Theory vs. Practice

"Love without limits." "Love in spite of." "Love without getting anything in return." "Love like Jesus." Those phrases, read with inspiring music playing in my head, sound noble, like a worthy aspiration. And they are. But they are far easier to say than to do. To think about than to implement.

We have been fostering our son's sister for nine weeks now. We know that the goal of foster care is reunification with the birth family. We, intentional or not, received the impression that probably it would be a clear path to adopting little Miss S. We found out that isn't the case.

We don't know what will ultimately happen. In the world of foster care, it's early days. But. But. We had already built the future in our minds, and forgotten to hold loosely. We had prayed for so long for a sister for Z that we assumed an ending that hadn't yet been made clear. He has a sister, and they will be siblings forever. We just don't know if she will be living with us or not.

Almost all adoptions/foster situations are more complicated than they look. We want the best for S, and that may be living with her birth family. Children living with their birth families is what is supposed to happen. Foster care and adoption is not what is supposed to happen. They can be beautiful and redemptive and loving, but it is only reality because of sin. Sin always leads to sadness and heartbreak for someone.

We love S. We want her to stay in our family. We want her and Z to grow up together. If she must leave, we will be heartbroken. Her big brother loves his "Sissy" very much, and my heart quails and my eyes overflow imagining explaining to him (who won't be able to really understand anything but that she's gone) that his sister had to go away.

But. But. Children belong with biological parents if it is possible, and if it is a safe and loving environment. While I think I know what is best for S, I am not God. I don't know the future. I only know my feelings and my desires, and they are currently at war. I want S to stay with us. At the same time, as a Christian, one of the deepest desires of my heart is that God be glorified, and that I follow and obey the teachings of Jesus. The temptation is twofold: To wish ill will for our kids' birth parents and pursue what we want at any cost, or, maybe worse, to withhold our hearts from our daughter (which she will always be) to try to lessen the pain. Neither choice will glorify God.

Today in church we sang an older Mercy Me song, "God With Us". The chorus has the line, "All that is within me cries For You alone be glorified." My husband and I want that to be true for us. Yet that choice, so romantic and lofty, holds the potential for much pain. The next line is the only power that will sustain us in this journey: "Emmanuel, God with Us."

God's heart has felt its share of pain. He gave up His Son. We say that a lot, but the true import of it is beyond knowing. He has put this baby in our home, and in our hearts for a reason. We will trust that He will give us grace for whatever happens, and that, whether she stays for six months or for our lifetime, we will love her wholeheartedly. 

This obedient choice does not make us saints. Many of you reading this would choose the same. If we knew what we know now, would we change our minds? Would you? If told your child had a sibling who needed a safe and loving home? That maybe she would stay with you and with her big brother? How could we not? How can we not love her to the best of our ability? We have been loved so so much by the Lord and by His family. When the time comes to put our grand and romantic and real theories into action, we will do so, knowing that "I can do all things, through him who strengthens me" (Philippians 4:13)--and that God's strength is the only way, and that it will be enough.

Six Month Baby Update

Our Little Guy is six months old today! He's doing great--rolling around, almost sitting up, looking scarily close to crawling, laughing and smiling and getting to be very social. Paul, who's staying home with him during the school year, hears "da-da", he is sure. I, in futility, encourage "ma-ma".  He doesn't sleep through the night yet, though people keep promising us he will once we start giving him solid food (any day now). We are skeptical! He's teething and drooling and we love him a ton!

As many of you know, we had intended to adopt our son, then things got complicated ("Supposed to Be"), then God intervened ("Unless God" ) and we were asked to foster Little Man as we waited to see what would happen with the biological parents. We still do not know the outcome for sure, but it is looking like we will get to adopt him. While we are thrilled, our joy is tinged with sadness.

We have always wanted a child and we love our son. We want him to stay with us and be a part of our family forever. However, we know that our desire has a cost to our baby. He has a complicated story. He may not be able to understand it for many, many years, and while he will know (we pray every day) how much we love him, he will also have to come to terms with the loss of his first family. The reality is that his biological parents, due to both circumstances and choice, cannot currently parent him.

