A City on a Hill: Sharing the Heart of Adoption

Last Sunday, our church’s youth led us in worship. They sang Matt Maher’s, “Your Grace is Enough”, in which the second verse sings to God that, “You use the weak to lead the strong”. The weak who sprang into my mind as I sang were vulnerable, fatherless children. Do these weak children really lead us, we the strong, who sit comfortably with our homes and cars and computers, retirement funds and choices of what we want to eat each day?

The song brings me back to afternoons spent in Vietnamese orphanages. We spent several hours with small boys and girls who were eager for attention and love. They touched my heart and will not let it go. I see their faces when I sing on Sunday mornings. I have been changed by a few minutes playing with these weak children. I also call to mind what I have learned through my two sons, through their questions, vulnerabilities, ups and downs. My boys, and other orphans, have led me into impassioned prayer. They have helped me understand the compassion of Jesus and the righteous, indignant justice of the Father. Haven’t you, whether you have adopted, foster parented, visited orphanages, or cared for vulnerable children in other ways, all felt that you have been led by weak children? If we let them, these children will change our lives forever.

How is it that orphans lead us?

It’s not that orphans are idyllic angels, that we sit at their feet because of their moral, intellectual superiority. “God chose the foolish things of the world to shame the wise; God chose the weak things of the world to shame the strong. He chose the lowly things of this world and the despised things – and the things that are not – to nullify the things that are, so that no one may boast before him.” (1 Cor 1:27-29). Who is more lowly and despised than orphans? These forgotten, left behind children are a window through which we can see God’s wondrous glory and salvation.

The strong systems of the world will bulldoze over orphans. Vulnerable children represent the opposite of man-centered empires. They show us the kingdom of God that turns our strength-exalting priorities upside down. They remind us of the topsy-turvy gospel that raises valleys and levels mountains. Orphans seem to have no power to influence great human empires. But Jesus quietly insists that we regard them. When we do, we remember the weak wisdom of the cross. The kingdom to which we belong is not built by the strongest and smartest among human cultures, but by the power of Christ, who died as a seemingly weak, lowly and despised man.

Where do orphans lead us?

To Jesus, our King and Captain and Leader, the one who became weak so that we through his poverty might become rich. He will not falter or become discouraged until he establishes justice on earth.

You use the weak to lead the strong. Great is your faithfulness!

This morning our family snuggled on the couch and watched the newly burned DVD that we created of our adoption journey. Picture after picture was a visual reminder of the road we had traveled and a flooding of memories came to all of us. Before our little guy came home a friend of mine turned me onto the concept of “babywearing”. She showed me different options for carrying your baby on your chest and back. I sat down and with help made my very own baby carrier called a mei-tai, which is an Asian style carrier. As silly as this sounds (and my husband can testify to this) before leaving for Ethiopia I spent an evening testing out my carrier by walking around with a teddy bear tied to my chest! I was eager for the closeness of my son, the nearness, the connection.
He settled into that carrier with great ease. We walked in circles for hours during the time that we were not permitted to the leave the compound. His little eyes could simply glance up and meet mine. His weight was even on my back and shoulders. I carried him on my chest and back all across Ethiopia. We walked, we hiked, we adventured, we worked, shopped, and lived connected together in that carrier. We had adventures that would not have been possible if he was not attached to me tightly as if he was a part of my own body. While we were gone my husband set up the baby stroller. Even though we are long home that stroller has been used twice. When we are heading somewhere we pack our carrier. My son knows where it hangs in our house and he has been known to bring it to one of us when he is itching to be up close to Mom or Dad. He is content to be on Daddy’s chest while he folds the laundry. They talk about the colors and match socks together. He is content to let me grocery shop as long as he has the view from my back. He often falls asleep to the movement of my gate. In Ethiopia the women carried their children on their back everywhere they went. It was necessary for work, survival, and transportation~ but it was oh so beautiful to see mother and child connected by a piece of fabric and going happily about their days. I miss this. It seems that so many of the things that are supposed to make our life easier and our children content actually take them further away from us, when perhaps what they really need is just to watch the world go by from the safety and security of their parents back. My son is 24 bulky pounds of wonderful curious boy. The mei-tai still holds up well, especially with the frequent use that it gets in our home. In Ethiopia we were forced to walk everywhere and I never had to look for a reason to strap my son in close to me and go. Now, where automobiles rule the road it is a bit more difficult to live that lifestyle. But we search for excuses often amid other chances to be close like reading, snuggles, and horseplay. If you are adopting a little one or toddler I would encourage you to do some reading about the concept of babywearing~ if for no other reason than bonding. We loved it for two months as we ventured through Ethiopia and traveled across the world. We still love it today on our walks, grocery runs, and just about any other time when there is work to be done that would seemingly take away our time together.

