A City on a Hill: Sharing the Heart of Adoption

I am reading a book called, A Distant Grief. I was written by F. Kefa Sempangi. I am on page three and have already been busy using my highlighter and dialoging passionately with my husband about the words on the page before me. I feel as if I am having a cup of coffee with the author, he is talking calmly and confidently meanwhile my mind is being blown as I attempt to act non-challant at our table.
He writes about the reign of terror under Idi Amin in Uganda, about the church, about light diminishing darkness. What he says entirely I do not know yet as again I am on page three.

Many of us are sitting in our living rooms thinking about the people in China that have endured the earthquakes and aftershocks. We think of the people of Myanmar who have endured the recent cyclone. These two events alone have resulted in hundreds of thousands of people finding themselves in the midst of great loss and uncertainty, of pain and poverty, of disease and displacement.

Then there are those living all around us who are homeless, hungry, lost. There are people in the Sudan, Chechnya, Congo to name a few that are experiencing torture. There are children growing up not knowing what safety and security are like, entire generations being raised in nothing but bloodshed.

Within our communities there is human trafficking, child abuse, domestic violence.
We read beautiful books such as, The Kite Runner, and are deeply touched by the stories of those that have endured oppression. I watched the movie with my husband. When we turned it off I sobbed and sobbed. “This type of horror is happening to people in our world, honey.” I kept crying until finally it was time to move on.

But, that last statement right there is what keeps bugging me. “Time to move on….” when exactly is that? My heart tells me that it is never time to move on.

So, why is it that we do move on? That we turn our eyes onto our own agendas?
That we spend our money on fleeting fashion rather than helping our starving brothers? That we stay quiet rather than advocating for those that are not being heard? That we ignore what is truly going on around us?

Sempangi writes, ” In that moment I learned a new truth. I learned that just as there is a boundary beyond which human beings cannot comprehend the glory of God, so there is a boundary beyond which they cannot comprehend the evil in this world. There is a boundary beyond which everything is a senseless chasm. It is here in the nightmare of utter chaos that human feeling dies. It is here, where death and terror seem to have full dominion, that even the deepest sorrow becomes but a distant grief.”

I like this. It makes sense to me. If I could comprehend the glory of God in it’s fullness then I would have to turn the TV off. I think if I truly could comprehend all of God’s glory then I have to admit I would be a little crazy in my efforts to praise Him. Just the same, if I truly could comprehend the plights facing my fellow human beings, my brothers and sisters in Christ, on a daily basis I do not think I could function as a normal person. I think I would be a little crazy in my efforts to help them.

But, I have to ask…what is wrong with being a little crazy? Just because we can not comprehend his full glory does not mean that his Glory does not exsist. In fact, we miss out when we ignore it. Just because we can not comprehend all the pain and darkness going on around us does not mean it does not exsist.

There is grief around us. There is a need for Light to shine and take over the darkness. We are to be that Light. Turn off your TV, turn away from the computer, do what you must to help those that need help.

May the Glory of God shine on you as you shine Light on the darkness!

Just 36 hours ago, Maria Sue Chapman, adopted and youngest daughter of Steven Curtis & Mary Beth Chapman, was killed in a tragic accident in the family driveway. She was LifeFlighted to Vanderbilt Children’s Hospital, but for only reasons God can explain, she went home to Him.

The news was like a shot to the hearts of tens of thousands of men and women, sons and daughters, moms and dads that have been impacted by this incredible family. Steven and Mary Beth are the founders of Shaohannahs Hope, an organization created to reach orphans and help remove the financial barriers of adoption. It’s impossible to imagine the grief that the Chapmans are feeling tonight. It’s beyond grasp.

For those of you that don’t know of the Chapmans, they are amazing. Just one year ago, I had the opportunity to meet Stephen up close. He flew in for one night to give a free concert to some of us attending an event called Adoption Summit III. As a top GRAMMY-winning, DOVE award winning Christian recording artist, this wasn’t a glory event for him. It was just a group of people who had given their lives to those considered least in the world. . . orphans.

