I Love You More

I have one child who was born wanting to be perfect.  She did everything the way babies are supposed to do.  She latched on immediately and made me think breastfeeding was easy.  She slept through the night and made me think I was the wisest mother in the world.  She walked early, and talked early, and potty trained early.  She was fiercely independent by the age of two and refused to let me pick out her clothes, hairstyle, or shoes from that point on.  We have toed the line in battle about one issue or another for along as she has understood the word “No.”  In many ways she has been seeing herself in my eyes as I have seen myself in her eyes since the moment she first landed in my arms.  In her I see myself as a girl with the same determination, the same independence, the same seriousness, the same anxieties, the same insecurities, always trying to earn love.

I have another child who was born already thinking he was perfect.  He loved people and accepted that people loved him.  If he saw you, he smiled and then you smiled and then everyone smiled.  He is tenderhearted and can get his feelings hurt in a heartbeat.  When that happens he needs my hugs and kisses and I am his soft place to fall.  But just as quickly he is up and running off again, smiling and laughing and talking.  He moves through the world as if it is his playground and everyone loves him because why wouldn’t they? When he came home from his first day of kindergarten I asked him if he had made any new friends and he said incredulously, “No. I’m already friends with everybody, Mom.”  I am perpetually perplexed by this little fireball of a boy and how he lives life in such a self-assured and fearless way.  For him, love isn’t earned.  It’s expected.

And then there is the third child.  The one I love but haven't even met.  The one who will need to be taught over and over again that love does not end, love never fails, and love will make us belong to him forever.  Our love story is waiting to begin.

Be fair.  Be even.  Don’t play favorites.

This is the cardinal rule of good parenting.

Or is it?

I have heard my sweet baby girl complain time and time again that her brother gets away with too much.  We take his side more than hers.  We punish her first.  We don’t see how much he torments her behind our backs.  He gets away with EVERYTHING.  We love him more.

Time and time again I have tried to make her see how this simply is not true.  We don’t have favorites.  We do punish them both.  We do make him leave her alone.  We don’t take sides.  We love the same.

And then one day I heard her say the same thing about her friends.  They don’t want to play with me.  They don’t want to be my friend.  She picked her to be a science partner, not me.   She had a sleep over and didn’t ask me.  She likes her more.

Somehow, somewhere, for some reason, my beautiful and brilliant daughter believes what most girls eventually accept about themselves.  She’s not good enough.  She’s not pretty enough.  She’s not smart enough.  She’s not athletic enough.  She isn’t enough.

I realized that I wasn’t ever going to make her think that I loved her the same as her brother.  If I keep aiming for fair, she will always see unfair.  I have to convince her that I love her more.  In order for her to get past fair, she has to believe she’s the special one.  (The flip side is that my son will probably always believe that he is the favorite.  That’s just how he is wired to see things.)

This is my new philosophy of mothering: when two children have different hearts and different ways of seeing themselves in the world, fair is not what they need.  They need ALL the love you have to give.  They need to be convinced that the fullness of their parent’s love is there for them no matter what.

Then I realized that this is exactly how God loves us.

Story after story in the Bible tells us this truth.  Jesus told those parables for a reason and one reason was to stop getting people to think of God’s love as a commodity that can be earned and equally divided like a big love pie in the sky.  In the story about the prodigal son, the older brother has a point.  His brother squanders his inheritance and then returns and is welcomed back as if nothing has happened! This isn’t fair and deep down we all agree with him in some way. The younger brother had his piece of the pie and he threw it away so why should he come back and take what belonged to the oldest son all along?

God’s love is not the same for you or me.  God’s love isn’t even very fair.  God loves us the way we need to be loved. God loves us when we need to be loved.  God meets us where we are and showers love upon us.  God lavishes us all with love but some of us need more lavishing than others.  Some of us have been broken more than others.  Some of us have had our hearts battered and bruised to the point that we don’t even recognize true love when we see it.  “My grace is sufficient for you” means just that.  God’s grace is just what you need.  Not your predetermined allotment of grace.  Not your evenly distributed share of grace.  Enough grace for you.  Enough for you.  Enough for me.  Enough.

I checked my daughter out from school for a doctor’s appointment today and told her that she needed to keep it a secret, but we were stopping for lunch and a manicure on the way.  “Don’t tell your brother. This is just for us.”  The look on her face said it all and I have decided that she needs to hear more “Don’t tell your brother” and less “I love you both the same.”  Instead of trying to convince them that my love is equal, I want each one of them to think they are loved the most.  My love will never be enough, but maybe it will point them towards the one whose love is overwhelming, can never be earned, is never fair, but is always enough.

 

A letter to my son about the beginning of things....

