When the Adoption Horror Story Doesn’t Happen

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On October 17, 2015

In Adoption

I’m sure you’ve all heard adoption horror stories.  You know a cousin’s friend’s sister who brought home a child who made everyone’s lives a living hell.

The stories can be true, and they scare a lot of people away from adoption.

But today, I want to counter those stories with one that is just the opposite.  This is my boy Johnny, who came home just two months ago, and two months shy of his fourth birthday.

Johnny sleeps in his own bed, in the room that he shares with his brother.  He sleeps 11 hours every night and doesn’t wake up until morning.

Johnny has an incredible attention span.  He can sit on the floor, by himself, with a 50 piece puzzle, and put it together and take it apart 5 times before he needs something else to do.  He can sit quietly in church or during his siblings’ school productions.

Johnny is hysterically funny.  He dances.  He wiggles his hips.  He loves being chased.  He loves being tickled.  He is Mr. Enthusiastic.  When I tell him dinner is ready, you would think he had won the lottery.  When he sees a car come into the driveway, he shouts, “Friends!  Friends are here!” as if it was the president himself.  When he burps, hiccups, or passes gas, he giggles and says, “I’m grumpy!” which has now officially become a part of our family’s vocabulary.  When I am gone for 5 hours or 5 minutes, he runs to me and declares, “I missed you!”

Our older kids adore him.  He plays well with them, but he also plays well by himself.  He eats everything on his plate.  He rarely whines.  He rarely gets angry.  Sure, he is not perfect.  When the kid wants to be stubborn, he can be stubborn.  But that’s happening less and less as he gets to know us and we get to know him.

If you’ve read this blog for any length of time, you know I don’t sugarcoat things.  I try to tell it as it is, while still trying to keep my kids’ privacy.  So let me assure you that I’m not exaggerating.  Johnny fit into our family like one of those puzzle pieces he loves to put together.  It’s only been two months, but it’s like he’s always been here.

When the adoption horror story doesn't happen

Sure, the first few weeks were tough.  But I have been blown away by how quickly he has settled in, especially considering his history.  He has adapted much faster, actually, than some of our other children who came home much younger than he did.

Older child adoption can be tricky, and if you are considering it, you’ve got to keep your eyes wide open and prepare yourself for the worst.  But it also could be the best thing that’s ever happened to your family.  Because that’s how Johnny feels to all of us.

We celebrated Johnny’s fourth birthday yesterday.  It’s pretty special to celebrate with a kid who has never had a birthday party of his own, and never opened a present he could keep.

Personally, I think Johnny’s pretty happy being a son.  And we’re pretty happy to make him one.

Johnny’s new bike was definitely a highlight of his day!
Celebrating at Water World

Johnny and his buddy Danny.  Danny and Johnny are almost the same age, and Danny was adopted from Forever Angels just three months before Johnny.  Danny’s mom and I are friends, so we were really excited when we realized that the boys definitely remember each other, and are so happy any time they are together.  
FIVE kids adopted out of Forever Angels!

This is the kind of stuff you get to do when there are no rules at the water park.
And this:  Four kids and a Dad on one tube.  

You Can Ice Skate in Tropical Africa….Or Maybe You Can’t.

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On October 16, 2015

In Other

A local mall started advertising that they had an ice skating rink.

Seriously?  In a city that rarely goes below 80 degrees?

And, um, often has no electricity?

But as soon as our girls saw the large banner of the Olympic skater gracefully gliding on ice, they knew they had to go.  So, we gave them a goal to work toward, and they finally earned it.  This week was mid-term break, so we headed over to become the next Olympic ice skaters.

You would think, however, that ice skating required, uh, ice.  Silly us.  Apparently it doesn’t.

It was white.  It was hard.  But it was definitely not ice.  Why is it called “ice skating,” you ask?  Well, apparently “plastic skating” just doesn’t have the same ring to it.

At least we had the whole place to ourselves….
….well, except for the polar bears.  The only ones you’ll ever see in Tanzania.

Yes, Johnny, what are we subjecting you to?
He just wasn’t too into this skating thing.  But he did like being pushed.
If you ever see a Tanzanian Olympic ice skater, you’ll know where she got her start.  Right here on the plastic.  

Sometimes Africa Scares Me

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On October 11, 2015

In Other

Africa and me, we have trust issues.  I love this continent, but sometimes it scares me.

