . . . YET.  There is no  "quick, slap on a bandaid" approach to handling this one.  Reality therapy was our best bet.  We simply told our son that God made him Filipino, he is handsome, smart and strong and God never makes mistakes so you'll have to learn to say "thank you, Jesus, for making me who I am".   This child has been home for years and now seems quite proud of his race - but he still insists his wife will be white!   Sorry, son, I have no answer for that one except "more power to ya"   . . . ha ha . . .

Now, take a look back over my list and tell me.  If you happen to have older, biological children in the home, is it possible you've seen some of these issues in THOSE children, too?  I have.  And sometimes my heart breaks for the adopted child because he lives in a fishbowl.  If he likes to draw pictures of machine guns, he's headed for prison.  If my biological son does the same thing he's just interested in the military.   If an adopted child takes a candy bar from a store, he MUST have a full-blown attachment disorder. If a biological child does the same thing, he is committing a sin and must apologize - and then he's learned his lesson.

Yes, often times older child adoption brings with it a specific set of behaviors.  Children learn to cope and survive in some unpredictable ways.  But I BEG you to give it time. . . some of these issues will extinguish on their own and others may require a little more directed intervention.  Whatever the case may be, give thanks.   Remember when that child was just a photo in your hands and a file on your desk? Remember when you longed to just touch him in person? To be the one to tuck him in at night? To be the person to walk him through his fears and adjustment?    Well, here we are . . .   GIVE THANKS.    When our Father could have chosen anyone for the job, He chose YOU.  And equipped you to guide and love  your older child through every phase and every stage.

JUST AS HE LOVES US!

 

Tribute

Today, November 4th, 2012 is Orphan Sunday.     All around the country, churches are promoting adoption and orphan care in one way or another.  Facebook is rife with adoptive families sharing first photos of their adopted children.  Scripture and touching video inundate my "inbox".

I love it!

It draws my mind back to our first adoption in 2005. We had two biological children, a boy and a girl, and had surgically sterilized ourselves to make sure that's all we ever had.
But our BIG God had a BIG plan . . . to shake us right out of our comfort zone and give us the indescribable gift of a beautiful almost-four-year-old little boy with hearing loss and developmental delays. . .

 He has grown into a sweet, thoughtful, AMAZING 11 year old who reads well, is achieving his goals in math and has the kind of servant's heart every parent dreams of!  Ky was the perfect first adoption, as God well knew.  He bonded quickly, drew every family member in with his adorable face and sweet ways and rarely, if ever, misbehaved.  He made us eager to adopt again!

And then came Lemuel . . .

At 8-years-old, Lem was a firecracker of a child! He had the energy of a dozen children and had been through several disrupted adoptions. Lem was wounded and he challenged us at every turn. We can now say, with full confidence, that God has healed our sweet boy and he is proving to be a trustworthy young man with a fierce sense of right and wrong.  He is a star athlete and yet so humble about the gifts he has been given in that department.  Whenever the phrase "it was worth it" comes up in a television show, casual conversation or something I'm reading, my mind goes to our precious Lem.  We waited a long, long time and went through many MANY trials before this child grafted into the family but here he is and yes . . . it was worth the wait!

Four years later, God gave us the blessing of a child with Down Syndrome. . .

This tiny "baby" was 2 1/2 years old when he found his way into our family and along with him, came the most remarkable changes in all of us!  Appreciation for the smallest gains, compassion for those who struggle with developmental disabilities, the kind of protective love for another person that makes you ready to spring into action at the slightest sideways glance . . . we have to temper this in our older children. We have to assure them that not everyone who looks at our Angel Baby in public is thinking something unkind.  But more than what he represents, we love who he IS.  He is shy with strangers, he loves to dance and "sing", he eats with great gusto and he can be as stubborn as any child I've ever met.  Watching him sleep is precious and holding him while he sleeps can still put tears in my eyes.  When we hear "God's ways are higher than our ways", we can agree with complete certainty.  We might not have pursued the adoption of this Angel had not the Lord pricked our hearts so clearly . . . but oh, what we might have missed!  He is as close to perfection as a human can be.
The irony of that statement might be lost on some but if you have a child like ours, you understand completely.

But Our Father was not finished stuffing this family full just yet. . .
Into my hands came the file of an almost 15 year old boy.  And I saw his picture. And I knew he was MINE . . . just as sure as I knew I was living and breathing, I knew this young man was destined for our family . . .

And he came- terrified and uncertain, having been so long in his caring center. Having built relationships that were real and strong with so many who raised him, hating to leave yet needing to move on at the same time.  But this young man had been prayed over. He had been committed to God many times by many Believers. And we have been blown away to have been chosen to step into his life at this juncture and be the ones to say "forever". . . that is a privilege we will never take for granted.  God could have chosen anyone, but He chose US.   Thank you, Father!

And our crew has grown so big and beautiful, I often can't believe they are mine . . .

So as Orphan Sunday draws to a close,  I pray that families around the world are prompted to open their hearts and homes to just one more child, or to give to a family going through the adoption process, or to pray for orphans in every country.

The knowledge that there are children with nobody to call "mommy" or "daddy" lays me low. I choose to focus on all the "found" children today, like my own sons, but I am keenly aware that many remain unclaimed, feel unwanted, feel "less than" and in this broken world, that will always be a bitter truth.   But my prayer for those priceless treasures is that YOU, my readers, my friends, will notice, and care, and pursue them, even to the point of tremendous personal sacrifice.