Dear Carter,

Beginnings can be mysterious things. Especially when there is no one around to tell the story of how things came to be. Your beginning will always be clouded in questions. We will never really know for sure all the answers to our when, where, who, and why questions. You should know that you are not the only one with a mysterious beginning. Other children have stories very similar to yours. Stories of loss and loneliness and missing pieces of their heart. Other mothers have stories like mine. Stories of hope and faith and loving a little one she has never met. The truth is, the universe has a mysterious beginning, too. We can ask when or how this world began but we will never really know for sure. The stories in our Bible weren't told to give exact answers to unanswerable questions. They were told so that parents could give witness to their children about the God of the universe, the three-in-one Creator- Father, Spirit, Son. This is the God I love. And this is my story for you about our own mysterious beginnings, yours and mine, and my faith in a God who is both father and mother to us all....

In the beginning the Spirit-God brooded over the deep waters of our yet to be world. She wove into our universe codes of possibilities. She danced among the chaos and in her footsteps she laid plans for you and me, imprinting us within the world she birthed. She breathed life. In and out. She breathed love. In and out. She breathed wisdom. In and out. She breathed mercy. In and out. Songs of life for you and me were sung by the heavens in the dawn of time.

On the day you were born, when you were taking your first breath and crying in protest the way all babies do at first, She was there. She breathed love over you and She sang the song that was written just for you that very first day at the beginning of all things. Even then, the stars and angels in heaven were told your name.

When you were left alone by your birth mother, an act of sacrifice that must have shattered her heart into a million pieces, the Spirit was there and Her heart was breaking, too. She heard you crying alone and afraid and She sang her song of love for you. She breathed love in and out again. She wrapped her arms around you, she wiped away your tears, and told the stars to sing your song. When you were sick, when you cried just to be held, when you were cold, when you were hungry, She was there. She remembered Jesus' own pain, his own loneliness, his own hunger and She remembered his death. After all, she had felt the Father's agony and the Son's despair on the cross. Because of this, She knew your heart, and you were never alone.

All that time, on the other side of the world, She was also with us, nudging us down the road towards you. She knew you were there, waiting to surprise us, just around another bend in our road. I imagine that She wanted to say, "Hurry up! He's waiting!" She was there when we saw your sweet face and She told the angels it was time to sing again. And so they sang the Spirit's song for you, that song from the Ancient of Days, and with every prayer we prayed we began to hear the Spirit sing. She breathed Her love for you into our hearts. In and out. And the angels danced when we began to sing along, too.

You, my sweet son, know none of this. Every day I pray for you while you sleep on the other side of this big, big world. I tried to tell the Spirit that this journey needs to end. It has been too long and too hard. You are seven thousand miles away and it feels as if we are walking every single mile, one step at a time, slowly getting closer to this child we are called to love. Doesn't God know you've been alone for too long? You need your mother. You need your father. We need you. But then She reminds me that you are not alone.

You have never been alone.

You have never been alone.

So I pray that while you sleep tonight She will whisper your name in your ears. That She will sing a song of a mother's love into your sleeping heart. That while you sleep you will feel a father's arms holding you tight. That running through your dreams are a little girl and a little boy with yellow hair and laughter full of joy. So that when the day comes and they finally, FINALLY put you in my arms, the Spirit will laugh, and the angels will dance, and you will know that we have come for you, just for you, and we have belonged to you since the very beginning, when the Spirit first sang your song.

Waiting Past Advent

Advent is a season of waiting. It is the time when we are supposed to be watching and waiting for the arrival of the Son. Advent nights are the darkest nights and the longest nights. They are nights of shadow and questions. Nights when we remember what it was like to wonder if God would keep his ancient promises. Would God remember us? Would God send us a Messiah? In our waiting, we imagine what it must have felt like to live in those days before the Son arrived. Before the True Light from True Light came so unexpectedly clothed in vulnerable humility. We imagine how the darkness must have felt before that amazing baby burst through the night proclaiming peace on Earth.

This year I was especially thankful for this time of holy waiting. I was waiting for all things "Christmas"- for my children to wake up in the morning and jump on my bed and beg us to go downstairs to see what Santa brought. I was waiting for quiet evenings by the fire with my family and Christmas carols, and "Smiling's my favorite!"  I was waiting for the arrival of God’s own Son- for His birth and for His return. This year, I was also waiting for something else, the arrival of my own son. My son who doesn’t even realize we are waiting for him.