When I was 13, rebels took over the government of Liberiaand started a civil war.  My family was on home assignment at the time, but all the other missionaries were evacuated.  Our house was looted, the mission station was bombed, and I never got to say good-bye.

We relocated to Ethiopia, and I went to boarding school in Kenya.  I was fourteen.  The students were told to keep a bag packed of essentials; something that we could carry for at least a mile in case of an evacuation.  I don’t even remember why we were told this; I think it had something to do with the Gulf War.

While I was in Kenya, a revolution started in Ethiopia.  My mom and my brother were evacuated.  My dad stayed behind, and spent his nights sleeping with some other men in a windowless hallway.  One day in our apartment, he watched a stray bullet come through the roof.

Now we’ve been 11 years in Tanzania.  It’s one of the only countries in Africa which has been peaceful since it’s independence–over 50 years now.  For about 20 years, it had a socialist government, but in the mid-80’s, it became a democracy.  However, since then, it’s been primarily a one-party government.  During past elections, there’s only ever been one viable candidate for president.  Makes the voting process pretty simple.

Until this year.  For the first time in Tanzania’s history, two candidates are running for president.  (Interestingly, one of them happens to be the grandfather of one of Grace’s best friends.)  This is the third election cycle we’ve witnessed, and it’s strange to see two faces plastered on billboards instead of one.

Because of this, people are nervous.  Will this election mirror other African countries?  Will there be rioting and violence?  Just a few years ago, 1000 people were killed in election violence in Kenya, our neighbor to the north.

A few weeks ago, our house worker asked me, “Will you stay in Tanzania in October?”

“Of course,” I answered.  But her question made me anxious.

All universities are closed until November.  We cancelled our training classes for this month.  We’ve been carefully reading news updates and memos from outside agencies.  One of them suggested, “Pack a bag of essentials.”  It feels all too familiar.

The elections are two weeks from today.  But what can we do?  We stock our pantries; we fill up our gas tanks.  And we pray:  for peace, and for a government with integrity.  We pray for safety but remember that’s not always the most important thing.  Instead, that the gospel might go forth, no matter what.

The king’s heart is a stream of water in the hand of the Lord; he turns it wherever he will.  

Thy will be done; on earth as it is in heaven.

Fifteen Years of Gil and Amy

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On October 7, 2015

In Other

Our story was an unusual one.  Good friends for two years, dated for a month, engaged for 5 months, and then 9 months after we were married, we were off to Tanzania.  If you didn’t read the long version I wrote on our 10th Anniversary, I invite you to read it today.

Since then, we’ve spent 11 out of 15 years in Tanzania.  We’ve lived in 8 different houses and traveled across the Atlantic Ocean way too many times to count.  We’ve had one miscarriage and adopted four children and 6 dogs (the children are all still with us; all the dogs are not.)  We’ve worked together in five different ministries.  

I thought about whether I had something profound to say about marriage after 15 years.  But I don’t think I do, because our marriage is still a teenager.  And what do teenagers really understand about life?  

I know if I were to talk to my 23-year-old self in October of 2000, I would give her some advice.  Forgive a lot more quickly.  Find your wholeness in God, not in Gil.  Look for, and focus on, the strengths that go along with your husband’s weaknesses. And my mantra for wives?  Let it go.  Let it go.  Let it go.  (Sing with me now!)  There’s very little in a marriage that’s worth griping or fighting over.  


But the truth is?  I knew those things 15 years ago, in my head at least.  We had great mentors.  I read all the great books.  I just had to learn them for myself.  And perhaps the hardest lesson of all?  That I was not, or never would be, the perfect wife I thought I was.  We’re smiling in all the pictures below.  Of course, you don’t take selfies when you are not speaking to each other, but that doesn’t mean it didn’t happen.  

“Marriage by its very nature has the ‘power of truth’–the power to show you the truth about who you are.  People are appalled when they get sharp, far-reaching criticisms from their spouses.  They immediately begin to think they married the wrong person.  But you must realize that it isn’t ultimately your spouse who is exposing the sinfulness of your heart–it is marriage itself.  Marriage does not so much bring you into confrontation with your spouse as confront you with yourself.” (Tim Keller)


But what I most wished I had known 15 years ago?  Persevere.  It might get harder before it gets better.  But it does get better.  The last five years have been the best of all.


I have no regrets.  Gil is still my very best friend, and he leads me so well.  He gives me wise advice; he makes me laugh; he respects my thinking; he pushes me to do more, to be more, to love Jesus more.  He is the very best Daddy a kid could ask for.  There is nothing I have done to deserve this gift.  

