Our next son will be coming from Ethiopia.
Don’t know who he is yet, or when he will be coming. But Ethiopia will be the place.
When I was in 9th grade, my family lived in Ethiopia for a year. It will be very, very fun to go back, especially for this reason.
Our home study is almost done. Onwards with the dossier!
Lily’s adoption was finalized today. Today! June 27th, 2012.
I wasn’t there, actually. I had showed up for the last 4 court appointments, the last one being yesterday, and the judge didn’t show up. The clerk said to come back today.
But today I didn’t have anyone to watch my kids, and I was feeling like they needed me and I had been leaving them too often. And since I don’t really need to be there for the ruling, and since I had already gone 4 times with nothing happening, I decided not to go.
And of course, as Murphy’s Law would have it, today was The Day. So I am bummed that I missed hearing the ruling myself, but not bummed that I would have had to sit for 4 hours in the court house waiting with my kids in order to hear it.
Our lawyer Brooke told me that hearing a judge grant an adoption order is like being in the delivery room when the head pops out. So yesterday, when we were discussing whether or not I would come to court today, she told me, “Well, just look at it this way. For your first two, you had natural births. This time, if you miss it, it’s because you had a c-section and they had to knock you out.”
So since I wasn’t actually present during the ruling today, she texted me, “At 12:40 pm today you had a c-section under general anesthesia. Lily Zawadi Medina is now legally all yours. You might be sore for a couple of days.”
Brooke’s pretty awesome like that.
She said that the judge was pretty dramatic when he made the ruling, and he made sure to tell Brooke that this adoption must be full of “love and tenderness….not just love.” And then proceeded to tell everyone present the difference between love and tenderness.
Well, Mr. Judge, we will do our best to give Lily both love and tenderness.
I am struck by the contrast of how profound the event was that took place today, and yet how oblivious Lily is by it all. She really hasn’t a clue. Grace gets it; she shouted with joy, “The judge said YES! Lily is my sister forever!” But Lily? Just gave me a long stare and went back to the Legos.
Grafted in. My history is her history. My name is her name. Bound not just by love, but by law. Her past, present, and future all re-written. Inextricably linked. Her identity determined without her permission, without even her knowledge. And it all came about by the declaration of one man. What a beautiful mystery.
Makes me wonder about the Divine Transactions that have taken place without my full understanding, while I am just interested in the Legos.
“We were not made to make much of blackness. We were not made to make much of whiteness. We were not made to make much of self or humanity in general. We were made to make much of God.”
I grew up pretty much oblivious to race.
My childhood neighborhood in California was multi-ethnic. My best friend was Indian. Then I spent six years in three African countries.
Back in California in high school and college, I spent 8 years doing ministry in multi-ethnic neighborhoods. Camp counselor for two summers for kids who were mostly black and hispanic. Worked four years for a black employer.
As an adult I spent seven years teaching kids from all kinds of ethnicities. Spent nine of the last eleven years in Tanzania.
As I was growing up, white people were kinda boring to me. Travel and cultures, that’s what fascinated me. The fact that Gil is half-hispanic? Dream come true.
So adopting African children was just sort of obvious. I mean, we wanted to adopt, we were living in Tanzania, and there are two million orphans here. So should we adopt from Africa? Duh. The fact that my kids have dark skin was just….beautiful. And though I always loved the idea of raising a family that mirrored what heaven will look like, I never set out to be a billboard for race reconciliation.
But I’ve been thinking.
Grace and I have been making our way through the American Girl books. And Addy is a little girl living during the time of the Civil War. She’s a slave; she escapes to Philadelphia, but continues to live with segregation even in freedom.
I want Grace to know these things. She is African but has an American passport. One day it is likely she will live in the States. She needs to know.
But did I ever realize how difficult it would be to read her stories about white oppression of black people? Sitting there on the couch, my arm around her, her Mommy in every way, with nothing but the color of our skin separating us. Teaching her how people who looked like me made people who looked like her into slaves. And then even when that was over, wouldn’t even let them use the same bathroom.