Steven’s wife Mary Beth couldn’t make it . . . she was busy being a mom. But in classic fashion, she sent a video she made that morning. It was her and their three adopted daughters. They encouraged us all to not give up and continue fighting the good fight.

Right after that, Steven shared a song with us that he had never played publicly before. It was simply called “Cinderella”. As my own adopted daughter plays with a pink ribbon right next to me and in light of this tragedy, Stephen’s lyrics carry new and even more profound meaning today. We’ll never listen to this song the same again.

“So I will dance with Cinderella
While she is here in my arms
‘Cause I know something the prince never knew
Oh I will dance with Cinderella
I don’t wanna miss even one song,
(even one song)
Cuz all to soon the clock will strike midnight
And she’ll be gone”

The Chapmans are a family that will make it through this incredible tragedy. Their life is based on a deep devotion to the one true God. They will never waiver. But right now, more then ever, they need our collective prayers.

When we search for words at times of great loss and heartache they often seem lacking in power and depth. We ask ourselves if there is something we can do to convey our heart, our shared sadness, our support for a friend. We can pray. Prayer is powerful, real, raw. It is not cliche’, but alive and active.

Today, we ask that you pray for the Chapman family. Despite believing fully that their sweet daughter, Maria Sue, is joyful and safe in Heaven we know that they have heavy hearts and carry a deep grief within them. Please embrace the Chapman family now through your prayers. We desire to have them covered night and day in prayer.

———————–

Jesus,

May guilt not be allowed to abide in the hearts of this family. May you, Jesus, give them full confidence in your promises, plan, and unfailing love for Maria Sue and their family.

May they know, fully, that they have not said goodbye. May they be a comfort to one another, bind them together Lord, speak to them continuously of your love for them.

Fill them, Jesus, with the peace that passes all of our understanding.

Amen

———————-

We invite you to post your prayer for the Chapmans right here. Please take a moment and do so. Simply click on “Submit Comment”.

* In lieu of flowers, the Chapmans request any gifts be directed to Shaohannah’s Hope.

I became a mother in Ethiopia, Africa. There was no pushing and panting that led to a climax of delivery. There was no hospital or full round tummy or maternity clothes. There was no ultrasound or hearing a heartbeat for the first time.
My motherhood journey began two years before I ever set my eyes on a little child sleeping in a tiny metal crib. It began with an conviction, then prayer, and paperwork. It continued with waiting and trips to Chicago and fingerprinting. We had days full of wondering and nights we stayed up asking questions that we may never have an answer for entirely. The time passed slowly and in this time many of my friends became pregnant, carried their sweet babies and delivered them into this world. Jason and I would go and visit with them, we would rejoice in the new life, and we would return home to wait more, to continue on with our journey.
I knew that somewhere in Ethiopia a story was taking place. In this story would be loss and tragedy and sickness and hurt. I knew that a day would pass by in which a child would be somehow and someway become without a family. I would sit on my front porch and sob. I would pray a covering over each day asking God to be in the unfolding story, to protect this child. What would I be doing the day that my child is abandoned? I wanted the answer to that question to be ‘praying for him’. And, so I did.
After we received our referral call our social worker sent me an email that had two pictures of Mussie attached. I opened them, my heart beating faster than it ever has before. I sat there in silence looking at his face, his eyes, his cheeks. I can not tell you what it feels like to receive an email, which normally delivers such ordinary news, and have it display the face of a child you have longed for. My child.
I remembering clearly thinking in my head, “You made it baby boy. Whatever happened to you, however horrible and hard, you made it.”
We printed off his pictures and would sleep with them next to our bed. At night we would cry together and talk to his little face. “We are coming for you!”, we would proclaim. Weeks later I boarded a flight that would take me on the first leg of my journey to Ethiopia. It was all a blur. The night I landed in Ethiopia the sounds of the Mosques and animals filled my head. I slurrped down some tea and a roll and crawled into bed. I was just moments, just a ten minute walk, from my son who had previously been across the world from me. I wondered if he knew at all down in the deep parts of his tiny spirit that his life was about to change, that he would once again have a family?
He was asleep when I arrived at the orphanage. I did not want to wake him. I waited and waited, just watching him. The years of waiting overtook me and I scooped him up into my arms, pulled him close to me, and when he began to whimper my voice comforted him. Imprinted in my memory, treasured, is that moment when he curiously glanced over my face as I said to him, “I am your Mommy….”.
I had a son. He had a mommy. Jason, thousands of miles away, was a father. Through soft singing, kisses, lots of hugs and holding him close trust was born. Each day that I returned for him, that we built memories, that my hands fed him that trust grew into reliance and affection and eventually the deep bond between a child and a parent. I will never forget the day that I walked into Layla House and the look on his face spoke that he knew I was coming for him, that to me he was the world, he was chosen, spoken for, cherished.
There was a time that he would not sleep unless we were touching. First, he had to be on my chest, tightly wrapped in the covers with me. In time he would sleep laying beside me as long as my arm was around him. More time passed and he would sleep holding my hand tightly. One night he clung to my hair and slept above my head on the pillow. Now we give hugs and kisses and smiles and songs to one another. He sleeps confidently in his own bed and wakes up cheerful, not afraid or alone or uncertain.

