Discussing Charlottesville

Imagine with me, if you will, a woman with rich brown skin and tight black curls, aged and graying, narrating the story of her people to you. We'll lean in to hear her recollections of the time after the war: 

Union soldiers occupied southern towns to keep the peace but didn't do much to protect black people from new groups of mean white, like the Ku Klux Klan, who threatened us all year long. To stop black folks from voting, Klansmen marched in front of their homes wearing white sheets over their heads, shooting out the windows and burning homes to the ground, or worse, dragging black folks out of their homes to lynch them.  The law didn't do a thing to stop it.  Shoot, some of the men wearing the sheets were lawmen. It was their way of "keeping us in our place", wherever that was supposed to be.  They couldn't stand to see us trying to be equal to whites.  They were convinced that they were somehow superior to black people.  My grandmother used to call it "the Sickness."  Whatever it was, it was just plain mean, honey.  Lord knows how those folks could fix it in their minds to do the things they did to us back then.  It's a miracle we made it through.

-from Kadir Nelson's Heart and Soul: The Story of America and African Americans

~

Mark, holding our Adelia for the very first time

Charlottesville. 
White Supremacy.
KKK.
Racism.

These were the topics of our dinnertime conversation last night.  It's a difficult and emotional
thing to look across the table at my brown-skinned children and have these conversations.

We spoke of the evil that is prevalent and active, of "the Sickness"- as Kadir Nelson's book puts it.  We talked about the history of the black people, of Martin Luther King, Jr. and peaceful protests. 
We talked about cycles of poverty. 
Of fear. 
We spoke of how God is the ultimate Victor, not Satan nor evil or darkness, not in the end. 
We spoke of how it might feel for a black person in the wake of this evil and others: One of our kids: "They must think, 'Will this ever change?  Will this ever get any better?  When will this be done?'"  We spoke of skin color and the beauty of it. 
We tried to answer their questions: "Why would a white person kill a white person if their hatred is toward black people?"  "Is it only white people who are racist?" 
We spoke of how much we oppose this.  Vehemently.  That it angers and saddens us.  We shed tears.  We spoke of standing for what is right in the midst of people who won't.
We spoke of the courage and the strength of black men and women who have borne the weight of this for years and are still bearing it.  And of the self-control so many possess in the face of hatred and violence.

And we prayed together.

Lord, help us to know what else we can do.

Heavy-hearted

There is so much on my heart these past several days that I hesitate to write or say anything at all, and yet I do not want to be silent, either.

First and foremost, I am grieving the loss of the lives of Alton Sterling and Philando Castile, as well as the lives of the five officers killed in Dallas: Officer Lorne Ahrens, Officer Michael Smith, Officer Michael Krol, Officer Patrick Zamarripa, Officer Brent Thompson.

I have been praying for the families and the friends of these men, that God would bring them the comfort only He can give. 

I am praying particularly for our brothers and sisters in the Dallas area this week, black and white, to move toward one another in love.  I am praying for reconciliation, rather than retaliation. 

I am praying that God's Spirit would empower people to love, where there might otherwise be hatred, anger, or fear.  I am thankful that God is the Light of this dark, broken, and hurting world.  And I am praying for God's people, as His image-bearers, to be light wherever they are, in whatever spheres they are in.  May the fact that Christ is in us compel us to a place of unity and of compassion, no matter our race or ethnicity.

I pray that I will be one who reaches out to those who are not like myself, and especially those who may feel devalued.

I am praying for the protection of black boys and black men.  I am praying for black mothers who are fearing for the futures and the very lives of their boys.  I am praying for white mothers who are fearing for the futures and the very lives of their black boys.

I am also praying for the protection of police officers.

I am praying against the fear that is so pervasive in our society.  I am praying for compassion for us all.  I am praying that we would walk in the ways of Jesus; that we would be humble people and that we might glorify God through our words, our actions, and our thoughts.

This week Mark and I have talked a lot about these things.  We have also talked with our older kids, and these conversations sometimes filter down to our younger girls.  There was a moment this week when we were all eating together at the table and we were talking generally about what was going on in our nation.  Adelia, my beautiful brown-skinned daughter, happened to tune in and ask what we were talking about, and one of her siblings said, "Police officers killed some black people."

I don't know how her eight-year-old heart and mind processes such a statement. 

Or last year, while playing with a group of children at church, another little girl declared, "She can't play this game.  I don't like people with black skin."

I don't know how her heart and mind processes such a declaration.

I know how mine does.  My heart aches, and the tears come.  I want to protect my little girl.  I want her to know that she is made in the very image of God.  I don't ever want her to feel self-conscious because of the color of her skin.  I look at her and I see the beauty with which God made her: tightly coiled curls pulled into twists, her beautiful skin tanning even browner after these days of warm sunshine, her wide smile, her infectious laughter, her playfulness and her strong will.

Never am I more aware of the beautiful brown of her skin, or the whiteness of my own skin, than when this issue comes up.  Because suddenly I look at the issue of race through her eyes.

She asked why, there at the table surrounded by her white family who loves her.  Why indeed?

What can I say to her in these moments, when it seems as if my words will carry such weight and ought to be so significant and yet I feel so inexperienced to speak to this at all?

What I say to her is this: God created you, and He delights over you.  And then we talk about how we are living in a broken world, and evil abounds, and that people act out of fear or hatred and that this is why we all desperately need Jesus.

Andra Day has a powerful song called Rise Up, and here is a part of it:
And I'll rise up
I'll rise like the day
I'll rise up
I'll rise unafraid
I'll rise up
And I'll do it a thousand times again
And I'll rise up
High like the waves
I'll rise up
In spite of the ache
I'll rise up
And I'll do it a thousand times again

Every time I hear that song I think of the many times the black community has had to rise up in the face of oppression and violence, of how they have had to rise up again and go out and live amongst those with prejudices against them.  I have nothing but respect for these courageous men and women, and we have so much to learn from them.

May God give us His heart, His eyes, and His love.  And may we all look to the Day where we will all stand before the throne of God as a great multitude, from every nation, tribe, people and language, in worship of the One who is worthy.

Eight.

I used to be really faithful about writing birthday letters to my kids.  And then I stopped.  I am trying to get back into the habit mostly because my kids treasure the letters I have written.  I have them all in a book and they will pull them out and read them and are so delighted to read of the younger versions of themselves and their siblings.  So I begin again.

