I See You

To the kid who pushed through immeasurable grief this school year, I see you.

To the kid who struggled with anxiety but still showed up, I see you.

To the kid who didn’t participate in sports or anything extra but cheered others on, I see you.

To the kid who did your best to stay awake in class because you worked late to help pay your family’s bills, I see you.

To the kid with depression who kept putting one foot in front of the other, I see you.

To the kid whose ADHD is alienating but you kept trying, I see you.

To the kid who befriended the new kid in class even though you struggle with friendships, I see you.

To the kid who doesn’t have anyone in your corner, I see you.

To the kids whose square shape will never fit into the round holes of standardization, I see you.

Thank you for your courage to show up at school. Thank you for the continued determination to fight through learning disabilities, grief, trauma and whatever else this world has already thrown at you.

To the kids who will never be recognized with any of the awards our public education system gives out, I see you.

You are worthy. You matter.

I see you.

His Eye is on Them

My kiddo experienced some bullying at school last week. (Before I go any further with this, it’s fair to say that I KNOW my kids do and say things all the time that make us cringe. We’re not naive and fully get that even our precious angels can be antagonistic to others.) We spent time talking about choices and other things that can cause drama but wanted to make sure that our child understood God is an adoring Father and His eye is on them.

I said,

“It’s okay to apologize for things you’ve done wrong. It’s okay to say you’re sorry if you’ve hurt someone as long as you work on the issue at hand. But we don’t ever want you to apologize for who you are…for your interests or likes or anything like that. If you want to grow up and raise chickens, then by all means, be the best chicken parent around. If you want to spend all day with your head in a book, then do it. If you want to be a tattoo artist, go for it but don’t ever say you’re sorry for who you are. The things that other say make you a freak are exactly the things that make you unique. Embrace that. Understand?”

As my kiddo left our bedroom, I instantly thought of Matthew 10:29-31 (Message Bible version). I grabbed the Message bible and headed to my kid’s room.

“What’s the price of a pet canary? Some loose change, right? And God cares what happens to it even more than you do. He pays even greater attention to you, down to the last detail – even numbering the hairs on your head! So don’t be intimidated by all this bully talk. You’re worth more than a million canaries.”

It’s easy to get lost in the world and wonder where you fit in. I felt that way as a girl figuring out female-hood differently than my peers but I remember my mom telling me, “Caroline, His eye is on the sparrow so you know he’s watching after you as well.”

Goodness, friends. Growing up is tough stuff and dealing with rejection is so hard. It’s painful to watch our kids take paths that often have forks in the road. We don’t know which direction they’re going to head down but let’s never forget that God adores our kids. His eye is on them!

Most importantly, let’s continue to remind them of this as well.

6 Lessons I’ve Learned From My Beautiful Children

I wrote an article for Adoption.Com recently regarding the lessons I’ve learned from my children.  It seems that as each year unfolds, I find myself learning more and more about children, adoptive parenting, parenthood (in general) and myself.  Thank, goodness!

1. Children have the desire and right to know where they came from. Adoption is a part of our language. Despite the openness or maybe because of it, our children feel comfortable about asking us questions. They know we may not have all the answers, but we welcome their questions. My kids taught me that history is important, and it is okay (more than okay) to want to seek it and understand it.

2. Children don’t expect perfection. They yearn for presence. I have found myself comparing the parenting of others to my own. I have carried guilt and grief over not showing my best side all the time to the kids. The truth is that my children do not expect the “best of me” all the time.  Instead, they just need “all of me”—my time, my love and my presence.

3. Resilience matters. My children did not have the best start at life. They each suffered less-than-ideal womb experiences (and describing it that way is being gracious). They each have struggled in various settings, socially and academically. We have had multiple specialists, medication regimes, and evaluations. Despite a few odds being against them, they are all incredibly fierce in their own ways. My children have shown me resilience, and I do my best to show it to them as well.

4. Love is greater than biology. I know that seems like a no-brainer, and if you are a parent through adoption or provide foster care, you live in this truth. It is hard to fully explain to people, who question the ability to love a child not born of them, how deep and true loving an adopted child is. Sure, there are areas and kinks that must be worked out. There might be lots of behavior problems and attachment issues, but sometimes, these things only deepen the feeling of love and protection. I have experienced this and continue to do so as my children get older.

5. Parenting does not have a one-size-fits-all standard. In our family, we allow certain things to fly. Our schedule is different. We are stricter about bedtime than other parents we know. We must advocate in a different way per the needs of our children, and we discipline in ways that others may not understand. It is not wrong, and it may not be completely right, but it is what our children need.