I have never once, not even for a moment, mourned that I was not able to give birth to him. God delivered him right into our arms, there is nothing more powerful than this.
I have mourned, at times, for what took place in his life before we became us. Today, especially, as he is sleeping happily in his bed with Grover snuggled next to him, thoughts of his birth family are in my heart. I want them to know that he is happy, safe, and adored. I want them to know that he is intelligent and compassionate and funny…that he loves to run around naked…that he pulls the cats tail…that he can count to ten. I want them to know that he snores at night when he sleeps and that he wakes up talking about Elmo and cars and Daddy. I want them to know that he loves to garden and watch airplanes fly by and he run in open spaces. I want them to know that at night as we prepare for rest we pray for them. I want them to know that pieces of them live on in his face, his eyes, and his features and this makes us proud and so eternally grateful for their lives.

Motherhood is the absolute hardest thing I have ever done. But, being Mussie’s mother is the best part of being me. He is my treasure and I truly am boastfully proud that he is ours and we are his.
Happy Mothers Day, me. The journey, the waiting, the travel, the adventure made me the momma of a precious child who’s kisses and giggles and boo-boo’s and love is mine each and every day. What a special celebration today that my husband and son gave to me. My heart is overjoyed.

Happy Mothers Day also to a woman somewhere in Ethiopia. Thank you. If ever those words held true gratitude and emotion they do now. Thank you. Thank you.

I received an email this morning from my friend Lisa. In her email she asked me to do all that I could to encourage people to pray today. Lisa has every reason to ask this. She is one of the 2000 families in limbo while her heart waits in Guatemala to come home. Lisa, like the other 2000, was grandfathered into the old system and is awaiting news that their case has been released.
I called Lisa. She has recently returned from her third trip to Guatemala where she visits with her child and takes every opportunity to love on the other children. “What would you ask people to pray for today specifically?”, I asked her.
Just like a mother who has a full heart and mind she began spitting out thoughts and heartache and hopes a mile a minute.

For Lisa and the other 2000 families, for the birth families in Guatemala, and for the hundreds of thousands of children in Guatemala I ask you to stop now and join us in a day of prayer.

We pray for the children, who have no part in corruption, who are innocent and deserve only to be united with their forever families. We pray that they will be protected and that their bodies and spirits will be kept safe and nurtured as they wait. We pray that God would send his angles to watch over them. We pray that they would know that they are indeed cherished and loved.

We pray for the birth mothers and fathers of the children of Guatemala. For those that surrendered their rights, out of love for their child, and now may find themselves at risk we ask that God would watch over them, that they would find arms to embrace them, and forgiveness from their families and communities.

We pray for those women and men who have been deeply wounded by the corruption that has taken place, for those that may have lost children unfairly or through coercion. We ask that God would sustain them and comfort them. We pray that they would be reunited with their children and that this type of activity would cease to exist.

We pray for the 2000 families who are waiting eagerly for their children to come home. Lord, they have rooms prepared and their hearts are open and vulnerable with love for your children in Guatemala. As they continue to be “in process” we ask that you give them great confidence that their children will come home and the process will indeed end.

