The Difference of a Year and a Barbie



11/1/2010



Princess Tiana has been with us for a year, as of yesterday. We've never celebrated a "gotcha day" or a "family day" before, since Bugs came to us as a tiny newborn. We went to dinner and had fried rice and chicken, her favorites. We actually ended up at the same place we were eating the night Bugs was born! Goose thought it was an occasion worthy of a gift, and I happened to have an awesome Ghana Barbie on hand (thank you, ebay!). Let me tell you, Tiana's reaction to the surprise left me speechless. She promptly named the doll Efia, as it is "the prettiest Ghana name," and noticed how much the doll looks like her (she really does).  It is hard to find dolls that accurately depict African women. It doesn't help those of us who wish their daughters could see the beauty in their curly hair or dark skin. My beautiful little Ghanaian girl who, for 12 months has wished she looked like her very white sister, finally loves her own look. She sat the kids all down and told them that this Barbie is SPECIAL because she is from Ghana too. Tiana has not wanted to talk about Ghana since she came home. Her past is painful for her to remember and often she just pretends she can't. Last night she was teaching her sister a song in Fante. She told the boys all about the beautiful fabrics that women wear and how they tie their babies to their backs. It has been a long road to get here and we have plenty more traveling to do. But the changes in Tiana this year have been nothing short of miraculous.

11/1/2009

 She is the piece of our family that I felt was missing for many years. She brought me so far out of my comfort zone that I had to get a new one!
I love you, my sassy little "chocolate Cinderella!"
Now, my plug for adoption. If you're ready, but just afraid to take the first step, JUST DO IT! As hard as the past year has been, I have no regrets. I would do it again. I'm still praying that someday I will get the chance, so please take yours.

The "Wait" Poem

by Russell Kelfer
Desperately, helplessly, longingly, I cried;
Quietly, patiently, lovingly, God replied.
I pled and I wept for a clue to my fate...
and the Master so gently said,"Wait."

"Wait? you say wait?" my indignant reply.
"Lord, I need answers, I need to know why!"
Is your hand shortened? Or have you not heard?
By faith I have asked, and I'm claiming your Word.

My future and all to which I relate
hangs in the balance and you tell me to Wait?"
I'm needing a 'yes', a go-ahead sign.
Or even a 'no,' to which I'll resign.

You promised, dear Lord, that if we believe,
We need but to ask, and we shall receive.
Lord, I've been asking, and this is my cry:
I'm weary of asking! I need a reply.

Then quietly, softly, I learned of my fate
as my Master replied again, "Wait."
So I slumped in my chair, defeated and taut,
and grumbled to God, "So, I'm waiting...for what?"

He seemed then to kneel, and His eyes met with mine...
and He tenderly said, "I could give you a sign.
I could shake the heavens and darken the sun.
I could raise the dead and cause mountains to run.

I could give all you seek and pleased you would be.
You'd have what you want, but you wouldn't know Me.
You'd not know the depth of My love for each saint.
You'd not know the power that I give to the faint.

You'd not learn to see through clouds of despair;
you'd not learn to trust just by knowing I'm there.
You'd not know the joy of resting in Me
when darkness and silence are all you can see.

You'd never experience the fullness of love
when the peace of My spirit descends like a dove.
You would know that I give, and I save, for a start,
But you'd not know the depth of the beat of My heart.

The glow of My comfort late into the night,
the faith that I give when you walk without sight.
The depth that's beyond getting just what you ask
From an infinite God who makes what you have last.

You'd never know should your pain quickly flee,
what it means that My grace is sufficient for thee.
Yes, your dearest dreams overnight would come true,
but oh, the loss if I lost what I'm doing in you.

So, be silent, my child, and in time you will see
that the greatest of gifts is to truly know me.
And though oft My answers seem terribly late,
My most precious answer of all is still "WAIT".

