If You Never Feel Like Your Life is Together

My kids and I were riding in my friend’s car.  The two of us were chatting when my 5-year-old daughter, from the backseat, casually asked my friend “are you a grown up?”  My friend, who is about 15 years younger than I, paused for a moment and then said thoughtfully, “yes, but most days I don’t feel like I have things together.”  I chuckled and agreed with her; then my daughter piped up again from the backseat and in a confident tone said, “I’m together.”

When it happened, this cute exchange just made me smile, and I quickly moved on with my busy life.  However, as I took more time to consider, this short and simple conversation caused me to think about that little word which seems to relentlessly pursue us as moms: “together.”  We need to have our stuff together.  We need to be together as a wife, mom, employee and as a person in general.  We usually don’t feel together at all.  When we don’t feel together, we get frustrated with ourselves and this frustration often spills over and impacts the ones we care the most about.  How is it we can let one little word overtake us and cause us to chase such a vague concept?  What on earth does it mean to be “together” anyway?

It sure seems to me that when we use that word, we are basically trying to achieve some elusive, unattainable idea of perfection.  When we talk about feeling (or on most days, not feeling) together, what we really mean is that we’re supposed to do everything well, from every aspect of life, all the time.  We are supposed to have all the laundry done on schedule, cook all the healthy, but also good tasting, meals, keep the house clean, spend lots of quality uninterrupted time with our kids, while also being a wonderful wife and thorough and hardworking employee, as the case may be.  I don’t know about you, but I’m exhausted just writing that, much less trying to accomplish such a list!

I think it’s time to drastically modify our definition of having things together.  Why are we driving ourselves crazy trying to be something that isn’t even possible?  For my part, I’m working on seeing “together” as something much simpler.  My kids were fed, bathed and dressed today.  We had some time to play and, at other points during the day, I did some (but not all) of the housework while they played without me.  We are a homeschooling family, so I focused on the essentials of their schooling for the day.  The basic necessities were done, although perhaps not in the most orderly and smooth fashion.  There are still things that need to be finished, and that’s okay!  Let’s start being realistic with ourselves and each other; life is already hard enough without us putting such burdens on our own shoulders.

Let’s be okay with doing the best we can and stop trying to attain perfection.  Our kids need to see us slow down and not be so consumed with being everything to everyone, all the time.  We need to show them that, yes, we should work hard but also to have realistic expectations of ourselves and others.  We need to learn how to be all right with delayed projects, untidy rooms at times and days when the kids eat boxed macaroni, nuggets and fries.  None of these things mean that we have failed as an adult; they’re just an example of real life.  We’re not meant to be the perfect wife, mother, and employee all the time.  No human being can be perfect at even one of those things.  It is freeing to realize this simple, yet profound, truth.  Yes, absolutely work hard for your family but don’t despair when you don’t get it all right all the time, or even some of the time.  I personally don’t want to be a grandmother who still feels like she’s “not together.”  My daughter, only being 5 and not understanding the nuanced meaning that we have added to that word, viewed being together in a more straightforward, literal way.  It meant, to her, nothing more complicated than just being with family or friends, with no extra pressure.  We have made such a simple word needlessly complicated.  I think we would all do well to take her simple, more easygoing approach to that word and to life in general.  It would probably do us all some good.

A Letter to My Son: Keep Overcoming

Dear son,

I remember when I first met you in that eastern European orphanage.  You couldn’t walk, but rather stumbled and stomped about, and only when a worker held you up by your hands.  Your legs were weak and your steps extremely uncertain.  Your skin was pockmarked, and you were so thin for your age of seven and a half years.

It is not our proudest moment to say this, but your dad and I were nervous.  We had been told that you were blind, just as your sister and I are.  We were familiar and comfortable with blindness; it was already our normal.  However, we were also told you had cerebral palsy, but to what extent, we had no idea.  We honestly didn’t know much about cerebral palsy.  We were told repeatedly by the orphanage staff that your entire left side was weak, and we should avoid things like holding your left hand, for example.  When we visited you at meals, all you ever had was runny soup and a piece of bread.  You didn’t know any English, and our questions to your caregivers about your schooling were met with vague, roundabout answers.  But son, please do not be angry at those who cared for you before you became ours.  They were doing the best they could with what little time, information and resources they had.  We hold no malice towards them, and I hope you won’t either.

 Please believe me when I say that I’m not bringing up any of these things about your past to shame or humiliate you.  On the contrary, I want you to know where you came from so you can all the more easily see how far you’ve come!  I want you to see how truly incredible you are and how your determination has impacted your dad and I.  I want others to learn from your perseverance and strength of will.  You’ve only been home with us for 17 months, but in such a short amount of time, you have overcome in so many areas!  You have astounded so many people, including us.

Keep overcoming your supposed physical limitations.  When you first came home, we wondered if you would be able to climb the stairs, unassisted.  Within two days, your dad had taught you how to use both hands on the railing for support and you were navigating those stairs!  Within a couple weeks, you had learned to scoot around the living room and you reveled in this new-found independence.  When we first took you to physical therapy, it was doubted whether you would ever be able to walk on your own.  You started to use a walker and loved it but we weren’t sure if you would ever be able to be without it.

 Within three months of coming home, you took your first tentative, unassisted steps at grandma’s house!  I wish you could understand how proud of you your dad and I were at that moment and what an incredible feat you were accomplishing! You were so scared but determined, and you let the excitement of getting to ring that musical doorbell at grandma’s front door, motivate you to walk farther and farther on your own. 

 

When you first came home, you were afraid to use your left hand for anything.  Now, you know that God gave you two good, strong hands and you are using them both to play piano.  When you first came home, the heaviest thing you most likely ever lifted in your orphanage life was your shoes.  Now, you are gaining the upper body strength to hold your own growing body weight on one of the uneven bars at your sister’s gymnastics facility.  In your orphanage life, you mostly sat on a couch, with only a TV or radio for amusement.  Now you are running down our hallway, jumping on your trampoline and even jumping some without support!  Your legs continue to grow even stronger; you are now also able to pedal your new adaptive bike!

My son, keep overcoming in your learning.  You have grasped English incredibly well for how short a time you’ve been home with us!  If I were suddenly uprooted and thrown into a place where no one spoke my language or understood anything I said, I’d be a bawling mess!  But not you.  You aren’t afraid to put yourself out there and just talk to people.  I love seeing you at church, the playground or restaurant, talking with whoever will listen.  You have learned so many new concepts since you’ve been with us.  You can read short sentences using embossed print letters and braille as well. You have a knack for phonics and spelling and are grasping the basics of grammar.  You are learning how to add and subtract and are even learning about the geography of United States, this new place that is your home.

