Mercy, I Have A 12-Year-Old!

Where has the time gone?  I simply cannot believe it has been almost one year since arriving home with Sporty and Sassy.  In some ways, this past year has flown by...yes, some days felt more like years and others were so painful I was certain I could not go on, but by and large, the year passed so quickly I have not yet come up for air.  Over the past few years, as I have asked God to prune, shape, and mold me as he desires, he has been super cool and genuinely loving by simply not disclosing things that I was not prepared to handle until the timing was perfect.  If anyone would have told me even two years ago that I would be parenting an adolescent in the year 2012, I most certainly would not have believed you and most likely would have spit whatever beverage may have been in my mouth clear across the room.  Me?  Parenting a child born in the  year 2000?  Ha!  In many ways I felt more like a twelve-year-old than a person being prepared to parent one.  I remember those awkward years between childhood and adolescence, but honestly had not given much thought to parenting that stage so soon.  After all, two years ago we were just beginning our parenthood journey with a feisty three-year-old and a cuddly one-year-old.  Potty training and ABC's were on the agenda, not puberty and pimples.  Of course, God's plans for our lives rarely resemble those we have made for ourselves and little did I know, he was working an agenda far greater than any I could have dreamed up.  


In the year 2000, I was busy acting a fool.  Capital F-O-O-L!  I was a Lieutenant in the Army stationed in Bavaria, Germany.  I frequently overslept for work.  Disclosure: I have never been a morning person and in spite of the Army's claim to do more before 5 a.m. than most people do all day, that statistic most certainly did not include yours truly.  I spent my weekends at countless nightspots around Germany and when work allowed, at various others countries within commuting distance.  Whether on the train to various locations in Germany, the bus to France or Italy, or on a plane to England or Ireland, the thought of settling down and getting married made me break out in hives.  After all, I was only 21 years old and fresh out of college.  I would never have imagined in my wildest dreams that while I was on a bus ride returning from Italy, my son's birthmother was about to deliver my son.  (I was attending the Pope's Christmas Mass at the Vatican that year.)  While she would not live to see her son's first tooth, hear his first word, or watch him take his first step, God was already at work and stirring my heart for the oppressed, forgotten and ultimately for our future children.  


While I cannot explain the reasons, I have always had a heart for Africa. Beginning with those horrible commercials in the 80's and continuing through present day, I feel physical, tangible pain for a continent mostly neglected by the rest of the world.  It has always broken my heart to look around and see our abundance and excessive consumption in the developed world and how so much of what we acquire is done at the expense of the marginalized.  


It was new year 2000.  The developed world was worried about the Y2K computer glitch and how that may affect their bank accounts and other luxuries.  Halfway around the world, a child was born into extremely undesirable circumstances.  His birth father had already passed on.  A few months after his birth, his mother also passes on.  There are no luxuries and most of the time not even necessities.  His grandmother raises him and raises him well.  His character today is a reflection of her love for him.  She passed on.  I sipped my wine or over priced coffee, worried about frivolous matters, took vacations with little or no thought, purchased many things that were far from necessities.  He had no running water.  I drank bottled water.  He took nothing for granted.  I took most for granted.  He was honored to attend school and did his very best to learn and master the subject matter.  I felt entitled to an education.  Are you seeing the trend?  Could a loving and just God really be OK with some of his children living in the lap of luxury while others are disposed of like the midweek garbage?  I have learned the answer to this questions is a scream-it-from-the-mountaintops: NO!  Maybe that is why so few of us in the developed world feel a genuine sense of purpose in our lives.  Perhaps we are chasing the wrong dreams, writing up self-serving goals and plans, and not truly loving our neighbors as ourselves.  And guess what?  Some of "those are not our problems" people and and places have the one thing we are trying to purchase here in the developed world: joy!  Have you met our son?  He is filled with joy from head to toe.  Filled with humility, honesty, generosity, sincerity, and joy.  A child who lost every person who loved and and raised him until he was eleven years of age.  A child who witnessed disease, death, and poverty.  A child, born into an area of the world so often dismissed.  A child of God.  A child of joy.  A child, who unknowingly is giving me the best present for his birthday.  The gift of himself and everything he represents to God and to the world.  


