We have tried to
raise kids who love orphans.
Actually, first, we have tried to raise kids who love Jesus and out of the overflow of their love for Jesus, we pray and have hope they love those
He loves. We are still figuring all of this out.
How
much we are still figuring it out becomes even more apparent when you have two former orphans living in your house. The words you use are now descriptive of your own family and aren't thrown around with the same amount of ease.
Since we have been in
the process of adopting from the beginning of time, or at least the beginning of when Moses was able to talk, our kids are not strangers to the fact that some kids "don't have mommies and papa's." That is the way we have always described orphans to our kids. The orphans we sponsor, the orphans in our partner orphanage, the orphans we have tried to adopt: they "don't have mommies and papa's."
Recently I came face-to-face with how lacking our definition is. I overheard T and Moses talking in their room about "daddy". This caught my ear because we refer to William as "Papa" so I knew they were talking about T's father.
I was still trying to make out exactly what they were discussing when T came running into the room and announced "Miss Lindsy, I don't have a daddy." as if he was telling me he didn't have any clean underwear.
It was in that moment I realized our definition was empty and thoughtless.
I can't share the details of T's birth parents, mostly because they are not mine to share, but what we were all taught in 5th grade sex-ed is: he
does have a daddy. Somewhere, some man is his daddy.
I don't know him, his name or anything about him.
What I do know is something went tragically wrong in
his life for him to walk away from this sweet boy. Painfully wrong. Sinfully wrong. Broken. Wrong.
Oh how I fumbled through my response to T that evening. As I tripped over my own words explaining to a four year old the way babies are made without
really telling him how babies are made I was kicking myself - Why didn't I have a script for this?! Why didn't I have the forethought to expect this question and prepare for it?!
Thankfully, God is gracious and has allowed us to do a few things well in our parenting. As I was explaining a man and a woman made him, T interrupted me and said
"But I thought God made me?"
Ah! Yes! God made you!
I fumbled again but it didn't matter, he was off and playing.
God used T to teach me two things that day:
One, orphans do have mommies and papa's. The tragedy of this broken world has disrupted God's design and they are not
cared for by the two people who came together to make them, but they exist. Even if they have passed, even if they made horrendously selfish decisions, even if they are unknown;
they deserve to be acknowledged and honored for the life they gave that child.
I have to be honest,
when we started our adoption journey four years ago, I wasn't thinking about those two people. Subconsciously, I think part of the appeal of international adoption was I would not
have to think about those people. Or so I thought.
When I think of how unprepared I was four years ago, I'm thankful this journey has taken so long. I'm thankful for people like
Carissa Woodwyk and
Amy Monroe for sharing their stories so I can lead our kids as they explore their own stories.
Because their stories include those two people.
The second thing God taught me through T that day is this:
God made him. And them. And us.
I knew this obviously, but it took a four year old to remind me. My job as his surrogate mother, and as the mother to all of our kids, is to remind them of this. Constantly.
I can't pretend to know the pain our kids from hard places feel and will continue to feel all of their lives. But I can point all of our kids to the One who heals. The One who made them and loves them. He is with them. Constantly.