My dearest Adelia,

The story of you coming into our lives is one I treasure, because it almost didn't happen.  I was so afraid of all the what-ifs, and I had to take time to allow the truths of God's word to sink into my soul and chase away all my fears.  And He did, and we said yes.  And we brought home a failure-to-thrive baby that was you.  It would be another six months before you were officially adopted, but from the moment you were here, in our home and in our arms, you were ours.  Our hearts pretty nearly ached for all the love we had for you.

You were so tiny.  (We used to give you your baths in the bathroom sink; that's how tiny you were!)  The label failure-to-thrive that was given you at birth now astounds me when I think of it.  Because, my girl: you positively thrive.  You are full of life and passion and will and sass and oh, you are funny.  You have so much to say and so.many.questions.  You ask questions every two minutes.  You are noisy.  There is nothing quiet about you.  You do everything fully and loudly and with zeal.  You are generous.  You are friendly with every single person you meet.  You are the socialite of our whole family.  You are impulsive and you are strong and you are brave.  I see all of that in you, every single day, and I think of the grace of God who has fashioned you so; who took the tiny little you and flourished her into your eight-year-old self and all that you are.  He is so good.

(And this is the part you may want to skip over for the next few years, at least.  You'll think it's b-o-r-i-n-g.  ;)  But it belongs here.)  I have learned so much about being your mama.  I have learned that behind your tough exterior you hide your insecurities.  And behind your stubbornness is a need for grace and kindness.  God has patiently instructed me over and over in regard to you that kindness leads to repentance.  You respond well to silliness; to tickles and a gentle chiding of humor to smooth your furrowed brow.  You won't often initiate affection, but you need it and you want it.  You like your back scratched and me to pull you onto my lap and hug you and pull you beside me on the couch and read to you.  (You will grab my arm and try to tuck it around you-- which sometimes makes the turning of the pages difficult, but we work it out-- and you want the blanket over us, no matter what the season.)  I have also learned more practical ways of being your mama.  I have researched and learned (thank you, internet) how to take care of your curls and your beautiful brown skin.  There is so much I don't know and it is often a challenge but it is a part of the story of us, isn't it?

Eight.  These are the things you love at eight years old:  Tiger.  (Our cat.)  More often called Buddy from your mouth.  I often tease you that you're more excited to see the cat than you are me-- or anyone else, for that matter-- in the mornings. ;)

You love being read to.  I will agree to read to you-- one book, I'll say-- and you find the longest story on the shelf.  And about twelve others.  You are active, and like to do anything the boys do.

You have learned this year to sit and play independently, but never quietly.  You are generally singing at the top of your lungs or yelling loudly as you play throughout quiet times.

You like playing Barbies, jumping on the trampoline, and pestering your siblings.  (Ahem.  The last of which we're working on, constantly.)  You love drama and sometimes when things are mellow I think you like to go stir something up just to create some action.  ;)

You love to swim, and when the sun is out, you will talk incessantly about swimming.  (Nevermind that you don't actually know how to swim.  Yet.  No matter.  You will learn because you love the water.)

You love to ride your bike but you'll groan if we're going for a walk or a hike because that's just not moving fast enough for you, I think.  ;)

You always wish you are about ten years older than you are, because you think that with age comes a phone, a tablet, a computer, and keys to a car.  (One of your favorite questions is, "When I'm ____ (fill in the blank with any age), will I get a phone?"  You haven't yet figured out that the answer is always no.  ;)  Along all the gadgets you want at that magic age, you will also want all the trips to McDonalds you can squish in (ew!) and any movies you want to see, and swimming whenever you want.  ;)

You LOVE sour cream.  Sheesh, girl.  We always have to watch you when there's sour cream on the table because you would pile it on and eat it all up!  Sour cream is your love language.  Well, that and jam.  And burritos.  Casa.  And breads of any kind.

You are really good with numbers but have struggled to learn to read, and I know this is frustrating for you.  I keep telling you that you will learn in your own time, and some things have come easily to you (learning to ride a bike, for instance, or chatting with anyone you meet) have been more challenging for your brothers and sisters.  In the meantime, we'll keep reading to you and eventually you'll get there and will forget there was a day when you didn't know how.  :)  You like school because you want to do what "the big kids" are doing, but you like short lessons and need lots of assistance to keep you on task, because you're easily distracted and will often get up and go do something else.

You love to be "in the know" and want to be the first one to know what we're having for dinner (so that you can announce it to everyone else), or where we're going (so that you can inform everyone).

You revere your older brother Isaac and you love trying to make all the other kids laugh.  You also know how to laugh at yourself, which is a gift in itself.

My prayers for you are for a tender heart; one that is responsive to our instruction and to the ways of God, and for kindness.  I also pray that God will hone your passion, your strength and will to be used mightily for His purposes.

You are a delight, my girl.  Beautiful and abounding with life.

Happy birthday to you,
Love, your mama

Worth Watching

Oh, wow. 

{tears}

Do you have 15 minutes to go watch something?  I just finished watching an adoption story.... twice.  Once alone, once with Ella.  I *loved* this adoption story, and how the character of God is revealed through it. 

In an effort to "hook" you to go watch, this is a family (The Via family) in the process of adopting a little girl, Chloe, from Uganda.  They find out that Chloe is not granted a visa, so she is not able to come home to them.

So they decide to bring home to her.

Go here to watch.  (Follow the link, watch the video (4:58) at the top of the page, and then watch the video at the bottom (10:09)).

Loved this.

~Stacy

Hair care at FIVE: our routine

I just finished putting twists in Adelia's hair.  Nowadays I do twists way more than braids.  They're just quicker.  It took me awhile to figure out how to do them right, but I've got it down now: Take two strands, twist each strand tightly the same way (I go right) and then twist one strand over the other the OPPOSITE way (I twist left).  For a long time I didn't have the opposite part down so my twists looked terrible.

I haven't figured out how to manage the twist-out, yet (taking the twists out and separating the hair so that she can wear it down as a style), but I'm working towards it.

This is a blurry photo, but you get the idea:

This is in between two styles- the top half of her head is in twists, and the bottom half (see the beads?) is still in braids that I will take out soon and switch to twists.  I have a friend who is always trying to talk me into relaxing Adelia's hair, but I just love her natural curls, and it is so a part of who she is and I want her to embrace it and grow into it.  So I persist. 

I am so thankful for video tutorials on caring for natural hair.  Last night I searched for natural hair blogs and found this article that features seventeen women who blog or post videos on youtube about caring for their hair.  I searched some of the women by name and ended up watching several videos.  I'm such a visual learner that I LOVE being able to watch a video that teaches me how to do it!  Mark even watched a few with me.  It is seriously UNREAL the amount of time it takes to care for natural hair.  If you ever see a black woman with natural hair you should compliment her, because- wow-- the WORK. 