Thank you, God for sharing your simple truths of love with our family.  Thank you for sharing your children with us.  We are your humble servants (help us as needed with the humble part!), listening, and standing ready to be used how you desire.  


Melkam Lidet, Sporty!  We are blessed and honored to call you son!  

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A Fan Of The Underdog

This past year has blessed our home in more ways than I can articulate.  My views on everything from the global marketplace, to justice and compassion, and even the very nature of Jesus Christ have been challenged and expanded.  It is no longer possible (praise God!) to turn a blind eye to how my decisions and consumer choices impact others and no longer possible to live (by simple inaction) as if somehow Jesus loves me more than his countless other children who suffer and die each day because good people are doing nothing.  He does not love me more.  He does not bless us with material abundance so we stockpile it for ourselves.  He does not bless us with education and knowledge so that we can sit on it.  He never did and never will.  He also does not love me more than 'that kid down the street' who has not had the best upbringing.  The kid, on the cusp of adolescence, who gets into trouble because no one is intentionally raising him up.  Who has been in one shape or form neglected by his parents and guardians.  Who falls into the vague and vast special needs category.  Who does not have the best social skills or coping skills through no fault of his own and therefore has been cut off from many of the neighborhood families and labeled as 'trouble'.

My heart has gone out to this boy for a few years.  He literally hops from house to house looking for something constructive to do with his time.  He is reaching out, arms wide open, looking for someone to scoop him up and claim him.  Someone to take him under their wing and teach him the way.  Without a guiding and nurturing presence, I fear what will become of him.  He has a mother, who also has special needs.  He has a grandmother, who feeds, clothes, and looks after him, but is not readily present in the hour-by-hour activities of the day.  He often finds refuge here and when not completely stressed out by our own family's daily circus act, I am glad to have him.  I have to admit though, I am a little worried.  I know he is not the 'best influence' on our son and I am worried that Sporty may pick up some of our friend's bad attitudes or behaviors.  However, the quiet voice inside of me is telling me exactly what I need to hear: "Do not cut him off.  Just monitor their interactions, guide him as you can, and for the love of Pete, PRAY from him."  

When I asked Sporty if our neighborhood friend was being mean to other children or treating them poorly, he looked up at me and said, "No, mom.  Other kids treat him poorly and make fun of him."  Simple insight and powerful truth.  Isn't that way it often works: the kids who are labeled as troublemakers, often, in one way or another, become that way because no one steps up to help them and instead exasperate their behaviors by name calling, segregating them, or worse.  Our family has to make a choice: do our best of be a positive influence on our friend and include his in play as appropriate, or join the quiet (and some may argue rational) movement against him and be part of of his demise.  

One of Sporty's super special and unique gifts is that other children are drawn to him.  Literally.  He can just be there, and his quiet and peaceful presence acts as open and welcoming arms to others.  I witnessed it in Ethiopia and witness it here in America.  Other adults have noticed and pointed out how there is 'something special' about our son.  It makes me smile, mostly because I know that his unique gift has blessed our family so very much.  Sporty is a fan of the underdog.  He is sensitive, compassionate, forgiving, and welcoming.  He wants to be friends with our neighbor and actively seeks out time to play with him and invite him in.  I could learn a good deal from him.  He doesn't let fear stop him from befriending the underdog.  He is sensitive and aware, so I am certain that he knows what others may say or think.  Certain.  He is empathetic and amazingly accurate at picking up on emotions.  He knows when I am happy, sad, stressed, or frustrated and also knows when others are including or excluding him.  Because he does not like to feel excluded, he includes others, even when it may not be the popular thing to do.  I admire that quality about him and do not want him to lose it.  Therefore, it is our job as parents to help him foster that inclusive attitude while still looking out for his best interests.  It will not be easy, but anything worthwhile and or of value rarely is.  Funny how that works.  