The love/hate relationship that I have with my old rusty Jeep took a sharp turn towards strong dislike today. My nineteen month old son and I were driving a fifty-six mile stretch across country highway, a route that is familiar to us. Our region of the map is experiencing some frigid weather right now with temperatures being in the negatives. The jeep has a soft top and leaks cold air like crazy. Normally, the heater is able to battle the weather and stay on the winning side. Not today. Heater or not, we were freezing. Cold air was flooding into the car. When we were passed by any other moving vehicle tiny bits of snow came sprinkling in making me have to actually wipe moisture off of my face as I drove. I pulled over and bundled my son up in his coat, my winter coat, a hat, a blanket and anything else I could find. He seemed content and toasty. I bought a cup of coffee simply for the warmth and after a short de-thawing in a Shell station we began our journey again. Now, I was really cold as my coat was bundled around the little man in the back seat. I stopped again and reached for the only thing I could find that seemed like it would help our situation out at all- a tarp. Here I stood outside of a gas station wrapping a tarp around my body as if it was a bath towel. People were looking at me and all I could think to say was, “How ya doing?”. They nodded awkwardly and moved on. It was a long cold drive, but we made it.
A few months after my son was home I began feeling anxiety. I was not sleeping well at night. I felt guilt anytime I was not giving my son all of my attention. I was confused about my philosophy of discipline. I felt exhausted, confused, and worn thin. I cried because I felt a sense of mourning for my old life, the freedom I used to have, and the memory of what it was like to not wear my heart outside my body. I cried because I felt guilty for even thinking those thoughts. I cried a lot because I felt so much pressure. I would look at my son and desire to fill him up with affection, attention, and affirmation but, although I loved him dearly, it felt forced. I went to the doctor. I finally broke down and told my husband. I called a dear friend. I prayed. My friend allowed me to sob on the phone. She said calmly, “This is a season.”
The miserable car ride home ended, we walked into our house and began to de-thaw. At naptime I tucked my little man into his bed. The anxiety, confusion, guilt, mourning were far from me. My son rolled over and smiled at me warming my heart through and through.
I left his room thinking of the car ride, the cold and winter, and how much I look forward to this season passing. It dawned on me that I made it through another season as well. For weeks I felt messages aimed like arrows at my heart telling me that I was failing as a mother. The truth is attachment, adjustment, and transition are all things that take time. I was forgetting this and allowing guilt to settle into my spirit. On the silly ride home just a few hours ago I ridiculously had to pull over and cover myself up in a tarp to protect me from the cold season outside. It was embarrassing to do this in front of others, but it was necessary at the time. Just the same when I feel a cold season approaching again on my motherhood journey I am going to ask the Lord to put a covering around my heart to keep messages of guilt and failure away. I am going to surround myself with friends, family, and those with wisdom who will not laugh at me, but will gently speak wisdom that the cold seasons will come and best of all, they will pass.