This is my general routine with Adelia's hair, five years in:

1. WASH: approximately once a month, using a natural coconut shampoo that I ordered a long time ago from Cornrows & Co.

2. CONDITION: Lather on leave-in conditioner after washing (lately I've been using Giovanni).  We're talking lots of conditioner, fingering it through her hair, when wet.

3. TOWEL DRY:  Scrunching up the ends of her hair with the towel- not scrubbing the towel on her head to dry.  The water naturally runs down her curls and drips off the ends, so I just scrunch those repeatedly.

4. SECTIONING: I didn't know which step to put first: detangling or sectioning.  I have to detangle it somewhat- mostly with my fingers- before I section it out (with a rat-tail comb), and then I clip each section and work on detangling the individual sections.

5. DETANGLING:  This (and sectioning, above) is everyone's least favorite step.  Ouch.  It hurts Adelia, and it takes forever to detangle and comb out those tight curls.  I use a deep conditioning mix of Shea Butter, Coconut Oil, Vitamin E oil and Olive oil.   Recipe here.

6. STYLE: Lately, I alternate between smallish twists like in the photo above (for one month) and then I'll wash, etc (steps 1-5, above) and for the next month, style with bigger, fewer sections: banded at her head and twisted out (fatter twists).  I style a couple hours at a time, over a period of days.  (Before ending Day 1: I'll keep the sections by putting in fat twists or braids.  On Day 2 (which may, in fact, be three days later) I spritz it with water and add more conditioner and detangle it all over again before styling.)

7. TRIM: Prior to washing the next time around, I trim the ends of her hair while they're still in twists. (Often just cutting off the rubber band at the end of the twist and the hair with it.)

What I do not do is moisturize her hair on a daily or even weekly basis.  I should really do this.  But I forget.  Every once in awhile, mid-month, I may rub some jojoba on her scalp or the ends of her hair.

If you're an adoptive mom and have tips on doing your daughters hair, please share.  I love learning more about how to care for Adelia's hair!

Birthday letter to Adelia

My dear birthday girl,

Five years ago today you were born: a tiny, “failure-to-thrive” girl.  I am tearful today as I think of you then: so fragile and alone and vulnerable and yet: held by God.  He had plans for you.  Plans to prosper you and to give you hope and a future.  Somehow He saw fit to add your daddy and me into His plans for your life, and for that we are so grateful.  We see you today, proudly five- and oh-so thriving, and we cannot help but give thanks to God for your life, and for God’s great love for you and His generosity to let us witness how He’ll grow you and unfold His plan for you.

Happy day, our Adelia Hope.  You are such a blessing to us.  You are SO MUCH FUN.  You are exuberant and expressive and active and noisy and curious and funny and tenacious and smart and busy and stubborn and talkative and playful and fearless and outgoing and generous.

You love helping mommy in the kitchen- especially washing dishes and using the hand mixer.  You crack me up with that mixer in hand-- zipping it around the bowl furiously and completely capable.  :) 

You still like to be snuggly in the mornings when you get up: especially if you can curl up with daddy and have him all to yourself. 

You love books.  You love to be read to and you love to pull a stack of books onto the couch with you and read yourself. 

You love to ride your bike.  You are our earliest bike-rider.  You wanted to ride bikes like the “big kids”, so- at age four- you got on your bike every.single.day and tried.  You’d fall down and get right back on your bike and try again.  Daddy and mommy helped a bit, initially: pushing you through the yard and trying to help you not wobble so much.  And then Isaac took over.  He patiently assisted you and encouraged you and before we knew it, you were proudly riding around all by yourself. 

You love music.  Often you’ll go into your room, put on a CD at a VERY high volume, and sing and dance.  And often, on your quiet time: you’ll stand on the bed and sing at the top of your lungs.  (Which isn’t really so quiet and sometimes it isn’t so delightful but I love that part of you that is happy and boisterous.)

You love watching videos.  It’s one of your favorite things.

You want to be big and grown up and you correct me every time I refer to you and Audra as the "little girls", because you are NOT little, you are BIG.

You love to play games and it’s so much fun that you’re able to play more games now.  :)  You like Old Maid, Sequence, Apples to Apples and UNO.

You love to make us laugh.  You are so happy when you say something funny and your siblings giggle.  :)

You love swimming, and talk often about when it’s going to be summer so that you can swim.  You’d wear your swimsuit every day if I let you.  (And you did wear it every single day until mommy hid it in my closet because it is winter and it’s not really cold-weather apparel.)

You love “cappuccinos”- and by that you actually mean “Cheetos”.  You love most chips and crackers and chex mix and popcorn.  You love bacon.  You like donuts and “panpakes” and fruit snacks and spaghetti and pizza.

You are generous-- even with your favorite things.  You’ll get some candy or chips and immediately offer some to everyone else in the family.  You’ll start telling us something and then Audra will want to talk at the same time and we’ll tell her that it’s Adelia's turn right now and she can wait, and you’ll say, “Go ahead, Audra.  You can talk now.”

No one is a stranger to you.  You will say hi to anyone and introduce yourself and start talking about whatever is on your mind (sometimes embarrassingly so- like the time we were in the theater watching a dance performance and you announced loudly to the older couple sitting near us that you were wearing your big-girl panties.  And then you promptly asked them if they were wearing their big-girl panties, too!)  You’re the little girl at the park who will walk up to another child you’ve never met and say hi and start playing.  Your brothers and sisters aren’t like this at all, so this is new to me and it blesses me.  You are a friend to everyone, and it’s a sweet thing to see. 

You have a great memory.  You remember conversations and events and promises and you remind us often.  Grandpa and Grandma were going to take us all to a baseball game one time and the morning we were going to go, you got sick and you and I had to stay home.  Grandma told you then that they’d take you again sometime, and you reminded her every.single.time you saw her, until they took you!  You love to talk about what we’ve done and where we’ve gone and what you’ve seen and heard. 

You are game for everything.  You want to try everything, and you aren’t afraid.  If the uncles are playing a game of football, you’re right in there, ready to play.  No matter that everyone is bigger than you and you don’t know exactly what you’re doing: you’re IN.  (This is something else your siblings aren’t, and I love to see this in you!)

