Optional Adoption

So far, we’ve spoken much about adoption as a support to those we know who have adopted or are considering it already. We expect that there are others reading this, but so far, we’ve not said much about them. You might be surprised how often we hear comments like, “It’s so great that you all adopted those kids” or “I can’t imagine ever doing anything like adopting” or “You all are so brave to adopt”.

I promise you it didn’t feel like bravery to us. Around the time we were in the thick of the adoption process, Bill read a book called Rich in Love: When God Rescues Messy People about a family who had birthed/fostered/adopted 32 children. This part stuck out in particular:

People have asked how we could have made such serious decisions about children so quickly over the phone, without praying about whether we should let more kids come into our home. When God says, “Don’t murder or steal,” I don’t have to pray about whether I should be involved in those things, because I already know his will. In the same way, God says in his Word that we should take care of the widows and orphans. I don’t have to pray to know if this is his will because he already told me it is. He wants us to do it. Period. And Domingo and I felt that as long as God kept bringing us kids, and we had room, we would keep taking them in.

It was never about bravery, just obedience.

“Learn to do right; seek justice. Defend the oppressed. Take up the cause of the fatherless; plead the case of the widow.”(Isaiah 1:17)

“Do not merely listen to the word, and so deceive yourselves. Do what it 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.” (James 1:22, 27)

So why did our churches so blindly keep ignoring the weak and needy, the orphans and widows? Why were we ignoring them? Why are you?

You know why: Your life is hard. You have small children. You both work. You’re can’t afford it.* You’re already dealing with special needs in your family. You don’t have your crap together. You’re unorganized, impatient, sick, disabled, anxious. Maybe you even just adopted.

And yet if any of you, in the same situation you’re in now, saw a child you didn’t know about to be hit by a car, none of those things would hinder you making your best effort to barrel the child out of the way to save their life. You wouldn’t pray about it first, ask your friends, read a book, have a long meeting with your spouse, research on the internet. You would run straight into traffic, not caring how much it might hurt you.

But when we have time to think, we become a faithless people.

Most of you who read this blog live in North America. That most likely puts you in the 1% bracket of the wealthiest people in the world. But with most wealth comes the most entitlement. We’re so wealthy we whine when we get paper-cuts and recheck our finger a dozen times throughout the day to see the wound again and feel sorry for ourselves. We don’t have to do the hungry thing, the exposed-to-elements thing, and we don’t have to do the “my child was just beheaded by ISIS” thing.

Many of you have truly suffered. Honestly, you’re probably the ones who are most likely to do bold stuff like adopting and fostering and opening homes to the dirty and unwanted. But the rest of us? We’re just running scared, worshiping ease and comfort, completely acting as though we have never heard a word Jesus said. We think this life is it, and we’ll ignore whoever we have to, like widows and orphans, in order to make it great.

“We must go through many hardships to enter the Kingdom of God.” (Acts 14:22b)

I’m sure my frustration is coming through my writing. I’m frustrated that I’m with you in your hesitancy. We keep talking about whether or not to adopt again–and it sounds impossible. My life has been so out-of-control since adopting the first time. One of my children doesn’t really care for me at all and acts as though her life goal is to defy me. I don’t get breaks anymore because I have to keep such a close watch to protect all of them. I never have a clue what I’m doing and fear constantly. I’ve been more anxious than ever. And all I can ever do–ever–is see what a failure I am. Please, God, don’t ask me to do this again!

But He already has. In His Word. And who am I to say no to the creator of everything, the salvation of my undeserving soul, the only one worthy to be glorified, the one who has faithfully promised to work out everything for my good even though I was once his enemy?

How could we adopt again? How could we adopt in the first place? Because he adopted me. The way my life is affected is irrelevant.

I have nothing to say about what your story should look like. God wrote each of our stories to be different. Maybe you should adopt over and over for the rest of your life until you die, maybe you should only adopt once, maybe you shouldn’t adopt at all. Maybe you should foster. Maybe you should open your home to the lonely kid who always seems a little hungry and a little smelly.

Regardless of where you fall on the spectrum you probably should allow yourself to be pushed far past what you’re thinking right now. Certainly not because I’m telling you to. I’m simply trying to remind you of the hard truth I’d rather ignore, too.

“Do not merely listen to the word, and so deceive yourselves. Do what it 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.” (James 1:22, 27)

*We have a post coming on how to adopt basically for free.