“To be loved but not known is comforting but superficial.  To be known and not loved is our greatest fear.  But to be fully known and truly loved is, well, a lot like being loved by God.  It is what we need more than anything.  It liberates us from pretense, humbles us out of our self-righteousness, and fortifies us for any difficulty life can throw at us.” (Tim Keller)

2000, during our (very) brief period of dating
engagement
October 7, 2000
honeymoon in Oahu

our first time in Zanzibar, 2001
Tanzania, 2002
London, on our way home from Tanzania, 2003
Disneyland, 2004
California, 2004
2005:  Gil gets some sort of delight out of forcing me onto roller coasters and then taking pictures of me.  Enough said.
California, 2005
Seminary graduation, 2005
Our fifth anniversary in Mikumi Game Reserve, 2005
When the dogs were our babies, Tanzania 2006
Our first Christmas with Grace, Tanzania 2006
2007
Youth Group Heroes Night, 2009
California, 2010
In Zanzibar for our 10th Anniversary, 2010
Tanzania, 2010
Bringing Lily home, 2011
Tanzania, 2012
Tanzania, 2013
California, 2013
San Francisco, 2014
Seattle, 2014
Monterey Bay, California, 2014
Now

When I Am Not Sane

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On October 1, 2015

In Other

“If you look for truth, you may find comfort in the end; if you look for comfort you will not get either comfort or truth, only soft soap and wishful thinking to begin, and in the end, despair.”  (C.S. Lewis)

On any given day, I am somewhere on the mental illness spectrum.  This is a spectrum of my own design, as I am not an expert in diagnosing psychological problems.  All I know is, by spending a lot of time in my own brain, and part of that time in what would be labeled mental illness, that’s there’s not always a clear line between sane and insane.  It’s usually a combination of both.

In recent years, most of the time I have been fine.  My emotions are under control.  I get tired and anxious or discouraged, but usually a new morning gives me new perspective.  There are times, though, when I can feel myself slipping down that spectrum.  Since I’ve been at Ground Zero before, I know what it feels like to slide.

When the future looms dark and seeks to consume me.

When anxiety strangles my ability to face what is in front of me.

When discouragement becomes failure, which becomes hopelessness.

I know what it feels like to have Emotion become Reality.  Where everything, all aspects of life, are so consumed by that Emotion that it defines what is Real.  Where your brain is a black abyss and you are falling but you can’t scream because you don’t know how.

It’s there, in the slide, that what I believe matters more than anything.

What I’ve learned about emotions is that I can rebuke them.  I can take them firmly by the scruff of the neck and demand that they submit.  But that will only be successful if I am 100% confident that what I am yelling at them is Truth.

God is in control!  He is powerful.  He is sovereign.  He is good.  He loves me.  I have been rescued.  I can forgive because He forgave me.  I can persevere because He gives me the strength.  Everything that happens to me has purpose.  This life is not all there is.  The best is yet to come!

The things my emotions yell at me are not true.  The fear, the despair, the hopelessness….they are not Reality.  My brain does not create Truth.  Truth exists outside my brain and I will not allow my emotions to call the shots.

Some days, the fight isn’t there at all.  Other days, the battle is fierce.  Sometimes, I just retreat–into chocolate, or television, or a nice big pity party with balloons and cake.  But if I want to win–if I want victory–it all comes down to what I believe, and how firmly I believe it.

The problem is that when I am high on the spectrum and feeling good, Truth doesn’t matter to me so much.  Because who cares?  But the hard work must be done there–the wrestling, the working out, the strengthening of my convictions–because otherwise, it all will collapse under the weight of my emotions when I slide further down.

I realize it’s not always simple.  Traumatic experiences, personality, hormones, medication….all influence that slide, and sometimes the battle needs outside help.  If I ever get to Ground Zero again, I will get help a lot sooner than I did the first time.  But my first line of offense would be to get others in my life to help me fight the battle for what is True.

Here’s to finding and believing the Truth.  Want to join me?

“Alcohol is a depressant–it deadens parts of the rational brain.  The happiness you may feel when you are drunk comes because you are less aware of reality.  [God], however, gives you joyful fearlessness by making you more aware of reality.  It assures you that you are a child of the only One whose opinion and power matters.  He loves you to the stars and will never let you go.” (Tim Keller)

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