God has taught me two practical things in parenting you, my girl.  The first thing is that silliness goes a long way with you.  You can be grumpy or out of sorts and I’ll just be silly: like climbing into your bed with you and pretending that your tummy is my nice, soft pillow.   Or tickling you, or hiding from you, or making silly faces at you-- and your grumpiness is instantly forgotten and you are giggling and reveling in the silliness.  The second thing I’ve learned is this: a gentle answer does turn away wrath (Proverbs 15:1).  You can be very stubborn and angry with me at times, and I have learned (well, am learning) to return your anger with gentle words and expressions of my love for you, and that goes a long way in softening your heart.

I love you so much, Adelia Hope.  You are a gift, and I am so very thankful for you. 

Happy five years, sweet and beautiful girl!
~Your mommy

Transracial adoption

I remember it well.  It was two summers ago, and we were at the park.  My kids were playing- running around the play equipment, climbing and sliding and hollering.   There were other kids playing, too, and two of them I noticed in particular.  They were two little girls with beautiful black skin- darker than Adelia's-- and curls all woven into braids and colorful beads.  Their mama sidled up to me and asked me if Adelia was adopted from Ethiopia.  No, she was adopted through the foster care system here in the states.  Her daughters were also adopted, she said- and so we chatted about that and then- the ever-popular topic of conversation with adoptive mothers of black girls with curls: HAIR.

She shared that her girls didn't like their curly black hair, that they were teased at school for their hair being different, and that they wished they had swingy, swishy hair.  I looked at my Adelia-girl, all sassy with her braids and beads and thought: "Thank goodness she doesn't go to school and get teased about her hair.  How awful."  I told the mom that so far we had avoided that.  Adelia happened to love her hair and thought she was pretty smart with all the clickiness of her beads snapping together as she moved. 

***

I intentionally and frequently tell Adelia how much I love her hair and skin; that God gave them to her and how blessed she is to have such pretty tiny black curls and beautiful black skin.  She shrugs it off in her "Oh, stop" sort of way (she'd roll her eyes if she knew about that yet) but I keep at it.  I know she's listening and I hope she's taking it all in and that she will grow up feeling secure in her skin and see beauty in herself because she is created in the image of God.  I'm praying so, too. 

I see it in her, though, as she grows- the desire to have hair like mine.  I suppose it's natural.  She wants to use the same hairbrush we do but she has braids or twists in and you can't really brush those with a hairbrush.  She wants her hair in pigtails, like Audra's- but they don't really look the same, her pigtails. 

Today that four-year-old girl stepped out of the bathtub and I wrapped a towel around her and got out the oil to put on her.  She wanted to sit in my lap first. So I pulled her wet self into my lap and hugged her and then after a minute, began putting oil on her legs.  I said something about how beautiful her skin is and she harrumphed and had a grumpy look on her face.  So I asked her, "Don't you like your black skin?"  [And.  Maybe I shouldn't have put those words out there so plainly.  But it was written on her face and that's kind of how I roll- to call it out and talk it through.]  She said no, she wanted "grey" skin, like me, and then pointed to my arm which was stretched out in front of her.

I pulled her around to face me, then, and asked her: "Who made you?"  She said right away: "God."
"Right.  And He made you beautiful.  He chose to give you black skin like this because it's so beautiful.  He thinks it looks *good* on you.  He does all things good."  And I rubbed oil on that precious black skin.  It makes me want to clap and celebrate this creative God who made all colors and all shapes and sizes and all types of hair, whether it's frizzy or straight or wavy; He makes us all unique and wonderful.  Can you imagine how boring it would be if we were all the same?  Sheesh.  Let's celebrate our differences already-- it makes life so much more interesting! 

For Adelia it's simply about wanting to be the same as us.  (Or- when I told Mark the story later, he said "That's just Adelia being obstinate."  Maybe so.)  But I know that she sees her daddy and mommy and sisters with white skin and that's what she wants to have, too.  Since that's impossible, I'm trusting that God will help us navigate these conversations as they crop up throughout the years.  I know that God placed her here in our family- with white parents- for a reason.  I'm trusting that even when I feel inadequate and uncertain about how to handle these issues, He is faithful and He will guide us.

I told Mark just last night that I often forget that some of our kids are adopted.  We went to get donuts the other morning, just me and the kids, and I noticed a couple doing a double-take as we walked through the door.  It took me a minute to figure out just why they were staring at us.  Then I remembered Isaias' dark brown skin and Adelia's black skin and realized that the couple was trying to figure our family out.  I truly forget that we're a transracial family.  They're just my kids and I love them and I don't even notice the differences that others immediately see.

I've gotten all off track, here.  I was just going to say that things have changed since that conversation I had in the park with that other mom.  Adelia doesn't go to school and she's never (to my knowledge) been teased about her hair-- in fact, she's praised for it-- but she has those feelings just the same.   Somehow I feel like I should record these types of conversations.  I want to learn from them and I want to listen to her and be thoughtful and prayerful of where she's at.

That's all.  Mark wants the computer now and my knitting project is calling my name.

Love to you all,
~Stacy

Four years ago...

[Yesterday marked the 4-year anniversary of Adelia's adoption being finalized.  The following is a post from the archives.]

But first, Adelia today:

This girl adds so much exuberance and joy (and noise!) to our family.  We are so thankful for His gift of her to us!

***

A few things are happening on the adoption front.

For the adoption of this dear girl:


[Who is just so cute I can barely stand it. And who, several times a day, has me thanking God for the wonderful privilege of getting to be her mama. She is pure delight.]

So. Where was I? Oh, yes. Things are happening.

Following our last update, things were quiet for a bit. Then- about a month and a half ago- we received a stack of adoption finalization papers that we weren't quite sure how to fill out. [We aren't familiar with the legal lingo, the fees, etc.] At the same time we were puzzling over our paperwork, our agency was going through some issues (our caseworker left; they were short-staffed), so we weren't able to progress.

Two weeks ago we met with a [new] caseworker who walked us through some of the questions we had regarding the adoption paperwork. We are now in the filling-out-the-paperwork process. We have a checklist of things to do: Mark and I need to get updated medical approval from our doctor, Adelia's pediatrician needs to fill out some forms, we need to give information detailing our current financial status, I have to fax some background clearances to our caseworker. Thankfully, our fingerprints are still good so we don't have to jump through that hoop again. We have hired a lawyer and are proceeding with all of these details. We've been told that the adoption could be finalized as early as November. November.

Last week we received Adelia's state file- officially called a "disclosure"; which is a record of all that the state knows about Adelia. I read about her history (most of which we know, obviously), as well as her birthmother's history (some of which we did not know).