There is no child too disabled, no land too far and no price tag too high for our Father.
He pays for what He orders. He guides. He equips. He sustains.
Always.
On time.
And sometimes, he even says "keep the change". . .
Won't you ask Him what He wants of you on this Orphan Sunday?

"God places the lonely in families . . ."   Psalm 68:6

We've Come a Long Way, Baby

June 12th marked six years since our much-smaller-then family piled into our old Ford, Windstar and took the two-hour drive to the children's psychiatric hospital.
Six years since we claimed a very scared but awfully cute 8 year old boy as our fourth child.

 It was the consummate case of "blind leading the blind".  Sure, we had adopted once before but never a child with a LABEL,  never a child from not one, but two disrupted placements, never a child that had been in the United States for just under seven months but experienced the pain of three adult lifetimes in that span.

It has been six years since the wave that rolled our boat, but never capsized us completely, hit our safe little nest that I so carefully feathered to keep out all the "bad things".

Six years since I lost the title of "The Most Together Mom You'll Ever Meet"  a title I bestowed on myself and based on my ability to reiterate the wisdom of others but that had never been earned through painful lessons and in-the-trenches parenting.

It has been six years since a child who felt truly unlovable,  and told me so, buckled up in that mini van to give family life one more go.  Because he had no power except the power to rage.  And he put all his effort into flexing that muscle beginning on the second day home.

Six years since the Lover of our Souls said "I have some immense work to do in one little family in North Carolina and this might hurt a bit . . . ."

Six years since I had the first glimpses into what true depression must feel like. And it was terrifying. And I understand now why someone would run . . . not walk . . . to the nearest pharmacy, or ABC Store and do anything it takes to make that feeling go away.   I never knew.

Six years since we stopped blaming bad parenting everytime we saw a kid coming unglued in a public place. We give the benefit of the doubt these days.

  So very long ago that we watched our other children learning painful spiritual lessons and rather than taking great measures to ease the pain, we recognized it for what it was and turned silently to our Father in prayer.

This little family is living proof that our ways are not His ways and our thoughts are not His thoughts. But that His are higher, grander, more far reaching, penetrating, succinct and not to be trifled with.

Six years since we lay between the rails on the train tracks and just cried out to God while the locomotive barreled by, inches from our faces.

We knew we were in the presence of a Great Work.  And as much as we longed to leave the classroom, we dared not.

SIX MONTHS . . . it has been about six months since our Father chose to heal our precious boy!
Six months since we sat up, blinked, looked at things through new eyes and said "that wasn't so bad".

                                            Lem( on the right -blue shirt) visiting biological brother
                                            who was adopted into a different family six years ago.

The Word of the Lord is true and altogether trustworthy.  I know this lesson and it has taken six years to digest it.  The healing of the Lord is complete.  I know this, too. It has taken me six months to believe it.

Psalm 30:5 says "weeping may last for a night but joy comes in the morning". 
Six years made for a long night.  Six months has been a beautiful morning.

Isaiah 61:3 says
To all who mourn in Israel, he will give a crown of beauty for ashes, a joyous blessing instead of mourning, festive praise instead of despair. In their righteousness, they will be like great oaks that the LORD has planted for his own glory.

We have tasted and seen that the Lord is good. In sorrow and in joy.  In weeping and laughter, in tearing down and building up.  His peace sustains and his righteous right hand upholds.

Faithful God . . . fulfilling His purposes . . . never leaving nor forsaking.

Never giving us the shortcut to learning but holding our hands in each trial.

Thank you, Father.  You've brought us so far... in just six short years!

ONE YEAR

Today, July 7th, 2012 marks one year since I waited nervously on the jetway.
One year since 30 of our friends and family members gathered in anticipation.
One year since I had to learn to answer "six" when asked how many children I have.

Our precious Francis has been home ONE YEAR today!

When I remember the early weeks of his homecoming, it is with fondness and maybe a little shudder of gratefulness that we are HERE instead of THERE.

I recall those early weeks where I was his complete link to the USA. Every task I set out to do, no matter how mundane, he wanted to be a part of. From making a bank deposit to getting groceries, Francis was always by my side asking questions. He wanted to know how everything worked here. He was absorbing life in the US at warp speed.

He wanted to know how much everything cost and then would quickly produce his calculator to convert that number to Philippine Pesos . . . and then he would gasp at the sheer expense of everything from a value meal to a pair of shoes.

He took perfect care of all of his belongings and was quick to help around the house with any chore anyone was doing.

And then he started to work for his dad and earn his own money . . . and NEVER spent a dime! He hid it in his room (although I always knew just where) and counted it again and again, converting it to pesos and remarking how shocked his friends back home would be at his "stash". We stayed up late watching action movies together after everyone else went to bed. I watched a lot of shooting and explosions...I was happy to.

He facebooked The Philippines for hours each day. He ached for those friends and caregivers in a way that was so hard to watch and, although a necessary part of starting a new life, something I wanted to ease and could not.

But time went on.