Lord you are greater than nations, you are more powerful than governments. The orphans of the world are cherished by you. Lord we ask that you would intervene on behalf of the orphans of Guatemala, for those that have been matched with families and those that have been left behind. Lord you have placed officials in governments for a reason. We pray that their hearts would be softened to the plight of the children in Guatemala and that they would actively work to do what is best for the children.

God, you who deliver us from bondage, you who delivers nations out of slavery, we ask that you deliver the children of Guatemala into the loving arms of their families.

Please take a moment today and participate in praying for the people of Guatemala, for the birth and adoptive families, and for the children. May they not be delayed anymore, may they not be forgotten.

We have been so far behind with our podcasting. Today, I am pleased to announce that finally a long awaited podcast is published! Thommie and Miki Hicks are adopting a little girl from Ethiopia, Africa. Like most adoptive families they were wondering how in the world they were going to afford this adoption. Through prayer and a car ride home one day Thommie found an answer. He wrote and produced a beautiful adoption song that is a blessing for anyone touched by adoption, particularly if you are in the midst of the waiting.
Enjoy the podcast and please visit the Adoption Song website to listen and purchase the song for your family!

www.adoptionsong.com

What do global warming and adoption have in common?

One of the heartbreaking memories I have from adopting our two sons from Vietnam was the memory of many little faces in the orphanage. How I wished that I could take them all home. What could I do for them?

In a very different scene, I am sitting in my living room with some friends talking about global warming. I heard of the possibility of extreme weather patterns like drought and flooding. The developed world has resources to cope with severe weather. The developing world, however, does not.

A drought could mean no harvest. Poverty is aggravated. Parents are faced with the heart-wrenching situation of being unable to feed their children. Other children may loose their parents to a flood. An unstable environment would result in more orphans.

How can we make a difference in these children’s lives? We could adopt a child. Or maybe ten children. But we can’t adopt them all. What about the rest of the children that remain in difficult circumstances?

I did some research and learned that the consumption of fossil fuels results in the production of carbon dioxide, CO2. These CO2 emissions lead to an increased green house effect. As sunlight warms the earth, the increased levels of CO2 increase the amount of heat that is retained in the earth’s atmosphere.

Fossil fuel consumption occurs not only when we drive our cars but also when we consume energy in the form of electricity and natural gas. These energy forms heat our homes and hot water and run our lights, refrigerators and ovens.

I came across a practical book entitled, You Can Prevent Global Warming (and save money), 51 Easy Ways. I was drawn to the book because it helps me to actually DO something about global warming instead of just being aware of it. As an added incentive, the book claims that I can save around $2000 annually if I implement their suggestions!

I started by transitioning our home to compact fluorescent light bulbs. The first bulb did not get great reviews by my family. But we have found that the soft white compact fluorescent light bulbs produce light similar to the traditional incandescent light bulbs but at about 25% of the energy consumption!

At work, I volunteered to lead our cardboard recycling program. Recycling consumes less energy than producing products from raw material. Less energy consumption means less global warming.

I’ve also attempted to change my driving habits. My children wanted to see Charlotte’s Web at the movie theater. I planned ahead and packed a lunch that we ate at the church after Sunday school and then we went straight to the theater instead of driving back home for lunch.

This weekend, I’m planning to insulate the hot water pipes in the basement to reduce the energy it takes to heat our water.

As with many things in life, global warming is not a black and white issue as one friend shared with me. Some claim that parts of the scientific community who dissent from the politically correct opinions are being silenced.

The fervency with which some speak of global warming may lead us to believe it is THE issue that faces the global community. However, the Copenhagen Consensus , a conference of experts that prioritizes the world’s biggest challenges, ranked climate change 27th while ranking communicable diseases first and sanitation and water second.

Realizing that there are different views on global warming took some of my initial enthusiasm away. But there does seem to be a growing consensus that humans are causing global warming. And I hope and pray that what I do here will somehow keep the our planet healthy and fruitful and to help other countries to put food on the table, especially the table at the orphanage. I remember the words of Jesus, “…whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers of mine, you did for me.”