Within that file are all the court documents, too, surrounding her case. I skimmed the file in its entirety, and there was one document that stopped me cold, that brought the tears in earnest. It was the document, dated a couple of months back, whereupon the court terminated the birthmother's rights. In that document, it says:

ORDERED, ADJUDGED and DECREED that said child is hereby declared to be a dependent child [of the state]... and under the permanent jurisdiction of the court, and that [birthmother] no longer retains parental rights and all rights, powers, privileges, immunities, duties and obligations, including any rights to custody, control, visitation or support existing between [birthmom] and the child are severed and terminated, and [birthmother] shall have no standing to appear at any further legal proceedings concerning the child...

I am crying again as I type that out.

It is just so final.

So permanent.

So- over for this struggling mother who birthed this beautiful girl. As much as I yearn for Adelia to belong to us, my heart grieves over the fact that Adelia's birthmother will never know the joy of having this beautiful girl belong to her.

She will never know this precious girl. She doesn't get to see how she beats her little legs and grasps her chubby fingers into fists, a wide smile on her face, when mama bends to pick her up in the early mornings, all for the sheer joy of seeing that face so dear and familiar to her. How she scrunches up her little nose and grins. The way she listens so attentively during worship, or when music is playing, and hums along her own soft song. The way she leans her head in, wraps her brown little arms around mama's neck, and snuggles close with a good morning or a good night hug. The way she delights when her toes are kissed. She hasn't seen her beautiful black head of curls or felt the softness of her skin. She won't get to see her take her first steps or say her first words. She won't know her likes and dislikes, the characteristics God has given her, the woman she will become.

All these joys of motherhood, they could have been hers, but she has missed them all.

It shouldn't be so.

And yet- it is so.

And because it is so, the final line in that court document applies to us: ORDERED, ADJUDGED and DECREED that [the state] has the authority to place said child for adoption...

We get to be that adoptive family.

And my heart is near-to-bursting at that news, but the joy of it is mingled with a deep sadness for all Adelia's birthmother has lost.

Link

If you've not yet read this post, you must:

The story of Katie's adoption

Wow.  There are no words.  Just tears and awe at the way God works to deliver the orphans.

I love this, from the post:

Before this, God had made it clear that I was to pick up the pencil and write what He was doing. Now it seemed to us that He picked us up as though we were the pencils, and continued to tell the story using our lives.

Adoption link

If you've read here for any length of time, you will know how much I admire David Platt.  He's the pastor of a church in Alabama, and whenever I have the opportunity to listen to a sermon online, I choose one of his.  Don't ask me how I stumbled upon him-- some link somewhere led me to the church's website one day and I listened to him then and I think he's an excellent communicator of God's truth.  I read his book Radical last year and loved that, too.

Anyway:  David Platt, his wife Heather and their two boys are in China right now.  They've just adopted a little girl and he has been blogging about their experience.

Today I read his posted entitled The Gospel and Adoption and I just know some of you are going to want to read it.

Here's just a snippet:

In the gospel, you are reminded on a daily basis that there was a day when you were a child of wrath, filled with evil desires, totally unable to control your sinfulness, and desperately in need of Savior, and God reached down His hand of mercy past the depth of your wickedness in order to adopt you as His own. When there was no initiative to draw you to Him, He initiated a relationship with you. So now, when you see a child with minor or major needs, you reach out to that child, simply because you realize you are that child.

and another quote:

We adopt not because we are rescuers. No, we adopt because we are the rescued. 

Yeah.  Go read it.

If you're interested in starting at the beginning and reading their entire adoption journey, start here.

Also, for any of you fellow AGCI adoptive mothers, this post in particular reminded me so much of our experience in Guatemala, meeting Isaias' Special Mothers and saying thank you to them- especially this young woman who nurtured him the most while he was at Hannah's Hope.

Good read for adoptive parents

“ I followed a God into this story who heals and redeems, who
 restores wasted years and mends broken places.  This God specializes in the Destroyed. I've seen it. I've been a part of it.  I have His ancient Word that tells of it.  I love a Jesus who made reconciliation his whole mission. My children will not remain broken.  They are loved by too good a Savior.  I will not remain exhausted and spent. I am loved by too merciful a Father. ”

* * *

Read the entire post, called After the Airport, here.

Hair care and cornrows

I still think it's humorous that God chose me, of all people, to be the one responsible to do Adelia's hair.

The reason that's funny is that I am a very low-maintenance kind of a girl when it comes to my own hair.

This is what I do each day: I wash and condition my hair, comb it out, and then I pull it back into a pony-tail (*except* on Sundays when I leave it down, but even then I keep a hair elastic around my wrist in case it annoys me) and that's the extent of my hair care. Pretty simple.

I don't use a hair dryer, a curling iron, or any sort of product one would put in their hair, other than whatever shampoo/conditioner is on sale at the time. Heck, I rarely even use a mirror.

Black hair elastics are my sole hair accessory.

Adelia, on the other hand, at just three years of age, has several hair products [most of which I have to order away for, mind you] and enough accessories (elastics, barrettes, snaps, beads, and combs) to fill up a room of our house. OH MY GOODNESS, readers: You have NO idea. I had no idea.



Any and all hair inspiration I receive is from one of these two sites:

Happy Girl Hair

Keep Me Curly

I am so thankful for these mothers who have spent so much time reviewing hair products, posting tutorials and pictures of the various styles they've done on their own girls so that less-experienced mothers (like me!) can learn from them.

Oh, and here is my favorite place to purchase all sorts of cute beads and snaps:

Snapaholics

I wish I took more pictures of Adelia's hair, if only to use as a resource for me when I need to figure out what to do with her hair next. The problem is that it is extremely difficult to take a picture of this girl, because she never.stops.moving! This is the best I could do today:

{front: This is the first time I've done a side part! I like it.
There are 3 cornrows in the front with the heart snaps and everything else is braids & beads}

{back}

Have I mentioned how much Adelia loves braids and beads? She loves the sound her beads make when they click together, and the only thing she ever requests when it's hair time is beads!

This is only the third time I've done cornrows. The first two tries had me in tears, literally. Then I gave up and only recently tried them again. I couldn't figure out how to braid "under" rather than over, as I always have done. I watched all sorts of instructional videos and I could see how they were doing it, but when I got behind Adelia with her hair and my own fingers, I simply couldn't do it.

I think I'm finally getting the hang of it, though. Here's my trick: The only way I was finally able to figure it out was to talk myself through it as I did it. I whisper instructions to myself as I go along (something like "right under...left under... center" (and when I say "center" I know to pull the new hair up to join the center section). Then I repeat.