Adoption is beautiful, but in a perfect world, it would not exist. As a Christian, I believe that I have been adopted, through Jesus, into God's family, and I am grateful and amazed at this privilege. As I was thinking, I realized that, even for God, there is a sense that adoption was not the first choice. If Adam and Eve had not sinned, they would have been still in God's family as it was originally designed. However, due to the fall, Jesus came so that we could be adopted into God's family. Adoption always has a cost.

We believe that our guy was placed with us by design, and we are grateful. We pray daily for wisdom to parent him well and with love, and we pray for his biological parents as well, and hope that he will have a future relationship with them. We pray most of all that he will also experience the joy of adoption into God's family, and that the Lord will heal his heart and turn his pain into beauty and purpose.

In further news: We are approved by our adoption agency for two children, and are praying that God would bring us a sibling for our little man. Private adoption is costly, and we recently received a grant from Pure Gift from God, who will match our funds dollar for dollar up to $4000--so if we raise $2000, they will give us $2000 more. If you are interested in helping out, here is the link:  Paul and Edna's Adoption Odyssey

Unless God. . .

Two weeks ago my husband and I had one of the hardest Thanksgivings ever. We had lost the son we were supposed to be adopting and were heartbroken ("Supposed to Be"). A few days later we went to church, wanting the support of our church family, but dreading the emotions. Over and over we were asked, "Is there any chance that you could see the baby again?" "Couldn't you guys be his foster care family, since you were going to adopt him anyway?" "Are you SURE it's all over?" Over and over we said, "No, not unless God intervenes." "No, they don't do things that way. Only if God does a miracle." "Yes, yes, it's all over. Everyone's told us that. There's no chance unless God does something miraculous."

Monday morning we were both supposed to go back to work. Sunday evening I decided not to so that I could accompany Paul to a doctor appointment. As I sat in the waiting room, we got a text from our adoption agency social worker to "Call me as soon as you can." We called, and she told us that the family services agency of the county in which the baby was born wanted to see if we would foster the baby while all of the details and logistics of figuring out where he would end up were sorted out. At that point we assumed it would just be for a few weeks. Of course we wanted to see the baby again, and give him a good start, but we also knew the even bigger heartbreak that could occur in a few weeks. We agreed to talk to the county to see exactly what they wanted.

The agency offered us to be kinship foster care providers for the baby. When we asked them how long they anticipated us having the baby, they said "Six months to a year, up to two years." Huh? It seems that the sorting out of all of this is going to take a while, and that, while the goal of foster care is always reunification with the birth family, there is the possibility that the child will become available for adoption.

It seemed abundantly clear to us that God had indeed intervened. We believe that He, miraculously and against all protocol, wanted us to have this baby back, at least for a while. So, while we intellectually have counted the cost of loving with no guarantee, we know that emotionally we risk heartache and tears--as do all parents. We don't know what God's plan is with this. It could be to give our little man the best start that we can, in a stable and loving environment. It could be to show the other people involved the love of Jesus. It could be to eventually adopt this little one who burrows deeper into our hearts every day. Regardless, when God works in such a big way, we really have no choice but to submit and trust Him that He will be enough for us, no matter what happens.

Supposed To Be . . .

Today was supposed to be the day that we brought our son home. After seventeen months as a waiting family, we were matched with an expectant mom and all seemed well. The baby was born earlier in the week and today was supposed to be the start of a new chapter in our lives and the fulfillment of long-held hopes and dreams.

Instead, the bassinet was moved to the basement, the pack n play is folded and packed away, and all the other baby paraphernalia is hidden in drawers and closets. So close, again, but denied.

There's no one to blame, really. Just broken people, like each one of us, seeking love and acceptance and chasing a dream of family. We're just the collateral damage who were standing in the middle.

We saw him an hour after birth. Fed him his first bottle. Tried (unsuccessfully) to get his first burps. Watched the first bath and the weighing and the measuring. Held him. Rocked him. Cried tears of joy. Successfully burped him. Prayed over him. Then, in one phone call, it all changed.