6. Adoption is a humbling experience. The statement, “Those kids are lucky to have you” often stops me in my tracks. Sure, they are safe, and we do our best to provide them stability and love, but I do not consider what they have experienced in their lives to be lucky. Instead, the reasons they needed adoption are heartbreaking. I know that while my husband and I strive to be the kind of parents our kids need, we will never be able to replace who their biological parents are, nor do we want to. So, yes. Adoption is humbling.

For the full article, click this link:   https://adoption.com/6-lessons-learned-from-beautiful-children

Blessings,

Caroline

5 Ways to Build a Strong Relationship with Your Foster Child’s Parents

Hey there!

Are you a foster parent?  Do you struggle with building a relationship with your child’s biological parents?  This is something that can be hard but not impossible!

I wrote an article about this very subject.  Click:  5 ways to build a strong relationship

As always, I hope this finds you well and encouraged.

Blessings,

Caroline

Just a Handful of Rocks {love pursues love}

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Just a handful of rocks and an old ring, right?  Well, not quite.

The week before Christmas, my daughter withdrew $100 out of her savings account so that she could purchase items for the homeless in our community.  You can read about her experience with this by clicking on this link: 7BillionOnes

Yesterday, I received a message that the gentleman my daughter met at a homeless camp had a gift for her.  He told our mutual friend, a photographer, that he wanted her to pick out some things from his collection as a thank you for her gifts to him.

I told my daughter that we had an errand to run and needed to stop by the studio before she went to gymnastics.  She was excited to go back to the photography studio as she just loves walking around it and looking at the incredible images on the walls.

When we got there, our friend took her to the office and told her that “D” had picked a few special pieces out for her and wanted her to look through the trinkets and rocks.  She was thrilled.

As I watched her little fingers meander their way through the bag, I couldn’t help but feel so humbled by it.  With an impending winter storm heading our way, and a recent event that affected “D”, his generosity and appreciation for what my daughter did for him a few weeks ago pressed right into my heart.

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To some, this handful of rocks and an old ring might seem like junk.

To my daughter, they are priceless. 

To some, this handful of rocks and an old ring might seem trivial.

To my daughter, they are meaningful.

To me, they are a powerful reminder that giving breeds giving. 

LOVE PURSUES LOVE.

Let us all stop minimizing what acts of kindness can do for each other.  I know my daughter’s experience interacting with our homeless friends has changed her and, oh my, it has changed me.

Friends, would you say a prayer tonight for “D” and all of our homeless friends?  Would you consider giving what you can to help change the life of a person who is homeless?

I promise your life will be changed because of it.

The Gift of Brokenness {His grace is sufficient}

It seems I’ve been bombarded by the difficulties of life these past few days.  Friends struggling with illnesses, Christians turning against each other, children suffering through sexual abuse, and children being passed around through the foster care system, all seem to be on the forefront of battles within my own small piece of this world to which I dwell.

I have worried with concern about what is going on in other parts of the world.  Although feeling sheltered and stowed away here in the middle of America, I still wonder if…when…the life that we know of might be taken off-course by the wavering pains of the world.

There are those moments when you say to God, “When is enough going to be enough?!?” 

“How can we ever expect to fix a broken world when it is full of broken people?” 

There are times when I wonder why in the world has the Lord not claimed His world back.  “How many more children have to suffer at the hands of their abusers…their soul-drainers?  How many more parents have to watch their babies…their own flesh-wrapped part of their hearts…lying in a sick-bed?”

 “Lord, how many wars are too many before You intervene?  And…why…why  don’t You intervene?”

Even in my own fears of raising babes in this world, succumbing to the frailty of my own mortal coil, and witnessing again and again the vileness of abuse and neglect of God’s children, I still find myself in total awe at the moments when He declares Himself.

Even in those times when my heart is breaking, I know that in my sorrow I am drawn even closer to what breaks our Father’s heart.  I know that when you, my friend, despair over the ways of this world and the battles of your own flesh, you are also despairing over what breaks our Father’s heart.

Lately, I’ve seen many statements that declare “Strong Is the New Skinny”.

Do you want to know what is really strong, my friend?  Do you want to know what declares true strength?

In our most vulnerable moments when we cry out to God, put ourselves right in the center of someone else’s pain, or experience those times when we feel our own weaknesses, we are the strongest we have ever been.

The gift of brokenness is one that holds great beauty, courage, and strength. 