Father God, as we enter a fresh year, ripe with possibilities, I ask that you soften our hearts and open our eyes.  Somewhere along the way, most of us allow our hearts to harden to the underdog, either in our own neighborhood or halfway around the world.  Give us your eyes to see those around us as you see them.  Give us courage to act as you would desire.  Give us energy and perseverance to love the underdog.  As my son, at nearly twelve years of age, begins to wobble in those very precious moments between childhood innocence and adolescent unpredictability, I ask that you guide him and direct him and let your light continue to shine through him and around him.   Father, thank you for trusting us to parent your children and please continue to be with us each and every moment in this year ahead.  We love you!!  

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Santa Revisited: Who Is This Guy? More Answers and More Questions

My last post attempted to answer a question I had been anticipating for about one year:  Why doesn't Santa Claus visit Ethiopia?  After all, if Santa visits 'all of the world's good boys and girls and brings them gifts', then why, for the past ten years, did he not once make a stop at our son's home in Ethiopia?  Simple question, not so simple answer.    


I am a planner, so long before our Ethiopian blessings arrived home, I began to look critically at many of our customs, traditions, and celebrations and ask, "Why"?  Why do we do this or that?  What does it mean?  Most importantly, is the way we celebrate consistent with our faith?  Consistency is huge for me.  It probably has something to do with my friend-diagnosed 'messy head syndrome', but also because in my life the teachers I am apt to follow are those whose actions and life match their words.  Those who lead by example, even when it is not convenient. How did we want to lead our children?  So, a decision we felt that needed to be made this year was whether or not we should hop off of Santa's sleigh or ride it with the best of them?  What does choosing either of those two alternatives mean to our family, to your family, to our faith, to our convictions?  


As I said previously, I have always enjoyed hearing the original story of Saint Nicholas because the authenticity and simplicity of the message was unmistakable.  But, where did this whole idea of an costumed, sleigh-riding, gift fairy originate?  If Christmas is about the birth of Christ, how did we get from there to here, here being a season where we claim Jesus is the reason, yet may wind up using the majority of our energy stressing about everything other than preparing our hearts for Jesus.  No wonder we get get confused about the true meaning!  Yet, even if we admit and profess that Jesus is the gift, I would guess most of us still feel some sort of pressure in the Christmas consumer department.  Why is that?  

A short history lesson helped answer a few questions for me.  When researching Santa and his various aliases and transformations throughout time, it came as no surprise that profit, not charity caused the unfortunate demise of Nicholas' intent.  In his book Nicholas: The Epic Journey from Saint to Santa Claus, Jeremy Seal points to the industrial revolution in the late 1700's as the watershed event that began mass production and mass consumption.  Since then,  commercialism has exploded and the original intent behind gift giving has been warped and transformed, with Santa serving as the unsuspecting scapegoat.  Here is a brief timeline:

• Nicholas was an early church leader, a 4th Century bishop in Myra, which is current day Turkey.  He worked for justice and cared for those in need.  
• Nicholas died on December 6, 343.  This is currently his feast day.  (Question: Then why do we blend him and the birth of Christ together on December 25th?)
• Around 400 AD, Nicholas had many miracles attributed to him.  (Question:  Is this consistent with your faith tradition? )  
• In 987, upon his conversion to Christianity, Price Vladamir I brought St. Nicholas with him to parts modern-day Russia, the Ukraine, and Belarus.  St. Nicholas becomes Russia's favorite saint.    
• In the 1100's, French nuns begin giving candy and gifts to needy children on December 6th
• In the middle ages, we witness the transition to Sinterklaas, who arrives in the Netherlands along with a new twist on the story   .
• In 1809, Diedrich Knickerbocker's History of New York describes St. Nicholas as an elfin Dutch burgher, not a saint.  This begins the emergence of a distinctly American figure.
• Twas the Night Before Christmas was first published in 1823
• In the 20th Century, it appears to me that transformation continues to take on a more secular feel as we see images of what is now Santa, who is no longer wearing a miter and carrying a crosier (the bishop's hat and staff), but appears with his red hat and is increasing used to brand and sell items (think Coca Cola).  (Question:  What does Santa giving gifts on December 25th, which is Jesus' birthday, have to do with celebrating the feast of Saint Nicholas, which is December 6th?)  