I’ll be thinking about that the next time I turn off the lights.

Written by: Phil Wong, husband of our frequent contributor, Kristin Wong. To learn more about the Wong family and thier adoption ministry visit their website Adoption-by-Grace.

It has come to our attention today that our password-protected feature is not working correctly. This feature is to provide children extra privacy on the Internet for a variety of reasons. To use this feature you simply have to be a basic user. It is not necessary for basic users to upgrade to a premium membership in order to request and receive a password. We apologize for the error and for the extra step that this will cause over the course of the next few days. If you would like more information about a child that is password protected please contact the listing agency. The agency information is located on the photolisting. We are working on this error and will have it fixed shortly so that the password will immediately be sent to your registered email address as intended. Thank you for your understanding!

I did not create this. I found it on a friend’s blogspot and it came to her through an email. I thought it was cute and worth sharing!

YOU KNOW YOU’RE AN ADOPTIVE PARENT IF…

1. The fact that there are 143 million children without a parent to kiss them goodnight has made you lose sleep.

2. You realize DNA has nothing to do with love & family.

3. You can’t watch Adoption Stories on TLC without sobbing.

4. The fact that, if 7% of Christians adopted 1 child there would be no orphans in the world, is convicting to you. (A pretty amazing statistic. Also, of 240,000 Americans inquiring about foster adoption this year, only about 10,000 will follow through and become adoptive parents. Data compiled by Listening to Parents)

5. You spend free time surfing blogs about families who’ve experienced the blessing of adoption.

6. It drives you crazy when people ask you about adopted child’s “real” parents.

7. You’ve been “pregnant” with your adoptive child longer than it takes an elephant to give birth.

8. You’d no idea how you’d afford to adopt, but stepped out in faith anyway, knowing He’d provide.

9. You’ve taken an airplane half-way around the world with a child you just met.

10. You believe God’s heart’s for adoption. See James 1:27 and Romans 8.

11. You realize that welcoming a child into your heart & family is one of the most important legacies you could ever leave on this earth.

12. You know what the word “Dossier” means & you can actually pronounce it correctly!

13. You’ve welcomed a social worker into the most private parts of your life.

14. You shudder when people say your child’s so lucky that you adopted them, knowing full well you’re the blessed one to have him or her in your life.

I think I could add to this list. Here is my addition:

You know you are an adoptive parent if…..

15. you are constantly asking the bookstores to carry a selection of children’s books that have stories where kids that look like yours are the hero’s.

16. when someone talks about addictions you quietly think in your head that have an addiction of your own- adoption!

Does anyone have something to add to the list?

Last Sunday, our pastor led us through a description of the very early church. These men, women and children had just watched Jesus crucified, resurrected and ascended to heaven. They were full of wonder and enthusiasm and zeal. They ate together in each other’s homes, every day. If anyone needed something, someone else sold off stuff to take care of it. They shared their possession and their lives. (Acts 2:42-47).
And what happened? Our pastor pointed out the radical nature of this band of Jesus-followers and how it turned its culture upside-down.

This small new religion, just by their sharing of meals and possessions, reversed the social and economic order of the day. In the Roman empire, large banquets were a way for a host to show where his guests ranked in the social hierarchy, displaying who was currently in the inner circle. These meals excluded people. But the church meals were inclusive, open to widows, orphans, and foreigners, the socially and economically marginalized groups. The church became a social and economic safely net for the poor. It was radical.

In the early church, God’s people became family to those who had no family. I think of the Roman practice when a baby was born. The baby was set at the feet of the father. If he picked up the child, the boy or girl was legitimized and became part of the family. Babies that were not picked up, perhaps because they looked weak, were outcast – often taken outside the city to designated places where they would die of exposure or from wild animals. The Christians reversed this horrible practice. They went out and brought the babies back, adopting them into their own families, and eventually putting pressure on the government to outlaw the practice.