While we wait for our children to come home there are men and women who spend day and night caring for them. If the children are lucky they are taken care of in a place where, despite conditions of poverty, they are given ample attention, affection, and affirmation. Long before our son arrived home through the incredible miracle of adoption my husband and I would pray for the caretakers that loved him in our stead. Two years later I sat with these caretakers in a little room full of cooing, crying, and active babies. Older kids walked in and out, to and fro, acting as mini-momma’s and mini-dada’s to the tiny ones. There was constant hussle and bussle in the orphanage as children were fed, rocked and comforted. Beyond those basic needs was the exceptional, the extra mile stuff of loving caretakers who were combing hair, braiding, and back rubbing. There was ball playing, tag, and teaching moments. Children were invited to sit down next to the tired ladies as they tried to steal a moment for a cup of tea and biscuit. The older children shared inside jokes with thier caretakers. They looked to them for guidance and boundaries. In our stead they parent handfuls of children that are not their own, many of them going home then to parent thier own children as well.
Yesterday, we received news that one of my son’s Ethiopian caretakers died in a tragic car accident. I grew particularly close to her during my time in Ethiopia because she loved my son, this was apparent and for this I felt deep gratitude to her. On the Meskel holiday she sat down with me and taught me the inner workings of the Ethiopian coffee ceremony. I took pictures of her hands as they crushed the beans. My son stood next to her and she guided him as if she was passing down to him a tradition that would live on in his own life. I am struggeling today with her death, not only because she has a husband and children who will have a great void in her life, but because she was a women who loved on my son before I was able to. I will always have curiousities about the one who carried my son in her womb and may never know her story in entiritiy. But, I did come to know over coffee and diapers changes a women who stood in the middle and cared for my son while he mourned the loss of his birthmother and waited for my arms. Tonight, in our home we are celebrating Genet’s life and love with a traditional Ethiopian coffee ceremony. My son will stand by my side as he did hers and hopefully I will honor that which she taught me and pass this tradition onto my little Habishaw.
I urge you to consider and not forget about those that care for your children while they wait for you. Let us pray for them, show them our gratitute, and provide them with the support that they need to continue meeting the emotional and physical needs of the children.
Talk with your adoption agency and find out if you can help support the staff that make a great difference in the life and health of your children. Many agencies accept donations from thier parents to go towards providing caretakers and staff with Christmas Hams and gifts. Our adoption agencies happily allowed us to throw a small “Thank You” party for our son’s caretakers. These are women and men that, even for the smallest child, are an integral part of thier history.
Thank you, Genet for the love you lavished on my son. Pictures, stories, and lessons you taught will remain a piece of our family. Tonight we roast coffee, grind it slowly and firmly by hand, and brew it over the fire. We serve the coffee and drink together in honor of you and all of the other caretakers who love in our stead.

God be with your family and the children who will miss you greatly.

John 3:16, “For God so loved the world, that He gave His one and only son, that whoever believes in Him shall not perish but have eternal life.” (NIV)

It’s one of the most popular verses of our age. Even among those who do not acknowledge Christ as Savior, this verse is known or at least heard of. It’s a very appealing verse to anyone, to know all we need to do is believe in Him. Then we will not perish, but we will have eternal life. This is Truth. But what did followers of God share with their children before this snappy little bit of truth came about?
It’s interesting to know there is a section of scripture just as popular in the ancient times as John 3:16 is today. In Deuteronomy chapter 6, we find words that were passed down through generations. Verses that were probably among the first a Jewish child would learn. They are verses that would do us well to remember today.
Throughout the chapter we find instruction for raising a child, and are reminded to pass on these things of highest importance. Not wealth, not possession, not cattle, not even the secret family recipe. The most important thing a family passes on is their faith. This comes to a crux in verses 4-9:
“Hear, O Israel: The Lord is our God, the Lord alone. You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your might. Keep these words that I am commanding you today in your heart. Recite them to your children and talk about them when you are at home and when you are away, when you lie down and when you rise. Bind them as a sign on your hand, fix them as an emblem on your forehead, and write them on the doorposts of your house and on your gates.” (NRSV)
This portion of scripture would easily be called the John 3:16 of it’s day. You could ask anyone, and they could recite it to you. They learned it from when they were very young, and passed it onto their children as well. It was not just a popular verse, it was how they were called to live. But wait; if this message if for the children of God, and we are the children of God; that means this message if for us also?
We take our children to Sunday school. We watch Veggie Tales at least once a week. They go to VBS every summer. Our teens are actively involved in youth group! Aren’t we doing enough?
As someone involved in ministry to children, I have to apologize on behalf of the ministry we’ve been doing for years now. Time after time, in situation after situation, we’ve collectively said to families “we’ll take care of this”, when it comes to spiritual formation of children/teens. What started with parties and afterglows and big fancy worship services to draw them in, and has evolved into real discipleship and growth in Christ Jesus…still falls so short of what God calls us to as His Church. Many parents depend completely on the church for the religious upbringing of their children. Many churches gladly steal that role from the parents. It’s becoming more and more common. It’s becoming easier, as it moves from one generation to the next. But God is calling for THIS generation to end that pattern.
Does that mean we should pull our children and teens out of church? No way! Besides wanting to keep my job, I think it’s vital to teach our children the value of community and help them experience being a part of the collective body of Christ. But what it does mean is we begin to live the truth found in Deuteronomy chapter 6. That our homes would be the number one place where spiritual formation happens. That we would love the Lord with all of our family’s heart, soul, and might. Not just memorizing the scriptures, but binding them to what we do, what we represent, and what our home is all about. Passing on our rich heritage as God’s children. Sharing the stories about where we’ve come from, and where God has brought us. Talking about these things with our children, and as they grow, instilling this same pattern in their lives as well. This is family. This is being a parent. This is the Will of God. His good, pleasing, and perfect will…