He began to say "no thanks" when I offered to take him with me to the store or the post office. He began to spend a little money on going to the movies with siblings. He joined his basketball team and found confidence in his English speaking and social skills. He started to get invited over to friend's houses.

He made a lot of baskets at his games and won the respect of the other players.

His comfort level in every situation multiplied and you could visibly see him being grafted into this life and this family.

And it's been a pleasure to watch and a gift.

He is ours and we are his. A little more each day. Just when I think we've reached total immersion, we get closer. The good and the bad experiences are the glue. We welcome both. But the good outnumber the bad at least 100 to 1.

God has done us a great kindness in making Francis our son.
Right on time.

Happy ONE YEAR HOME, precious boy . . . you are a jewel in our crown.

Movin' On Up

Since the "big announcement" of mid April -the fact that our family is posed to hit the mission field in the next six to eight months- so very much has happened. Our excitement has met with mixed reviews. Most of them positive and encouraging. Many of them laced with cautionary tales of forgotten friends who struck out for the mission field only to meet with crippling illness, dangerous criminals or larger-than-life insects! We have had friends who want to partner with us financially (we're not there YET but we'll hit you up when the time comes - ha ha) and have offered to start saving items we can take with us to share with those we will meet along the way. God's people never cease to amaze me with their first-blush reactions to news such as ours. It's no secret we have a large family. Some of our family members have ongoing needs that are well-met here in the States. We have much to weigh and balance. This decision was not made lightly as "impulsive" or "spontaneous" are not adjectives anyone would readily apply to me. Yes, The Philippines has large bugs, diseases that no longer exist in the US, plenty of crime and no Wal Mart! But far outweighing those little annoyances are the beautiful people, the children who need the loving arms of parents around them, the beauty of the landscape, the openness of the culture, and the unreached population we hope to extend a hand to. . . more about them later in the post! In just a couple of days, I am scheduled to speak on the topic of Special Needs Adoption at the Together For Adoption conference in Winston-Salem. I was asked to do this long before the chance at the mission field cropped up. I am awed at how well these two paths converge! The group our family will serve, if God allows us to transplant, is the visually impaired orphan! I expect, as has been the case in every "good thing" we have set out to accomplish, we will end up receiving the blessing much more than those we aim to serve. God has used hearing impairment, Reactive Attachment Disorder, Down Syndrome and advanced age at the time of placement to remind us that we can not do any seemingly selfless deed without being swept away in a tide of His blessings. In light of what we have experienced, we go overseas a little selfishly. We know the blessing the Lord lavishes on us when we try to serve Him. It's a "secret" the apostle Paul discussed so many times in His letters to fellow Believers.

"What is more, I consider everything a loss compared to the surpassing greatness of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord, for whose sake I have lost all things. I consider them rubbish, that I may gain Christ" Phil. 3:8

Galatians 6:9 And let us not grow weary of doing good, for in due season we will reap, if we do not give up.

Ephesians 2:10 For we are his workmanship, created in Christ Jesus for good works, which God prepared beforehand, that we should walk in them.


It's seems so close at times, I wake up in the morning and feel like I am THERE instead of HERE. Other times, I look around at all the "stuff" we have to sell, pack, get rid of, do, change, cancel, paint, repair and consider before we can be free of this life and I get weary. God is going to have to do so much in preparation for our family to go and yet, it seems He has already begun, starting with the positive reaction from ALL of our children to the announcement! That was not something we expected and clearly falls under the "more than we ask or imagine" category!! Certain children of ours tend to lean toward the melodramatic and can, at times, be just a teeny tad smidge self-focused. Well, shut my mouth . . . everyone is on board!!!!!!


I close this little jaunt down the bunny trail with a special "PRAY FOR US" as the time clock tics, so many pieces of the puzzle must fall into place and only The Great Commissioner can bring the longings of our heart to a full-fledged, sustainable missionary life. More than we ask or imagine . . .

Nothing!

Fundraising.

Just the sound of the word can send chills down an adoptive family's spines!
Most of us have done it. Some of us are doing it. LOTS of us are afraid to try it but know we need to.

It is estimated that the largest demographic of adoptive families are middle income, two parent homes. In other words, most adoptive parents are "your average Joes".
We are.
We have a smallish home, older vehicles and I am not too proud to take the kids to the free sample line at Costco for lunch on occasion (ha ha). We clip coupons, get excited about bags of hand-me-downs and I know how to make one chicken stretch into three dinners if I have to. We use the redbox and popcorn for "fun Friday" as opposed to whole-family trips to first-run shows. We run through the sprinkler and make our own posicles from frozen lemonade. We are frugal because we have to be.

We have adopted four times internationally with NO debt!

How? How on Earth when the laws of mathematics and supply and demand screamed "stop it! We don't work that way".

Here's how:
Jeremiah 32:27
"I am the Lord, Adonai. The God of all mankind. Is anything too hard for me?"

This is clearly, a rhetorical question from the creator of the universe. The obvious answer is "no, Father. Nothing is too hard for YOU".

As I sat pondering this post before writing it,my mind drifted to our most recent adoption of our teenage son. I was truly afraid when we started this process. Not of adopting a teenager. Not of making room in my heart or house. I was afraid of how we were going to pay these mountainous fees! I had already seen the Lord work miracles three times in our adoptions but dare I push the envelope? Dare I ask Him to lavish me AGAIN with provision? Would my friends, family and church have grown weary of our excited invitations for them to partner with us for the sake of an orphan?