Here are all the posts in our adoption series:

  1. Getting Real About Adoption
  2. Loving the Unlovable
  3. Sin in the Adopted Child
  4. Support for the Adoptive Parent
  5. Broken-Hearted Parents
  6. Some Clarifying Thoughts on Our Adoption
  7. Examining Adoption Resources (reviewing The Connected Child, Pt 1)
  8. Normal and Healthy? (reviewing The Connected Child, Pt 2)
  9. A Matter of Foundations (reviewing The Connected Child, Pt 3)
  10. The Sins of Neurology  (reviewing The Connected Child, Pt 4)
  11. Idol Swapping  (reviewing The Connected Child, Pt 5)
  12. Setting the Course  (reviewing The Connected Child, Pt 6)
  13. Another Way Forward (reviewing The Connected Child, Pt 7)
  14. The Therapy Our Children Need
  15. Who Are You Calling Normal?
  16. Optional Adoption
  17. How to Adopt for Almost Free (And No Fundraising!)
  18. What About “Those” Kids?
  19. Trying to Make Them Lovable
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Who Are You Calling Normal?

When Bill was trying to establish that the idea of healthy and normal change across time and culture, one argument we heard in response was that adopted children’s behavior is most certainly not normal, but sometimes downright odd. At first I agreed, though for different reasons. The more I reflected on this statement, the more I realized how backwards it is.

When children come into our home showing sinful behaviors, they are as normal as you can get. “As it is written: None is righteous, no, not one.” What’s abnormal is when I or any of my children actually do the right thing for the right reasons. And as parents, aren’t we working from birth to get our children to do the right things all the time? And when we do that, often even when our children do “good,” it’s tainted with selfishness. “I’ll do this so I don’t get in trouble, so I can charm others into liking me, so I can get what I want.” So we get pretty used to seeing kids do “good works,” even if they aren’t really good.

Many adopted children don’t come in with that same training from birth. So many don’t even put on the act. And to call that normal would be to admit that we’re just as messed up as they are. And that’s far too uncomfortable of a thought.

I know the gospel. I was raised in it and have had solid biblical teaching all my life. And even with that, most of the time when I do “good,” it’s for the same selfish reasons I listed above. We all live in our flesh (which biblically speaking is simply another way to say we all still have a sinful nature). The only possible way to actually do the right thing with no selfish motives, only concerned about God’s glory, is by the work of the Spirit. Only by grace.

If we have a family who looks put together, loves one another, and is fairly obedient, that is certainly not normal. That’s either grace or an act.

When our adopted kids came in, I despised them because they messed up my idolatry of having a normal family. I liked how awesome we looked. Then they came and peeled back the happy brochure to show the golden calf underneath. And I was angry because the act we’d been putting on became exposed.

I’ve trained my children to look like white washed tombs. It’s easy for me to see the sin in my adopted kids and believe they need Jesus more because I’ve made my other kids think their lifestyle has made them righteous. I speak of Jesus to them but put hope in my amazing parenting and how they receive it. I treat the children who don’t act like the rest of us (ya know, the adopted ones) as though they don’t belong. I can’t stand thinking they reflect my depravity more than any of my bio kids do. I refuse to believe they’re serving as a mirror for me.

But the insane behaviors I see in my adopted children are more normal than much else I see in my home. Because it’s the true nature of my heart, of Bill’s heart, of all my children’s heart. We’re all 100% depraved and evil. All the thoughts of our hearts are only sinful all the time. The Pharisee I love to be doesn’t really believe that. I think I’m a little bad but mainly good. I deny I’m really an old hag by singing a song in the presence of a magical golden flower. I see the best part of me–the illusion–and believe it’s true of all of me.

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My hope is to see this clearly, to peel off the mask I paste on my face, to let the world see how normal we all are in our waywardness. My hope is to look with tears of joy at the One who is truly odd, the weirdest of them all–the perfect Savior who took my imperfections on himself, allowing the wrath I deserve to be poured out on him. I don’t want to be normal. I don’t want my kids to be normal. I want the life of our unusual, exceptional, unmatchable Redeemer, who is calling us into His abnormal life.

Here are all the posts in our adoption series:

  1. Getting Real About Adoption
  2. Loving the Unlovable
  3. Sin in the Adopted Child
  4. Support for the Adoptive Parent
  5. Broken-Hearted Parents
  6. Some Clarifying Thoughts on Our Adoption
  7. Examining Adoption Resources (reviewing The Connected Child, Pt 1)
  8. Normal and Healthy? (reviewing The Connected Child, Pt 2)
  9. A Matter of Foundations (reviewing The Connected Child, Pt 3)
  10. The Sins of Neurology  (reviewing The Connected Child, Pt 4)
  11. Idol Swapping  (reviewing The Connected Child, Pt 5)
  12. Setting the Course  (reviewing The Connected Child, Pt 6)
  13. Another Way Forward (reviewing The Connected Child, Pt 7)
  14. The Therapy Our Children Need
  15. Who Are You Calling Normal?
  16. Optional Adoption
  17. How to Adopt for Almost Free (And No Fundraising!)
  18. What About “Those” Kids?
  19. Trying to Make Them Lovable

The Therapy Our Children Need

Like most kids from foster care, our adopted children had encountered some terrible events that put them into the state’s care in the first place. And the state, seeing a problem, prescribed therapy to treat the horrible things in their past. My then six-year-old was already set up with two therapists to help her understand/deal with her emotions. I cannot tell you how important the therapists were to our family. They each became my friend, someone I trusted, and basically my resource for all things adoption-related.

