To everything there is a season; to every argument a counterargument; in every life, a balance to be struck. But a huge question that keeps haunting me is: is there really a balance to be struck with adoption discernment? Or is it simply, if I don't adopt, I'm heartless?
My husband and I had a great, honest conversation the other night. We had received some detailed information about a child in another country, and we were able to look through it and really see what it would mean to adopt that child from that country. We looked at each factor in turn, giving our opinions honestly as we could.
We had to face the costs - probably about $25,000. Despite thinking about fundraising and the tremendous support of the Reece's Rainbow community, that number is so daunting.
We had to face our fertility - and the fact that we do want to have more children biologically. Abstaining is unnatural; it is natural that a husband and wife come together to have children. And we just don't feel comfortable bringing home a special needs child and a newborn - either at the same time, or within a very short window. We're not sure that would be fair to either child, and we're not exactly pros at balancing multiple children yet!
We had to face our fears - both of ours, honestly. My greatest fear is that I will ruin everything (I do have a flair for the dramatic). That we will adopt and it will really hurt our family - that it will hurt my marriage, hurt Zuzu, hurt our family. The fact is that right now, we live a rather idyllic existence. We have a great rhythm as a family, my marriage is happy and healthy, our baby bright and well-adjusted. We have a good community and good jobs. We are beyond blessed.
I am frightened to introduce strife. I am frightened that we will adopt a child and the child will bring with them so much hurt, so much pain, so much - that it will sink us. We will be ill-equipped and we will fall apart under the strain of it all. Would it be that child's fault? God no. But I am even more frightened that in our weakened state, we would blame that child - we would blame that child for the wreck of our idyllic life.
It all feels like too much right now. I wonder if, after we have another child, it will seem easier - maybe our life will be more chaotic, our first child will already have shown her less-than-angelic side, we'll be less afraid of getting some mud on the tires of our life, as it were.
But that makes me feel so heartless. Especially when I read things like this. That…that was really, really hard.
I want love to be enough. I want to be able to make it work in my family, right now, no matter what. I feel like I can't breathe when I think about what some of these children are enduring, when I realize the stark contrast between their childhoods and my only baby's charmed life. I want to mother the world - I always have. Not unlike my own mother, who would take in my stray friends and treat them like one of us, I just don't see many distinctions. I am a mother, and they are children, so why shouldn't they belong to me, if a place to belong is what they need?
But I have to balance this heart with the realities of my life, and that fact that I have a little person I am already responsible for, and a man to whom I have pledged my life who gets a rather big say too. That is hard - I hate being restricted by anything, I hate having to realize that life isn't a movie, that no one comes in to make it all better at the eleventh hour. Sometimes you have to say "not now" to a desire - even good, holy desires.
Right now, our adoption plans are...on hold. I don't know for how long - maybe it just means we've stalled out on international adoption. Maybe domestic is still in the works. It doesn't mean there aren't other things I can do to help, and it doesn't mean we'll never adopt. I'm probably still going to blog about it - because it is on my heart a lot these days. Adoption has forced me to look at so many aspects of myself, has made us dig deeper as a couple, and as Christians. We have to see where this takes us, but it doesn't seem like it's international adoption right now - unless or until God shows a way, softens hearts, opens doors, reveals a path. If I'm open enough, I know it'll happen - in His time.
Showing posts with label adoption. Show all posts
Showing posts with label adoption. Show all posts
Monday, February 3, 2014
Monday, January 27, 2014
Is Adoption a Good Thing?
I have been delving more and more into the world of adoption blogs. I found Rage Against the Minivan and then I was off...discovering more and more, especially about transracial adoption.
When I first dipped my toe into the waters of adoption, I was mostly exposed by looking at Reece's Rainbow. It's a great site and a needed one - it specializes in highlighting special needs orphans from around the world who need homes, and allowing others to contribute to adoption costs. What a great idea! But I quickly realized that the language used to describe adoption in some of these circles bothered me. "Orphans no more" is one of their taglines. They talk about "children at home with their families." But, after reading several sites from adoptive children, I wondered if they would appreciate this - being told they weren't an orphan anymore when their birth parents are still not in their lives, that they are at 'home' when removed from their home countries. Adoption can be a wonderful thing, a redemptive thing - but I found that the more I was asking question in certain circles, the more people kept claiming adoption was all rainbows and happiness - 'hard but worth it.'*
I'm not sure I agree with that at this point. I think the way we talk about adoption should be more nuanced, more respectful of the very huge life-altering decision that it is for everyone involved. Some things I have come to recognize about adoption include:
1) Adoption always comes from loss. Adoption is never the ideal, and that should be obvious! The ideal would a husband and wife have a child biologically. Statistically, is the best situation for a child. If a child is being placed for adoption, then something went very very wrong. There was death, drug addiction, abuse, neglect. Something broke down and that child's biological parents could not parent that child. That is a tragedy. We are not downplaying the 'realness' or importance of adoptive families by acknowledging that adoption always beings with loss.