You have already become so much more than I think anyone in your home country would have imagined.  Honestly, you have amazed me.  Yes, your dad and I try every day to give you the opportunities, encouragement, and tools to overcome.  We try and challenge you to learn and work as hard as you can.  But if you did not have the desire to overcome, to become more, the drive to push yourself, even when it’s hard, none of what we do would matter.  My son, keep overcoming!  My son, keep teaching us and everyone around you that a person doesn’t have to be defined only by their disability, current circumstances or for that matter, their past.  We are so glad to be a part of your journey of overcoming and can’t wait to see how far the next years take you! Your dad and I are so proud of you.

Your Parents

Unexpected Lessons of Motherhood

Before I actually had kids of my own, I thought of motherhood as primarily a teaching role.  This seems laughable now, as I have very quickly become aware of how many different and unrelated tasks I have to keep up with every day.  I suppose this fixation on teaching came from all I remembered my mother doing to prepare me for life and how she tried to make any mundane experience a teaching moment.  I intellectually knew that motherhood involved so much more than the teaching component, but for some reason, this was where my focus rested.  Before I actually became a mother, I was often worried about how I would go about teaching my kids.  There were so many facets of living, how could I accurately and diligently cover them all, without making life utterly boring for my poor children?  I’d spend time thinking about what life lessons were essential.  I was concerned, not sure if I was really cut out to navigate them through the craziness and complexity of life.  I found myself worrying about everything from teaching them how to handle unkindness from others, money management, generosity, cleanliness, and everything in between.  Needless to say, all that planning and pondering accomplished little.  When we first brought our daughter home three years ago, it didn’t take me long to realize that, while I did have a responsibility to teach her about the world and how it all works, she (and her brother, who soon followed, would be teaching me just as much.  These are lessons I am still in the process of learning each day.

I am slowly learning that time together is more important than tasks.  I quickly found as a mother that, if I’m not careful, I can spend all my time doing things for my kids instead of simply doing things with them.  It is so easy to become focused on the tangible tasks, like making sure their clothes are always clean, making sure they have good food to eat and making sure that their rooms are kept tidy.  While these things are important, I can’t let them keep me from just playing with my kids, even if it is in their messy rooms.  They value time with me, and I need to honor that.  They would rather play "Connect 4" or tag then have dinner be punctually on the table by 6 P.M every night.  When I do slow down (regrettably less than I wish), it’s amazing what ends up happening.  The tasks still get done, just a bit later than normal, and they and I thoroughly enjoy our time together!  Overall, that day is less stressful, and the kids are even somewhat better behaved.

I am learning that I need others.  I was born blind, and as I went through middle/high school and college, I found myself feeling that I had to do it all.  I had to prove that blind people were just as capable as anyone else in literally everything.  I felt that, if I didn’t do this, I was giving all blind people everywhere a negative reputation.  Needless to say, this attitude was exhausting and untenable long term.  Parenting has quickly removed any last remnants of that way of thinking from me.  We all need each other.  We need each other’s wisdom, strength, encouragement, accountability and kindness.  I can learn just as much from another sighted parent or one who is blind like I am.  Parenting shouldn’t be a solo effort. All that will do is exhaust us, and our kids will feel our exhaustion and think that they don’t need others either.

I am learning, and this is the hardest for me because it hits my pride, that I am not the person I thought I was.  If you had asked me before kids came along, I would have said I figured myself to be a fairly low-key person.  I didn’t get easily upset, wasn’t petty, was fairly patient and I wouldn’t have really described myself as selfish.  Well, the constant needs of my children and the physical and emotional demands of being a mother have shattered all my delusions of grandeur in regards to my wonderful personality.  I quickly discovered, to my shame, that I am the opposite of who I thought I was.  However, I have found that God, through my children, is turning even this into a beautiful new opportunity and yes, another teaching moment.

I am learning about forgiveness.  My kids are so quick to forgive and continue on as if nothing happened.  They are so quick to look past my short temper and frustrated, hurried answers, as I struggle to fold laundry and make dinner.  This constantly reminds me that there is another chance and that God is using my kids to grow and drastically change my character.  It is a beautiful and frightening thing, but I am so glad I am experiencing it.  So now, while I strive to raise my kids the best I can, I am grateful for all they are teaching me, even if at times I am an unwilling student.

What I Want My Daughter to Know About Being a Stay-at-home-mom

Dear daughter,

As you grow older, you’re going to hear a lot about what you should and shouldn’t do as a woman.  You’ll hear it from your friends, on the TV, radio and you’ll read numerous opinions all over social media (or whatever you’re using by then).  You’ll probably hear a lot of things said about being a mother, particularly a mother who stays at home with her kids.  As the one who freely made that choice, I’d like to share with you my honest thoughts on that life, and I hope they can be a help for you as you grow older.

Being a stay at home mom is not easy but, no matter what you may hear, neither is any type of work.  Every job has difficulties and frustrations. No matter what work you choose, there will be days when you just don’t want to do it.  Being a stay at home mom can be lonely sometimes, but everyone has seasons of loneliness; that is just part of being human.  Being a stay at home mom has its share of exhaustion and feelings of being overwhelmed, but these are periods of life that everyone must face.  Being a stay at home mom is quite repetitive at times, but every type of work has its repetition.  Repetition is a part of life, no matter what wishful thinking you may hear to the contrary.  In fact, repetition is built into the very world we live in; the sun rises and sets the same every day, the moon pulls on the tides the same way and the cells of our bodies grow and divide in the same manner every time.

As you grow up, you may hear that staying home with your kids is not good enough.  You may hear that you should be doing more with your life.  You may hear that, by “just staying home with your kids,” you are not doing anything to advance the cause for women.  You may hear that by choosing to stay home, you aren’t contributing to the family. You may hear that by staying home and raising your children, you are advancing and defending the patriarchy.  You may even hear that stay-at-home moms aren’t busy and are just lazy.  Please, my daughter, allow me to offer a different view for your consideration.

You see, in every type of work, there are many different roles.  Not every person does the exact same thing, but these differing roles complement each other.  Each role may have its own set of unique tasks, but each is vital to the other’s success.  The delivery driver for a restaurant does not keep the establishment running solely through his role as the one who brings in the needed supplies.  Are he and his role important?  Absolutely, but without a chef, servers, and dishwashers, just to name a few, there would be no restaurant needing his delivery services.  Do police officers and firefighters perform the same work? No, but I’d hate to live in a world without both of them present.

