Midweek: Lessons Learned in Adoption #3

This week we continue to look at the adoption process, earthly and heavenly, based on my experience with both. In the first article, I talked about prayer. It's important in every decision, large or small, and it is the first step to entering into an adoption contract with our Heavenly Father. In the second article, I wrote a little more about the process itself --before we ever met our son. It was long, emotionally taxing, and not always the adventure we thought it would be. It took the support and prayers of those around us and required a special level of commitment from all parties. God's level of commitment to His gift of adoption was demonstrated most graphically at the cross; the level of commitment He requires of us is to abide. It's not always easy and it's not always the adventure we imagine, but we have a Triune God working for us and a Church praying in Jesus' name.

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After we'd been "matched" with the child who might potentially want us as parents, it was time to meet. At an entertainment complex. Trampolines, arcade games, hover boards --all those things Scott and I have 0 (that's ZERO!) interest in. But we needed to meet him in a place in which he could be comfortable, where we could assure him of our desire to meet him where he was. The message of Christmas! It was awkward. For us. For him. But we all pushed through. The gain we could imagine was more than any awkwardness or difficulty we might endure. And we were obeying what the Father had planned for us. The message of Good Friday! 

Then came the sleepovers. I can imagine being kind. I can wrap my head around giving a child a place to stay for a little while, maybe even make him or her feel at home, doing all the things parents do, just until they can be given a safe place in which to remain. But being that safe place in which to remain? That's a tough one. And the child who has to sleep down the hall from adults he/she barely knows? when so few adults tasked with their care have been trustworthy and steadfast? That's some faith in the process there. Adoption is a good thing. How many times over the years had he whispered those words to himself.

The Lesson: Faith. There is a God, the One True God who condescended to become human, to live as we lived, obey the rules we implemented, work and play in the manner we designed. I want to meet you where you are, He says. Jesus left glory for us because of love and obedience; He endured untold pain and daily inconveniences because He knew the gain was greater than the trouble. He had faith in the Father and His plan. He knew His Father as a trustworthy fortress and reliable refuge. How many times did He whisper to Himself, My Father is a good, good Father? Those declarations of who God is and our decision to believe in His character. That is faith. And because of faith in Him, because we bear the fruit of His love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control through his Holy Spirit, we can create places for others to remain and experience the Heart of God as it pours out of us.

After the sleepovers, Scott and I fostered our son for more than a year before the adoption was finalized. There were parts of that year in which we rejoiced at the progress we were making as a family; there were moments in that year that were more difficult than any I'd had in a long time. Let's face it, we don't wake up every morning wanting to parent any more than a police officer wakes up every day wanting to police. Our son didn't wake up every morning thrilled to be told how his day was going to go. Additionally, there were nine years of life --ours and his --neither of us could account for. How was he raised? With whom had he stayed? Does he even know who he is? And then there were his questions. Why can't I wear holey (not holy) jeans to church? Do I really want to stay here? Who do these people think they are? What do they know about parenting? His bed was not his bed, but the bed we told him was his. The food on the table was not always food he was accustomed to eating, but food we provided him. The clothing he wore, once the smell of his former placement had been laundered away, smelled differently than any he had worn before. We enrolled him in a school we said was now his school with classmates and teachers he'd never before laid eyes on. His most basic needs were provided to him by people he didn't really know. Could he trust? Would he trust?

The Lesson (and this one really got me!): Trust. We are imperfect beings in an imperfect world. If this young man who has been through so much junk can trust us enough to sleep in a home he never chose, eat food he's never eaten (Oh, the role food plays in making us feel "at home"), give hugs and snuggle against people he really doesn't know, rely on those same people as his caregivers and parents (!) --don't gloss over that: remember the level of trust you had for your parents --if he can do that, what am I doing with my relationship with the God of the universe?! Why am I second-guessing Him, ignoring Him, avoiding Him even, defying Him, vexing Him...? Can we trust? Yes, He is perfect after all. The kind of trust required to live in relationship with our perfect, loving, benevolent Heavenly Father carries no risk for us. But will we trust? Will we hold fast to the lessons which build our faith that we might trust the one true and trustworthy God? 

