Adoption
--Derek Loux
On September 9, 2011 , I wrote a blog post entitled “Heeding the
Call.” http://motheringmentobemarriageandmiscellany.blogspot.com/2011/09/heeding-call.html At that time, I announced our
plans to pursue adoption and detailed the circumstances that had lead Paul and
I to believe that God was calling us to this particular journey. Two days ago I sat in a court room with my family
and listened as a judge declared that Elizabeth Lucy and Eleanor Claire were
now Heywoods, solely my responsibility.
No more would I have to fear interference from the state. I was free to care for these little girls as
I saw fit.
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The actual day of the adoption I just kind of floated along, lost
in the importance of the moment and intent on getting done what needed to be
done. But in the last two days – wow! It is really hitting me. I have adopted children! I am just in awe. I remember so clearly sitting at my
grandparents’ house as an 11 or 12 year old reading the story of little Kim, a
Vietnamese orphan who was adopted by an American soldier and his family after
the war. It was then that God first
stirred my heart towards adoption. That
moment was culminated this past Thursday with the flourish of the judge’s pen
(ok, I’m being artistic here – she actually had a large computer on her desk
that she typed away at and that was what finalized the adoption).
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I am reminded of so much. I
never forgot that initial call to adoption.
I remember thinking over the years that if and when I adopted, I wanted
non-white children. I wanted it to be
obvious to the whole world that I had adopted.
Although, I was so committed to taking the children that God wanted for
us, that I told DHS I would take any race of child, even a white one. I was even reluctant to specify that I would
prefer a girl. Because, what if God
wanted us to have another son? I think
it was Paul who finally persuaded me that it was ok to indicate to them that a
girl would be our preference. If God
wanted us to take a little boy, a check mark on a piece of paper wasn’t going
to stop Him!
I’ll never forget the “vision” that God gave me about 10 years
ago. At the time I didn’t realize it was
a vision, although it was one of those things that made me pause and wonder, “Now
why did I think that?” I wanted
to write it off as one of the thousands of random thoughts that routinely worm
its way into my brain, but something told me that this particular thought was
significant. I never forgot it. God gave me a picture of two small lighter-skinned
black girls, sitting in double-stroller as we strolled through Younkers
Department store. Why Younkers, I don’t
know. I do seem to spend a lot of time
and money at that store, though! And I’ve
always had a particular affection for that store since my grandma (the same
grandma whose book I read about the Vietnamese preschooler) worked there when I
was young. And then last summer I picked up the girls. It was just a few weeks later that I was in
Younkers, pushing them in my newly-purchased stroller when it hit me – I was
now living out the vision God had previously planted. Talk about chills!
From the moment DHS called me on June 13 of last year wondering if
I would be interested in these two, I had a certain assurance that these little
girls were who God intended us to adopt all along. Maybe that’s because we were told from the
beginning that this would, more than likely, end up being an adoption situation
– I don’t know for sure. But then we
went through seven weeks late last summer and into fall where we waited to see
if the judge would terminate on the birth mom.
That was a real time for me of having to surrender my desire towards the
girls and be willing to accept God’s will, no matter what it was.
One of the reasons I was so reluctant at first to pursue foster
care adoption was that I had this certain knowledge that I was voluntarily
walking into pain. It was as though I
was giving my hand to someone who I knew was going to place it on a hot burner
at some point. I didn’t want to do
that! I assumed that pain would come in
the form of losing children that had been given to me for a short time. But it didn’t.
DHS never once hinted that there was a probability of removing the
girls. I’ll never forget when one of Ben’s
short-lived SCL workers found out what we were planning and looked at me and
gasped, “Why would you want to do this?” and went on to tell me some
horrible things that had happened in her house when she, herself was a foster
mother. But these little ones fit
almost seamlessly into our household.