In many ways, Mary and Elizabeth were my Advent companions. I parked my soul in their stories and instead of rushing past them to get to the babies, I lingered with the women who were the first to understand the profound reality of what was about to happen- that God’s own self was moving in and setting up camp here among us. Like Mary, I am waiting for a child to arrive, hoping against hope that I am prepared to meet him. This is a child who has a history that began long before he entered my life. This is a child who is coming from a place foreign and unknown. This child who is woven into my heart by promises not yet fulfilled. Mary’s story reminds me that while we believe God has blessed us with an amazing gift, there will be questions from those who don’t understand the why’s and how’s of our child’s unconventional origin. But Mary’s story also reminds me of Elizabeth, and Zachariah, and the fact that more often than not there is joy from those who are waiting with you, those who truly love God in the ways that you love God. Mary and Joseph’s stories tell us that God will be with both me and with my husband and God will speak to us both along the way, in different ways and at different times.

While the rest of the world has moved on past Christmas and sweet baby Jesus, I am still sifting and sorting through the lessons I learned during this year’s Advent. I am grateful for a faith that teaches us how to wait and a faith that says we do not wait alone. I am grateful for every gift that was sent to Carter by family and friends. I am grateful that one grandmother made sure there was a stocking with his name on it hanging at her house and that another grandmother wrapped gifts for him under our tree. I am even grateful for every Christmas card that included his name. Those small little gestures were a huge Christmas blessing to this waiting mother’s heart!

So where are we in our waiting? All of our paperwork was sent to China in December and we were officially “logged in” to their system on December 19th. Right now we are waiting for China to issue our official approval to adopt Carter. After that there are several small steps still before we can travel, but my hope is that maybe, just maybe, we will have him with us by Easter!

Introducing Our Sweet Baby Carter!!

I felt like he was looking right at me. Every time I logged onto our agency's waiting child page, I would see this face, not quite smiling, waiting for me to see him. Not to see him with my eyes, but with my heart.

He was hidden behind labels that at first seemed frightening, but when we looked further we realized weren't entirely true. Hidden behind labels like "deafness" and "heart defect", to name a few, we found our beautiful son. He is 15 months old and living in a city called Zhengzhou, in Henan Province of China. We are not sharing all of his medical issues publicly but his most obvious one is called microtia or malformation of the right ear. On that side, he cannot hear at all and it is very unlikely that he will ever be able to hear from that ear. On the left side he is not deaf, but does have mild hearing loss which means he will most likely need to wear a hearing aid. We've had his hearing tests reviewed by two audiologists and were told that his prospects for hearing and speech development are very good.

These last few weeks have been some of the most exciting and terrifying of my life. We spoke to several specialists, trying to get all of our questions answered. We waited, and waited, and finally received an update from China with pictures and good news about his development. There are so many unknowns and so many possibilities tied into this choice we have made. It was not a choice made lightly. We knew that once we took the first step in faith, there would be no turning back. Very quickly we realized that it had become clear to us both that this is our son and we already love him, even if we don't know him yet. As with most children who are adopted internationally, there will always be more questions than answers about the time before they were ours, but this is what I know for sure, deep in my core-

First, God has already been loving him, with an everlasting love, even before he was born,

before he was an "orphan",

before he was labeled and mislabeled,

before we saw his sweet face,

before we claimed him as our son.

He was already claimed since the beginning of time, by the One who is and always has been "a Father to the fatherless."

Second, he is not the lucky one in this story.

We are.

We are still in awe at that we have found him!

He is the one we have prayed for, hoped for, searched for, and now adore.

So now our real waiting begins. It will probably be about five to six months before we can bring our precious baby Carter home. Five months have never seemed like an eternity until now!

The kids are alright, and other reassurances....

When we first announced our decision to adopt, the most common question we received from well meaning friends and loved ones (and not-so-loved-ones) was, "And how do Camdyn and Charlie feel about all this?" Implied within the question was often not so masked concern that by adding another child to our family, one who comes from an unknown place with an unknown history, we were jeopardizing the well being of the children we already do have. Sometimes I wish we could just put a sign around Camdyn and Charlie that says something like, "Our family is doing something out of the norm, but we are happy, well adjusted, and thriving. Really, we are alright." Adoption is a long (very long) process and we are blessed with time to nurture and prepare our little ones for what lies ahead.

In the midst of paperwork, home study visits, and adoption training, we are busy with all the business of raising a family. Our summer has been filled with swimming, camping, swimming, vacation, and more swimming. As far as our adoption timeline, we are scheduled to have our final home study visit in two weeks. After that, we wait for our social worker to complete the home study and then we rush, rush, rush to get our I-800 application sent to U.S. Immigration for clearance stating that we are approved to adopt a child from China. Then we rush, rush, rush to get our dossier certified and sent to China. This entire journey is a lot of rush, rush, rushing, then wait, wait, waiting. Every so often, I start to feel a sense of urgency. A voice that says, "Move faster, hurry up."