  • It is felt when you are whole in your faith in our Divine Father.
  • It is witnessed when you sing songs of joy even though your body is failing.
  • It is heard in your prayers for those who persecute you.

And, it is settled in your own broken heart…the one that causes your tears to flow for others, your actions to fill love in the spaces left empty, and your willpower to put one foot in front of the other for the good of another soul…another child of God.

This morning, I got up early, went to the gym to work-out, and saw the most beautiful sunrise on my way home.  It was bright, colorful, and simply breath-taking.

Sonrise

I took a picture of it because it was worthy of being shared.  I don’t know about you, but when I witness sunrises like this one this morning, I am profoundly humbled by the promise of our Lord.

I am inspired to keep going because day after day, the Lord continues to paint skies like the one is this picture.

Despite our frailty, weaknesses, selfish desires, and failures to love the way He does, God still shows up each day and declares Himself to the world.

But he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.”

 Therefore I will boast all the more gladly of my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may rest upon me. For the sake of Christ, then, I am content with weaknesses, insults, hardships, persecutions, and calamities. For when I am weak, then I am strong.

2 Corinthians 12:9-10

Motherhood is a Gift

Over the past year or so, we have played the “I’m sorry” and “I’m thankful” game around the dinner table at meal times.  We take turns telling what we are thankful for, and apologizing for the things we have done during the week that might have hurt someone’s feelings, or broken a rule.

The great thing about this game is that we get to hear our children admit wrongdoings, even when we were not fully aware of them.  It is also nice to hear them say they are sorry.  Perhaps, though, the best lesson of all is that we can fully admit when we have done something wrong, made a bad choice, or have not been as patient as we should have been with our children, and each other.  This lesson is valuable for our children, and more importantly, it is humbling for us.

Recently during dinner, my daughter started the game, and we all went around and said sorry for the little things we did during the week that may have hurt each other’s feelings, or perhaps, caused more stress on our family unit.  After this, we went around and spoke about the things we were thankful for.

My son: “I’m thankful for my family and the food we have.”

The baby:  “…..some nodding of his head….” 

My husband: “I’m thankful that we have each other.”

Myself:  “I’m thankful that in this cold weather, we have a warm home to live in.”

My daughter:  “I’m thankful….(starts to tear up)….I’m thankful for mommy and daddy.” 

DtrI took another turn and said, “I’m thankful for having a daughter, and for this moment right now.” 

After I said this, my daughter took off running to her bedroom.  I left her alone in her room for a minute, and then decided to check on her.  I found her lying in her bed with tears rolling down her cheeks.

“What’s wrong, sweetie?”  I asked.

“A long, long time ago when I was in my birth mom’s belly, I heard (our son) tell you that he will miss you if you die.”

As the tears came barreling down her cheeks, she said, “I will miss you if you die, and you are the best parents ever.”

My daughter has talked often about knowing us while in her birth mother’s belly.  I cannot even begin to comprehend what runs through an adopted child’s mind, or heart.

On the one side, it gives me great joy to think about the opportunities in life that are present and available when children are placed into families whose deepest desires are to bring in a child to love wholly, celebrate, and give life-changing open doors to.  On the other, and with a twinge of protective sadness, I think about just how much an adopted child wonders about their birth families, what life would have been like in their families of origin, and if they were loved by birth parents.

I do not have all of the answers, and will never have them.  Like most parents, I want the best for my children.  I want my children to be understood, nurtured by those around them, to passionately seek out the things in life that give laughter to their souls, and to be able to look back on life with a full measure of contentment.

As an adoptive parent, though, I recognize that there might always be an unfulfilled space where questions linger and thoughts go unrecognized.  In other words, I know that there could be an empty place in my children’s lives that can only be filled with answers to which I may never be able to give them.

Adoptive parenting is both joy and loss, and sweetness and sorrow at the same time.

I have seen that some people who are parents through adoption have revolted (if you want to call it that) against the word adoptive being in front of the word parent.  I get it.  To my children, I am not “Adoptive Mommy”,  I’m “Mommy”.  I am not “Adoptive Tear-Drier, Adoptive Cheerleader, and Adoptive Caretaker.”  I am tear-drier, cheerleader, and caretaker.

But, the truth is, my babies grew in another’s body.  The fact that they grew in another mother’s womb, and are being cared for by me as their mother, does not fall lightly in my thoughts.

I think it is a privilege and incredible honor to call myself an adoptive mother.

 It is not a subtitle, or secondary description.

Being an adoptive mother is profound.

It is the unique experience that lends one’s heart to the belief that our children were chosen for us, and we were chosen for them.