Counting the Miles

This is the year my husband and I and many of our friends have one of those "milestone" birthdays. I am excited for it. I really do hate trifling with all of those twenty-sixes and forty-twos. Let's just get to the big ones! My husband does not share the same sentiment. His body is wearing out, and as a big, strong man with an equally big, strong personality, I can understand his animosity toward the passage of time and all of the changes that come with it. That's not to say my body is not wearing out --for sure it is, but as women, we are not tasked with the guarding of our doors and the defense of those more vulnerable in the same way our husbands are. Generally speaking, we do not feel the same obligation to remain physically strong. Time is no more merciful to us, however. All things are susceptible to the ravages of use and time. Or maybe not.   

In Numbers 14:29, we read that God punished the complaints of His people by causing them to wander in the wilderness until the generation twenty-years old and older were no more. Forty years for the sin of others! Though, I wonder if those who survived could ever be judged innocent. I am inclined to think God took mercy on those younger because their leaders were such a terrible example. Anyway, I've always been fascinated by the declarations in Deuteronomy 8:4 and 29:5; the focus of both passages being God's goodness toward His people, His provision for them in the wilderness --wilderness they were forced to traverse because of the nation's offenses toward Him. 

Now, the Second Law of Thermodynamics states that the state of entropy of the entire universe, as an isolated system, will always increase over time. Simplified, natural things tend not to improve or renew with age: trees rot, mountains crumble, and people die. We know it is likely we will one day be forced to repair our vehicle, replace our phone, or buy a new dishwasher. We expect things to fail and people to get sicker with age. But God! Deuteronomy shows us the mercy of God, His grace and provision for His people. Sure, they had sinned; sure, their parents and grandparents perished in the wilderness; but God sustained them with more than the food and drink necessary to keep them alive! When they arrived in the Promised Land, they arrived in the clothing they wore when they left Egypt! Not in tatters. Not too small --Can you wear the same jeans you wore at nineteen? Not with broken straps or holes in the bottoms. Deuteronomy 8:4 says their feet didn't even swell! No bunions or blisters! Forty years, and yet, time had no bearing on their most essential resources.         

Will God keep us free of wrinkles and backaches? Perhaps. Can we be assured our bills will always be paid and our fridge forever brimming with good foods? Perhaps. But regardless of how God's goodness will be manifested in our lives, we can be assured it will be. Natural Law tells me my birthday party balloons will never automatically inflate but will eventually deflate. Probably before I even notice the new pain in my shoulder. But God's Law says that He is good and good to His people; He is Provider and Protector. We need not fear the consequences of age or entropy or life in a broken world. We can relax, stop worrying about the what ifs, and humbly receive the good God desires to give us. No matter how many milestones lie before us!

  

What Jesus Has Prepared

I'm getting ready to do what I estimate to be my eighth load of laundry in two days. The flu has been unkind to us this week --kinder to some more than others. I happen to be that some. Therefore, I am tasked with all those things others are unable to do. And besides God's grace, besides the secret potion I've been taking to boost my immune system, I have been running on rage and self-destructive independence, 'cause that's what I do. 

I am angry because, since November, we can't seem to catch a break. It's been physical hurdles and emotional breakdowns. Even L's adoption, which should have been the highlight of our December was infused with its own brand of chaos, surrounded by other events that threatened to rob it of its glory, and has been pursued by additional paperwork, misinformation, and clerical error. So, I clean. And I cook. And I take out my frustration on keyboards and crusty trashcans and poor defenseless socks. And like Martha, sister of Mary and Lazarus, I whine, Lord, do You not care that I have been left to do all of this work alone? Not a self-absorbed perspective at all. While the frustration might be totally understandable, the reaction is uncalled-for. Self-destructive independence? A level of it-has-to-be-done-NOW that will land me feeling under the weather days from now? Finger-pointing and envy? Worried and bothered and anxious, the Amplified Version says.

Here's what struck me as I furiously chucked clothes from the washing machine into the dryer, look at the second half of verse 38: and a certain woman named Martha welcomed Him into her house. Martha welcomed Jesus. Imagine that. Greeting Him at the door with face beaming, maybe even a bit of a curtsey. Did she bid Him Sit down, that His feet might be washed. Maybe she got Him a drink after showing Him to the best seat in the house. Such a friendly, hospitable scene. Until... What happened? Had Martha not gotten the recognition she was sure she deserved? Had the table been beautifully set? Was the smell of a perfectly roasted young goat wafting through the air? Did Jesus sit down and find Himself immediately gazing into the hungry eyes of Mary, eager to know what He had prepared? Had Jesus ignored all of Martha's preparations in favor of dispensing a blessing of His own?