My assessment, for what it's worth: Cornrows are much quicker than braids simply because you can pull more hair into a cornrow than a single braid, so her hair can get done much faster when there are cornrows in the style somewhere. And that's a very good thing when it takes hours to do her whole head. :)

Two adoption stories

Amazing.

That's all I can say about this adoption story.

And this one? I was bawling as I read the conclusion to this story I began reading a few weeks ago... don't miss it.




[HT to Ann V. for the original links]

In Closing: an Invitation

This is the last day of November, so this series on adoption/foster care is officially done. (Don't miss my husband's post yesterday!)

Thank you for stopping in to read here throughout the month. I know I wasn't able to cover *every* topic, and if there was something you wanted me to speak to that I neglected, please let me know and I'll either email you or post on it at a later date.

I am truly grateful for this blog community. I wish so much that I knew all of you in person~ I would love that.

There are many of you with a passion to meet the needs of the orphans and a desire to forge ahead... but you have pressing, weighty fears. May you sense His presence and peace; and may you rest in His faithful promises. He will direct your steps.

There are also many of you who are broken and struggling from the wounds of the son or daughter you have already adopted. {Oh, how I wish I could give you a tearful hug and pray for you!} I know. I really do. I know those varying feelings of hopelessness and discouragement and anger and resentment and guilt and fear and that deep-down, haunting question of whether you can even do this. I know those well, friend. And I assure you (even as I assure myself) that you can do it; that God will sustain you; that He will empower you by His Spirit to love; that He will bring restoration and healing.

Can I offer an invitation to you, if you're an adoptive mother? I've heard some of your stories in the comments and through the emails tucked into my inbox, and I know there are more of you, too. I wish I could meet you and we could share our stories in person. I have such a heart for you, because I know how challenging it can be, and I also know how lonely it can be. What has ministered to me most throughout my own struggle has been other adoptive mothers who have come alongside of me and said, "I know. You're not crazy. I feel that, too." So, if you need that? Know that I am always available. Also: I would love to pray for you and your child. If you'll send me an email with your name and your child's name- and any part of your story or struggle you want to share- I will pray for you. You can email me via the link on my sidebar- anytime. (If you've already emailed me, can you email me again so that I can have it all in one place?)

Blessings to each and every one of you!

Mark's Post

Dear readers~ my favorite person on this earth (my husband!) wrote today's post. (I just added the photos.)

* * *

This blogging thing is hard. What words do I have to add? My wonderful wife has already so eloquently written of our adoption journey in numerous posts. She's the writer. Through her journals and blog posts she chronicles the struggles, hopes and joys of our lives. She loves our children infinitely and selflessly with service and compassion. And if she could, she would start an orphanage to care for as many hurting children as we could stuff inside the four walls.

I'm guest-posting on her blog because I share this conviction to care for orphans. I'm usually a fairly quiet guy, but I have something to say about caring for orphans and adoption.

There are two verses that were most motivating to me in our decision to adopt. Stacy has already referred to Luke 12:48. The other is Psalm 68:5-6: "A father to the fatherless, a defender of widows, is God in his holy dwelling. God sets the lonely in families."


I love that phrase, "father to the fatherless." That's what I have become: a father to the fatherless. And I love it. It's one of the hardest yet most wonderful things I've ever done. I wouldn't trade it for anything. I love my son and my daughter fiercely and completely. From the first time I held them and fed them their bottles, they captured my heart. I'm their daddy, the one they call for in the night, the one they want to wrestle with, the one they wrap their little arms around when they need to be held.

I hope many of you have been encouraged to pursue adoption or foster care. And for those of you who are already walking this road of orphan care, I pray that God has used my dear wife's posts to encourage you and remind you of why you are doing it.

Because to be honest -- adoption and foster care are heartwarming, but both can also be really hard. And those of us doing it need encouragement. I like the way a speaker at our church put it this morning when he said that the things God calls us to are "not safe." I know there are questions and fears that keep many from adoption: How can we afford it? What if it brings upheaval to our family? What if we don't bond with the child? How do I love a child that doesn't show love back? Good questions, all of them. And I say in response: It could be terrible on many levels. Adoption and fostering can bring anguish, tears and brokenness that were never expected. But God is good and He is faithful.

And it's still the right thing to do. I've read that there are 143 million orphans in the world. And because of what we've allowed God to do (He is the one who sets the lonely in families), there are two who now get to work out their brokenness right here in our house. And I'll bear whatever upheaval and hurt that causes here, because we get to love them with the love of Jesus. The love, shelter and care we give them are nice. But what really makes it all worthwhile is that we get to point them to Jesus, who alone can restore them. And it is our prayer, our goal and our purpose with them that they will find where they truly belong: in His family.


Finally, I ask you to pray for God's work to be done in your family. God may say "No" to your stepping into adoption and/or fostering, but if He hasn't, assume He's saying "Yes," because that's what His Word says. If the door is open to you and your family, walk through it in faith. As husbands and wives, work together on this, sharing your convictions, hesitations and fears each step of the way.

(And, I'll add one final word for any husbands out there that happen to read this. (This is the man-to-man talk part of my post): It seems so simple to me. Love God. Love your wife. If God is speaking to your wife's heart about setting an orphan in your family, join her, support her, love her, encourage her, lead her. Be a father to the fatherless.)

- Mark

When Your Husband Doesn't Want to Adopt

Being an adoptive mother- especially one with children who do not resemble me- has made me a sort of magnet for people everywhere who want to talk about adoption. If we're in a public place, I usually get asked about our adoptive children -at least once!- and almost *always* it is from another mother.

Conversations often begin like this:

"He (or she) is so cute."

(me) "Thank you. We think so, too!"

"Is he adopted?"

(me) "Yes." (insert a few details about when we adopted and where we adopted from...)

"I've always wanted to adopt... but my husband is just not there yet." (said a bit wistfully)

I have also received several emails from women saying they would love to adopt, but their husbands didn't want to for any number of reasons. It's a common story, it seems. I have often pondered how to respond to those emails. I don't even know that I have a place to speak to that scenario, because it has not been my own story. Mark and I have always shared the desire to adopt. (Fostering came a bit later, but it fit right into our longing to meet the needs of the orphans.) I've never been in your shoes, then, if you carry that desire to adopt or foster but your husband does not share it.