2) We must resist the desire to see adopters as 'saviors.' I think my biggest issue with the language used in RR communities is that there is a push for someone to "go and save" the children. Save them from an institution, from an orphanage, from their politically unstable home country. I get that - no one wants these kids to be in a bad situation, and many of them are. But adoption also takes a child from what they know - even if it's not safe - and closes the door on ever reuniting with their biological parents. That is still sad. The fact is, only Jesus Christ saves us and what he saves us from is ourselves. We should seek to be conduits of God's grace, but in no way does that mean white-washing the pain of separation from a home culture or over-inflating our role as parents into saviors.
3) Adoptive children might see everything very differently. As adoptive children grow up, many of them see their experience differently than the wider world. They may be angry that they were separated from their culture or their identity; they may long to find their birth parents or extended family; they may still feel apart from their adoptive family, despite years of love and care. The fact is, most of the adoption narrative that we read are from one perspective - the parents - and neglect to acknowledge that the adoptees experience may be very different.
4) There is an innate desire to know where we come from. I think a lot of people approach the concept of family by saying "love makes a family." They want to call the adoptive parents the 'real' parents and say that DNA does not equal parenthood. I think that comes from a good place; a place of wanting to make what we choose rather than what we're dealt our reality. But children want to know where they come from - they love to know that they were made in love, that they have Daddy's eyes or Mommy's hair, that they look like Grandma, etc. It gives a person context for their life. We can't minimize that, no matter how much we try or how much it seems politically incorrect.
5) Adoption is a paradox. I think the last point brings us to the paradox of adoption - we want these children to grow up in a family, not an institution, with people who permanently belong to them - and yet, even the process of adopting someone can still cause pain and loss. Adoption, from my point of view as a Catholic Christian, is our attempt at healing our brother and sister's pain - at being a father to the fatherless. But just as we are adopted children of God, and still long for our Heavenly home, so too being adopted children will not solve all the pain of initial abandonment.
These are aspects of adoption I don't think I had ever considered until I really began to pray and consider adoption from a very personal standpoint. As I begin to think of adoption not as a monolithic experience, but what it would be for us - for our family, made up of people who are sinners and have unearthed prejudices and selfishness - and for the children we are matched with, children whose stories are as different as they are similar, who present unique challenges, who have bottomless needs just as we all do - I realize it's not so simple. Adoption is as simple as wanting to love more, and yet so much more complex that statement looks insulting. It's not just, I want a child, my biology isn't cooperating, and look, here's one of the type we want. It's not as simple as, there are children who need homes and I can open mine.
I will figure out why God has placed this desire on my heart, but I'm grateful I'm not jumping in blind. I'm grateful that I have doubts, concerns, a need to push more and ask the hard questions. Because as much as I don't want to do anything bad, I want to do more - I want to do good. And I'm still asking, for our family and a given child, is adoption a good thing?
*I am grateful to the Reece's Rainbow community for all the work they do on behalf of children who are not with their birth families and are often neglected in bad conditions. They are a grant foundation that supports adoptive parents; they are not an orphanage or an adoption agency. They have answered so many questions that I have, and have been nothing but wonderful. In writing this, I only question the line that adoption is always a good thing - because I am concerned that this neglects issues like focusing efforts on family reunification, poverty being a reason to abandon children, etc. I know that these issues are beyond the scope of RR - I'm just opening up a wider conversation on adoption as I consider it for our family.