We sobbed. We held him one last time, prayed, kissed him on the forehead, and wheeled him back. We said goodbye, trusting him to a God who sees the end from the beginning and loves us fiercely.

We are broken people too. This morning was the morning we were supposed to bring him home and we would be, officially, parents. Instead, we are full of tears, sorrow, and sadness.

We don't feel strong. We're trusting the Lord as best we can, trusting in the truth that He will work all of this for good (Romans 8: 28). But it's hard. And it hurts.  We are held up by God's grace and love and the love and support being shown to us by our friends and family, with whom we have been gifted beyond measure.

Maybe there's a different son or daughter still to come. Maybe we will become parents in a way we can't imagine. Maybe the answer is "no" and we will fulfill another purpose.

Even if it was only for two days, we are thankful to have loved a precious, beautiful, baby boy, and we will never forget him. He will always be in our hearts and a part of our family.

Update to this story: Unless God. . .

Unfiltered

Wow! Thanks to all of you, my last blog post had almost 3,000 hits, which is more than ten times as many as any post I've written! A behind-the-scenes-fact: I was advised that maybe I should wait a few days to share because the mood of the piece seemed "bleak".  Yes. It was. Because that's how I felt at the time, and that was the whole point.

So much of our lives, it seems, is on display on social media. I'm not the first to notice this, by far, but many of us search for the perfect picture or turn of phrase or clever meme to share on Facebook or Instagram or Pinterest or whatever other more hip and cool sites there are that I don't even know about yet. Like everyone else, I look at the patriotic fireworks pictures of people's cute kids dressed in red, white, and blue and am tempted to believe that everyone else's life is perfect (and color-coded), and mine is the only one that's not.

Somehow it seems that Christians are even more prone to "put a happy face on it" about their struggles. I'm not entirely sure why, though I have a few guesses. I think that sometimes it's a matter of over-balancing on the side of obeying the verses about not complaining (Philippians 2:14). However, complaining and being honest about struggles are not the same.

At a deeper level, I think it could be linked to wanting to give a good impression of Christianity, with the idea that if we want others to even consider learning more about Jesus, we need to be happy and cheerful and full of positivity at all moments. Sometimes we may be afraid that if we are transparent about our feelings and fears that it will cast a cloud over God Himself. I would challenge that idea with the Bible itself:

• Moses: "I am not able to carry all this people alone; the burden is too heavy for me.  If you will treat me like this, kill me at once, if I find favor in your sight, that I may not see my wretchedness.” (Numbers 11:14-15)
• Job: "“Why did I not die at birth, come out from the womb and expire?" (Job 3:11)
• Elijah: ". . .But he himself went a day's journey into the wilderness and came and sat down under a broom tree. And he asked that he might die, saying, 'It is enough; now, O Lord, take away my life, for I am no better than my fathers.' " (1 Kings 19: 4b)
• David: "How long, O Lord? Will you forget me forever?How long will you hide your face from me? How long must I take counsel in my soul and have sorrow in my heart all the day? How long shall my enemy be exalted over me?" (Psalm 13: 1-2)

All four of these people were men who were commended for their faith, yet each of them battled discouragement and feeling distant from the Lord. God is so much bigger than my struggles and my doubt.  My faith doesn't make me immune from feeling scared or hopeless or bleak, at least as long as I am here on Planet Earth. There are days when my faith is big and I see clearly how God has already worked in my life. Then there are days when I feel discouraged and frustrated and impatient and I don't trust that, no matter what, I will be okay. The beauty of my relationship with God is that He can handle those feelings. In my weakness, He is strong. Christianity doesn't rise or fall with my faith, but with the truth and redemption of Christ. 

In light of this, I try to be honest and open (which is much easier for me in writing than in person) and to live a life that shows not just the triumphs, but the struggles. Regardless of our filtered Facebook posts, we are all struggling, or waiting, or hurting. We need each other to remind ourselves that we are not alone, and that (I believe) there is a God who cares about those struggles. Thank you to all of you who do that for me! 

Some Days Are Like That. . .