That is a neat timeline of St. Nicholas, but I have yet to figure out how and why we began celebrating the generosity of St. Nicholas on Jesus' birthday?  Anyone?  The best I could come up with as a possible answer is that the Roman pagan celebration of Saturnalia, a debacherous event that carried on between December 17th and 23rd and involved gift giving, may have merged with the early church celebration of Jesus' birth in order to keep the peace.  The idea of giving gifts to one another because the three wise men brought gifts to Jesus is a neat story, but the early church did not really celebrate Christmas, they observed Christmas.  In my mind, we seem to have possibly merged a pagan feast with the observance of Jesus' birth and also merged the feast of St. Nicholas with the birth of Jesus.    

So, that is all great and wonderful;  however, how do we or don't we celebrate Christmas in 2011 middle-class America?  We are not monks and I very much enjoy being part of society and interacting with people.  After all, Jesus did tell us to, "Go out."  However, I absolutely do not agree with the commercial aspect of the holiday.  It seems counter intuitive to the very nature of Jesus.  In my last post, I stated that we were hopping off of Santa's sleigh.  Cut and dry, we were going cold turkey.  Sayonara, Papa Noel!  Well, that was easier said then done.  Yes, we have been detoxing from Santa and beginning each day talking about preparing for Jesus' birth.  A few times per day I remind the kids and myself that Christmas is a celebration of God incarnate and not Santa or gifts.  We are intentionally talking about the humble, simple, and generous life Jesus lived and how it was most important to him that we care for the poor, sick, and needy.  In short, we are focusing on giving to those in need and not receiving.  First and foremost we are giving gifts to Jesus by following Matthew 25 "Whatever you did for one of the least brothers and sisters, you did for me."  Now that, my friends, seems consistent with how our family wants to celebrate Jesus' birthday.  Our first present to Jesus was to become a sister to an HIV+ mother in Ethiopia.  We will become friends, but even better, she will receive the medication and holistic treatment she needs to live healthily and see her kids grow.  We want our children to enjoy the magic of the holidays and celebrate Jesus, but also want to warn them about not living by the world's standards, but by God's.  

A funny thing happens when you pull Santa from Christmas.  The world still reinforces him.  Mommy says Christmas is not about Santa and furthermore Santa is NOT watching you while you sleep.  For crying out loud, we receive enough middle of the night visits, we do not need our kids thinking anyone is watching them.  However, friends, teachers, strangers, and people everywhere will reference Santa to our kids when out and about.  Just the other day when I picked my littles up from preschool, they exclaimed, "Guess who called us today at school?  Santa!!"  Then, on the way home a motorcade fit for the president drove by....escorting none other than, Police Officer Santa, in full Santa garb riding a motorcycle while honking and waving to everyone.  It was cute, but again, what does Santa have to do with Jesus?  None of this stuff bothers me, because like I said, I like to be part of society, it helps keep everything in perspective for me.  I believe it is also consistent with the Gospel.  How do we witness to to others about Jesus if we are holed up, blackballing everyone and everything we disagree with.  Some of my closet friends are people of different or no faith.  I would like to be a good, faithful witness to them and others.  All of these encounters out and about give us something to talk about when we come home, together as a family.  Isn't that what parenting is all about?  Teaching our kids what we believe to be important and necessary in this life.  

My kids still have a list of things they claim to want, but I like to remind them of what has happened to the 'ghosts of Christmas gifts past' that they so desperately wanted.  This year, they were to ask for one thing that the really wanted, with the understanding that just because you want it does not mean you are going to get it.  Case in point: Sporty asked for an IPod Touch.  (Santa would be a great excuse for this request though...sorry, Sporty, errr Santa is all out this year!)  