When I first dipped my toe into the waters of adoption, I was mostly exposed by looking at Reece's Rainbow. It's a great site and a needed one - it specializes in highlighting special needs orphans from around the world who need homes, and allowing others to contribute to adoption costs. What a great idea! But I quickly realized that the language used to describe adoption in some of these circles bothered me. "Orphans no more" is one of their taglines. They talk about "children at home with their families." But, after reading several sites from adoptive children, I wondered if they would appreciate this - being told they weren't an orphan anymore when their birth parents are still not in their lives, that they are at 'home' when removed from their home countries. Adoption can be a wonderful thing, a redemptive thing - but I found that the more I was asking question in certain circles, the more people kept claiming adoption was all rainbows and happiness - 'hard but worth it.'*
I'm not sure I agree with that at this point. I think the way we talk about adoption should be more nuanced, more respectful of the very huge life-altering decision that it is for everyone involved. Some things I have come to recognize about adoption include:
1) Adoption always comes from loss. Adoption is never the ideal, and that should be obvious! The ideal would a husband and wife have a child biologically. Statistically, is the best situation for a child. If a child is being placed for adoption, then something went very very wrong. There was death, drug addiction, abuse, neglect. Something broke down and that child's biological parents could not parent that child. That is a tragedy. We are not downplaying the 'realness' or importance of adoptive families by acknowledging that adoption always beings with loss.
2) We must resist the desire to see adopters as 'saviors.' I think my biggest issue with the language used in RR communities is that there is a push for someone to "go and save" the children. Save them from an institution, from an orphanage, from their politically unstable home country. I get that - no one wants these kids to be in a bad situation, and many of them are. But adoption also takes a child from what they know - even if it's not safe - and closes the door on ever reuniting with their biological parents. That is still sad. The fact is, only Jesus Christ saves us and what he saves us from is ourselves. We should seek to be conduits of God's grace, but in no way does that mean white-washing the pain of separation from a home culture or over-inflating our role as parents into saviors.
3) Adoptive children might see everything very differently. As adoptive children grow up, many of them see their experience differently than the wider world. They may be angry that they were separated from their culture or their identity; they may long to find their birth parents or extended family; they may still feel apart from their adoptive family, despite years of love and care. The fact is, most of the adoption narrative that we read are from one perspective - the parents - and neglect to acknowledge that the adoptees experience may be very different.
4) There is an innate desire to know where we come from. I think a lot of people approach the concept of family by saying "love makes a family." They want to call the adoptive parents the 'real' parents and say that DNA does not equal parenthood. I think that comes from a good place; a place of wanting to make what we choose rather than what we're dealt our reality. But children want to know where they come from - they love to know that they were made in love, that they have Daddy's eyes or Mommy's hair, that they look like Grandma, etc. It gives a person context for their life. We can't minimize that, no matter how much we try or how much it seems politically incorrect.
5) Adoption is a paradox. I think the last point brings us to the paradox of adoption - we want these children to grow up in a family, not an institution, with people who permanently belong to them - and yet, even the process of adopting someone can still cause pain and loss. Adoption, from my point of view as a Catholic Christian, is our attempt at healing our brother and sister's pain - at being a father to the fatherless. But just as we are adopted children of God, and still long for our Heavenly home, so too being adopted children will not solve all the pain of initial abandonment.
These are aspects of adoption I don't think I had ever considered until I really began to pray and consider adoption from a very personal standpoint. As I begin to think of adoption not as a monolithic experience, but what it would be for us - for our family, made up of people who are sinners and have unearthed prejudices and selfishness - and for the children we are matched with, children whose stories are as different as they are similar, who present unique challenges, who have bottomless needs just as we all do - I realize it's not so simple. Adoption is as simple as wanting to love more, and yet so much more complex that statement looks insulting. It's not just, I want a child, my biology isn't cooperating, and look, here's one of the type we want. It's not as simple as, there are children who need homes and I can open mine.
I will figure out why God has placed this desire on my heart, but I'm grateful I'm not jumping in blind. I'm grateful that I have doubts, concerns, a need to push more and ask the hard questions. Because as much as I don't want to do anything bad, I want to do more - I want to do good. And I'm still asking, for our family and a given child, is adoption a good thing?
*I am grateful to the Reece's Rainbow community for all the work they do on behalf of children who are not with their birth families and are often neglected in bad conditions. They are a grant foundation that supports adoptive parents; they are not an orphanage or an adoption agency. They have answered so many questions that I have, and have been nothing but wonderful. In writing this, I only question the line that adoption is always a good thing - because I am concerned that this neglects issues like focusing efforts on family reunification, poverty being a reason to abandon children, etc. I know that these issues are beyond the scope of RR - I'm just opening up a wider conversation on adoption as I consider it for our family.
Tuesday, January 21, 2014
How to Grow a Family
Here we are, steadily into the new year, and my life feels all at once more together and much more falling apart. Aspects of our life which felt stable don't anymore, but nothing is destabilized enough to talk about it in public.