I never knew how hard it would be.
And then I read this book (not to Grace!). And I know it’s controversial and not everyone likes it, but I personally was deeply moved. Because I am white, and my daughter is black. Because I have “help.” Because even though I knew the history, there’s nothing like seeing it through the eyes of someone else through a story.
Since I’ve always thought multi-ethnicities were so cool, I think I unintentionally ignored the pain that so many have experienced (are experiencing) because of their race. Even, often, at the hands of those who call themselves followers of Christ. And since we live in Africa, I never fully, truly contemplated the discrimination my own kids could face in America.
John Piper, one of my favorite-ever authors, and who also has an African-American daughter, recently published this book: Bloodlines: Race, Cross, and the Christian.
It’s not my favorite Piper book. But as a theological treatise on why Christians should intentionally pursue racial reconciliation? It’s excellent.
“That I am chosen for salvation in spite of my ugly and deadening sinfulness…that my rebellious and resistant heart was conquered by sovereign grace….if these truths do not make me a humble servant of racial diversity and harmony, then I have not seen them or loved them as I ought.”
“When we feel or think or act with disdain or disrespect or avoidance or exclusion or malice toward a person simply because he or she is of another race or another ethnic group, we are, in effect, saying that Jesus acted in a foolish way toward us. You don’t want to say that.”
My favorite section was on inter-racial marriage. Really, really good stuff. Especially because inter-racial adoption is so similar.
“As long as we disapprove of [inter-racial marriage], we will be pushing our children, and therefore ourselves, away from each other. The effect of that is not harmony, not respect and not equality of opportunity. Separation has never produced mutual understanding and respect. It has produced ignorance, suspicion, impersonal stereotyping, demeaning innuendo, and corporate self-exaltation.”
I humbly recognize that, growing up in my privileged, white life, I will never understand the oppression that minority groups have experienced in America. But yet, God has entrusted me with these beautiful children. So it is therefore my job to do everything I can to try to understand.
Somehow, our family must become a picture of racial reconciliation. Somehow, I must teach my kids how to love, forgive, and reach out beyond racial lines. Somehow, I must teach them how to understand the challenges and history and sorrows of their race, even though I haven’t experienced it myself.
I am inadequate for this task. The weight of the burden is heavy. But yet, it is important and necessary. And worth it.
My kids are sitting on the kitchen floor drinking chocolate milk as I write this. I think chocolate and milk make an excellent combination, don’t you?
There was a time in my life when the first thing I did every
morning was take my temperature.
Every month, I hoped.
And every month, I cried.
The worst months were the ones when I was a couple of days
late. The waiting was torture, and I let
my imagination get completely out of control.
What would my parents’ faces look like when we told them the good
news? Would it be a girl or a boy? What would we name her?
And then, the next day, only to be crushed again.
I went through dozens of pregnancy tests. Dozens.
It’s a good thing I could find them at the 99Cent store.
And then God brought us
Grace, and I was thrilled because brown babies were always a part of our
plan. The part of me that craved being a Mommy was filled up to the brim.
But every month, I still hoped.
Then Josiah came, and I was getting older, and I remember
asking Gil one day, “Will you have regrets if I never get pregnant and we never
did any procedure to help it along?” And
he thought about it a while and came back with a definitive No.
And I knew by then that No was my answer too. But I knew I needed to ask it of myself,
because we live in a country where “getting help” is not a possibility, yet I
did not want to live with regret.
But I realized that God’s grace had filled me up. And that I didn’t really pay attention to
what happened each month any more.
Then my addiction started.
Instead of craving a child from my womb, all I wanted was more brown babies: the ones who were helpless and hopeless and
desperately needed a Mommy.
And after Lily came, and we started to think about James and
then about bringing a baby into our family from another country, I suddenly
realized something.
I was afraid of getting pregnant.