It has weighed heavily on my heart, though, this whole idea. I asked God, "What is it, Lord? Why the hesitancy on the part of so many men? What can I say to these women? Am I even in a place where I can speak to this at all?" A couple of things came to mind, and I would like to share them with you:

~PRAY. This one should be obvious. God moves mightily when we pray. Ask God to expand your husband's heart for the orphans. Ask God to give you wisdom in speaking with him about it. Ask Him to put people into your husband's life who have adopted. Ask Him to bring it up in all manner of ways~ a sermon at church, a tidbit on the radio, a sign, a program on television, a song, whatever.

~Share/talk enthusiastically about it. I want to clarify this. I do not mean that you should continually come before your husband with an agenda or an appeal, as in What-can-I-say-today-that-will-make-him-change-his-mind? You will not change his mind or heart on the matter. God will. God may use you to do so, but that is God's work, and it is not for you to fret about. So stop carrying that burden already. I'm thinking more along the lines of a passion in your own heart that can become contagious. (My husband loves football, I used to detest football. Gradually, I have learned to appreciate the game and have truly become an enthusiastic football fan~ all because Mark loves it and it is something he cares about.) All that to say that in marriage, it is difficult not to begin to care about the things that have hold of the others heart. So if you have a heart for the orphans, share it. If you read a book or article about adoption that particularly grips you, share it. If you are moved to tears by an adoption story, share it. Maybe your passion will become contagious. Maybe, eventually- your husband will be the one who reads an article on adoption to you. Maybe one day you'll find that his heart has joined yours on the matter.

~Get to know someone who is or has adopted/fostered. I think this is a big one. Sometimes the whole idea of foster care or adoption just seems so big. So expensive, so complicated, so... daunting. Then you run across someone who has done it, who is doing it, and it suddenly seems less big. My encouragement is that if you know a family that has adopted or fostered, befriend them. Ask them their story. I assure you, they'll be happy to talk about it.

~Do something. Maybe your husband isn't ready to take the plunge into the world of foster care or adoption, but that doesn't negate our responsibility as believers to do something about the plight of the orphans. Maybe you can sponsor a child through Compassion. And if you do, really dive into it. Pray regularly for your sponsored child, and send letters! Do you know someone who is adopting? What can your family do to help them out financially? When we were adopting Isaias, several family members and friends helped us financially. Two friends from college who I barely even had contact with anymore had a garage sale and donated all the proceeds to us. Before they sent us the money, one of their husbands asked his work if they would match the amount they'd raised, and his company did. So we received double the money they'd earned at that garage sale! Could your family have a garage sale or set aside a certain amount of money in order to help a family that is adopting? Could you commit to pray for them? When Mark and I were married, another married couple in our church family gave us the gift of their prayers for one year. They wrote in their card to us that they would pray for us every day for the first year of our marriage. What a gift! What a gift it would be to an adoptive family you know for you to commit to pray for them like that. Could you verbally encourage an adoptive family in your church? When we shared at our church that we were adopting from Guatemala, a women at our church came up to me after the service and encouraged me with an affirmation from the Bible and a promise to pray for us. I have treasured her words to me~ many times since.

* * *

I would love to hear your stories on this topic. Perhaps there are some of you who are or were in this place with your husbands. What has helped and what has not? How have you seen God work in your husband's heart?

{Quote}

But then it comes over me, even while I'm panicking-- that inexplicable, doesn't-make-sense-at-the-time, peace-that-passes-understanding feeling. Todd and I step up to the edge, hold hands, and jump, by offering the girls a permanent home...

Taking in two teenage girls with their background and our lack of experience could have been a disaster, but God promises to be the father to the fatherless. He has in every way coparented with us. When we've needed wisdom, he has given it, and when we've needed patience or grace, he has always supplied it in abundance.

In those early days, when we struggled with communication and with the obstacles their past put in our way, I reminded myself that it was God's desire that we be a family and he brought us together. I clung to Colossians 1:17: 'He is before all things, and in him all things hold together.'

I wish I could say that following God's will in building our family led to many sweet days, that we sat around holding hands all the time. The truth is our God cared so much about their healing that he was interested in doing whatever it took to bring their hurt spots to the surface.

And we had a front-row seat.

~ Beth Guckenberger, Reckless Faith

Fostering: A Bigger Picture

David Platt, author of this amazing book, which I blogged about here, is the pastor of a church in Alabama. I listen to his sermons online whenever I get the chance, and am always challenged and inspired by his faithful presentation of the Gospel.

In a sermon I listened to last year, I heard him tell a story that I have not forgotten (and I am so sorry, but I cannot, for the life of me, remember the name of the sermon or otherwise I'd direct you right to it, but I believe he mentioned this particular story in the book, too. And I'll keep looking for the sermon itself and update if I track it down!) I'm going to retell it, here, to the best of my memory.

* * *

David Platt, in preparation for a sermon on orphan care, (from James 1:27) got in touch with the social services office in his area to ask about the needs in their own community for foster parents. The woman he spoke with said their need was great; it always is. There are always more children than the places available for them. Platt asked, off the cuff- exactly how many foster parents would they need to take care of every child in their community? She laughed. He asked again. She said, "All of them?" He said, "Yes. All of them." She did some quick figuring and said that in order to have places for every child in their community, they would need 150 foster parents. As he stood before his congregation the following Sunday, he challenged them to consider what that might mean for them, as a church, to step up and fill that need in their own community.

He arranged for the foster parent training to be held (at their church, I think), and guess how many families showed up for the training, willing to become foster parents?

160.

!

(Doesn't that just make you want to jump up and down at how great God is?!?!)

As these members began to serve as foster care families, Platt met again with local officials. One of the women pulled him aside and asked him what he had told these people that had made them come and do this. Platt told her that they came because the God who loves children told them to come and reflect His love to the children around them.

* * *

I love this story so much I think I've told it to everyone I know.... twice. :) This is just amazing on so many levels.

As a foster parent, each week I get an email asking for homes for children in our own community. Just last week the email asked for care for the following children:

• Boy- 2 1/2 years old (placed in Protective Custody the previous night)
• Boy- 20 months old (needs placement for 3-6 months)
• Girl- 15 years old
• Boy- 5 1/2 years old (placement needed for 3 months or longer)

The email also requested respite care (a break for the foster parents) for a sibling group for just a few days, and care for a 12-year old girl for 20 days. The week before this there was a different list of children. The week following this there was a new list. More children- displaced, either temporarily or permanently- and in need.

I would just love it so much if the state could come to count on the CHURCH~ people who love Jesus!~ to be the ones caring for these children! Can you imagine the testimony that would be to the social workers and placement coordinators? That the foster parents who were consistently available and willing were always the Christians? That there was no shortage of help from the Christian community? That they were wonderful to work with; and the kids found love and security with these families, and sometimes-- permanent homes? There is NO WAY that would not have a HUGE impact on everyone involved.