Growing our family is still very much on my heart. It's so much on my heart that sometimes I feel like I'm going to burst. I have a near-frantic need to talk about it. I can remember this feeling when I was pregnant; all I wanted to do was be around other mothers and talk about pregnancy, birth, newborns. I was addicted to birth stories and pregnancy forums!
Now I have just as much of a need to communicate, but finding the community has been harder. Most of my friends have already had their second, third, or fourth children! I want to talk to parents about adding a sibling: is there an ideal timing, how likely is secondary infertility, how do you introduce the concept to your child, how do you prepare?
And adoption...adoption communities are numerous. But I have a terror that my questions are, well, rude. These are people who have grown their families this way and I am nervous that I am being insensitive or uncaring when I ask: do you cosleep with your adopted children if you already cosleep with your biological children? Are you nervous about your adopted child being jealous that you still nurse your bio child? Is it really a horrible idea to adopt out of birth order, or to have your only child's first sibling be an adopted one? Has anyone ever breastfed children they adopted, especially if they're still nursing their biological child? What if I get pregnant while I'm trying to adopt? Is that insane? How crazy exactly am I?
On top of all of this, my heart has really been drawn to children who are sight impaired - either blind or partially blind. So that brings a whole new set of questions. What are the best books for raising a blind child? In our increasingly technological world, how do I prepare a blind child to be self-sufficient? How do I prepare my home? How do I help younger, pre-verbal children understand that my adopted child can't see? Where do I find the blind community online?
Basically I want to know: What would adoption really look like for my family? I want to give someone all of our factors and thoughts and situations and say: am I crazy? Is this a bad idea? Talk me through this! If I had a spirit animal, I'd be begging big time for some help on this front. (what are spirit animals? and how much time do I have to spend in purgatory for mentioning them on my supposedly Catholic blog?)
I want answers. I want something concrete to hold onto and say, ah yes, this is right. But I'm so terrified of all the answers that most days I just want to stay in bed and cuddle my one and only baby - the baby that I know. It's hard because now I've had a whole 15 months of knowing Zuzu - I know who she is. I know what her personality is and what she likes; I know what will calm her, what to say, what she'll eat. And the thought of adding more - however it's done, whoever they are - makes me realize it will all change, and we'll be bringing a stranger into the home. And on some level, it frightens me.
I have more empathy for those parents who choose to only have one child. I want to keep Zuzu this way forever - knowing she'll always have both her parents to devote attention and time to her, that she'll always feel cared for. Oh I know it's wouldn't be a good thing for long! Her risk of being spoiled is very very real! But I still want it on some level - to protect her, to make sure she'll never feel second fiddle to anyone. It's natural isn't it?
I think this is why I was hoping we'd get pregnant when she was very young, so I wouldn't have to look at any of these questions. I was hoping I'd be so overwhelmingly fertile that my thoughts would mostly be, "hmmm I don't think we can handle 4 under 5, so I'd better sleep in the guest room tonight." Abstinence, for our marriage, isn't the cross that lower fertility is for us - the challenge for us is having so much latitude and freedom. Really, it wouldn't very hard to be selfish with my time and my money and my fertility - if it weren't for my heart.
I long for my mother's heart to be expanded. I can't tell you why - why now, when I'm working, and Tom's working himself to death, and I can barely keep it all together as it is. I'm terrible at almost everything, and most days lately are really hard on me. So why now? What part of this stage of my life screams, ah yes add someone else to take of! I don't know. I have no logical answer. But I'm searching, I'm wondering, my heart keeps asking:
"how do we grow our family?"
Baby sleeping in public
Growing our family is still very much on my heart. It's so much on my heart that sometimes I feel like I'm going to burst. I have a near-frantic need to talk about it. I can remember this feeling when I was pregnant; all I wanted to do was be around other mothers and talk about pregnancy, birth, newborns. I was addicted to birth stories and pregnancy forums!
Newborn Zuzu - still with her belly button clamp!
Now I have just as much of a need to communicate, but finding the community has been harder. Most of my friends have already had their second, third, or fourth children! I want to talk to parents about adding a sibling: is there an ideal timing, how likely is secondary infertility, how do you introduce the concept to your child, how do you prepare?
And adoption...adoption communities are numerous. But I have a terror that my questions are, well, rude. These are people who have grown their families this way and I am nervous that I am being insensitive or uncaring when I ask: do you cosleep with your adopted children if you already cosleep with your biological children? Are you nervous about your adopted child being jealous that you still nurse your bio child? Is it really a horrible idea to adopt out of birth order, or to have your only child's first sibling be an adopted one? Has anyone ever breastfed children they adopted, especially if they're still nursing their biological child? What if I get pregnant while I'm trying to adopt? Is that insane? How crazy exactly am I?