Who needs a new family today? War refugees and children fleeing from those who would make them child soldiers. Big sisters trying to raise their younger siblings after their parents die of AIDS. Foster children longing for a permanent home. Women abandoned by men and left to make heart-wrenching decisions about their babies.

Can our churches weave these people into our families as exuberantly as the early church? Can we do it by sharing meals together in homes and selling our things to care for others? What keeps us from this?

A New Mission. Our life in Christ should overflow outward, forward, into the world. The early church became a new social order. It was joyous and inclusive. It was generous. People followed Christ in community. When we adopt children, we should not just be bringing them into our individual families, but into communities of celebrating people who enfold them into love and worship.

If we do, perhaps we will see God work as he did in this early church. They didn’t have their own buildings, but they enjoyed the favor of all the people and God added daily to their number those who were being saved.

Cities all across the Greco-Roman world had a taste of the eternal party that never ends. Let’s join in!

When I was in Ethiopia I met a young boy, 10 years old, who made an impression on me immediately. We spent time together laughing, talking, and once we even danced around a fire with handfuls of his peers. I remember looking at him with his smile glowing in the firelight and thinking that I would do anything to find him a family. My commitment was strong. I walked back from the party that evening to my little Ethiopian flat and emailed everyone I knew telling them about this child, pleading for a family for him.
Time went on. I returned home with my son. Right before Christmas a letter came all the way from Ethiopia. It was from this child, the one that I had in my own heart committed to not rest until he had a mom and a dad. I wrote him back. Time went on again. Another letter came in the middle of January. And, yesterday another letter came. My husband handed me the letter and it made my heart happy to see that he was still thinking of us.
He wrote in his letter about school, and his good memories of us. He wrote that even though his parents were dead he knew that God would take care of him because “God makes all things good.” But, it was the end of his letter that caught my attention most deeply.

“Please, do not forget about me.”

I thought for a moment. I wondered why he was saying this. I had written to him. He knew that I had not forgotten him. I sent him messages through other traveling parents. I sent him pictures and mementos. I had not forgotten him. Or, had I?

I would almost guarantee that if you look in your junior high school year book there will be silly notes written from friends that ask you to not forget. I have one in my yearbook that claims I am a best friend with a girl that I cannot even recall ever knowing. “BFF (for those of you that were not hip that stands for Best Friends Forever!) and never forget our fun times!” are written in bold script. What fun times? Who is this girl? The memories have long left my mind. Over this forgetfulness I feel no conviction. But, over this child and his memory there is conviction deep in my spirit.

I had not forgotten his name, or that we had a good relationship, or that I really liked him. I had not forgotten to write him. I had not forgotten to talk about him with my son. But, I did forget the longing in his eyes, the raw need for him to be embraced by a family, the way he so patiently waited for someone to step up and say to him that he was coming home with them. I did forget this. I let my commitment to him, even though it was never promised aloud, wane over time.

Through tears I looked up at my husband last night and asked him if we could adopt this child (who also has a sister). I do not know if we are going to honestly. I do not know what is going to happen. I know that we are scared about adopting again as we have absolutely no room in our finances for this now. I know that we are nervous about adopting two children who are older. I know that this does not fit into our plans and that the mere idea of all of this just sounds plain out nuts to both of us. But, more than that I know that sometimes that which seems absolutely nuts is what God is truly asking of us. Very few of the men and women that God used in the Bible had tasks to do that were easy breezy instead they were radical, risky, and required sacrifice. We are praying now and trying to not think like Americans, but rather asking God to help us think and see through his eyes.

In the meantime, I am vowing not to forget. Time and distance are no excuse. There is a child, a marvelous child and his sister, who need to know that they are loved. This type of love requires action. They need to be pursued and embraced and taken home.

If you have a child that you have forgotten, a face you saw that lit a spark in your spirit, please remember it. Don’t pen it down in the yearbook of your life and close the pages only to let is slip away. Do something. Be a little nuts.

God spoke clearly to us these words, this promise:

Never will I leave you. Never will I forsake you.

I think that he is speaking to us as a Father to his child, knowing that this will bring us deep comfort and hoping that we will follow his example to never forget the lonely.

Hebrews 13:5
Isaiah 58