Yesterday the Assistant Secretary of State for Consular Affairs Maura Harty deposited the United States’ instrument of ratification of the Hague Convention on the Protection of Children and Co-Operation in Respect of Intercountry Adoption at a ceremony in The Hague. I imagine that this was a spectacular event for her and the rest of the people that have been working towards this moment for fourteen years.
I have a basic understanding of the Hague Convention on Intercountry Adoption and the purpose it provides. What I am not sure of is all of the smaller ramifications of the Hague going into effect after April 2008. There is a great short audio story (just four minutes long)posted online the NPR website concerning the events of yesterday and the Hague Convention that addresses some of the many questions. The audio post is with Adam Pertman, the executive director of the Evan B. Donaldson Adoption Institute and the author of Adoption Nation. If you have a moment, I would encourage you to listen to the NPR story.

On my second day visiting with my son during his time at Adoption Advocates International’s Layla House in Addis Ababa, Ethiopia I met a young boy who had taken his free time to visit with his baby sister. He skipped out on playing soccer to spend some time on the floor tickeling the cooing child. The next day, his friend, a boy that has been at Layla House for over two years (and still does not have a family) came out of curiosity to meet me. He wore a cross around his neck. After some small talk he began sharing with me little pieces of his heart. “I pray everyday that Jesus will find a family for me.”, he said. He continued by saying with a big smile that he hopes the family has a horse as it is his dream to become a real American cowboy. The two friends would visit me each afternoon. Someday they provided entertainment by doing tricks, splits, and rolling around the floor together with the energy and sillyness that makes boys such a joy to watch play. Read more…

I have just returned from Ethiopia with my little son in tow. We have been home for two days and are settling in. Rather than write today I want to share with you some insight into the mind of my husband. Out of all of the years of our marriage there has never been something so emotional for my husband that he sat down to write about it. He is a quite man. It was so touching that in the darkness and stillness of our first night as parents he was so moved that he needed to get this thoughts down. Below is the journal entry that my husband, a brand new daddy to a bouncing 16 month old boy, wrote the night we returned home from Ethiopia.

It is 8:50 p.m. and all is quiet in my house. I have a dog sleeping by my feet and my wife and son are fast asleep upstairs. Some amazing things have happened tonight. The first was that I held my son for the first time; he just stared at me for the longest time and then made the decision that it was okay that I was holding him. The second amazing thing was that I gave my son his first bath at home, we played with a few toys and he kept yelling out for dadadadad ( dadadadad = Katie). Then I got the opportunity to put my son to bed. It was the most amazing thing, he laid there and just stared up at me while I made up a song to help sooth him. It wasn’t but 5 minutes later and he was fast asleep snoring away. I then had the opportunity to sit next to him and watch him sleep. I still can’t believe it, I am a father! During this time with my son, my wife found her way into some fuzzy pajamas and was fast asleep. I have never seen her so tired in all of my days with her. It was kind of like the passing of the baton. She told me to go soothe him to sleep and with that her shift was over. I am going to do everything I can to let her sleep the night through. Right this moment I have the baby monitor strapped to my belt like a cell phone listening oh so carefully in case he wakes up. Every little noise stops me in my tracks so I can listen carefully. (Yes I am a Daddy of 3 hours and I want to make sure I do it right!).