Much of my daughter’s therapy sessions were spent trying to make her feel great about herself, having her record all the things she was good at, talk about her awesome features, giving herself much praise. But almost every time the therapists left after a session, I found myself revising some of what my daughter had been taught.

I say I revised what she was taught because I agree that my daughter’s a pretty cool gal. She’s great at coloring, running, has some of the most beautiful eyes in the history of ever, and gets along well with her siblings.

But none of that is because of her. In fact, all of that is because of God working in her.

The therapy she was receiving was one of a cheap worth, putting our hope in us. That’s fine for about two minutes. Until we fail. Again. Then our hope is crushed. It’s like putting your hope in a chair made of crackers. Every time you trust it to hold you up, you’ll just find yourself hurt lying on the floor.

The therapy our children need is a hope better than a reinforced steel chair: solid and strong and sure. The hope is this: “But because of his great love for us, God, who is rich in mercy, made us alive with Christ even when we were dead in transgressions—it is by grace you have been saved. And God raised us up with Christ and seated us with him in the heavenly realms in Christ Jesus, in order that in the coming ages he might show the incomparable riches of his grace, expressed in his kindness to us in Christ Jesus. For it is by grace you have been saved,through faith—and this is not from yourselves, it is the gift of God— not by works, so that no one can boast. For we are God’s handiwork, created in Christ Jesus to do good works, which God prepared in advance for us to do.”

If my daughter puts her hope in her own accomplishments, she’ll find herself falling short every time. It’s a treatment that won’t last. But if her hope is in Christ’s work, she’ll understand she’s a daughter of the king, a princess who is higher than the angels, receiving God’s inheritance. She’ll not care as much about her failures because she’ll know Jesus was perfect in all the ways she’s imperfect, and his blood covers her imperfections in such a way that nothing will be able to separate her from the love of God in Christ Jesus.

Now that’s a therapy that’ll last.

Here are all the posts in our adoption series:

  1. Getting Real About Adoption
  2. Loving the Unlovable
  3. Sin in the Adopted Child
  4. Support for the Adoptive Parent
  5. Broken-Hearted Parents
  6. Some Clarifying Thoughts on Our Adoption
  7. Examining Adoption Resources (reviewing The Connected Child, Pt 1)
  8. Normal and Healthy? (reviewing The Connected Child, Pt 2)
  9. A Matter of Foundations (reviewing The Connected Child, Pt 3)
  10. The Sins of Neurology  (reviewing The Connected Child, Pt 4)
  11. Idol Swapping  (reviewing The Connected Child, Pt 5)
  12. Setting the Course  (reviewing The Connected Child, Pt 6)
  13. Another Way Forward (reviewing The Connected Child, Pt 7)
  14. The Therapy Our Children Need
  15. Who Are You Calling Normal?
  16. Optional Adoption
  17. How to Adopt for Almost Free (And No Fundraising!)
  18. What About “Those” Kids?
  19. Trying to Make Them Lovable

Kidisms

After my hair appointment:

Ariana: Did they color your hair?

Victoria: Wait, they have markers there?!

Music to our ears?

Victoria singing a made up tune: My mommy and daddy said when they die I can do whatever I want except disobey.

Nailed it!

Josiah: I didn’t put my pants on backwards! I just put my wegs in the wrong holes.

Brilliant new drink:

Victoria: What does Dr. Pepper salt taste like?

On school:

Miriam: Am I able to do [math] drills on my own?

Court: Um, no.

Miriam: (grinning) Oh. Right. Because I’m untrustworthy.

Probably Smith…:

Victoria: What’s the Johnsons’ last name?

Stop Growing Up!:

Court: Will you please stay four forever? Please?

Victoria: Yep! But on my birthday I’ll turn five.

It’s all in the DNA:

Bill (to Court): Victoria has your eyes but Josiah has mine.

Josiah: No! Dese are MY eyes!!

I’m a few hours older:

Court: There’s another Courtney Bell in Indiana who was born the exact same day I was!

Ariana: Is she the same age as you?!

You’ll never find them:

Victoria: Guess where my flip flops are! But don’t look under my chair!

Ariana: I’m guessing they’re under your chair.

Victoria (bemused): Oh…

So big:

Aiden: (holding up four fingers) Look! I’m three!

Court: (holding up four fingers) Count again. How old are you?

Aiden: Five?

Just borrowing:

Court: Why do you have that? Isn’t that Victoria’s?

Ariana: (grinning slyly) Because she’s asleep…

When I was a bit under the weather:

Ariana: Say “Get better!”

Josiah: (looking at a toy) Get better!

Ariana: No, say, “Get better” to Mommy.

Josiah: (still looking at toy) Get better to Mommy!