Your dad works hard for our family, and he earns the money, which provides us with a home, food, and clothes, among other things.  But, my dear daughter, who do you think is the one that manages all those resources?  In our family, who is the cook, housekeeper, laundress, bookkeeper, secretary, and (as I chose to homeschool) educator?  This is my special and, I believe, God-given role and I can’t imagine a more dignified, worthy and weighty cause than to be the one responsible for managing all the resources of our household.  By choosing to stay home, I have chosen the empowering role of being the one who holds our house together, by combining many different types of work.  If I had chosen to do any one of these same jobs outside our home, that sadly would be seen by some as being more honorable or worthy than doing all these jobs for my own family.  Both a provider of resources and a manager of those resources are needed for our household to not only function, but thrive.

I am thankful that I have the opportunity to know that you, your brother and dad are fed well, have clean clothes and live in a clean (most of the time) home because I am the one taking on those responsibilities.  I have been blessed with the chance to teach you and your brother about the amazing world that was made for us.  And let me tell you, there are days when it is quite empowering to think through the variety of unrelated tasks that I have managed to accomplish in one day.  There is nothing subservient or weak about such a feat.

Now, I know that you may not choose this course.  I also know that not every woman is able to make or wants to make this choice.  But I want you to know that it is a dignified, honorable, and strong choice!  Does it require sacrifice?  Most certainly! But anything worthwhile and lasting in life will require sacrifice.  Sacrifice, in and of itself, is not a bad thing.  You and the rest of our family are worth sacrificing for.  And through those sacrifices, I have discovered strength I didn’t know I had.  Thank you for giving me that opportunity.

What Homeschooling my Children Has Taught Me

One of the benefits of homeschooling my kids is that I get to essentially learn or re-learn things right along with them.  When we first made the decision to homeschool, I had figured this would be a nice bonus, but honestly didn't think I would be seeing the benefits of it so soon.  Let me tell you about three fun examples of what I have been taught so far while teaching my kids.  I'd love to hear from other homeschooling parents if they have had similar experiences.

One of the things I knew immediately that I wanted my kids to know was how to read print.  I planned to teach them braille as well, but I also wanted them to know the shape of raised/embossed print letters, like you often find on signs.  There is just so much practical benefit to this skill; I didn't want them to miss out.  I never learned this. I was taught braille very young but had no idea about print letters. Well, here was an interesting problem.  How could I teach my kids something that I didn't know myself?  The only solution was for me to learn this right along with them.

Now, this probably sounds like a huge undertaking.  But I've realized something awesome about homeschooling and that is, I don't have to know the whole of a subject to teach it to my kids. I basically just have to be one step ahead of them in the learning process.  So I would have my husband, Luke, teach me a few letters (we have various magnet letters and tiles that have raised print on them) and once I knew those well, I would then teach the kids.  Once they were on their way to mastering, let's say, a through d, I'd have Luke teach me a few more.  This system allowed me to teach them all 26 letters while learning it along with them.  It was actually pretty exciting.

After I had used this system for teaching Lexy, she and I had a very fun outing.  We went out and found embossed print on random objects in our neighborhood and we were both able to read it together!  Although, I'll confess, she did better than me at dealing with the different fonts.  I wasn't even bothered by that; I was just proud.  And as for myself, it really felt amazing to be able to read print!

Let's take a subject that I did learn in school, US geography.  I remember having to learn the US map by touch in fifth grade; I worked really hard to be able to do that for the test.  And I'm pretty sure I promptly forgot it almost immediately afterward.  Mrs. Tallman, if you ever read this, I’m sorry. :)  Well, I had started to teach Lexy about states and capitals, but after a few months of just memorization, I could tell she was quickly growing bored.  So, just to see how it would go, we got her a US puzzle map.  She really enjoys it and knows a good half of the US map.  But of course, I had to learn it before I could show her where all those states are in relation to each other.

So, you guessed it, Luke teaches me a few states at a time and, just like with the letters, it's working.  I really am enjoying re-learning the layout of our country. It just feels good to know this simple thing again.  I had always been hesitant about homeschooling because I didn't think I had the time to raise kids while learning an entire subject that was foreign to me.  But really, once I realized that I don't have to know the whole thing before they do, it really opens up so many possibilities.

For example, as Lexy began to dive into her US map, we thought, "what about expanding that knowledge base?"  She already knew the continents, so we found a Europe map puzzle.  I’m very sad to say that I’m a typical American and knew virutally nothing about European geography. Now, thanks to teaching my daughter, that is changing. It is seriously so cool, I mean, I now know that Spain is east of Portugal or that Bulgaria is north of Greece.  We are learning and discovering together and it is just so interesting.  I love being a part of my children's education, while also learning myself.  It is another way for us to connect.

One last example is numbers.  I don't mean arithmetic but simply recognizing the shape of print numbers.  That is something I did not know either before homeschooling, having only ever known braille.  It has been fun to teach them the numbers and now we can all recognize them in elevators or on hotel signs.  The best part is that these things have been just as useful for me to learn as they have been for the kids.  I don't feel like I am teaching them useless things; we are all learning practical skills that we all need.

Now, don’t get me wrong, there are plenty of challenging homeschool days.  Even so, I am glad to be the primary educator of the family.  It is a joy to see them discover the world and even more fun to get to learn right along beside them.

An Overview of a Year: as Experienced Through Our Third Adoption Journey

When we started this third adoption process, we knew it would be an emotional experience.  Our last two were no exception, but we just didn’t realize the kind of emotions we would have to process this time through.  During our adoptions of Jon and Lexy, we dealt with the anxiety of waiting and the pain of separation in between trips.  We dealt with the concern over what our “normal” would now look like, once they both arrived.  This time around though, we have dealt with so much uncertainty and sadness.  My goal, as 2018 is ending, is for this post to be a remembrance for the kids we never got to know.  I also hope this will give you a very personal glimpse into the life of an adoptive family.  Maybe this will be a chance for you to learn about a different perspective and life perhaps from your “normal.” routines.

Around this time last year, Luke and I were in the living room of my family’s home in Florida.  We were looking at a profile of a little girl from an Asian country, named Chloe, who was blind.  We felt immediate concern for her but held back.  Jon had just come home three months earlier and we also weren’t sure we were financially settled enough to start another adoption.  So we delayed, but finally, in February, we contacted the agency that had her profile and started the process.  There was an immensely long unexpected wait for the authorities in her country to decide if they would consider our family, due to my blindness.  When they finally did, in April, we were ready.  We were ready to go through the country’s more stringent and frankly vexing requirements for Chloe’s sake.  The very next day, after we had just heard the positive news of our acceptance and readying ourselves, we were told Chloe would be given to another family.  We had been well warned of this possibility, but it still hurt.  The immediate thoughts of “what if we hadn’t delayed, back in December” pursued us relentlessly.  I still think of her and hope she is safe with her new family, wherever that may be.