I am beginning to realize that Santa is just another player (and innocently costumed figurehead) in our consumer-driven, possession obsessed society.  Will removing Santa solve the bigger problem of over-consumption?  Probably not, but it could be a start.  At the very least, I hope that it helps our children to become critical thinkers so that when bigger inconsistencies and questions of faith arise in their life, they can pray and think through the situation and hopefully have peace with their resolution.  My hope is that they will ask questions, that will no doubt annoy their teachers, about why we celebrate this or that holiday a certain way.  Saint Nicholas certainly was a kind and generous man looking out for the poor and oppressed.  However, I am still not making the connection with celebrating him on the birth of Jesus, our Lord and Savior.  As the day draws near, we are looking forward to celebrating Jesus' birth by giving to the poor and oppressed.  I am very excited about this new tradition and sharing with our children what our gifts mean.  


How does Santa fit in to your Christmas celebration? What are your thoughts on how St. Nicholas became Santa Claus and how that transition may have changed the holiday's initial meaning and intention?  All opinions respectfully welcomed! 

What If We Never Had?

Last night, I watched Sassy jumping up and down in front of the digital picture frame in our living room exclaiming with such delight as the pictures scrolled, "My grandma, my grandma, my grandma.  Then, that's my mommy, my mommy, my mommy."  As I watched her joyful expression and listened to her voice, I heard her claiming us as our family.  Two emotions simultaneously washed through through me.  I was elated and delighted that we were indeed her family.  That was her grandma and I was her mommy.  I felt so lucky, so blessed for her to call me mommy with such certainty.  With all of my flaws and shortcoming, I was still her mommy, and she was glad.  The other emotion I felt was a deep sadness, for her first family and their loss.  For the family that did not get to see her healthy, for the family that does not get to hear her giggle, watch her grow, see her dance.  My heart hurt.  Then, I was slammed with an even deeper pain.  The pain of what would have been had we not said yes.  If she were not in our living room jumping up and down around the Christmas tree, where would she be?  Perhaps just in another family in cozy America.  But then, I would not be her mommy and that photograph would just be of someone else's grandma.  My heart hurt and in that instant I realized that a seemingly simple decision, to say yes, changed the course of direction for our entire family.  That was all we had to do, just say yes...in all of our imperfectness, all of our shortcomings, and all of the ways that we don't measure up.  In all of that mess, God could still use us.  


A freshly cut Christmas tree, digital picture frame with scrolling photos of our family, and our dancing two-year-old princess.  It was a beautiful sight, yet racing through my body I felt the pain and suffering that would exist if all of the families welcoming children into their homes had made other choices.  If those families had thought they did not have what it takes (whatever that it may be).  What would have become of their children?  I know the answer to that because it is what is happening to the millions of children who do not have homes.  It is an ugly, dark, horrid reality.  God designed us to live in community and we need one another to thrive.  In my opinion, family is probably the most critical part of the wholeness equation and without one, well, we can see how things begin to fall apart before the child is ever even given a fair chance.  


As I watched Sassy claim us as her family, the mix of emotions was almost too much to handle.  There is nothing special about our family yet we have been blessed beyond measure.  I cannot bear to think of what would have been had we not said yes, if we focused on our countless shortcomings and reasons why God could not be asking us to do this.  My simple prayer today is that if you hear God whispering that you could be doing something to help the millions of orphans and widows worldwide or the half a million of children in foster care in the United States, that you believe that He could in fact be asking you to say yes.  Say yes to loving him by caring for those he holds nearest and dearest.  Matthew 18:5 says, "And whoever welcomes one such a child in my name, welcomes me."  When Sassy and Sporty arrived, broken, scared, and dejected, they brought wholeness to our family.  God, thank you for giving us the choice and the courage the say yes.  Thank you for blessing us through your love as it shines through our children.  

