Soldiers with Shoulders

In celebration of National Adoption Month (and Veteran's Day) ...

Yesterday, my two youngest boys came to me with their shoulders squared and their hands pressed firmly against the sides of their legs.

"We're shoulders," the five-year-old announced.

I knew what he meant to say ('we're soldiers') but what he said ('shoulders') made me think.

As adoptive mom, I have felt like a soldier and a shoulder over the past nine years. For the better part of the first two years of our youngest son's life, my husband and I (and our lawyer) were in court, seeking the termination of rights of a 16 year old high school drop out father. In that sense we were fighting for him. We were soldiers--quiet and steadfast, always hopeful for peace but ready for battle.

We have also been shoulders, of course. In the same sense that all parents find themselves. Shoulders to cry on. Shoulders to break down the barriers in life. Shoulders to stand on to see what lies ahead. But event beyond that, I think adoptive and foster parents are shoulders for our children in that we offer them a chance that they would not have had otherwise.

I'll be honest. The phrase, 'giving them a better life' disturbs me. Particularly when it is spoken in the context of a trans-racial or trans-cultural adoption. Who's to say what a 'better life' is? Does a better life only involve private schools, swimming pools in the backyard, and trips abroad?

Can a better life mean having a father with a GED, being on foodstamps for a few years, or having to work your way through college? That was my experience. And I deep down, I can't imagine how being given nicer things could have made my life light years better. That sounds too much like handouts. (Handouts can come in many forms, you know.) But don't get me going on the subject of handouts.

So in reference to adoption and foster care, I rather prefer the phrase 'a chance to a better life.' Because that's all we offer them: A CHANCE. There's no guarantee that the adoptive or fostered child will succeed because he came into our home, because we gave them our best.

We can only hope and pray that our shoulders were quiet and steadfast, always hopeful for peace but ready for right battle.

Let's Celebrate Adoption

November is National Adoption Month. So as an adoptive mom and an advocate for adoption, I'd like to take a break from my regular posting on race and faith to blog on adopting, being adopted, and thoughts about adoption. The main focus will be how adoption/adopting affects the believers' faith journey and the relationship with a loving Adoptive Father in heaven.

Just so you'll be warned, I won't be doing all the 'talking' this month. But since I am an adoptive mom and it's my blog, I thought it would be okay if I go first.

I have so many 'instant mom' stories to relate but one stands out this month. It involves my grandmother. I think it fitting that I should relate this one since my grandmother, Mary Honablew, died on November 2, the day I meant to post this originally.

At any rate, my husband and I were anxious to have the family meet our sweet little baby boy. My mom knew about my struggles with infertility and our decision to adopt but I hadn't talked to my grandmother. How can you explain not being able to conceive with a woman who had given birth to 12 children?

Our little one was just over a month old when we took him home to meet the folks that first time. No one had seen pictures of him and by their reactions I think it was a surprise to them to see how much he resembled my very dark-skinned husband.

No one dared say anything about the resemblance until my grandmother leaned in close, looked my husband in the eye and said, 'You sure you didn't have anything to do with this baby?'

Yes, my grandmother was one to speak her mind. She's be greatly missed. In a way, though, I see a lot of her in the adopted great grandson she took under her wing. God is funny that way, sometimes. He has not ceased with His little adoption surprises, replacing my fears with faith (and a laugh or two), reminding me that I can trust Him, even when I can't understand. I've stopped asking 'why me.' He's turned it into 'why not me?'

Have a great month. Feel free to email your stories of adoption and faith to linda[at]llhargrove.com

Thanks.