Then, after taking some time to regroup, we went back to the agency through which we had adopted Lexy.  We were given the profile of the twins, Zoe and Madeline.  Now, the loss of Chloe, as hard as it was, at least made some sense to us now.  Surely, these were the girls we were supposed to adopt.  We were very familiar and comfortable with the country’s process, having gone through it two times before.  We were very certain that they could not be given to a different family, as we had adopted from the same country twice with no such experience.  Surely now, this would go smoothly.  Well in September of this year, a few days after our friends from church had just helped us organize a large garage sale specifically to raise money for our girls, the most unexpected news hit us out of the blue; the twins were not to be ours either.

Just a few weeks ago, we asked for more information about a little girl named Maggie.  However, after reading through her medical information, we learned that she suffers from seizures.  This was one of the few things, that we stated in our paperwork, we couldn’t take on.  As I am the primary caregiver and am totally blind, we just couldn’t do that for safety reasons.  The other issue we cannot make work is deafness, as communication with the majority of my family would be exceedingly difficult for a deaf child.  I wish I could explain in appropriate words how hard it was to make that phone call, saying that we couldn’t move forward with Maggie’s profile.  I know there was no moral guilt in that decision.  I know from a purely logical standpoint, we made the right choice, for her safety and for our entire family’s well-being.  But I still feel that I abandoned that girl; I found myself wishing that I wasn’t blind.  The agency already experienced great difficulty in finding a family for her (due to her many medical problems) and I hated that we were now just another number on that list.  Pray for Maggie.

So now, as this year draws to a close, we are not at all where I thought we’d be in this process.  I thought by this time we would have gone to meet our child for our first trip.  We don’t even have a child yet that we are fighting for.  We are just waiting.  We are waiting to finally be matched with a child.  All our paperwork is submitted and approved; there is nothing we can do to speed up the process.  So we wait.  While we wait, we think about these four girls that we lost for various reasons.  It grieves me that there is even one name on such a list, but for there to be four.  I just never saw that coming.  I had always known how blessed we were, in regard to how smoothly Jon and Lexy’s adoptions went.  Now, I truly am aware of how gracious and beyond kind God was to us.

But God is good all the time, and all the time God is good.  I know that these four girls are not lost to him; he has not forgotten them.  He has a purpose in all of these difficulties that our family has faced, and He also has a purpose for each of those girls lives.  God is sovereign over all things, and none of this slipped through his fingers.  I hold to that, whenever I start to think of those girls, and I wonder if there was something else we could or should have done.  I hold to that as I wonder what the new year will bring for us.

 Music is another passion of mine so I’m ending this post with two songs.  The first of these is in the above video.  This is a beautiful song, written by Rich Mullins, (but recorded by his friends after his sudden and unexpected death) that has really resonated with me as this year has progressed.  It is a song of raw emotion but also trust and hope.  I hope it will make you think and also bring you comfort, as it has done for me.

 The second song is one I first heard at church.  It reminds me of who is in control and why we are doing all of this to begin with.  It is one that I am planning to start playing every New Year’s Eve as a reminder.  Perhaps it can be that for you.

Christmas Time Reflections of an Adoptive Mother

I can’t believe it’s already Christmas eve, time sure goes by so fast! It’s also so hard to believe that I have been a mom for a little over 3 years now. In some ways, the time has flown by and in others, well not so much. I think how far my son and daughter have come in such a short time and I am so proud of them and thankful to God for His care of them. This time of year lends itself well to reflection and adoption sure gives one much to reflect upon.

This is our first Christmas, in quite a while, where we are not traveling. This has caused me to experience mixed emotions. On the one hand, I miss my parents, siblings and in-laws and want to see them, particularly around such a special time.  However, even stronger than my own feelings, I want my kids to experience Christmas around all the extended family. But on the other side, I am excited to discover what Christmas for just our little, immediate family looks like.

I think Christmas, and all its associated traditions of family, food, decorations and gifts is probably one of everyone’s fondest memories of childhood.  It is also, if we don't take a moment to pause, time which we can so easily take for granted. As I think back on my childhood and associated Christmas memories with my family (certain music, making the same desserts every year, smelling that breakfast casserole in the morning), I find myself thinking of my kids, especially my son. For the first eight years of his life, it is extremely likely that he never enjoyed any of those things that we can just assume is part of every child's experience around this time of year. He doesn’t have any of those special memories. He never had that anticipation; it was probably pretty similar to all his other orphanage days, with perhaps a couple pieces of candy thrown in.

But far more important than the fun aspects, I want them to know the true meaning of Christmas.  When I was growing up, we had the nativity scenes (which my mom and I had this continuous game of rearranging); we would talk about the meaning of it.  We would read the christmas narrative from the gospel of Luke before starting the morning festivities.  There was also our church's annual Christmas eve service.  I doubt either of my kids were told anything about who Jesus is or the reason why Christmas is so important.  I'm hoping to change that, too.

this is a new experience for both my kids.  I have been trying to find ways to give them those unique reminders that this time of year is different from all the other months.  It can be a bit tricky as, they are both blind, so they can’t just by default see the Christmas tree every time they run into the living room. I’ve had to find other ways, through sound and touch, to remind them that Christmas time is unique and special. We play Christmas music a lot, we’ve been making special Christmas candies (chocolate butterscotch peanut clusters, white chocolate covered peanut butter crackers, etc.), talking about Christmas dinner, decorating and of course the gifts under the tree. But even those gifts, which to most kids are the highlight, have taken some time to excite them. Just a couple days ago, Lexy came and asked me, for the first time, if she could “go look at the presents.” This simple act of feeling the packages and shaking them and trying to guess what they are, that seems so central to every kid’s Christmas experience, literally just occurred to my five year old daughter. Jon has not yet expressed any such interest. I am very hopeful that by next year, that will change for him.

Emotions are such a crazy thing. I find myself wanting to give my kids all they’ve missed due to their orphanage years. I want to somehow undo any negative things they may have faced during that time when they weren’t ours. I want to make up for all the missed opportunities, learning and experiences, but I know that isn’t fully possible. I also wish we had been able to adopt sooner and had somehow found these two when they were younger. Again, I know that isn’t rational or for that matter, healthy.  I also frequently think of Zoe and Madeline and wonder if they are home with their family by now. I hope so. Finally, I wonder who will be coming to join our crazy family; I wish we could send them a Christmas present. But in all this, there is one thing onto which I hold; I know that God is sovereign and His timing is perfect. So the best I can do is give my kids all that I can and pray that it will be enough. So, if you have kids or grand-kids or nieces or nephews, and you see them reveling in all the joy of Christmas, enjoy it with them for all it’s worth! And in the quiet moments, think of all the kids, here in this country and overseas, who won’t be enjoying this time. Consider if you could change that for one or multiple of those kids by this time next year. What a Christmas gift that would be!

