My Overthinking

Philly Area mom, Life forever changed by adoption

{Advocating} Ready to Belong

I never was an advocator. 
I didn’t think it worked, honestly. No one is going to randomly see a picture of a child and then decide to go through the lengthy, costly, and at times grizzly process to make that child their own. If a family is going to adopt, they are going to depend on their agency to find their child for them.
But, then, I had the joy of seeing this family find their daughter. And, I got to see this family find their son. In September, I helped a young man to advocate for a little man and watched a family fall in love.
And, I realized somewhere along the way that advocating for children does work. 
When you advocate for a child, God invites you into His work of forming families.
And, that’s pretty darn awesome.
So, here we go again, joining Him in His work, trusting that He already knows the family of this little guy and has already been actively preparing them for their son.
I helped Micah write this post to advocate for her young friend in China. 
Read, share, become a part of God’s work.
________________________________________

In July, my husband and I traveled to China to serve with Bring Me Hope to provide a camp experience for orphans. As prepared as you think you are with packing lists and immunizations and reading all you can beforehand, I wasn’t at all prepared for what God had in store for me.

My heart was broken. My heart was broken over each one of those children He brought to that camp. Broken.

During my second week in Xi’an, I had the tremendous blessing of spending 5 days with a sweet little boy [David]. I’ll never forget seeing him for the first time. He immediately reached for my hand and held it with a tight grip. He didn’t want to let me go. I noticed right away that he had some difficulty walking. And, as we walked to the edge of the room together to play, I became more aware of the trouble he had walking. As I walked easily in stride, I could feel his body shift from left to right as we walked hand in hand. He has scoliosis. I imagine that the years of little to no treatment and no family to help him get what he needs has contributed to his rhythmic gait.

But, his spirit is so bright. He smiled up at me with an excited grin and told our translator he was excited to come to camp. Every few minutes, he would shift his entire body to turn and smile at my translator and me. I remember consciously noticing what a beautiful smile he had.

That first afternoon, we played badminton until we could play no more. And, he laughed and played with joy despite the differences in how God formed his shape.

When I think about [David], I think first of his sweet spirit–quick to listen, eager to try new things and soak every bit out of camp that he could. He had two close buddies at camp. They all lived in the orphanage together, and it was very easy to tell that they were best buds, three peas in a pod. It occurred to me that they were probably the closest thing he has to a family, the closest thing he has experienced of what it feels like to belong.

He was made paper ready, made available for international adoption when he was only 5 years old.

He just turned 8.

And, for nearly 3 years, he has waited, paper ready to be adopted.

[David] seemed most happy when he was beside his two best friends. I couldn’t help but picture him home with a family, HIS family, and how happy he would be, how much potential he has, how much he’d grow and thrive. And, how tightly he’d hold the hand of his mother and father.

________________________________________

This little boy’s name has been changed for the purpose of advocating. 
Please email me if you are interested in learning more about him. I can send you additional pictures, and I can put you in touch with someone who can send you his full medical file.

No related posts.

She’s learning too

“Mommy, I have to tell you something.”

That’s how it started.

Ashlyn proceeded to tell me that a boy at recess came up to her and asked, “How much did your sister cost?” 


Apparently, dealing with tough questions starts early. And, as prepared as I think I am and as prepared as I hope to help Lydia be, I guess I haven’t totally prepared the older children for questions like this.

She walked away. Stunned, she didn’t say a thing and went and told the teacher on duty who wrote the incident down to tell the disciplinarian.

“Well, you know, honey, we didn’t buy her; we adopted her.”

Yes, yes, she knows that.

She just didn’t understand why someone would ask that.

“It’s not like she was at a store!” she told me. Pause. “How much did it cost to adopt her?”

Do you tell your child this number? As overwhelming as it can be to some adults, I’m thinking telling that number to a child who can’t count that high is probably not a good idea.

“It cost a lot of money. But, it’s because we had to do a fill out a lot of papers and do a lot so China would know we were a good home for her. And, we traveled to China which is expensive.”

“You had to pay for the paper?”

Not exactly.

I assured her that her response was fine. But, she can answer if she wants and tell them what I told her.

“You know, some people might really just be curious, honey, because they don’t understand.”

“He wasn’t curious,” she told me.

My little girl, proud as can be of her Chinese sister, volunteering to do a Chinese fan dance for her school class, who helps me set up jewelry from Kenya to help provide for adoptive moms across the world.

This wasn’t her first experience dealing with someone who doesn’t get it. The day after we shared the news of Lydia with our children, she took a picture of her new little sister to kindergarten, so excited to share the news. A boy on the bus home told her she was ugliest baby ever and ripped the picture. Ashlyn ran into our house crying. I cried that day too. But, I also told her she was the best big sister in the world, because she already loved her baby sister so so much. And, yes, I also called the school.

But, today, I called the school without crying unlike the call I made nearly 2 years ago. Today, I left a message saying I heard what happened and we’ve talked with Ashlyn and we’ve got it. That’s it. Because, I realize, she’s going to face questions like this for a long time to come. And, she’s learning. All part of her process of understanding what it means to live as family brought together through adoption. She’s in process too.

_______________________________________________
Don’t forget to enter all 5 of the Purposeful Giveaways 
that end Sunday night at 9pm EST. 
Round 2 starts next week. Please come back to check them out. 

No related posts.

Spitting and Hitting and All That Pretty Stuff

I’m not thinking this picture will win her cutest kid of the year.

Honestly, I haven’t felt like voting for her lately.

She’s been giving us the 2-year-old treatment lately complete with spitting and hitting every one of us.

Nothing cute about that.

And, so, we’ve had to start figuring out how to discipline her. You’d think parents of 4 children would know what they are doing by the time #4 needs correction. But, I am figuring this all out for the first time.

Time-outs has always been my method of choice with the other 3–isolate the child for a period of time so he/she can take a breather (as can I) and then we can talk about his/her choice and what a better choice may look like and walk through the apology and forgiveness process.

But, Lydia was adopted. And, before she was adopted, she was in an institution for a year with rotating nannies and no one caregiver that belonged to her who she could bond with. And, time-outs for a child with a traumatic infancy like Lydia’s who is learning or has just learned to connect can feel that I am, in effect, isolating her from my love not merely my physical presence. And, I certainly do not want to do that to her.

After all, I’m not about behavior modification ultimately. I am into discipling not disciplining my child, walking along with her to help her be the person God wants her to be. Part of that discipling involves correction–but the goal is not to modify behavior but help change a heart.

So, we’ve been trying a form of “time-ins” though we’re still calling it a “time-out.” We pull out a stool for her in the same place we are and ask her to stay on it. We stay within her view the whole time, so she has to take a break from the situation but not from us. Even as she cries, we tell her we will talk to her as soon as she is ready. Then, we do our best to talk her through what she did wrong and how she cannot hit or spit.

Sounds all good, right? She calms down, nods her head, gives us a hug, hugs whoever she decided to hit or spit on this time.

Then we ask, “Are you going to spit at her again?”

And, she answers, “Yes.”

{smile}

I think I need a time-out.

No related posts.

Follow Along!

Categories

Recent Posts