Adopting The Ungrateful Child

With Orphan Sunday coming up this weekend, I wanted to talk a little bit about adopting ungrateful children.  One would think that after investing so much into the lives of adopted children, the children could at the very least be grateful or appreciative for the gift of life in abundance given to them.  Instead, they are oftentimes whiny and self-serving, unappreciative and even disrespectful and disobedient.  Instead of asking what they can do to help the family to which they have been adopted into, they asked to be served and given more.  "I want this, give me that, that's mine" can often be heard or implied.  With each passing day the children take and take, being filled like gluttons, they distance themselves from the feeling and fulfillment they once had the day that they realized they had been adopted.  What a joyous day that was!  


The adopted children I am referring to are not Sporty and Sassy, our precious gifts from God. (Even though...gasp...they do act like children everywhere and sometimes forget to be grateful.)  No, the children I am referring to are those (myself included) that have been adopted into the kingdom of God.  Ephesians 1:5 states, "God decided in advance to adopt us into his own family by bringing us to himself through Jesus Christ. This is what he wanted to do, and it gave him great pleasure."  Yet, we often forget about what a gift it is to be adopted into his family what that gift means for how we should be living our lives.  We see, we want, we take, we want more.  How much more is enough?  Will it ever be enough?  I would like to suggest that there is nothing, NOTHING this world could offer you that will ever truly fulfill you.  Sure, you may find fleeting pleasure and satisfaction through a new job, advanced degree, new car, a relationship, and/or new latest greatest tech device, but does it ever last?  I think you already know the answer to that.  


Isaiah 58:11 tells us, "The LORD will guide you continually, giving you water when you are dry and restoring your strength. You will be like a well-watered garden, like an ever-flowing spring."  Only in the Lord can one find true fulfillment.  You can believe it or deny it, but it is the truth.  Those of us (again, myself included) who have tried to find 'it' elsewhere before being rescued know this truth.  We have the scars.  I love, love, love our God.  One who chooses to adopt ungrateful children not because of anything we have done or not done, but because that is how much he loves us.  And because he adopted us into his family, we choose to share that gift wherever, whenever, and however possible.  


One of the happiest days of Sporty's life was the day that his nannies at the transition home ran in to tell him that "Yes, you have a family.  You have been adopted!"  He shares that story and the   deep joy it brought to him.  He was no longer an orphan, he had been chosen, adopted into a family who would love, cherish, and care for him to the best of their abilities.  That is exactly what God does for each one of us!


This Sunday, as we bring awareness to the millions of orphans around the world, please take some time and reflect on the extreme abundance that you have been blessed with.  Think, pray, and reflect on how you may be able to use what you have been given to change, shape, and better the lives of those whom society has rejected and deemed not worthy.  Because you know what?  They are worthy.  


Then the righteous will answer him, ‘Lord, when did we see you hungry and feed you, or thirsty and give you something to drink?   When did we see you a stranger and invite you in, or needing clothes and clothe you?  When did we see you sick or in prison and go to visit you?’  “The King will reply, ‘Truly I tell you, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me.’ (Matthew 25:37-40)


Orphan Sunday 2011 from Christian Alliance for Orphans on Vimeo.

Adopting Older Children: Transferring the Bond

Sometimes God blesses us with knowledge and wisdom and sometimes he chooses to bless us by letting us remain blind to a particular truth until he believes we are ready.  The latter blessing is what I would like to share in this post.  In the words of Dick Cheney, you have your 'known unknowns and your unknown unknowns'.  The same is true in the world of adoption.  


When we decided to an adopt an older child, we knew there would be a host of unknowns.  We read, studied, connected with others who blazed the trail, and did all that we could to prepare ourselves.  The known unknowns were hurt, grief, and loss.  However, there are simply some things that can only be revealed in time, especially when language and culture barriers are factored in. 