I remember putting my "chip in" button on my blog with a little fear and trepidation.

In no time, the first donation came in. It was a LARGE donation from the teenage son of one of my highschool friends. This young man did not know us personally.
He is, I repeat, a TEENAGER! Aren't they supposed to be self absorbed? Aren't they supposed to be saving every cent for a fast car or the latest gadget? Nope. Not this young man. He blasted us with our first big donation and reminded me
that the Lord is GOD and NOTHING is too hard for Him!!!!

Take heart, my fellow fund raising friends! God moves the most unexpected people to do the most unpredictable things for His own glory.

OPPORTUNITY TO BLESS #1:
I know a family made up of four gorgeous children, two young, busy parents and a love for the Lord that calls them to go deeper for the sake of one adorable little boy in The Philippines who has some special needs. This particular boy stole the heart of every one of my family members on the last trip. He is cuteness personified. He is the favorite of every visitor. He is the non biological brother of our Francis, who loves him and is so thrilled that he will have his own family soon.
This is a family of "average Joes". They could use our help. Please consider heading over to their blog to make ANY size donation (http://bindmywanderingheart.wordpress.com/). They have stepped out in faith, trusting that God will pay for what He has ordered. They are counting on the body of Christ to help get their son here. They'll gladly do the raising, the feeding, the training, the late-night comfort. They need US to help get him here!!

BLESSING OPTION #2:
There is an astounding, large family made up of children from many, many countries. This family opens their doors to hard-to-place children. They keep sibling groups from being disassembled. They tirelessly seek the "least of these", scoop them up and claim them.
This family has more than 20 children but does not feel complete. They are, once again, pursuing children who have nobody to call "Mama" or "Daddy". Their newest children come from Ghana, Africa. The infant of this group has some significant challenges. This family stands at the ready! They say "bring it on" and prepare, once again, to offer children the permanency that they need to thrive.
Will you pray about extending your hand?
http://gillispiefam.blogspot.com/2012/03/walking-by-faith-efuas-family.html?m=1
Cut and paste the link above into your browser for more information on helping this family.

Not every Believer is called to adoption. But we are all commanded to care for the orphan (James 1:27). Here are two opportunities right before you.

What say you?

Touring Holland - A Reader's Response

P.S.(IN AN AWKWARD PLACE) I JUST CHECKED MY STATS AND NOTICED READERS FROM THE NETHERLANDS. PLEASE NOTE THAT I DON'T TRULY "HATE" HOLLAND, IT'S PEOPLE OR THE NETHERLANDS. I HAVE NEVER BEEN THERE. "HOLLAND" IS JUST THE COUNTRY CHOSEN BY THE AUTHOR OF A POEM TO REPRESENT AN UNEXPECTED DESTINATION. THE NAME OF ANY COUNTRY COULD BE INSERTED.


My recent post regarding our son who has RAD and our family's exile to "Holland" sparked much response. From private emails to facebook messages, many of you expressed that you, yourselves, are fellow residents of "Holland". I want to thank you, as I so often do, for just reminding me that our family is in good company, the best, really.


One particularly poignant response is reprinted below (with permission by the author, Jeff McSwain). Jeff's wife and I were recently able to spend some very "real" time together discussing our shared struggles and the grace that God has shown us in these struggles. I hope you will find her husband's Christ-focused response to "these current trials" as uplifting and concise as I do.


Touring Holland - by Jeff McSwain, father of a large family. Some adopted. Some not.

God is my travel agent, my tour guide, and my true husband. Holland is
not where I wanted to travel, and not where I expected to be, but it
is the spot God booked for me. If I focus on where everyone else seems
to be able to go and enjoy, and ignore my Tour Guide, then my life
will be a walking death, full of a growing darkness, bitterness, and
depression. I know because I have done this, at times.

One thing that helps me is to remember what I deserve. The fact is, we
all deserve an all-expense paid trip to Hell. Holland is heaven, in
comparison!

Through suffering, I have learned how to be thankful that I am in
Holland. I have developed a desperate dependence on my Tour Guide, Who
comforts me in ways that my closest family and friends, even my own
spouse, cannot. I know my God in ways that those who seemingly get to
spend their lives in Italy may never know.

If I had been sent to Italy, where I was continuously thrilled by my
surroundings, enthralled with exotic sights and smells and tastes, and
inspired by culture filled with the music of Rossini, the paintings of
da Vinci, and the statues of Michelangelo, it might be completely
beyond me to remember the name of my Tour Guide even a few weeks
later. “Yeah, He was there, but He really was just part of the
background for me.”

But in Holland, my tour guide carries the trip, and He leads me
through the sweaty underbelly of the city sometimes, and the sights
fill me with fear and pain. He booked my trip with others who think
and act appallingly, who offend my senses and betray and wound me. My
Tour Guide, though, is kind, gentle, patient, loving, joyful,
peaceful, and truly good.

When I look back on my time in Holland, I confess that it thrills me.
The dykes under the starry, wide-open night sky where I took walks
with Him. The backstreet where I held His hand while a hoodlum opened
fire on us just for the fun of it. The hospital where He stayed by my
side while I recovered from my gunshot wound. The good advice He gave
me about how to love the others on the trip when really I was just
secretly hoping that they'd go on a bathroom break and get left behind.