A Letter to My Lost Twin Girls

***Author’s note***

First, I just need to say I honestly feel pretentious using the term author, but I felt like “writer’s note” was an odd phrase.  Be that as it may, I wanted to explain what this letter has come to mean.  When I started writing it, I didn’t realize the impact this seemingly simple thing was going to have on me.  I wanted to try and communicate to people (family members and friends of those adopting and those in the trenches of the adoption process) about the loss in adoption when things don’t go as planned.  I think this is an area of grief that so many are unaware of or ill-prepared for.  We certainly were.  I also had hoped that it could be a comfort to anyone who has lost a child, regardless of the circumstances.

In my social work career (before I became a full-time mom), I had at times suggested this approach of writing a letter to someone, even if it could never be sent.  I never had a reason to do it myself.  Well, as it turns out, it is quite effective and reveals a lot of things.

It didn’t take me long, as I started writing and the words tumbled out, for me to realize this was more than an exercise or an educational tool. I was and still am drastically grieving the abrupt and unexpected separation from my twin girls.  I have to admit, this surprised me.  I, of course, knew I was still sad over what had happened, but I didn’t realize how deeply embedded it still was. I had continued to think that there would be healing once we were matched again.  Our family could finally just move forward with our adoption journey.

As the weeks have gone on, though, the wait has become more and more frustrating.  Writing this piece has shown me, as I need constant reminder, of God’s wisdom and sovereignty once again.  I’ve come to see that perhaps the purpose of this continued waiting is, at least in part, to give me time to rightly and properly grieve.  I have been granted the time to not hurriedly disregard their memories, while also not projecting emotions onto the new child or children.  Both of these realities are so important.  I do hope, if you decide to read the actual letter, that it will be of benefit to you or someone you know.  However, if you don’t feel that it would do either of those things, please feel no obligation to read it.  There is no reason to read something that could make you sad, just for sadness sake.  There’s already enough sadness in this world.

***End Author’s note***

Dear Zoe and Madeline,

There is so much I want to say to both of you, yet somehow it is still so hard to find the right words. I guess I’ll start at the very beginning, when we were told we could adopt you.  When I learned that you two were identical twins, I smiled. You see, I am blind, just like you Madeline.  I had always had this idea in the back of my mind that I would one day have identical twins and that they would mess with me as they grew up, making me guess who was who and just generally making my life crazy but silly.  It was so funny to me that this was actually going to happen.

We were excited and anxious to get you both home as fast as we could.  We were happy to start another adoption journey, and we couldn’t wait to meet you.  You see, it takes a long time to adopt, and there is so much to do, but none of that mattered.  All we knew, what kept us moving forward, was that we didn’t want you to be in that orphanage anymore.

Madeline, we wanted to help you learn to walk and speak and to show you that blindness doesn’t have to hold you back.  Zoe, you were going to be our first sighted child, and we were excited about that and maybe a little nervous too.  We couldn’t wait to see you discover the world, getting to literally see the amazing things around you, not to mention all the mischief you would get in to because of your sight.

You two deserved so much better than the orphanage life.  We couldn’t stand by and do nothing.  We wanted to be your family, regardless of any difficulties.  We wanted our son and daughter to know you as their sisters.  We wanted you to have the chance to experience so many things that we take for granted about childhood, like having a favorite toy, going to the playground, Thanksgiving, decorating the Christmas tree or experiencing grandma’s cooking for the first time.  We had so many plans and hopes for you.  We told so many friends and family about you.  Your sister was excited about sharing her room with you both and had already planned who would sleep where.  We had no idea what to expect but we knew we’d love you and we’d all figure out a new normal together.

But now, the government in your country has suddenly taken all that from us.  They say we’re not to be your family after all.  It feels like something has been ripped out of us.  We never met you in person but that doesn’t matter!  We saw pictures and videos and read about you and that was enough.  You were already our daughters; we were committed to you.  It’s so strange and feels so wrong that someone literally around the world, who has never met us, can just say no, that they don’t think we’re right for you and just uproot you from our lives.  It hurts.  We miss you and think about you so much.

Your daddy and I find ourselves thinking about things like how you would have gotten along with your sister and what adventures you would have had together.  I wonder how you would have tormented your brother.  Would you have learned an instrument or been an artist or played sports?  What foods would you have relished?  Who would you have grown up to be?  We’ll never get to know, and I just never saw that coming.

I think the hardest part is wondering who your new family is.  Who did the people in charge choose and why them over us?  Will you have siblings?  Where will you live?  What will your days look like?  Will you be safe?  I can’t know any of this. Even so, I am so happy that you will get out of the orphanage.  I’m so happy that you will have a family. I just wish it could have been us.

We are still planning to adopt, but we want you to know that we will never forget you.  We will always think of you, miss you and pray for you in your new lives.  You will always be our girls.  If our adoption journeys have taught us anything, it’s that you shouldn’t be afraid to give. Don’t be afraid to sacrifice for others, to truly give your best for them.  Please work hard, learn as much as you can and grow into beautiful, intelligent, kind and strong women.  Your mommy, daddy, brother, and sister love you both so much and are always praying for you and your new family. May they treasure you and teach you well.

Our Adoption Stories Through Song

Music has always been a big part of our family.  I wish by that statement I meant that we all played instruments or sang beautiful four-part harmony together, but sadly neither is the case.  Although I think Jon has the potential to be the musical genius of the family.  But what I actually mean is that we all love listening to good music.  It is a part of our family culture and songs are tied to certain events in our lives.  This had been the case when Luke and I were dating and then in our early marriage, but when kids came into the picture, the influence of music and the meaning songs held for us only increased.  I thought I would share with all of you 4 songs that have specific ties to our adoption stories and continue to have a deep impact on myself and/or the whole family.  These songs are very personal to me, as you'll see if you decide to read on; I hope though that perhaps you may find the words to these songs comforting to you as well.  If these songs don't specifically affect you, find some that do. Music is one of the many beautiful gifts that God has graciously given us to enjoy.

Iona is a Christian Celtic-esque band that I have enjoyed since early college.  However, one of their songs took on a whole new meaning for me when we went to visit Lexy for the first time in September 2015.  We had spent a crazy, terrifying yet wonderful week with her, getting to know her and trying to comprehend what on earth parenting would mean for us.  Luke and I were dreading that last day when we would have to say goodbye to her for an undetermined amount of time.  You see, our case had to go through the courts of her home country and we also had to get Lexy's visa and other immigration documents together on the U.S. side.

We spent that last day at a park and then had a nice lunch nearby.  The social worker let us go back to the swings with Lexy for a few more minutes after we had finished up lunch.  I remember pushing her on the swing, fighting back tears, and suddenly that song came to mind.  I started singing it to her, even though she did not know English yet and had no clue what the words meant.  But somehow those words could not have been more poignant and meaningful to me at that moment.  It was so hard to leave her, wondering if she would even remember us and having no idea when she would get to come home, but we knew that God would take care of her.  He absolutely did and we were able to bring her home much faster than we expected! She was home eight days before Christmas.