In Response to "Spiritual Warfare"

A blogging friend of mine wrote last week about Spiritual Warfare, and how her family has seen the influence of Satan (the Adversary, Lucifer, whatever you call him) in their children's (and therefore their own) lives. She relates some experiences specific to an adopted daughter, and I am writing my response from the reference point of an adoptive parent. Believe or don't believe, that's your choice. You don't live my life and I do not live yours. I believe because we have been and are still engaged in a war. Our battles have been more subtle but just as persistent. It does wear you down after a while, even people like me who consider(ed) themselves very spiritually strong. This was my response to her post, for those who may not read that blog. I did not want to link directly, simply because I would hate for one of my thousands of six readers to go over there and leave negative comments for my friend. I will share the link privately if you email me. If you feel like leaving comments here for me, go right ahead. I have on my big-girl pants.

I will say that, in our personal and recent experience, spiritual warfare is very real. It takes different forms and affects us all in different ways, but it is REAL. It doesn't stop when the kids come home, either. If anything I believe Satan then works extra hard to make adoptive parents feel inadequate, unprepared, frustrated and incompetent. Some of us begin to wonder whether we have indeed done the right thing in bringing a child into our family. We ask ourselves daily WHY our child carries such burdens on her tiny shoulders. And he puts plenty of other people into our lives to reinforce these negative ideas, some within our own families. He makes adoption difficult, every step of the way, to give us opportunities to fear and doubt.
 
It must chap his fiery hide TO NO END to see an orphan find a forever family, where she will be cherished, fed and nurtured. It has to drive him berserk to see us work tirelessly to get our kids the services or therapies or medical treatment that will save their physical bodies AND their spirits. Because then we win, and he loses! I do not believe that Satan can force his will upon us, but we can certainly let him in! Little by little we can submit our will and lose our faith and Satan will always be there to welcome us into his fold. He would LOVE to see us fall.
 
For this very reason, we must surround ourselves with people who will lift us up, in prayer and in support and with their heartfelt encouragement. Anybody else just has no place in our life anymore. It takes every ounce of faith and energy to keep our family together, safe in the physical and spiritual sense. There is no room for the negative, the doubters, the discouragers. It is HARD enough, even with the best support network. Yes, indeed, it is a war and we're winning. So far.

And So It Begins

Football season is once again upon us. With two playing this year (pause for a moment and digest that info, next year we''ll have THREE) football pretty much rules. Homework is accomplished at the field, dinner is sometimes accomplished on the way home from the field (and occasinally from a cereal box). Yes, I did just admit that. Fortunately, this was the last week of two practices every night, so we will soon be back to eating food that doesn't come from a paper bag. In spite of the nutritional impact, we're having a GREAT time. It probably helps that the bakery outlet is beside the football park. Of course, we only go there for their gigantic donuts freshly-squeezed organic juice. Ahem.
Now, some of you who know us would have assumed that Scooter is the other player. He's the obvious choice. Not so. We all know how Quab feels about sports, being outdoors, competition, and being hot and sweaty. But he is 100% into the game! He must have caught some of Bugs' enthusiasm, or perhaps the daily off-season discussion of football worked into his subconscious. However it happened, we're proud of him for going so far out of his comfort zone and trying something new. He wants to be good at football, so he is always looking for Bugs or Dad to practice something he struggles with as a rookie. He was pretty sure he would be killed by one of the lineman in his first game and I'm hapy to report that he's alive and well. Quab was beyond excited to get the same #12 that Bugs had last year. It makes us smile to see him all suited up like a (much) smaller version of his older brother.
Bugs moved up to an "A" Team this year, so the play is pretty intense and somehow he is NOT the biggest kid on the field this year. I think it scared him a little bit to walk into tryouts and see himself standing beside boys who were a foot taller. And Bugs is still a BIG kid! Nothing intimidates this boy, though. He knows what is expected and he will rise to that every time. Like everything else, he wants to do football well or not at all. Bugs has a unique gitft in that he is convinced that he is good at anything he does. He's not cocky at all, but he doesn't see himself as inferior no matter how unfamiliar or demanding the experience. He expects to win. It is awesome.
Anyway, if you have wondered where we all are, that's the story. We'll be back to reality in early November. Until then, join us at a Saturday game or a weeknight practice. It is fun to watch. Today's season openers were an exercise in losing gracefully for the boys. And they did us proud, like always. We came home and had an impromptu family football clinic on the front grass. I was awarded Bug's last-year jersey for my hard work, and in spite of my dismal performance. I can hear the cheering now.