And this is where I've decided to sit. In the midst of all of these difficult things, in the midst of giving care and responding to problems I did not create, in the midst of serving people who don't want to sit still or lie still either, in the midst of what should have been vs. what is (according to my plan, anyway), in the midst of the needs of others and the noisy, ceaseless opinions of my flesh, I will remember the response of the One who arrived to us prepared. One thing is needed, and Mary has chosen that good part, which will not be taken away from her. The good thing is that which is needed. Have I chosen the good part? or am I searching for a thing or condition I have decided I want? Have I welcomed Him with a flourish and a pasted-on smile but have decided I am not interested in what He has prepared for me? No, Jesus, here's what I've done! Bless this! The good part, the needed part is that which is eternal, that which cannot be taken away from us. And laundry ain't it!  

      

Midweek: Lessons Learned in Adoption #2

As I mentioned last week, my husband and I embarked on this journey to form an adoptive family more than three years ago. We've learned some things along the way, and I'd like to share with you some of the lessons about adoption we were granted, lessons about spiritual adoption and that which we imitate here on earth. Last week, I focused on one, prayer. Today, there are a few. 

Adoption on earth takes time. There is paperwork --lots of it --and background checks, information disseminated, information received. You are asked to talk about your upbringing and some of your personal successes and failures. Having been parents prior to adoption, we were questioned about our past parenting methods and our relationships with our adult children. Why do you want to adopt? What do you know about adoption? What are your concerns about adoption? What types of special needs, if any, are you able to accommodate? (and there is a list --an extensive one!) In the midst of all of this, we had "life" to do. We were still caring for my mother, still working in and out of our home, still trying to lead our family. It seemed, every time we turned around, our agency wanted more. 

The Lesson: There are two. The first is, there doesn't get any "more" than the life of our Savior poured out for the sake of those God chooses to adopt. Despite His glory, despite our rebellion, despite all the other things He had to do, Jesus, King of kings came to earth to have His nose wiped, His feet dusty, and His body broken for us. He withheld nothing. The second goes hand-in-hand with it: level of commitment. For love and obedience, He faced not with ignorance, but with eyes wide open, the terror before Him, even praying there might be granted another way. For love and obedience, He allowed Himself to be publicly humiliated and punished. For love and obedience, He laid down His life. He was that committed, that He withheld nothing.  

Once the paperwork was done, once a family profile was completed, once a flyer had been designed --yes, they "advertise" perspective parents and children among different agencies at various events --once all of this was complete, it was time to attend some of those events. Our first and only, was almost two hours away. When it was over, the walk to the truck was marked by tears. What sort of child puts himself out there like that? What sort of child makes small talk with dozens of people in a day, hoping that one of those might be her new mother? How did we as a society get to this place? The hope and courage in each face I saw there moved me deeply. Somewhere, someone had instilled that in them; the hope that home exists and the boldness to move toward it, to leave all pretense and fear behind, and travel toward it.

The Lesson: But for the grace of God and the work of the Holy Spirit, there would be no one of us searching for a Heavenly Home or the Savior that made its availability possible. The Holy Spirit convicts us of truth and draws us toward our forever home. We are enabled not only to believe, but to act; not only to hear but to obey. We are vessels of His power, and according to His will, we can do things we would have thought impossible because we believe in those things we once thought impossible. I guess you could say this lesson is about level of commitment as well. 

As I mentioned, this was our first and last event. Before we had an opportunity to attend another, our agency "matched" us with a child. In other words, they had come across the flyer of a child they thought would thrive with us and connect to us. They made their recommendation to us, and we decided to meet him.

The Lesson: There is an invitation. How were you introduced to God? Did those who recommended Him speak truthfully, represent Him accurately? Did you accept or refuse the invitation? Have you continued to develop your relationship with Him, or did you meet Him, invite Him into your home, and forget all about Him? Unthinkable in terms of adopting a child or taking a spouse, right? What have you made of the invitation God has extended? Level of commitment again? Could be. Maybe there's a single lesson to be learned today after all.