Then I remember that we promised ourselves from the beginning that we would place this entire adventure in God's hands. Which means that, for us, every step and every mis-step is under under the umbrella of Grace, is part of our dance with the Divine, and will lead us to the endpoint, which will also be the beginning point of our new life as a family. My favorite line from T.S. Eliot (my favorite poet) is this- "Except for the point, the still point, there would be no dance, and there is only the dance." So, in this dance of mine, I am looking always for the still points. Snorkeling side by side with Camdyn, watching her discover the beauty of the sea, that was a still point. Riding bikes with Charlie, while he lectured me on my fossil fuel consumption, that was a still point. Deciding on a hot day, that ice cream must be had immediately, so pull over Daddy at the very next place you see, that is a still point.

And then when we pick up and move again, back into real life with a little boy and a little girl who simultaneously love and loath each other, and we go, go, go from one activity to another, I remember the rest of my dear Mr. Eliot's words, "Love is itself unmoving, only the cause and the end of movement." And so we keep moving towards China.

Redefining Perfect

For several years, I believed that Justin and I had managed to create a nearly perfect family. First, we were blessed with a beautiful and brilliant daughter who has proven that God can take a mother's and father's genes and create someone more amazing than either parent could ever hope to be. Then, a super nova ray of light and energy burst into our lives and we called him Charlie. We have said to each other every day for the last nine years, "We are blessed, blessed, blessed."

If you had told me six months ago that we would now be on a journey to adopt another child, that that child would be in China, and that our Chinese baby would be a boy....I would have laughed. Like Sarah laughed at the angels. For years we had talked about adoption, but then ended up dismissing the idea as too much for our family to take on at the time. Time, time, time. We thought one day it would be time, but just not this moment. I would sometimes bring it up to Justin and he would respond with, "I'm not ready. Not yet." And so I prayed. I prayed that God would either take away my desire to adopt a child, or that God would very clearly let Justin know when the time was right. I must have prayed this prayer a thousand times and eventually thought that it just wasn't going to happen. Then, one Sunday morning, Justin caught me looking at adoption websites and said, "I'm ready. I think it is time and I am 100% on board. BUT- you have to finish your master's degree first." (My Master of Theological Studies Degree that I began in 1999!) If I needed any motivation to get my thesis done, there it was! In truth, Justin has his own story of God speaking to him in a very real and profound way, telling him that it was time for us to adopt. However, it is his story and not mine to tell. Just know that God answered my prayers and there were no longer any doubts, it was time.

Adoption. What a huge thing! There are so many types of adoption. So many places to adopt from. So many children with so many needs. Where should we start? Fostering? Domestic? International? Which country? Infant? Older child? Siblings? Special needs? At first, the choices seemed too overwhelming. We talked and read and prayed and did something many parents don't do- we talked to our children. We quickly realized that they were excited about the idea of another sibling, but not someone older than them or the same age. (Adopting out of birth order is a controversial issue in and of itself.) One child would be ok, but not two or three. We looked at domestic infant adoptions. We looked at foster-adopting. But, for reasons that are somewhat personal, we did not feel led clearly to either one.

That is when we stumbled upon China's Special Needs adoption program. I had not looked at China at first because I knew that their adoptions had slowed down dramatically over the last few years. Couples have been waiting in line for over six years to adopt healthy baby girls. Imagine my surprise when I discovered that there are thousands of Chinese children in need of families who have medical needs. These "special needs" vary and range from severe neurological defects to cleft lips and cleft palates to limb defects to congenital heart defects. I was even more surprised to realize that the children most in need of adopting families are boys with special needs. For some strange reason, most of the families adopting from China, even through the special needs program are requesting only girls. It is like a reverse gender preference which leaves orphaned boys waiting much longer than little girls for their forever families.

Through a long series of discussions and research and prayers, we decided that we would begin the journey to adopt a child from China. We are requesting a boy under the age of two. As of now, we are requesting a child with a congenital heart defect. (Though I think this is not something that is completely set in stone.) We are going to call him Carter- a name his sister picked out but one we all agree is perfect.

Why are we adopting? Because God's love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit. God's love is not a warm fuzzy feeling. God's love is not red hearts and roses and chocolate candy. God's love is Spirit-Fire. God's love has transformed our hearts, igniting in us a passion for orphans and a desire to share the love and hope and joy of Christ with another child. God has changed my heart in so many ways these last few months and I believe that many more changes are on the horizon. I no longer look at our "picture perfect" family and think we are complete. I see the blurry image of our son in the corner of my eye and I know that God has bigger plans than we could have every imagined. We are blessed, but God's blessings flow like a river, shifting and moving us always to new places.