Today was a hard day. It’s been a year since our domestic adoption home study was approved by our agency and Paul and I officially became a “waiting family.” During that year we had an expectant mom choose us to parent her child. However, due to several circumstances, she ultimately changed her mind and decided to parent. We’d had a name, a crib, an outfit, and a vision of ourselves as a family of three. Since then, it’s been eight months of nothing. The reality is that there aren’t a lot of infants out there in the private adoption world. The reality is that we are too old for almost all international adoption, and the countries we’re not too old for we don’t qualify in other areas. We’re planning on taking the classes to become foster parents to see if that route might work better. We’re trying to trust the Lord and pay attention to where He might be leading.

Those are the facts. But today I’m also dealing with the feelings. The pain of wanting to be a mom for as long as I can remember, and imagining myself with a husband and four kids, staying home as Mom while Dad went out to work. But the husband didn’t come until the biological window was already essentially closed. So, instead of what it seems most people do—some canoodling with the hubby and voila, a baby—we instead got to do fingerprinting and fire inspections and social work interviews and friend referrals. CPR classes and book studies and drug tests.  Application fees and class fees and agency fees. And we did it, praying and hoping for the child who would make it all worth it.

After this year of waiting, we went for a meeting today to talk with our social worker about how we are doing and what else we could do. I like our agency. They’ve been great. But no one seems to know what to do when I respond with my honest feelings rather than the correct Christian answer.

“You do a blog? Write a blog about your adoption wait,” they say.  Yeah, right. Because people want to hear how powerless I am and how impatient I feel and how frustrating it is to be able to do nothing to make this happen. People prefer happy endings. Those chosen to share their stories always have the husband, or the baby, or the cure, or the victory. “Read this book about this woman and her wait.” “Does she have the baby now?” “Yes.” “That’s what I just said:  NO ONE WANTS TO HEAR ABOUT THE MESS IN THE MIDDLE UNLESS THERE’S A HAPPY ENDING COMING.”

We are in the middle of the mess in the middle of the story. We may not get the happy ending that we desire. It’s harder than I imagined to put my heart and hope out there for everyone to see. It can be difficult to stay positive or even realistic.  Today was a mix of so many emotions. I’m tired of waiting. I'm angry this isn't easier. There’s not much I can do, but I want to do what I can. Yet when I get suggestions: Write a blog, join Instagram, try Pinterest, call other agencies, make a copy of your book and put it at OB-GYN offices, ask friends to share your profile. . . then I shut down because what if I can’t do all of that? If I can’t or we don’t do it right, do we miss our chance at a child? And, deeper, why does this have to be so hard for us when it is so easy for so many other people?

As many of you who follow this blog know, I have had my struggles with feeling distant from the Lord over the last few years. It’s improved, but I would still like my relationship with Him to be closer. In the middle of this journey it can be hard to see God at work. As I spent the afternoon avoiding the acts of praying and processing the morning, I had an errand to run. I couldn’t find the audiobook I wanted, so I was listening to a message from my old church in St. Louis. When that message finished, another one automatically loaded from Tim Keller, well-known pastor and Christian author, called "An Immigrant's Courage", about Ruth and Naomi and Boaz. It’s a great message and I could talk about several ideas in it, but what struck my heart was when Keller spoke about how the Lord did not abandon Naomi. He provided Ruth for her, and, through Ruth, a future and a hope and an heir.

Naomi thought that she had lost everything. Her husband and sons were dead and she was too old to work or to marry. She went back home telling everyone to call her “Mara” because it meant “bitter”. However, God had a plan for her. The book of Ruth is only four chapters long and will tell you the whole wonderful story.  God ultimately provided a husband for Ruth, and, through Jewish custom, an heir to Naomi’s son. The Lord did not abandon Naomi, and He has not and will not abandon me. That doesn’t mean that I will get a child. It does mean that the Lord is with me and communicating during the wait. Today God used the message I heard and the truth of the book of Ruth to remind me that, though things may not work out according to my plan, He will not leave me alone.

So, I will call more agencies, take the foster care classes, continue to figure out Instagram, keep praying that God will bring us a child, and wait for the end of the story.

P.S.
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