Holland was the best place for me. The purpose of my trip to Holland
was not for me to enjoy and remember the good things about Holland.
The purpose of my trip was for me to fall in love with my Tour Guide.
Holland made it easy for me to love my Tour Guide. "Yeah, Holland was
there, but it really was just the background for me."

Now, it hardly matters where I am, because I know and love the Great I AM.

The Jar

I have, by far, the most wonderful blog readers in the WORLD! My previous post regarding Lemuel's list brought so many sweet, affirming, been-there-done-that, comments and private emails that, once again, I am on the receiving end of multiplied blessings. I save those emails like candy in my pocket and read them at the lowest times in our battle with Reactive Attachment Disorder.
RAD is an ugly beast that makes children hard to love and makes parents throw their hands up, no matter how much reading, training, success or "good OTHER kids" they may have. RAD lays low even the most confident parent. Trust me. I have lived on both sides of the tracks. I was smug when my children were 10, 8 and 4. There was no RADish. Our word was law. Our kids were obedient and drew compliments on their behavior, manners and appearances everywhere we went. I remember an older lady approaching me at Taco Bell one afternoon to tell me that she has never seen such polite children in public and that our son's pre-meal prayer brought a tear to her eye. I was thrilled that she was hard-of-hearing and made these statements ten decibels louder than necessary.
RAD is the vehicle God has chosen to use to show us that HIS grace is sufficient. Through RAD, we realize that we are but dust (one "t" in "but" . . .ha ha) and HE is all that matters. RAD has shown us that missing ONE quiet time matters and that hugs and kisses are never to be taken for granted.
God is sovereign and His will can NOT be thwarted. He has handed us both bitter and sweet pills to swallow in this life and all that He allots is, in essence, good, useful and a means to the ultimate end - making HIS name great.
As I hug Lemuel goodnight tonight, things are so sweet. We are having a "good week" and his love feels like a fragile butterfly. I want to catch it and keep it in a jar on my dresser so it can't fly away. But just like a butterfly, I know it will die if I try to trap it. I have to appreciate it while it's near me but not make any sudden moves. I tell him "I love you" at least twice a day. Sometimes he answers in kind and other times . . . silence. The jar sits open.
I'm the ADULT. I'm the MOTHER. I'm the one who had a great childhood in a Christian family and always knew that, to at least two other people, I was a superstar. I must take the risks in this relationship with a child who has none of those benefits.
So I sign off tonight, bolstered by the hearts of my readers, who have shared with me that they, too, often walk down foggy paths, chasing their butterflies.
Thank you, yet again, for filling my pockets with "candy" for those rainy days when the jar is open and the butterfly is nowhere to be seen.

An Unexpected Gift

Earlier this week, my best friend posted a hilarious, heart warming story on her blog about her oldest daughter (www.fromgodstummy.blogspot.com) called "The List". In this true story, she recounts a situation in which her daughter composed a list of conversation starters in preparation for a "date" with her mom and dad. The list included subjects such as "The Economy" and "Dad's Work" - things your average child ponders daily (ha ha).
The post I'm preparing to write sounds eerily similar to my friend's post but I promise you (with my pinky in the air - since typing while raising my right hand is impossible) that I, too, stumbled on a list just yesterday. I was putting a pair of Lemuel's socks in his drawer when a piece of lined notebook paper caught my eye. I pulled it out and sat on the edge of his bed to read. I will type it below just as he wrote it, misspellings and all, and there is no need to elaborate on it.
He said it all.


BIG GOAL (underlined 6 times)
Things I Must Know!
1. Think before you speek
2. Tell the truth
3. Think of others
4. Do not make up things
5. Say things that are right
6. Be careful what you say
7. Obey your perant
8.ITS Not About Me All The Time!
9. Obey all the rules around the house
10. Wait and think about the things I did and tell them the truth
John 14:21 (Obey) Whoever has my commands and obeys them, he is the one who loves me.
Psalm 39:1 and 2
I said I will watch my ways and keep my tongue from sin: as long as the wicked are in my presence. But when I was silent and still, not even saying anything good, my anguish increased.
Proverbs 10:18
He who conceals his hatred has lying lips and whoever spreads slander is a fool.


He knows how to use his Bible's concordance. That's where the scripture came from.
Upon reading this list, at least some of my ire faded. I still have my guard up. We have been on this roller coaster for years and I believe there are more drops ahead. But there's a slice of hope. A tiny ray of light snaggled in when I read this note. There IS, in fact, a sprout of conscience there. He DOES care about doing right. I feel "safer" when he's on my "naughty list", just like he does. Feeling warm and loving toward him is risky. Your hand gets slapped back inevitably but he's just a CHILD. There's still hope . . .

Never Sure

I have been actively blogging for about two years now. The original intent of my blog was to allow friends, family and any interested folks to follow the adoption journey of our precious Ezekiel. The blog is aptly named.
At times of great joy or distress, I have branched out and blogged about other subjects. I also follow my stats and have found the blog entries that receive exponentially more hits than any others are those centering around our 13 year old son who has been diagnosed with Reactive Attachment Disorder. The posts receiving literally thousands of views were the following:
Adoption Disruption, The Down and Dirty
Lemuel's Story, Part 2
Bonding: The Flap and the Facts

I believe there is an unmet need in the adoption community for parents of difficult children to speak out in truth. Many hide in shame. Many blame themselves for not being able to "bond properly". Many are worried about the "I Told You So's" that will come their way. I have worried about those things, too. They are real.