Today, while thinking about my children, I whispered this to the Lord,

“Thank you for these moments right now of being a parent.”

Motherhood is a gift.

Adoptive motherhood is even more of a gift, and for that, I am thankful.

Armor of Light

I have to be honest.  I’ve had a bit of writer’s block lately.  I’ve started blog posts, deleted them, started again, and then stepped away from my computer wondering if a creative idea, emotive words, or inspiration will ever enter my mind again.

How could I write about anything else?  What is more important, in our current affairs of the world, than the way we treat children?  I simply could not find the words to write.  My thoughts took me to a place of guilt for even thinking about writing about other issues that seem less important.

It seems hard to write after what has happened in my community.  The smallish,seemingly safe city that I grew up in entered into a darkness these past few weeks.  The shocking abduction of a young girl in front of her neighbors, the search for her, and the grim discovery of her body seemed to freeze our little spot on this spinning, blue planet, in grief.

It is not that my hometown is free of violence or despair.  Our growing city of just over 162,000 has seen its share of events that mimic the often depraved nature of our culture. Child abuse statistics are some of the highest in the state.  Drugs have invaded the city.  Domestic violence shelters seem to be full most of the time.  And, there are plenty of children and families who go to bed hungry each night.

However, this act of violence was quite different from the ones we’ve experienced. This little girl became all of our daughters, and our sons.  Because of her death, we all have hovered a little more, kept a watchful eye, and hugged an extra time or two.  We have all clung onto the stark reminder that our children are the most valuable gifts we have ever been given.

A little over a week ago, my city held a candlelight vigil for the girl and her family. Over 10,000 people showed up; 10,000 lights lit up our little corner of the world.

Candlelight Vigil
Photo Credit: Cory Stewart

Ten thousand personal moments of silence.  Ten thousands prayers said, and songs sang.  Thousands of tears shed.  Thousands of whispers of love, grief, and hope, found their way to Heaven that night.

Faith is the strength by which a shattered world shall emerge into the light.   -Helen Keller

When I first saw this image, my breath escaped me.  In this image I see sadness, loss, and anger.  What I also see is light, love, strength, and hope.  I see unity.  I see a community raising their candles and speaking out loud that children matter.

I see confirmation that kindness still exists, and that one of the most powerful God-given emotions is that of love.  

I see light suffocating darkness.

I see the armor of light.

The night is nearly over; the day is almost here. So let us put aside the deeds of darkness and put on the armor of light. – Romans 13:12

The Blessing Jar {Part 2}

A little less than a year ago, we started a family project called “The Blessing Jar”. The idea behind it came from my oldest son’s desire to give change to people without money.  We decided to get a jar, start collecting change, and then give it away.  You can read my initial post about this by clicking on this link, The Blessing Jar.

Throughout the year, I didn’t put any pressure on the kids to donate to the jar.  If they found, earned, or were given money, I asked them, “What do you want to do with it?”  I was surprised how often they wanted to throw it in the jar.

Blessing 1Last weekend, we decided it was time to take our jar of change, get it counted up, and donate it.  The jar was not full, but it seemed appropriate for us to do something like this the weekend before we celebrate Thanksgiving.

After all, our family has so much to be thankful for.

We have a warm home, food to eat, and each other.  What more could we ask for?

I started talking to my kids the week before about what to do with the money.  We talked about different options, and they both kept going back to giving money to people who do not have any food.  As a matter of fact, earlier in the week during an outing to the local mall, my daughter grabbed a handful of change and started sprinting towards the guy ringing the Salvation Army Bell.  She said, “Mommy, he’s ringing the bell.  That means he’s hungry.”  She quickly put money in the kettle.  I later explained that the young man was helping others who are hungry by ringing the bell.

We decided that the money would go to a local group called “The Gathering Tree”. This group, started by a doctor and his wife, feeds the homeless in our community, and is a very grass-roots effort with volunteers cooking the food, serving it, and offering support to those who show up.  A  friend of mine is very involved with the group, and has witnessed the heart-breaking stories of many of the souls who walk through the doors.

Thankfully, there are lots of organizations in our community that help out the homeless and down-trodden.  We decided on this group because it is solely a volunteer-based organization.  I have also heard that the volunteers do not ask questions, or judge whoever walks in needing a warm meal.  There are not any qualifying or conditional factors like a lot of programs.  They offer support and resources, and always say Grace before each meal.

