Category Archives: adoption

Finding

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Pretend you are just a wisp of a thing
Standing in a maze
But…
Someone you
Love is looking out for you.

He says–

Mark 8:34-38 (NIV)
Then he called the crowd to him along with his disciples and said: “If anyone would come after me, he must deny himself and take up his cross and follow me. [35] For whoever wants to save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for me and for the gospel will save it. [36] What good is it for a man to gain the whole world, yet forfeit his soul? [37] Or what can a man give in exchange for his soul? [38] If anyone is ashamed of me and my words in this adulterous and sinful generation, the Son of Man will be ashamed of him when he comes in his Father’s glory with the holy angels.”

Which can be translated–follow Me. Trust Me.

He can see the whole maze so I do. I do trust him. Sometimes in my life I have hoped there was an easier way through. I have always known that others wandered through their mazes and had to slay monsters…or be slain by them.

The ultimate question for me is not how?

He answered that when he came back from hell with my life in his hands.

No. The only question is when?

When will we all
Walk into the Light?
Glorious Light.

Rev. 22

Losing

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We all hope it will turn out ok. We will be the ones–long full life, no pain. We optimists.

You have to be an optimist to foster and adopt kids you already know have problems. You have to believe in miracles.

Our belief in miracles went something like this: yes, we know they are tough kids, but consistency, love and faithfulness combined with God’s healing power will help these kids.

My goal was a picture–all my adult (stable, law-abiding) children gathering with their families for thanksgiving dinner.

So you may imagine what a blow to the gut it was to find out our plan hadn’t produced the picture. Our adopted kids hurt our family, hurt our other children. They committed crimes before they graduated from high school.

I still remember the old me, the believer in the miracle, the picture….

Part 1 of 2

Milk Names

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I once lived in a country rich in cultural rules and ancient traditions. One I remembered: give your children ugly nicknames so that the spirits will not snatch them away. Seemed logical.

As a Christian I adapted this idea somewhat–live in a broke-down house, even live a broke-down life, but treasure the eternal.

So I did. My house was a mess. My hair was a mess. My children were bright orbs of light. I thought I had it mapped out.

But I had not calculated the cost of broke-down minds in our broke-down life. Everything like shattered glass in their heads.

I am shocked by the damage. I survey the damage. No easy answers, only the beacon of truth–our lives themselves are the houses, mansions, temples, of the eternal God of love.

Who will give us our real
Names
Someday.

All Our Happy Endings

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Been readin’ some quotes–GK, CS, JC…the usual dudes, and then a couple off the beaten path.

Hitler, for instance, said that it was harder to overcome faith than knowledge.

And Christopher Hitchens recounting an anecdote about a Rwandan survivor who had lost everyone–her whole history and future wiped out.

Faith indeed, to say there is a God to answer that.

But I do believe, not in spite of the Hilters and Rwandas littering the floor of history. No. I believe because of them.

See– if adoption is a mirror of our relationship with God we should face the raw stink of the adoptees–us.

We stink.

We kill
We maim
We steal
We lie about it.
We do it again.

But that is the heart and soul of the story–a perfect and compassionate Parent adopts the worst kids in the universe.

A real mess.

Only His love can change us.
And it does.

But remember–no faking. He can tell when we are lying about the state of our deadly hearts.

And we are all gonna get a bath eventually–one way or the other…

Better the hands of Love

Anatomy Lesson

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Mark 7:20-23 (NIV)
He went on: “What comes out of a man is what makes him `unclean.’ [21] For from within, out of men’s hearts, come evil thoughts, sexual immorality, theft, murder, adultery, [22] greed, malice, deceit, lewdness, envy, slander, arrogance and folly. [23] All these evils come from inside and make a man `unclean.’ ”

Think of this as your house
Or the room you rent somewhere
Clean, spare or messy
With or without a maid.

Now you are inside
This home you have made
A party for intimates–strange names
Evil Thoughts
Sits on the couch
Sexual Immorality stirs the drinks at the dinette
Theft, Murder, and Adultery scan your copious
Movie collection
You scan the crowd
Know all their names
After all you invited them here,
These friends with monster faces.

You realize
Perhaps too late
You cannot evict them
They hold the deed to your heart
Which is conveniently ensconced in a bowl surrounded by chips on the coffee table

Of the life you once assumed
Was yours
Alone

No more

Dear Sunshine,

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I went walking today. It reminded me of the years I spent in the woods with your mama. She howled and then your uncle howled. Then she howled again. Fun times…

They just cried a lot. Now I understand it better. Then I just aimed to outlive it. Now there is you. Your Daddy looks so happy, so proud and a bit disheveled but I hope he is crazy about you. I hope the whole world is crazy about you all the time.

I have been praying for you. That won’t stop. Nor will it be the first time I have prayed desperately for a baby I love.

Hold tight to God’s hand.

❤

Losing the Triplets

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November 13th, 1998 was an uncharacteristically beautiful day in Beaver, PA. I can remember the day verbatim because it was the day I lost you
Triplet B
Little one
Fifteen year old girl now
No matter what happens
I will always love you
My precious foster child
You changed everything
And losing you
Was like a total eclipse
Of the sun

The borrowed child

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I once borrowed
A child/you could say
Lent.
She was lent to me
Because
her mother was a drug addict…I believed in the system…believed a caseworker…needed infinite
Light

This is not a poem.

She held the world in her eyes
And all the treasure I could have
Begged, borrowed, stolen
I would have traded for her

My in-between child

The little boy whose mother is a chalk angel
Lying beneath
The chaos of war

The little girl who believes the old man in the white car
Who does not really ever
Need her help to find a puppy

The baby glued to a wall
Broken like a vase on the hard stones
Another woman
Laid down on the floor

she would have been a good mother…

Monster.
It is the thing we call
A person who could do that to a child

My baby

He pulls the crystal bowl
Out as I am turned askew
Aside
Asunder

His father viewed this as s trinket
And did not hide it away
High where it could not be reached

Shatters in an instant
And we both
Stand amidst the shards

I say
It is not fair

And scoop him into arms
His siblings distract him from the wreckage

And I sweep up the mess.
Put poultices on the ground

Pretending for a moment
That there is a magic word
For love
Stronger than
Caustic
Glue

Girl
I would reach you
With my arms if I could
With my words if I must
Like walking on water
If I have to…

Resort to prayer.

Happy Birthday to Me

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Last year I had not yet written an obscure self-published memoir called Just: a story of the lost and found.

I was not on Facebook. I was a private citizen wading through the havoc and grief caused by our decision to adopt a boy who would rob us all of our innocence.

My birthday is a watermark. Three years ago I did not know my children were being abused. We found out the weekend of Columbus Day 2009.

Rough memory
It stalks through family
Pictures, movies
Dates and times
No one is safe from it
The dark ominous
Scowl of truth

I have given myself some birthday gifts:
The gift of freedom from what people think
The gift of mobility
The gift of prayer (to the God Who Indeed Lives)
The gift of preservation and strength for my children
I have walked away from people I wanted to trust because they did not fight for my children
I fought instead

So it will be strange for me today, my birthday because I do celebrate these years–this gift of a broken life redeemed.

And I bless my God, my Friend for this new community He has given me

In place of the years
The locusts have eaten