What I am most worried about right now is that I have made myself out to be a liar. I have said countless times in the posts referenced above that Lem is "ours forever" and that he's "home for good" and yet, today, I don't know if I can keep to that. No, he has not been violent or sexually acted out with anyone but the constant lying is wearing me down in a way that I have never experienced. The lies are small and silly in terms of subject matter but they are intentional, ugly and calculated at the same time.

I'm never sure HOW much to share on this blog. I think it's unfair to speak cryptically and in generalities when I know there are families hungry for kinship in this difficult struggle. So I will use plain speak. Lem has lied several times in the last couple of days, and ALWAYS in the evening after a good day of family time together. He is sabotaging himself yet again.

A few nights ago, we all went to a basketball game. Lem was unusually loving to all of us and his efforts were met with great success. After the game, we went to a sandwich shop connected to a gas station (very classy joint - ha ha) and my sons went to the gas station area to buy some candy. Upon return to the table, a younger sibling says "Kuya Lem was breaking candy bars and putting them back on the shelf". Lem quickly pipes up "IT WAS AN ACCIDENT". The younger sibling replies "you went like this" and does a snapping motion with his hand "and you said 'ha ha ha' and you did it lots of times to lots of candy". Lem wilted. "Well, the FIRST candy bar was an accident". We leave immediately. I talk to him on the way home about trustworthiness, about being the same person whether you're being watched by mom and dad or not, etc. etc. etc. I feel like Charlie Brown's teacher . . wah wah wha wha . .. because I have said these things before. We have punished, spanked, grounded, prayed, talked, copied scripture, talked and talked and talked . . . my heart hurts. I want him to evaporate so the rest of us can be happy. Ouch.
The next morning, hubby takes Lem back to the gas station to pick out the amount of candy he believes he ruined and make him pay for it. There was NINE DOLLARS worth of chocolate in his basket. NINE DOLLARS worth of "accidents" . . .yeah, right. Lem paid for the candy and then had to tell the cashier what he had done and leave the bag of candy there for the cashier to give to whomever she thinks might want it. They came home and he sulked but he was in his familiar "cozy" place, the dog house. He was far, in heart and spirit, from the chattering, bustling, fun loving family. He chose to be alone in his room and flog himself for the rest of the day. Fine with me. Perfect, in fact.
Yesterday's lie revolved around him hurting Ezekiel "accidentally" and then, having no idea why the baby was crying. Luckily, he's part of this big family and privacy is as scarce as hen's teeth. The whole incident was witnessed by one of my perfectly trustworthy children who came forth with the truth. Lem did not deny it when confronted but simply said "oh, I didn't feel it". I think a trip to the neurologist is in order to have those synapses checked. He is losing feeling in his extremities, apparently. This,too, happened at the end of a GREAT family day. We cleaned out the shed as a family. We put up the old tent in the backyard and the kids played in it for hours. We even let him watch Ezekiel for about ten minutes when I went in to cook lunch. He was given a bit of trust (yes, I cooked right near the kitchen window but, in THEORY, he was being trusted). He just had to end this yucky closeness and get back to the cozy isolation so he made sure, at 9pm, to end the night with a "bang". I sent him to bed with a very succinct warning about Ezekiel. I confirmed that if he really wants to ruin the rest of his natural life, he will hurt that baby again. I told him using someone who can't talk or understand is shameful. He began to cry. A good sign. There's something rattling around in there. But is it enough? Is there even a baby sprout of conscience that makes all of this family focus worth it? I don't know. I used to think "YES" but now I think "hmmmm?". These seemingly small incidents happen many times each week. Behind closed doors, my husband and I have adjusted a lawyer joke to fit our family.
Me: How can we tell if Lem is lying?
Hubby: Because his lips are moving . . . (cue two drum beats and a cymbal)

I am a huge music lover and there is one song I have listened to dozens of times this week. It is "I Will Not Be Moved" by Natalie Grant. She sings of steadfast devotion to God that can not be shaken by circumstances. I want to have that same devotion. First to my Savior but also to this broken child. I just don't know if I can hang on much longer.
Maybe this whole post is just the result of a couple of hard back-to-back days and I will be back to my positive, hopeful self after church tomorrow. Church always helps. But this time is different. I feel "done". Please forgive me, readers, if the shine has fallen completely off and you feel like giving up, too. It is always my intention to encourage with my posts. I hope to be able to post in a few days that all is well but this time around, I'm just not sure . . .