From day one, Sporty referred to us as mommy and daddy.  In and of itself, for him to immediately bestow those euphonious titles on us was a huge gift from God.  It is not natural, yet it was completely natural.  Deep inside though, he was going through an internal struggle.  Yes, he knew we were his mom and dad and yes he understood the meaning of family.  Even so, his heart and mind were trying to come to terms with everything that had just happened.  When one experiences so much loss, I imagine it is hard to truly open yourself up to anyone.  I imagine one is skeptical to trust the permanency of anything, including family.  That is just another known unknown, one we were prepared for.  The unknown unknown, something that has now been revealed, was the extent of the bond Sporty had with one of his primary caregivers at the transition home.  While I was prepared for him to mourn his family and grieve the loss of his country, I simply did not realize that God had provided our son a mother figure for his entire stay at the orphanage.  Because older children tend to have much longer stays (often years) in the orphanage, I image that time to be scary and lonely.  True to his Word, God did exactly what he promised in the Gospel of John 14:18.  He did not leave Sporty as an orphan, but provided a special caregiver to love and mother him, while he was waiting.  


Very recently, as we have been able to communicate more clearly and openly, Sporty shared with me stories of how his special caregiver loved him and protected him when he was alone.  How she went out of her way to make him feel special and loved.  He gave me all of the letters she wrote to him and wanted me to know that he cared for her very much.  He shared how much he misses her and wanted to know how she was doing.  He cried, I cried.  I told him I was so happy that she was there to love him before we were able to get there, how it was OK to love her, love his first family, and love his forever family.  We talked and bonded and I could sense his guards coming down.  He had been carrying around a secret and his allegiance was divided.  We were his family, but she had his trust.  The bond went from his grandmother to his caregiver and rested there, safely on a shelf, until we proved our worthiness.  


I am tearfully overjoyed to share that the 'mother bond' has been officially transferred.  The light in Sporty's eyes and the amount of hugs he asks of me everyday are symbolic representations of what is going on inside.  While he has always accepted me as his mother figure, I believe I am now officially his mom, with all its rights, duties, and privileges.  


Thank you, God for unknown unknowns and for your promise to care for the fatherless.  Thank you for counting us worthy to be on the journey of our lives.  


"If you exploit them in any way and they cry out to me, then I will certainly hear their cry."  
Exodus 22:23

Our Court Date: The Face Of Injustice

Adoption in an act of mercy, not justice.  That phrase repeats over and over in my head. It has since June 2010 when through a series of conversations, life group studies, and sermons God made it clear that he was speaking.  As Margaret Feinberg discusses in her book The Sacred Echo,  when God wants to communicate a message, the same theme will resurface in many areas of your life.  God has continued to echo this message long after we returned home.  


Adoption is indeed an act of mercy.  That is a relatively simple truth, one that our family embraces.  Yet, that same truth leaves me empty handed and confused in the justice department.  There are many injustices in this world.  Often times, the mountains seem too big to climb.  I wonder if perhaps people feel that because that cannot fix it all, they shouldn't bother doing anything.  I wonder if the size and complexities of the issues make it impossible to see the forest beyond the trees.  I cannot speak for others, but I know that our adoption experience has made it clear to us that we must always be fighting for justice, whenever and wherever possible, for the glory of God.  


When we attended our court hearing in Ethiopia, our adoption agency told us things would happen in a predictable and relatively emotionless (stoic was the word used) manner.  In short, we were told the birth relative (if there is one) will attend court in the morning and relinquish his/her rights.  They would stand before a judge and give their account.  Then, the birth family would leave the court and be taken back to the guest house where he/she could meet with us later in the day if desired.  We would definitely not see each other at court.  After the birth family has long departed from court, we would enter the courtroom and give our account.  We would answer any questions the judge asks and tell her about the countless hours of training and preparation we have been through.  She would look over our file and if everything was complete, we would be declared the forever family of Sporty and Sassy.  Yay!  Throw some figurative confetti and high five our travel group...simple and straightforward is what we were expecting.


The following account describes how things actually went down.  Around 9:30 a.m., we piled in the van and drove to court.  Once we arrived, our agency representative got out and and ran up about 1000 stairs to the office.  Five minutes later, he came back out of the building, hopped in the van and we all drove back to the guest house.  Due to some confusion or mix-up with the schedule, we would not be meeting the judge until the afternoon.  We walked up 500 stairs (at 8000 feet elevation) back to our room and sat on the couch just long enough for our phone to ring with our representative telling us to hurry up and get back in the van.  So, down the stairs we ran, hopping into the van, driving wildly back to the court decapitating a few donkeys. (OK, maybe that part did not actually happen, but I can not be certain because my eyes we closed!)  We were dropped off in front of the courthouse and hurriedly walked up 1000 stairs where we exited the stratosphere and entered the courtroom.  What happened next was not in our handbook.  