Anyone who knows our family well won't be surprised by more than one Rich Mullins song making this list.  As we began the adoption process for Jon, we were so unsure about his condition.  We didn't know how mobile he would ever be or what other challenges we would face in raising him.  I had known about this song for a while, as I listen to Rich Mullins music quite a lot.  His music was always played around the house growing up and listening to it always makes me think of my home and parents in FL, among many other things.  It didn't take long for this song to come to mind, even well before Jon was home. We already knew that Jon was completely blind and had a mild form of CP that affects his legs and restricts his mobility. The image of God's mercy not only taking him by the hand and "leading" him but also being the "strength in his legs" could have been written specifically for Jon. The words are just so perfect for what we felt as we prepared for him to join our family.  As he continues to grow and learn, the lyrics are just as relevant.  They embody so perfectly what we hope for him, the person we pray we will grow to be.

This song carries for me both joy and sadness, hope and regret.  When we thought we were going to be adopting our twins, this song held so much meaning.  Now that they will be with another family, it still means a lot to us, but on an even deeper level.  When we had finally decided on their names, we immediately thought of this song for the girl we had called Madeline.  And it's not just because the title has her name in it.  The song is about a little girl who was sick from a premature birth and not supposed to live. From what little we knew about our Madeline's history, this was so similar to her.  We think of the song often and, in a way, it helps us grieve but also makes us smile.  I can only wonder, if we had gotten to know Zoe, what song we would have found for her.  I am very sure we would have, as it seems songs find our kids.  I just wish we could have had the opportunity.  We miss them both.

I've heard this song since college.  It depicts everyday common things in life but is also written very beautifully.  I think, as we wait with excitement to see what child or children will be joining our family and yet still grieve over those we have lost, the words of this song ring true.  I know that whatever changes are coming our way and whatever emotions and thoughts they bring, God is constant throughout it all.  I hope, as my kids grow up, they will come to love music as I do (although I am hoping they will have the discipline to learn and develop a talent, unlike their mother) and that I can teach them through beautiful music and poignant lyrics about God and His wondrous creation.

Things that Drive this Mom Crazy

I have been blind since birth, and up until recently, this fact really hasn't bothered me or been much of a concern. I have to say, that is changing now that children are in the picture. I am finding instances in parenting where vision would be pretty darn helpful and convenient, not to mention just simply more efficient. So for hopefully an amusing read, I thought I would share my five most vexing issues of parenthood without sight. I hope you all enjoy, here they are in no particular order:

1: Finding my children's toys

Now, I completely realize that this is a huge pain for any mom, but it is extra annoying to try and accomplish this task (which occurs at least 100 times each day) without sight. I mean seriously, my daughter (my son is a bit more responsible in this area and generally remembers where he has put things, for which I am so grateful) will often ask me to find some obscure, tiny trinket that has suddenly become the only thing in the house worth playing with. And, of course, the last place she remembers playing with it was "in the living room." Well, we have a fairly big living room, and it is so ridiculous and time consuming to try and walk the whole length and width of our living room, hoping with every short, shuffling step that my feet haven't missed that one tiny section of carpet where the blue snowflake bead is sitting. Assuming, of course, that she was correct and it is actually in the living room and not upstairs, on the porch, or at grandma's house in Florida. And the worst part is, I know if (by a kind act of God) I do find it, she'll play with it for maybe another minute before deciding to run off and go lose something else.

2: Identifying the color of my daughter's clothing

Now to clarify this point, I am not referring to matching her clothing. It's actually fairly easy to remember what goes with what. I mean knowing exactly what color everything is for when she inevitably asks. For those who know my family well, the fact that my daughter cares about the color of her clothing at all may seem strange, as my daughter is completely blind, with no perception of color whatsoever. But oh that doesn't stop her from being obsessed about what color each article of her clothing is (and she has like 5000 articles of clothing), and she will ask me incessantly to identify what colors she is wearing. I have so much going on in my head as it is and I can barely remember my own wardrobe, there is no way I am keeping track of hers as well. I know what outfits of hers pair together based on textures, but keeping an inventory of their color shades isn't happening. I have to give her credit, though, she has learned to just go ask daddy. And in case anyone is curious, she has a favorite color that has remained consistent for some time now. It is yellow. And no, I have no earthly idea why. To further prove her color obsession, here's a fun little side story for all of you. Our kids have these two toy phones that are exactly identical in every way except one is pink and one is green. Lexy will repeatedly ask to play with Jon's, to which we reply that they are THE SAME PHONE! Lexy will insist that, no, they're NOT the same because “his is green!” But you don't even know what that really means!!! You can't see colors!!! That fact doesn't affect your experience of the phone in the slightest! So yeah, I find myself having to know what color every random thing is for the sake of a kid who can't see color but still wants to know what color everything is but has a mom who also can't see color. It's not fun.

3: Finding Socks

Again, I know this is a universal problem for which mankind has not yet found a solution (except perhaps moving to Florida and never wearing socks again), but I seriously think the sock population has figured out that 3 out of 4 in our household can't see. They are even more masterful at escaping or literally just disappearing out of existence. (And on a side note, I am chuckling to myself as I write this, imagining the secret conspiratorial meetings of our socks. This is what motherhood is doing to me.) I mean, I will take the laundry pile to the washer and account for all the socks and then when I take them out of the drier, one out of each pair is often just gone. It is incredibly vexing and I think if I had vision I would at least be able to recover SOME of the escapees and have a bit more sanity in my life.

4: Matching my kids' socks.

All right, anyone noticing a theme here? Apparently, I have sock issues. But be that as it may, there really is no easy and practical way without vision to match their socks effectively. I get (at least in theory) the desire for kids to get to wear colored socks that match their outfit perfectly... But is it really necessary? I mean, black or white socks would go well with just about anything, and I could find a way to label which was which or buy different textured ones. When more varied colors are added, it just becomes crazy. I usually just ask my husband (as the one sighted member of the family, he gets to do all the driving and color matching) or I have resorted to having a child I am babysitting who is sighted help me match socks. (Hey, it gave her a task and helped me out.) Maybe that's an idea, as long as relatives buy colored socks for my kids, I can see if parents want a 15 or 20-minute break and they can send over their sighted kids with appropriate color knowledge and help me match socks... Maybe?