It's why Mark and I are renewing our foster care license, why we're updating our paperwork and logging away hours of training and choosing again to open our hearts and lives to what God may have for us~ and to be a part of the larger community of social services- the social workers and the staff at our own local office- and be a blessing to them throughout the process.

I have a few more posts scheduled for this month, but we're winding down, here... and I want you to know, again- that I am praying for each one of you, by name. If you've commented, your name is written in my journal- several times... and my prayers for you follow your name. I am praying that God would move in *your* heart (yes, you!) to rise above the fears and all the what-ifs and to step out in faith and move towards fostering or adoption.

Two years ago today...

...we adopted this amazing girl!

{Adelia with Mark~ in court, the day her adoption was final}

{Adelia, two years later}

How thankful we are that God saw fit to set this precious girl into our family!

*Updated to add the family photo Sandi talked about in the comments. (Hello, Audra in my tummy!)

Attachment Struggles with an Adopted Child

Throughout November we're discussing adoption and foster care. Here is what we've covered so far:
Intro to This Month's Adoption Focus
God's Heart for the Orphan
God's Heart for the Orphan: Our Response
Fears About Adoption and Fostering

* * *

Many of you have expressed concerns about bonding/attachment with an adopted child, and I would be remiss not to write about it, but this is by far the topic I feel the least qualified to be writing about. Wow. I'm going to tackle it, here, to the best of my ability and understanding.

I think all adopted children have attachment issues on some level. This is my general understanding, from what I've read. When the attachment/bond between a child and his/her birth mother is broken-- at any age-- it wreaks havoc on a child. It's as if they know, inherently- that they've been rejected, in a sense, by the one person who should love them the most-- and it affects them deeply. That hurt is processed and expressed differently, depending on the child. While we have not experienced this with Adelia on any level to date, this is something have experienced with Isaias.

Isaias, 9 months old~ Guatemala City

I don't want to go into the specifics of our experience with our son here on the blog- but I will say that it has been very difficult at times. Those who know us well can attest to that. I have made many, many mistakes-- mainly by reacting to him in anger, oh-so-often, and by being cold and distant to him in response to his lack of affection to me. I believe I could write an entire book on how not to parent, dear readers. I am thankful that God has used this experience to humble me (don't ever pray for humility unless you want God to truly stretch you!), and to teach me so much along the way.

God is ever faithful, and Mark and I have seen changes in our Isaias, and God has answered many prayers. When we look back at some of the issues that were going on a couple years ago, many of those are not even present anymore. And those that are are much less frequent. We can genuinely see fruit in him and in our relationship with him. I have no idea what we'll face in the future with him or with Adelia, but I rest in God's faithful instruction to us as we parent.

Here are a few things I am learning in the midst of this:

I must cling to God's Word

When things seemed hopeless, I just held onto the truth of God's Word. I hung onto this one, especially:

Do not call to mind the former things,
Or ponder things of the past.
"Behold, I will do something new,
Now it will spring forth;
Will you not be aware of it?
I will even make a roadway in the wilderness,
rivers in the desert.

(Isaiah 43: 18-19, NAS)

I'm ashamed to admit how often I dwelt on the difficulty of our interactions. (More on that in a minute.) But here God is, saying, "Do not call it to mind; do not ponder those things... I'm going to do something NEW." So I just hoped and trusted that this was true; that God *would* do something new in our son and in our relationship with him; that He would make a roadway in the wilderness; rivers in the desert.

I must take captive every thought (to make it obedient to Christ)~ 2 Corinthians 10:5

Due to the nature of our struggles, and in comparison to the relative ease it has been to parent our biological children, it was easy for me to view Isaias as The Problem, and become frustrated at him (outwardly or inwardly) because of it. I had to purposefully, actively choose to think otherwise. One of the ways I have done this is to write down all the whatevers I can think up about him. By "whatevers" I mean this verse from Philippians:

Finally, brothers and sisters, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—think about such things.

So I would just write them down in my journal, everything he did that was praiseworthy that day or week. Even if I could only think of one thing, I wrote it down.

The first part of that verse says "whatever is true... think about such things". This is another thing I did (and still do. I did this just today in my journal!) I will sit down and just write out truths; what I *know*. This was especially important for me to do when I found myself sinking into this line of thinking: "I can't do this... I don't want to do this... I cannot muster up _____ (love/patience/kindness, etc.) for this child today." And then I get to thinking of all the ways that I have screwed up, culminating in the fear that this broken little boy came to us and I have just done him the disservice- through my own sin- of making that hurt in him so very much bigger than it was when he arrived. I recognize that those are lies of the enemy. But I *know* better (even if I don't always feel it) because of the truth. So I list truths:

• You chose Isaias for our family.
• You chose *me* to be Isaias' mama.
• You know what Isaias needs, even when I do not.
• You are my Helper.
• I can do all things in *Your* strength.

Things like that.

I must be prayerful

John 10:10 says "The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy. I came that they may have life and have it abundantly." We know this about Satan: he wants to steal, kill and destroy. But Jesus came that we might have life, and life abundant!

So we have prayed over areas of Isaias' life that we see Satan wanting to steal, kill and destroy: (love, affection, acceptance, worth, trust, security, etc).

And we have prayed- often- for wisdom for us as parents; that God would grant us wisdom beyond our years; that His Spirit would guide us in every situation we face with *each* of our children.

Finally, I often think of this passage of Scripture, from Isaiah 61, because I think it encapsulates what our adopted children need from us, as extensions of God's great love for them. Here's my own little paraphrase of the above linked-to actual Scripture:
He has anointed us, as adoptive parents,
to preach good news to the poor (our adopted children),
to bind up their broken hearts,
to proclaim freedom for them...
to comfort them when they mourn,
to provide for them when they grieve,
to bestow upon them a crown of beauty instead of ashes,
the oil of gladness instead of mourning,
and a garment of praise instead of a spirit of despair.
They *will* be called oaks of righteousness,
a planting of the LORD for the display of his splendor.

I feel convicted all over again as I read that anew. Please understand that we are so far from having it all together. I am so, so thankful that our children belong to Him. He is working in their hearts and we, as parents, are just coming alongside of the Holy Spirit's work in them. It is not up to us; it is up to Him. He alone has the power to bring healing and restoration to our adopted children. As for us, I am thankful that His mercies are new every morning.