As our travel group piled into the middle of the waiting area (think teeny-tiny version on the DMV with chairs for about a quarter of the number of people in the room), I turned around the see our son, Sporty, walking in.  What?  We were told no children would be present.  OK, breathe.  Breathe again.  We've got this.  Then, following directly behind Sporty was his aunt, head down and eyes full of tears.  WHAT?  Can I say, what?  Wait just one second.  We were told no children, no birth family...not until we had both separately given our account to the judge.  And what about stoic?  I did not see or sense stoic.  I sensed heartbreak, shame, guilt, sadness...a deep and dark sadness.  I began to sob as my eyes met hers.  I knew, without ever seeing or meeting her before who she was.  Our son's aunt.  The only living relative left in his family, yet unable to care for another child.  This was not how she envisioned her life.  This is not what she wanted for her children or her family.  Her family had already been through so much.  Illness, death, sudden death, poverty.  She was the face of injustice.  At that moment, we became forever entwined with injustice.  Our family = injustice.  And because it is our family, we take up the cause.  


I am not a fool.  Obviously adoption is not the perfect answer to this scenario.  However, it is the only merciful answer given our constraints within the law and due to the unequal distribution of the world's (aka God's) resources.  Our son was legally declared an orphan over one year before we met him.  We knew of no aunt or family member at that point.  However she was there, she is there, she is family, and she has been done wrong.  We must continue to pray and work for justice while being merciful and obedient to God.  Our options and solutions will never be perfect this side of eternity; however, that should not preclude us from acting at all.  In John 21:15-18, Jesus asks Peter three times, "Do you love me?"  When Peter says yes, Jesus' response was the same each time, " Then feed my sheep."  Read Matthew 25:31-46 if you need further convincing.  These verses can be summed up in verse 40 when Jesus says, "Truly I tell you, whatever you did for the least of one of these brothers and sisters, you did for me."  Finally, the famed adoption verse.  James 1:27 says, "Religion that God our Father accepts as pure and faultless is this: to look after orphans and widows in their distress and to keep oneself from being polluted by the world."  That verse is full of wisdom.  Do good, do not let yourself be polluted.  


The truth that God is continuing to reveal to me is that acts of mercy, one by one, are compounded and as our heavenly father is glorified through his hands and feet, fruitfulness increases exponentially in order to achieve justice.  On earth as it is in heaven, folks!  While one person certainly cannot change the world, one person can change the life of another, who pays it forward and testifies about the truth to another, who hears the truth and experiences life transformation and clarity that only God can give.  He or she takes the message and runs with it.  All the while, the person who initially thought they were 'simply adopting a child', has experienced a different kind of life transformation.  That person becomes one with injustice and can no longer turn a blind eye.  As Proverbs 24:12 tells us, "Once our eyes are opened we cannot pretend we do not know what to do.  God, who weighs our hearts and keeps our souls knows we know and holds us responsible to act."  


The best thing to come out of our court day adventure was our newly formed relationship with Sporty's aunt.  In a one and half hour conversation, we talked and bonded.  Grieved and loved.  Sitting around the guest house, we became family.  In traditional African fashion, stories are passed down by word of mouth from generation to generation.  In a meeting we recorded on video, Sporty's aunt described in detail how various relatives met, married, were sent off to war, had died, where they were buried, so on and so forth.  She handed down these stories to us, her family, and I have honestly never been so humbled and thankful.  We hugged, talked, cried, and tried as best as possible to communicate that we are all family, and what one family member faces, we all face.  Next year, when we return to Ethiopia we will be returning to family.  Thank you God, for letting us be transformed for your glory.  Let us never grow weak or weary.