Safety and Celebration

This last weekend we were met with threats of serious storm damage from Hurricane Irene. Days before the storm was to make landfall, our news channels were all abuzz with warnings to secure our outdoor furniture, buy batteries and water. Irene turned out to be a bit of a dud for our part of the state but not so for many surrounding states. My sister lives on the coast in Virginia and the threat there was much more serious than we hoped. She runs an assisted living facility and is responsible for the complete care of three precious elderly ladies. Upon seeing the storm threat, she loaded up her three residents and her three children and headed for my house on Friday.
When my sister arrived with her residents, wheelchairs and walkers in tow, it was such a relief to know they were safe from the storm!
It just so happened that we had planned Francis' 16th birthday celebration for that very same day so our 40+ invited guests, my sister's residents and family and my brother and his wife and kids all enjoyed a big birthday party together the night before a hurricane was set to hit! Several times during the party I had to swallow back tears of gratitude. I would be scooping ice cream and find myself just so thankful for all of the people God has put in my life. It's not unusual for me to feel that way when looking at my children but I don't think I stop often enough to be grateful for the friends, neighbors, and church family that I have been blessed with. Our home was filled with fellow Christians, the newly-adopted Indian children of a friend, a family in the middle of an Ethiopian adoption while expecting their 10th biological child, and so many who helped us with our last TWO adoptions. What a blessing to know these people! How lucky I am to be able to feed them dinner and watch their children play with mine. I will never understand the life of a hermit or the bitterness that makes some folks want to hole up and close themselves off from the world. Human beings are such great creations! We were made for fellowship with God and with each other. Just the presence of these loved ones sharpened my "iron" (Proverbs 27:17). I pray that God will use me to enrich the lives of others just as He has used so many to enrich mine.

Ecclesiastes 4:10-12
"Two are better than one, because they have a good reward for their toil. For if they fall, one will lift up his fellow. But woe to him who is alone when he falls and has not another to lift him up! Again, if two lie together, they keep warm, but how can one keep warm alone? And though a man might prevail against one who is alone, two will withstand him—a threefold cord is not quickly broken."

Home For Good

Last night at about 9:30pm, our lives changed for the better.   After a 30 minute flight delay, me, my mom, sister, nieces and nephew along with about 25 precious, dear friends met Francis for the first time!   I was truly afraid I might faint as the family headed down the ramp toward our cheering group. There were signs, gifts and a sweet friend of  my teenagers even brought cookies she had made.
Just as I'd imagined, I was the first in the crowd to run forward and hug Francis.   I probably injured him but he was too polite to say so (ha ha)!   It was an amazing night and even my biggest imagination, it was not as wonderful as the reality.  Even as I type this, he is across the room from me, laying on the couch playing with Ezekiel. He is definitely going to be a fantastic Kuya to these little ones!  He's so great with them and they follow him like the pied piper.   Ezekiel has been playing a game all morning where he (while sitting on Francis' stomach) grabs his face and smooshes it around.  Ezekiel thinks it's the funniest thing he's ever seen!
If he knew his cheesy mom was sitting here holding back tears - my heart almost too full to explain - he would probably think I had lost my mind!   It's these little moments, early in the bonding, that I store up and draw on when times get a little rocky, and they might.  This is "day one" and we are all on our best behavior.  I don't have any real worries, though.  The Lord, who created this family just as He designed, will walk with us through every high and low, just as He has done since the day I came to know Him at eight years old.  My redeemer is faithful. That's all I need to know.
Praise to His glorious, great name,
Nikki

One Day At a Time

Although the picture above doesn't show it, Francis is having a bit of a tough time right now.  He's leaving behind an amazing group of caregivers, a school full of friends and a church that he loves. All of these have been in his life for the last ten years, almost to the day.   I knew it would be hard for him.  I also know that God is faithful and weaving together a beautiful portrait of  loss and reclaiming, of giving up something to gain something else.    I do ask for prayer for our precious son.   I am asking the Lord to be merciful and let this grief be short-lived.  I am praying that God gives peace and comfort even in the midst of the sadness.
I just finished a skype with my family and already am seeing improvement in his countenance.  Yesterday, it was so hard to even see him on the camera because I could read him like a book. Just devastated. Today, this morning, I talked to everyone as they were waking up and saw some smiles and even a little joy peeking back in.   I'm not naive enough to think that a smiling face means a heart is healed. That will take time, patience, prayer and many reminders about God's sovereign plan.   I've had to be reminded over the last couple of days.  I've had to revisit our original calling and pray through my own doubts. I needed to reconfirm that the sadness he is going through is not because of my own selfish desire to adopt but because the Lord ordained it and He will supervise every thought and tear.    I end this post by asking the question I have asked in countless blog posts.  How do people without Christ survive?  How are they not paralyzed with fear at such life altering decisions?   How would we be able to bring another person into such drastic life changes if we didn't know that the Creator of the Universe had predestined it?  There's just no way.