Basically, how much wine will it take me to get through the day?
Just kidding - I mean gin!
On top of all of this, my heart has really been drawn to children who are sight impaired - either blind or partially blind. So that brings a whole new set of questions. What are the best books for raising a blind child? In our increasingly technological world, how do I prepare a blind child to be self-sufficient? How do I prepare my home? How do I help younger, pre-verbal children understand that my adopted child can't see? Where do I find the blind community online?
Basically I want to know: What would adoption really look like for my family? I want to give someone all of our factors and thoughts and situations and say: am I crazy? Is this a bad idea? Talk me through this! If I had a spirit animal, I'd be begging big time for some help on this front. (what are spirit animals? and how much time do I have to spend in purgatory for mentioning them on my supposedly Catholic blog?)
I hope if I have spirit animal, it's as cute as my baby, otherwise that's just disappointing.
I want answers. I want something concrete to hold onto and say, ah yes, this is right. But I'm so terrified of all the answers that most days I just want to stay in bed and cuddle my one and only baby - the baby that I know. It's hard because now I've had a whole 15 months of knowing Zuzu - I know who she is. I know what her personality is and what she likes; I know what will calm her, what to say, what she'll eat. And the thought of adding more - however it's done, whoever they are - makes me realize it will all change, and we'll be bringing a stranger into the home. And on some level, it frightens me.
I have more empathy for those parents who choose to only have one child. I want to keep Zuzu this way forever - knowing she'll always have both her parents to devote attention and time to her, that she'll always feel cared for. Oh I know it's wouldn't be a good thing for long! Her risk of being spoiled is very very real! But I still want it on some level - to protect her, to make sure she'll never feel second fiddle to anyone. It's natural isn't it?
I think this is why I was hoping we'd get pregnant when she was very young, so I wouldn't have to look at any of these questions. I was hoping I'd be so overwhelmingly fertile that my thoughts would mostly be, "hmmm I don't think we can handle 4 under 5, so I'd better sleep in the guest room tonight." Abstinence, for our marriage, isn't the cross that lower fertility is for us - the challenge for us is having so much latitude and freedom. Really, it wouldn't very hard to be selfish with my time and my money and my fertility - if it weren't for my heart.
I long for my mother's heart to be expanded. I can't tell you why - why now, when I'm working, and Tom's working himself to death, and I can barely keep it all together as it is. I'm terrible at almost everything, and most days lately are really hard on me. So why now? What part of this stage of my life screams, ah yes add someone else to take of! I don't know. I have no logical answer. But I'm searching, I'm wondering, my heart keeps asking:
"how do we grow our family?"
Tuesday, December 24, 2013
In Advent
I have survived Advent this year by telling myself that it is okay to do most of my celebrating at Christmastime. Y'know - those 8, or 12, or however many days after December 25th - when we're supposed to be really celebrating the birth of Christ! I put so many things back there: baking cookies, pulling out aaaall the decorations (not just the few I've been putting out, bit by bit), mailing our Christmas cards, etc.
The result is it's December 23rd and I feel a little sad that my house took so long to get Christmas-y. I'm reconditioning myself to put more in at the end, but it's hard - hard to have it feel like Christmas when there's no extended family gathering on Christmas Eve (which is our tradition); hard when Christmas comes in with a quiet hush, not a roar. Christmases in my family always seemed so... LOUD. Tons of people. Food. Drink. Presents! And more and more people - especially kids. I have nine nieces and nephews on my side - plus my three siblings and their spouses and my parents and usually everyone's dogs - so that's a lot of people in our modest homes. I love that squished feeling of Christmas Eve - our house so bursting with love and life.
Some days, my house feels so empty and quiet in contrast.
I love being Zuzu's mother - I love having this time with her as my only child. There is nothing I would trade for those sweet nursing moments that we are still treasuring (especially now that she can sign 'please nurse?'). Yet Christmastide will now always bring to mind the memory of Francis, our first baby, gone home before I could even behold him. And sometimes, my house seems a little empty - I wonder what it would be like right now to be the mom of two instead of one. I wonder if that loss is why I feel like I'm always forgetting someone at the table, why I have a vaguely guilty feeling that Zuzu is an only child.
So I started wondering: what if we invited someone new to the table? We're open - we're always open - to new life. But it seems we're on the slower fertility plan, for now at least. What if we did a bit more than send an open invitation to God to bless us - what if we went out and looked for blessings instead?