Since my husband and I are both involved in social work, I understand the need for rules and policies for social programs.  At the end of the day though, there are still people who are starving, cold, and in need of companionship.  There are still people who just need a kind word, a non-judgmental look, the touch of another human, and a feeling of belonging somewhere….anywhere.  This is one of the reasons why I suggested the group to my children.

From what I have heard, they are people who simply love other people and want or need or feel compelled, whatever you want to call it, to bring a little comfort to the forgotten, desperate, or needy.

Pure. Simple. Love.

I told the kids that when we got there, they would see people who do not have homes.  They might even see children there, too.  When we walked in, we were greeted by my friend who went to get the founders of the group.  Both of my kids stood there for a while, taking it all in.  My son kept staring at all of the people huddled around eating food.

Soon, a red-headed, freckled face little boy with an over-sized coat and a little girl with a dirty face, came right up next to our family.  Both of my kids just stood there quietly.  Every once in a while, they would head into the children’s area and play with a few toys, but mostly, they stayed close to us.

The founders of the group greeted us and I explained the Blessing Jar to them.  Soon, the wife got down on my children’s level, and with tears in her eyes, graciously thanked them for the $32.00 dollars they donated.  She explained what can be done with the money, and how it can help.

Blessing Jar 2Thirty-two dollars from two little ones who had no idea the gravity of the gift they gave.

Thirty-two dollars given with the innocent hope that goodness will come out of it.

After a few tears, and hugs, we left the building and escaped back to our car and warm home.  As I was tucking my son into bed, he said, “Mom, she had a rip in her clothes, and that boy’s jacket was way too big.”  I just listened.  He then went on to ask, “What if that boy doesn’t have a mommy and daddy?  What will happen to him?”  I said, “If he didn’t have a mommy or daddy, the people there helping out would make sure that he was somewhere he would be taken care of by a mommy and daddy.”

My son thought for a moment, and then said, “Like a foster home?  Kinda like what we did for baby…?”  I said, “Yes, kind of, but that little boy does have a mommy, and the coat may be too big, but at least he has a coat.”  As he was snuggling into his warm bed, I asked him if he wanted to save money in the Blessing Jar again. He said, “Yes.”  I kissed him goodnight, and my heart swelled.

The next day as we were getting into the car, he spotted a quarter that had fallen down in-between the seats.  He quickly pointed out that it needed to go in the Blessing Jar!  Our jar is empty now with the exception of a couple of quarters the children have already added, but hopefully it will start to fill up as the year goes on.

I have learned as a parent that it does not take a lot of effort to teach children about grace, generosity, giving, and loving others. Sometimes, children can teach these things better than any adult on any given day.  We just need to stop long enough to hear their hearts speak through their actions, concerns, and musings of life.Blessing Jar3

Our little Blessing Jar has blessed us in return.

There is great joy that comes when generosity and life-lessons collide.

Indeed.

“In everything I did, I showed you that by this kind of hard work we must help the weak, remembering the words the Lord Jesus himself said: ‘It is more blessed to give than to receive.’ ” – Acts 20:35

Love that is Far from Barren

Walk
Photo Credit: http://sarahcarterphotos.com/

During this month of celebrating adoption, I’ve been meandering my way through pictures of my kids.  The one above happens to be one of my favorites.  It was taken by a local photographer a few years ago.

When I look at this picture, I see children whose future is wide open, and who matter more to their parents than they may ever fully realize.  I see children who found their way home.  

When I look at the image above, I don’t see barrenness.  I don’t feel desolation.  I don’t find myself speaking the “what if’s”, and “why’s”.  I don’t recall the place I used to dwell in; that wasteland of broken dreams.

I don’t see infertility.

When I set my eyes on the picture above, I know that things happen for a reason.  I feel the restoration of broken lives, the healing of scarred remains, and the mercy-filled grace that I am now living.

When I look at this image of my oldest son and daughter, I am thankful.  I am genuinely thankful for the path I walked to become their mother.  I am truly grateful for others whose hands touched our lives, and molded our family.

Ultimately, though, I am humbled by the acts of my Heavenly Father who shook me out of my barrenness, and said, “MY plan for you is better than this.  MY plan for you will unfold.  MY plan for you is one that diminishes the scars of your youth, and wipes away the tears of your adulthood.  MY plan for you is far from barren.”

When I look at the sweet image of my son and daughter, I see love.

Love fulfilled. 

Love that changed lives.

Love that intervened at just the right time.

Love that brought life into the wasteland.

Love that is far from barren.

That my glory may sing your praise and not be silent. O Lord my God, I will give thanks to you forever!

Psalm 30:12