Utterly Dependent

The title of this post may very well make a reader believe it's going to be deep. Spiritual. A discussion of our helplessness without the Lord.   Nope. This post is about my internet!  
My husband and two precious teenagers are now in Manila and in just a few hours they will meet Francis in person for the first time!!!!!!   Our family of seven becomes a family of eight in just six hours or so!  How blessed I am! Also, how neurotic! 
If I had decided to sit down and post yesterday, the post would have had a very different tone. Exasperated. Upset. Despondent.  Ungrateful.  Our internet has been down for three days due to some severe storm activity.
I called to get help from our company only to find that no technician was available for FIVE WHOLE DAYS. 
Normally that would not be a big deal. I may have even welcomed the "outage" as a chance to get back to playing board games with the kids or cleaning out some unvisited corner of my house. But my family is overseas! I was not going to be able to skype in on their first meeting.   I was so distraught.  To top it all off, I went out into our backyard yesterday while the two youngest children were watching a cartoon. I was gone for literally three minutes. When I tried to reenter the house, I found Ezekiel had opened our laundry room door and "trapped" me outside.  I panicked and pushed the door so hard that it bent the track the laundry room door rests on and knocked it right off!!!   I tried to fix it but it's awkward, heavy and I'm no "handy woman".  I decided to "google" an article on how to repair the door track when it dawned on me, I had no internet connection.  Add the fact that it was still two more days until grocery day and I had nothing "easy" to make for dinner so I knew that thawing, chopping and plenty of cooking were on my agenda.
How's that for a whiny run-down of a day????? I went to the front porch and had a pity party which involved a few tears and a good bit of praying.   Suddenly, two things dawned on me.  First, I thought about  how ridiculously I was behaving.  I talk and blog about the sovereignty of God and suddenly when my day goes south, He's not in charge?  It's not a part of His plan in any way, shape or form?  Second, I had a wave of compassion for all the single mothers out there!  I can't handle two days of "singleness" with grace and yet I know women who have done it for years!  Who changes their lightbulbs? Who watches the kids for an hour while they go to book club?  Who puts their laundry room doors back on track and says "oh, you look tired, let's go out for pizza tonight"? Who takes the dogs out at the end of the night because they get all creeped out at the thought of stepping on a frog or a snake?  Nobody. 
If any part of God's plan for yesterday included making me grateful for my amazing, handsome, handy man of a husband, I can confidently say "mission accomplished".    If any part of the enemy's plan for yesterday included exploiting some pretty lame aspects of my character, I can also say "mission accomplished".  
I can't help but think about the apostle Paul and how content he learned to be "in every circumstance".
I want so much to think like that and right now, I do.  My internet is back on, the door is fixed and my sweet neighbor is bringing us dinner! 
What a difference a day makes. 

A Time and Place for Everything

A few years ago, a famous American actress named Claire Danes flew to The Philippines to film parts of the movie "Brokedown Palace". . . does anyone remember this movie? I never saw it but I did read a LOT about the backlash after Ms. Danes described The Philippines as "a dump".  I recall hearing that Filipinos burned her DVDs and videos publicly and denounced her in the media. They would not patronize her movies and many theaters refused to even offer her movies.  I honestly don't blame them one bit. I would have done the same.
I'm sure the employees at the hotel where she stayed were extremely gracious to her. I have no doubt, because of what I know of the culture, that she was treated with deference and respect on her trip and how did she "thank" the people of the country? By being critical and ungrateful.

To a lesser degree, I see this same attitude SOMETIMES in adoptive parents. They often blog and speak about the conditions of the orphanage their child came from.  They share publicly how much dental work or "deworming" their new child required upon return home.  They lament the outgrown clothing and lack of shoes among the  children and express great pity for the lack of toys, resources, etc. that their child in orphanage care received.
I would caution parents that even if all of these observations are true,  sharing them publicly whether on a blog, facebook,  or even while speaking to a group at church is something that has to be weighed and taken seriously.
First, discussing those issues online is never a "private" affair. In this age of technology, a comment can go from Canada to Katmandu in mere seconds. Do you really want to risk  the people who loved your child, took him in at their own expense, prayed for and protected him,  seeing you tell the world how deficient his care was?
Second, often these types of discussions belie our feelings that we have "rescued a poor, pitiful orphan" rather than the truth of the matter which is that adoptive parents have been entrusted with a priceless gift.
Third, often (but not always) caregivers are doing the best they can with the resources at their disposal. Sometimes those resources are meager at best. In some countries, the governments do not spend any money at all caring for orphans. In still other countries, cultural biases against orphans is rampant. It is well known in the adoption community that Eastern Europe has a bad reputation for providing care to their orphans. What benefit is it for a family adopting from there to come home and cry out about the deplorable conditions of the orphanage? Will that effect cultural and governmental change or more likely, close the orphanage or country down to adoptive parents and trap babies there needlessly?  I can't say for sure but I wouldn't want to take the risk.  Our  American mentality tells us that we NEED to blow the whistle every chance we get. We are the justice makers in the world and kicking up enough dust will make someone take notice. That may work in some situations but, again, discernment trumps noise making any day!
Finally, I'd like to remind my fellow adoptive parents about the "toothpaste analogy" . . . words can not be taken back just like toothpaste squeezed from a tube can not be put back in.  Out of respect for your child, who will not be a "baby" forever, consider keeping their "lice, boils, chronic diarrhea, worms,warts and birth histories" a private matter.   They'll need to make friends in your community. They may go to school, church and parks with families who will remember the "contagious lip scum" story you told last year!  
Does this post imply we should never utter a word about the conditions from which our child hailed? Absolutely not! What I would encourage is that we, as adoptive parents, investigate WHY we feel the need to share these things, with WHOM they should be shared and what benefit will arise from sharing them.
If I have ever shared anything private about my  children simply to shock another person, elicit pity or make myself look more spiritual, I confess it now as sin and vow to never do it again!   When my kids are older, able and ready, they'll share what they want to share with those whom they trust.   Until then, Lord keep my lips (and fingers) from inflicting harm and help me to be a good steward of these marvelous gifts!