What if we adopted?
My compassionate tendencies lean towards adoption. I took the adoption law class at UA Law and talked about it with Mr. O. It comes up, from time to time, both of us furrowing our brows and thinking, maybe. But our hearts have always seemed unready and thinking is all we did. And then suddenly, just last week, something shifted and we seemed to want to do more than talk. So we did - we sent inquiries and began researching.
That's where we are. We're researching, thinking, praying - and trying to talk to those in the adoption community. I'm trying to reach out and ask people, "what's it really like? how do your biological children adjust? are we crazy?" There is so much to take in and while at first I thought - yes come Holy Spirit - this is awesome! Lets do it! Adopt all the kids! - now my naturally cautious nature is saying, not so fast, lets do some research, lets get a realistic picture, lets make sure you aren't commodifying children.
The outside trappings of Christmas are more simple this year, maybe because of all this interior preparation. But mostly I'm grateful that this Advent has been the first one that has really moved me in the direction I think I was supposed to go - to make room for a child in a world where there is no room, even when the end of the story is as yet shrouded in mystery. Even if that room doesn't end up being in my home any time soon, maybe it's in my prayer life - maybe it's in my home in the years to come.
Whatever it is, and whenever, I hope I'm ready to make room when the time comes.
Oh, come, oh, come, Emmanuel,
And ransom captive Israel,
That mourns in lonely exile here
Until the Son of God appear.
Rejoice! Rejoice! Emmanuel
Shall come to you, O Israel!
Picking out our tree on St. Nicholas day
The result is it's December 23rd and I feel a little sad that my house took so long to get Christmas-y. I'm reconditioning myself to put more in at the end, but it's hard - hard to have it feel like Christmas when there's no extended family gathering on Christmas Eve (which is our tradition); hard when Christmas comes in with a quiet hush, not a roar. Christmases in my family always seemed so... LOUD. Tons of people. Food. Drink. Presents! And more and more people - especially kids. I have nine nieces and nephews on my side - plus my three siblings and their spouses and my parents and usually everyone's dogs - so that's a lot of people in our modest homes. I love that squished feeling of Christmas Eve - our house so bursting with love and life.
Some days, my house feels so empty and quiet in contrast.
It's most often just the two of us - and sometimes, she's quite quiet
I love being Zuzu's mother - I love having this time with her as my only child. There is nothing I would trade for those sweet nursing moments that we are still treasuring (especially now that she can sign 'please nurse?'). Yet Christmastide will now always bring to mind the memory of Francis, our first baby, gone home before I could even behold him. And sometimes, my house seems a little empty - I wonder what it would be like right now to be the mom of two instead of one. I wonder if that loss is why I feel like I'm always forgetting someone at the table, why I have a vaguely guilty feeling that Zuzu is an only child.
So I started wondering: what if we invited someone new to the table? We're open - we're always open - to new life. But it seems we're on the slower fertility plan, for now at least. What if we did a bit more than send an open invitation to God to bless us - what if we went out and looked for blessings instead?
What if we adopted?
My compassionate tendencies lean towards adoption. I took the adoption law class at UA Law and talked about it with Mr. O. It comes up, from time to time, both of us furrowing our brows and thinking, maybe. But our hearts have always seemed unready and thinking is all we did. And then suddenly, just last week, something shifted and we seemed to want to do more than talk. So we did - we sent inquiries and began researching.
In between taking Zuzu to Christmas parties
That's where we are. We're researching, thinking, praying - and trying to talk to those in the adoption community. I'm trying to reach out and ask people, "what's it really like? how do your biological children adjust? are we crazy?" There is so much to take in and while at first I thought - yes come Holy Spirit - this is awesome! Lets do it! Adopt all the kids! - now my naturally cautious nature is saying, not so fast, lets do some research, lets get a realistic picture, lets make sure you aren't commodifying children.
The outside trappings of Christmas are more simple this year, maybe because of all this interior preparation. But mostly I'm grateful that this Advent has been the first one that has really moved me in the direction I think I was supposed to go - to make room for a child in a world where there is no room, even when the end of the story is as yet shrouded in mystery. Even if that room doesn't end up being in my home any time soon, maybe it's in my prayer life - maybe it's in my home in the years to come.
Whatever it is, and whenever, I hope I'm ready to make room when the time comes.
Oh, come, oh, come, Emmanuel,
And ransom captive Israel,
That mourns in lonely exile here
Until the Son of God appear.
Rejoice! Rejoice! Emmanuel
Shall come to you, O Israel!
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