Afraid because I thought it could mess up our plans for
bringing home another orphan. And
suddenly, I was facing every month with relief at not being pregnant, instead of disappointment.
And that, right there, my friends, is the abounding Grace of
God.
That He could take my pain, and my shame that started so
many years ago, and turn it around so completely and entirely and fully—that
can only be the Grace of God.
Delight yourself in the Lord, and He will give you the
desires of your heart.
Or rather, He will change your desires and make them
His.
He is the God of redemption.
He makes beauty from ashes.
He brings over-abundant joy from pain.
And I am in awe.
(Just to clarify—I do know it could still happen to me. It’s been 8 years of “not preventing” and I
am now 35, so I’m guessing it won’t—but I know God does crazy things. And if He does, well, of course, we will
rejoice. But that’s really not the
point.)
I’ve been a little depressed when I think about adoption. Grieving a bit over James. Frustrated with the Tanzanian system, not just for me but also for good friends. And unmotivated about the future.
We have always known that we would pursue international adoption should the door close in Tanzania. We thought that might happen after #2, so I started some research back then. But after Lily, we had no reason to believe that we wouldn’t eventually bring home #4 from Tanzania. Until January. As you already know.
And I also knew that international adoption takes time. A lot of time. So if we want #4 anytime soon, I would need to get cracking on it. And I did a little. Here and there. Asking some questions, making some inquiries.
But I was not motivated at all. Depressed with the system. Not feeling particularly excited about any other country. And not even wanting to think about the time…and the money….that we would invest.
And I knew that one of our biggest hurdles would be the homestudy. We had already learned the hard way that there is no one in Tanzania who is qualified to do a homestudy for an American agency. So that meant our only option would be to fly a social worker out here, from the States, to do a homestudy. I didn’t even want to think about it. I didn’t even know where to begin finding that person. And I didn’t want to think about how much it would cost.
But I’ve been praying for direction. Show me the next step, I asked. Not really knowing what to do. Or what to expect.
Until Thursday.
It all started with a phone call. A friend asking me, “Do you know where to buy smoke detectors?”
She was not overly concerned about fire safety. No, she wanted smoke detectors because her family is pursuing international adoption. And she had just found out that an American social worker would be in town in just three days to do a homestudy for someone else.
My head immediately started spinning.
I asked her if I could contact this social worker as well. She gave me the info.
So on Friday I emailed the guy. He told me that he was arriving Sunday evening and leaving Tuesday morning. Barely enough time to do two homestudies, let alone three. But he asked if we would like to meet with him while he was here. Yes! Of course.
So last night, we took him out to dinner. He’s from an American, Hague-licensed agency. He’s done dozens of homestudies for missionaries living abroad.
And they are starting a new program in Uganda. Our country of choice.
We got lots of questions answered, and figured that would be it. I figured that maybe we could catch him on his next trip to Africa to do our homestudy.
But then he said it:
“You know, if I could come to your house and get some information, then if you decide to move foward with this, we could complete the rest of the homestudy over Skype.”
What?
Really?
But we wouldn’t have any time to get our house “homestudy ready.” I asked him what we would need in our house to pass the inspection.
He told us: Smoke detectors in every bedroom and the kitchen, and a fire extinguisher in the kitchen.
Holy cow.
Guess what our house came with when we moved in? Smoke detectors in every bedroom and the kitchen, and a fire extinguisher in the kitchen.
From previous renters, or someone. And if you don’t live in Tanzania, you can’t understand this significance. Not only do houses hardly ever have smoke detectors in them, it’s extremely hard to even find them in a store to buy them. When we moved into this house over two years ago, I remember thinking that a previous renter must have been paranoid about fire. Because you just don’t see these things.
Sometime, years ago, before we even moved into this house, God made our house “homestudy ready.” So that when He decided to bring us a social worker, but no time to do anything to get ready, all we would have to do is nothing.
I had been praying for direction.
There you go, God said.
And He dropped a homestudy into our laps.
So, um, I guess we’d better listen.
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