To see the scars on his belly and side in person was eye opening. I had seen the pictures, I knew they were there, but to actually see them brought such sadness and sorrow into my heart. To realize that as a baby a witch doctor burned him with hot coals to scare away sickness seemed like something out of movie. But in that moment as Katie showed me those scars Samuel broke out with a big smile and laughed. Samuel told me through that smile that it was okay and I knew in that moment that it was now my job to keep him safe in this world; to help him grow into the man that God has called him to be.

I want to say thank you to everyone that made it out to the airport tonight. You all took Katie, Samuel, and I by surprise with your outpouring of support and love. I look forward to bringing him to church next Sunday to show him off a little bit. God has truly blessed my wife and me with this little life. If anyone out there is thinking about adoption and still feel scared about all the unknowns let me tell you one thing. I would gladly give two years of my life again to the unknowns and concerns of adoption for the joy that I have received over the last 3 hours of my life. I can’t wait to see what tomorrow brings.

I have not sat down at the computer to write a coherent thought in over three weeks. I am in Ethiopia, Africa completing the adoption of my son, Samuel. I left the comfort of my home a month ago, saying goodbye to my husband and embarking on a journey to pick up our son. Now, while we wait for the courts to complete our case I reside in a small flat above a grocery store. In the mornings I watch herds of goats walk by and in the evenings watch the sunset over the near by highlands. I have spend each day of three weeks learning to be a mom in a very well- run but still third world orphanage. Although I have much to write about living in Ethiopia, meeting my son, and becoming a mommy African style I need to take a moment to encourage the adoption of older children.
I have, without a doubt, fallen head over heels in love with Ethiopia’s waiting children. There are many of them. They are beyond wonderful. They needs homes. Period.
This adoption, of the most adorable little tyke in the world, is not only my first adoption but the first child for my husband and I. Until this trip to Ethiopia I always knew that I could adopt young children but was unsure about what bringing an older child into my home would be like. Let me tell you from first hand experience getting to know these children- it can be done, should be done, and desperately needs to be done. Once you meet these older children their sweet spirit are impressed upon you. I have found myself saying more than once, “I could easily and gladly parent this child, these siblings, all of these kids!”.
I urge you today to consider opening your heart and home to a waiting child who may otherwise not be adopted because they are a part of a sibling group or older than an infant. These are the children who know that they have experienced loss and lay in bed at night and pray for a mom and a dad of their own. They make it through each day with great hope, perseverance, and humor. If you met them you would desire to be a part of their story and not overlook them. I am asking if any of you have considered adopting an older child to please do it! If you have not considered it, please learn more about the children that need families and pray that the Lord would soften your hearts to their stories and faces. There are thousands upon thousand of children that need a home. You may not be able to help all of them, but you can absolutely mean the world to one or two that may not experience a family’s love otherwise. Show these orphans the love of Jesus in a powerful way- become their mom and dad.
In the coming days I will write more about my adoption and about Ethiopia. I am on the adventure of a lifetime and my heart has absolutely been changed. I can proclaim that God is alive and moving strong throughout nations and at the same time in my own little story. I can proclaim that adoption, even with its unpredictability’s, is a miracle of love.
Learn about adopting older children. They are eagerly waiting and hoping for a mommy and daddy just like you.
Thankfully we have electricity tonight so I was able to get online for a moment. There is chanting outside my window and dogs barking like crazy. Those two noises here mean that it is bed time! As I go to sleep tonight, thankful for my son and this entire experience, I will be praying that God would raise up families for these children that have touched my heart.

This evening, I walked across a soccer field hand-in-hand with Josiah, age seven. Autumn twilight, with a lovely breeze. Josiah was prattling away to me about …. I don’t remember. (He talks about a lot of things during the span of one day!) I do know that he enjoyed being with his mom and telling her the details of his life.

I had to brush the hair out of my eyes. But I found I didn’t want to let go of that little hand. He was really holding on, not tightly, but not limply either. And I didn’t want him to have to let go. Ever. I let myself just enjoy the feel of that hand in mine.

What a privilege to be the big hand that he puts his little hand into. To be the one he can talk to about everything. I want to walk across field after field with him, trusting, by my side.

Oh, yes. Josiah was adopted.

I think now of his birth mother. She didn’t have the joy of feeling that hand in hers this evening, and hearing his lisping voice tell her about the intimate details of his life. She didn’t hear him pipe up “Can I come, too?” when I was headed off to the soccer field to pick up his brother.

God, please bless her.