Eleven Years In

 Eleven years ago today, my husband and I walked through the gates of Hannah's Hope in Ethiopia and woke a sleepy baby boy, said good-bye to his caregivers and headed back to our hotel room. We started our parenting journey with a lot of uncertainty about how the following days/months would go - regarding attachment, development, etc. We prepared as much as we could for the task of raising a child through adoption - taking classes on transracial adoption, reading about attachment and talking with other adoptive families about the transition. We understood that grief and loss are a part of the fabric of adoption - you can never escape the complicated feelings that accompany this type of parenthood. 

Eleven years in, I am grateful for the journey. If I could go back to the naive mid-twenties couple and offer anything to them, it would be:  press in to those who speak life. Have a deep rooted theology of suffering and hardship and understanding of God's unfailing character. Keep learning and growing and listening. When there are joyful days and easy moments, praise God for them and acknowledge them as a gift. 

Because of my son's intellectual disabilities, a lot of the conversations we thought we would be having about Ethiopia, his Black skin, his first family, etc, are not what I envisioned. These are losses for both of us as well. We daydreamed about taking him back to his home country when he was a pre-teen, and now I know that is not an option for him. 

I can't look ahead and imagine what life will be like in another eleven years, when he is a young adult without the school system support, and my husband and I will be older. I don't want to look ahead, honestly. I have learned that God offers "daily bread" and "sufficient" grace for each moment and day. Like the manna in the desert offered to the Israelites, God has equipped us with exactly the portions of strength, patience, etc we need for each day. Eleven years in to parenting I have learned that when I try to operate in my own abilities without the Holy Spirit, I am often crushed, depleted and exhausted. I can be overwhelmed or anxious when I take my eyes off of Jesus and believe God to have a plan in place for my life and my son's life. 

There are so many things that we have gone through in the last eleven years. In the first few years of Israel's life, I compared myself to others so much and lived with constant guilt of not being a good enough parent. I remember reading blogs of adoptive parents whose children had also been institutionalized, and they would write about how their developmentally delayed children suddenly met all of the goals once they were in a loving home. And yet, our little guy was enrolled in early intervention supports, we were paying out of pocket for additional services, we were working on exercises at home, and our love wasn't enough to heal this little one. I had so much shame and guilt about not doing enough or being enough - it was the biggest relief when at age 2.5 he was given a cerebral palsy diagnosis and I knew it was not my fault at all - it was his brain makeup that affected his abilities. I know it may seem so trivial on the outside - of course it wasn't my fault, but the Enemy was speaking directly to my insecurities. 

Of course there have been incredible joys in parenthood. Having a child with disabilities means that each milestone is hard-won. You cannot imagine the magnitude of pride we had when our son took his first steps at 5 years old or even on the rare nights that he sleeps through the night. Israel is also the most affectionate of our children, the one who wants to have snuggles, and stories and to smile and laugh with us. He is the hardest and easiest to please of all of our kids. He has helped us connect to others we would never have met because of his doctors, therapists and specialists. He is the absolute silliest and wants to include anyone and everyone into his joy. Although there is hard, there is so much generous goodness in being Israel's parents. 

We are in a special club - one that in 2012 we didn't know we were going to be a part of. I'm so grateful that God writes our stories. I'm grateful that I have learned to lean in to Jesus more than I ever did before Israel came in to my home. I'm grateful for a little boy who loves Elmo, Hamilton and NPR Tiny Desk concerts. One who loves little animal figures and pretending to drive the car. I'm thankful for Israel who has stretched my patience and my heart - who has been a tool from God to shape my character and open to my eyes and heart so much wider. 

Eleven years in, I'm so grateful. It has been a hard eleven years! :) We have been stretched beyond our comfort. There's no feeling of being out of control like being in doctors offices, waiting for your child to come out of MRIs or surgeries. Yet each thing that has stretched us has been for our good. What a gift to be Israel's mom and dad. 

“I have told you these things, so that in me you may have peace. In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world.” John 16:33

"Not only that, but we rejoice in our sufferings, knowing that suffering produces endurance,  and endurance produces character, and character produces hope, and hope does not put us to shame, because God's love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit who has been given to us." Romans 5:3-5

"But to each one of us grace has been given as Christ apportioned it." Ephesians 4:7

"Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of mercies and God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our affliction, so that we may be able to comfort those who are in any affliction, with the comfort with which we ourselves are comforted by God. For as we share abundantly in Christ's sufferings, so through Christ we share abundantly in comfort too." 2 Corinthians 1:3-5