5: Cleaning up poop

So I know I had said these weren't in any particular order, but I think this might be my biggest issue. Although I consider myself a decent writer, I don't even have the words to adequately describe how much I hate doing that task. I mean, it should be fairly obvious, but it's so hard to know if I've gotten it all or not. There are, of course, ways to be sure of that without sight, and I do utilize them, but it's just plain gross. I either have to smell or use my fingers... enough said, I think. It's an awful task anyway and factoring in the no vision clause is just adding insult to injury.

I have to say, though, in spite of my complaining, being a parent has really stretched and grown me. I have realized that I can do a heck of a lot more things blind than I would have thought; before our daughter came home, I was utterly terrified at the idea of caring for a child in any capacity. After her arrival, then babysitting others' children, and now also having our son, those tasks which petrified me seem commonplace. But I suppose that's one of the gracious aspects about parenting that God gives us is the chance to grow, to sacrifice for others and go way beyond what is comfortable and convenient. It is a crazy, exasperating undertaking, but I wouldn't trade it for anything.

An Unexpected Turn: Grief and the Adoption Process

It is amazing how quickly and unexpectedly one's life can change so drastically.  This is a post I frankly never imagined I'd be writing to all of you.  We were so certain (well as certain as one can be with an international adoption) of our family growing from these two little girls and I have been so happy to share that excitement with all of you.  However, we were told on Wednesday morning that we would not be able to adopt our twin girls after all.  Apparently, the governing authorities in their country decided another family was better suited.  Now, from everything I had thought I understood about this country's process, I didn't think this would happen.  I am so sad to learn I was mistaken.  For what consolation there is, our caseworker seemed as shocked and surprised as we were.

I am grieving the loss of my girls, yet I am happy to know that they will have a home.  I pray that it will be a loving family who will teach them the gospel, but it still doesn't lessen the sadness.  Their home was supposed to be with us; they were supposed to be Lexy's younger sisters and those three girls were going to drive me crazy by sharing a room.

I think what makes this even more difficult is twofold.  First, this isn't the only time Luke and I have had to wade through these emotions.  A while back, we had tried to adopt a little girl from India (Chloe, I will always remember her name and now apparently Zoe and Madeline's as well), and we met with this same result.  I knew Chloe would always be the child that we lost, but I just never imagined it would turn into the children we lost.

The second reason as to why this is just so hard is that when we started down the India path, we were very well informed of the risks.  Our caseworker was very open that we could be well into the process and another family could be given her file.  We chose to take the risk and it hurt when it happened.  This time around, we really thought we knew the country’s program.  We were sure we understood how their system worked and we also had our previous two adoptions, from the same country, as precedent.  We really thought that we had been “pre-matched” with the twins and that no other families would then be given her file unless we withdrew.  We didn't think we were taking a very big risk. That is part of what makes this so much harder; it utterly blindsided us.

This has caused me to be even more exceedingly thankful to God for his providence in our adoptions of Lexy and Jon.  I am so grateful that both of those went through and that we have both our kids; it could have so easily not been the case.  When we were applying to adopt Lexy, it was taking a long time for our FBI background check to come through.  We were contacted by our caseworker who informed us that the country officials were growing impatient and that if we didn't have it done soon, our application for Lexy could be withdrawn.  Now, there was literally nothing we could do to speed up the FBI's process; we were threatened with the loss of our daughter. I am now, after this event, so beyond thankful to God that He didn't allow that threat to become a reality when it so quickly and easily could have been.

I would expect anyone who has ever had to go through a miscarriage, stillbirth, lost a foster child, or dealt with a failed adoption, can understand and relate to what Luke and I are going through.  I am not merely writing for myself as a sort of therapy (though I am doing that), or as a way to simply garner sympathy, but I am writing for all who have grieved or are grieving the loss of children in these ways.  It is a real, painful and long process and, like all grief, not one that ever fully goes away.  Even well after we had started the process for Zoe and Madeline and I was full on in the excitement of it, some random thing would remind me of Chloe.  This will now be the case with two more little girls.

I'd like to say something to friends, co-workers, and family of those who are going through similar grief to our situation.  Please don't say things such as “Well, at least you never knew the child” or “well, it's got to be a bit easier, since you never met them.” or “Well, at least they weren't around you for very long.”  Now, I hold no malice toward anyone for saying such things; I know you all mean well and are trying to comfort and reassure.  But those type of statements just aren't true and I'm quite sure anyone going through a similar situation to ours would wholeheartedly agree with me.  In a very real way, we did know them.  We were a part of the child's life. We saw pictures or videos or interacted with them to an extent.  Even if there was no real-life, in-person interaction (as in our case, for example) Luke and I were still fully committed to Zoe and Madeline, and before them, to Chloe. We loved them unconditionally. They were already our daughters and Lexy and Jon's siblings and now that has been taken away from all of us.  For women who have lost a child due to miscarriage or stillbirth it is even worse. They could not possibly have known the child more!  They literally gave it life and saw and felt it growing inside them; there is nothing more personal and poignant when taken away.

So what is next for us?  We are still going to adopt.  There are still so many children in desperate circumstances who need loving homes.  We cannot and will not ignore the plight of the orphan.  This does not mean, however, that this is an easy decision for u, to move forward with again.  It means taking another risk, putting ourselves out there in a vulnerable, emotional state, perhaps to be hurt again.  But as I have said in previous posts, adoption requires sacrifice on the part of the adoptive parents, but these children are worth our discomfort.  We have already spent time and substantial funds toward this country's program and our dossier is nearly finished. We can still use all of that.  We will still adopt from the same country; our family will still be growing.  We just now do not know by how many, or what gender or age.

Grief is such an odd experience in general and this type of situation, I feel, only makes it more strange.  It is an odd place to be, feeling hope and excitement as to who the new child will be, yet such deep sadness and regret over those whom we have lost all at once.  I find myself feeling guilty over my hopefulness regarding the next child, as if that is somehow doing Zoe and Madeline wrong.  I know that sentiment is not true, but it is still there.  Again, we have been through this before, but I thought we were done with this roller coaster.  When I first got the call, it felt like a sick joke, as we had so recently experienced this with Chloe.  It's not amusing though, not in the least.

I have found myself thinking about two things a lot over these last few days.  The first is the sovereignty of God.  There is nothing that is outside his control and even this sad situation was not an accident.  It didn't slip by God or get past Him or leave Him in a situation where He wanted to intervene, but He just wasn't able to.  There is a purpose in all this, even if I cannot see it now or will never see it this side of eternity.  There is such comfort in this.  One of the biblical passages that continues to come to mind is Romans 8:28-39:

"28 And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose. 29 For those God foreknew he also predestined to be conformed to the image of his Son, that he might be the firstborn among many brothers and sisters. 30 And those he predestined, he also called; those he called, he also justified; those he justified, he also glorified.

31 What, then, shall we say in response to these things? If God is for us, who can be against us? 32 He who did not spare his own Son, but gave him up for us all—how will he not also, along with him, graciously give us all things? 33 Who will bring any charge against those whom God has chosen? It is God who justifies. 34 Who then is the one who condemns? No one. Christ Jesus who died—more than that, who was raised to life—is at the right hand of God and is also interceding for us. 35 Who shall separate us from the love of Christ? Shall trouble or hardship or persecution or famine or nakedness or danger or sword? 36 As it is written:

'For your sake we face death all day long; we are considered as sheep to be slaughtered.'

37 No, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us. 38 For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, 39 neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord."

This experience of grief is not just random or accidental.  God is using it for the good of conforming me to the image of His son, Jesus Christ.  I can think of no higher purpose for any difficulty.  God is not only using this grief to bring me closer to Him, but, if I trust what His word says, He is using it to make me more like Christ.  That is an incredible and comforting thought.  This is what I hold on to as we figure out what next is for us exactly.

I have also been thinking a lot about a song I heard often growing up, as my mother played it frequently.  As a child, I didn't really understand it.  I knew it had deep meaning but I could not tell you what that was precisely.  As I have grown older, gotten married, and had children, I have come to understand it more.  This experience of grief over now three lost children has, I believe, finally helped me fully understand the song.  Anyone who knows me and my family well can probably guess the artist; it is a Rich Mullins song.  I've included it in this post in case perhaps it will be a comfort to someone else, as it is for me.  It is a reminder of whom I cling to and why.

I hope that my sharing of this post, with its grief and honest emotions, will not detour anyone who may have been considering adopting or fostering.  There are so many hurting kids who need families.  As hard as it is, we need to put them above our wanting to be comfortable, wanting to be happy and just not hurt.  That is what we are striving to do, and this can only fully be done by God's grace and strength.  If you are considering opening yourself up to these kids (and to all the heartache that can come with it), I encourage you to not go into it blindly or unprepared.  You can be aware of the difficulties ahead and yet still choose to make the sacrifice and risk discomfort for the sake of someone else.  I'd encourage you to take that route, hard as it is.

One Year Home: Jon's Story

At the airport the day we brought Jon homse

Today is a special day for our family.  This day is Jon's homecoming anniversary; he has been with us for one whole year.  At this time last year, he had just gotten home and we were all tired, nervous, and were wondering what the days ahead would bring.  It is hard to believe. In some ways, it has flown by, while in others it doesn't feel like it could have been this long already.  Let me be a proud mom and tell you about him for a moment.

Jonathan (Jon) is 9 and has a gift for music.  He loves his piano lessons and talks glowingly of Miss Laura, his teacher.  He has an ear for harmonies and possesses literal perfect pitch.  We can play any note on his piano and he can quickly and confidently tell you what note it is and if it is flat or sharp.  This talent extends beyond instruments; he can tell you what note a car horn or doorbell is.  He particularly loves acapella music and at times will literally appear entranced by it, sitting perfectly still and just listening intently. 

When Jon laughs, it is a full, loud belly laugh.  He is timid and prefers what is routine and familiar but is gradually learning to embrace and enjoy new activities.  He loves to socialize with people and tries hard to engage in conversations and, in this way, shows much bravery, as he has only been in this country for such a short time.  He loves to eat and particularly enjoys burgers, fries, and chicken bacon pizza from Dominoes.  He has a fascination with babies (real ones, not dolls) and loves to hover around new mothers, often asking random questions about the baby and hoping for a chance to see them.

He is doing well in school; he can read sentences in print, is grasping basic math concepts, is understanding the difference between nouns and verbs and is showing quite a knack for learning braille.  When he reads a sentence, there is excitement in his voice as he tracks with the thought or concept that he has just read. Physically, he's still a little wobbly and uncertain of his legs, but he is overcoming in so many ways!

Jon is a member of the Roma people group, an Asian people who came to Europe from India in the 14^th century.  The Roma are often mistrusted and disliked by much of the world, especially throughout Europe, and were even targeted as undesirables during the Holocaust.  Both Lexy and Jon love each other and love being siblings. There are times when I watch them playing together and would never guess that they have only known each other for such a short time.  This is an awesome thing, made more so by the fact that Jon is Roma and Lexy is of native European ethnicity.  These two groups have not had a good history, yet through adoption, they have become family without malice.  It is a beautiful picture of love and family, where ethnic tensions have no place.  In fact, it is a wonderful example of what the gospel of Christ should look like in all our lives.  

Now that you know a bit about my son, let me step back and tell you what he was like and what his life consisted of before he came home to join our family.  We know that Jon moved around to multiple orphanages, some of which were not well spoken of, although no specifics were ever given to us.  He spent his whole life, before coming to America, in various institutions.  There is speculation that he was visited by his mother for a time, but we have no proof of this.  We are unclear if he was ever given any formal education.  He could not stand or walk unsupported, even though (after diagnosis by doctors here) his legs and hips were capable of these activities.  He was discouraged from using his left hand and arm, as the left side of his body was perceived, rightly or wrongly, to be weaker.  His cerebral palsy was assumed to be more severe and, to an underpaid and overworked orphanage staff, it was easier to have him sit on a couch by a radio while they attended to the harder, more mobile children.  If our times visiting him during meals are any indication, all he generally ate was soup and small pieces of bread and an occasional piece of candy.  His skin was blotchy and rough in many places.  He seemed never to have brushed his teeth or taken a full-on bath before coming to America, at least based on his first reactions to both activities.  He now loves bath time, by the way.  He weighed 48 pounds when he came home at eight years old.  No one took an interest in his posture; he was often, when we visited him, hunched over with his chin literally on his chest and his whole body had a general left lean to it.

Jon during our first visit

Why am I telling you this? It is not because I am wanting to show what a great family we are and how far we have taken this poor boy.  On the contrary, he teaches me so much every day. Nor do I wish to disparage the orphanage or the staff that cared for him before he came to be with us. We are thankful for the care they were able to give him. Instead, I am telling all of this in hopes of showing the impact a stable, loving, structured family and home life can have on a child.  It is not easy by any means and some days are better than others.  Children need family and structure, and I hope this comparison of my son's former and latter life proves that.  We are far from a perfect example, and yet even in our home, a child like Jon has been able to thrive and grow in astonishing ways!

Consider if you, as a foster parent or through adoption, could provide this change of life for a child.  It will be at times a painful sacrifice on your part, but these children are worth a little discomfort.  I can't help but wonder where Jon will be in another year from now or, for that matter, five.  I will admit, sometimes I find myself wondering how far we would be if we had been able to adopt him earlier.  But going down that road never accomplishes anything.  I am thankful that he is with us now and for all the progress he has and is making.  I look forward to my post about his two years home. :)