Yes, Lizzie has had some behavioral bumps, to the point that I have
sought counseling for her. But it isn’t
like she has tried to burn down our house or threatened me with a butcher
knife, either (I’ve heard of both scenarios happening in other foster homes
before). Ellie was “shut down” for her
first four or five months with us but when she emerged she was a delightful
toddler and continues to light up my world today.
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The judge terminated on the birth mom last October and I spent the
next 11 months waiting out the appeals process and waiting for an adoption
date. At times I found myself wondering,
“Where’s the pain?” Well, it came, of
course, this past June 6th, in a way I never, ever could have
imagined. I never dreamed that when God
placed the seed of adoption into my heart as a child and when that dream began
to grow to maturity, watered by Paul’s mutual desire, that it would blossom
when I had to be a single mother. I
would have never pursued adoption if I had known Paul would die. But when he did die, I also knew that I could
never give the girls back. They were
mine.
And now they are, in every aspect possible. The day was beautiful. I had a number of people show up to support
us at the court house. My parents drove
down to see their number 2 and number 3 granddaughters officially added to the
family. My pastor and his wife
came. My friend Julie, a professional
photographer, captured the day on film (or an sd card, I guess) for us. Everyone there spoke for me, offering their
encouragement and support of the adoption.
Each of the boys gave a short statement on how much they loved their
sisters. When asked why my home was the best
for the girls (a question I had not anticipated) I simply told the court room
that while the girls had been born to a different woman, they were created to
be my children. Later, the judge
told me that she wished I could take even more children, which was very
humbling for me to hear. Most of the
time, I don’t consider myself to be that great of a mother – ok, I guess (I
haven’t drowned any of them yet) but a long way from the “great” category.
After signing reams of paperwork with my attorney, I took the kids
out to the mall and went to Build-a-Bear for the Littles. That’s a once-in-a-lifetime event, let me
tell you! I thought it would be a nice
way, though, for them to commemorate Adoption Day. They can look at their new stuffed animal and
remember the day they built it. As they
clerk was cheerfully debiting my card for $94 she commented that I have “lots
of build-a-bear years left!” I thought
to myself, “Fat chance, Lady!”
Then we picked up a chicken meal at Hy-Vee and my parents got an
ice-cream cake I had ordered from Dairy Queen and we had a nice family
celebration. That evening a few friends
from church came over and we had cupcakes and snacks and celebrated even more. I had intended to take all the kids out to
eat but this terrible storm rolled in around 5.
Will was concerned about the basement addition that is still partially
open and was actually out in the rain, digging a dam to keep the water out (it
worked). We decided we were still all
too full from lunch, anyway, to eat again.
Instead, we went to the Checkerboard last night where the kids
squabbled, had to go potty at inopportune moments, and our waitresses’ attitude
bordered on surly (wonder how cranky she got when she saw the $3 tip I left?).
Of course, the biggest part of this adoption is Paul’s
absence. This was never how I planned
this special day to be. It hurt when I
was filling out the paperwork and had to check “single-parent adoption” under
Adoption Type. It hurt when I had to
leave the Adoptive Father’s Information blank.
But later, my friend Tammy told me that while the proceedings occurred,
she could just “see” Paul in the court room with us. My mom said the same thing, even speculating
as to how Paul would have been dressed for the occasion! And I do believe he was there with us. No, I didn’t “feel” him in any way, but I am
quite sure that God opened the floor of Heaven to give Paul a glimpse on this
momentous day. If it had not been for
Paul’s gentle, continual encouragement, I doubt I would have pursued
adoption at all. I was scared to death to step
out in faith like that. Just this
morning, I re-read the letter that Paul wrote me for Mother’s Day 2011 where he
expressed his absolute belief that God was leading us to expand our family
through adoption. If God is the loving,
all-caring Father that I know Him to be, then I have no doubt in my mind that
He made sure Paul was a witness to the adoption of his daughters.
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I get tears in my eyes when I think of where Lizzie and Ellie came
from. They are the youngest in a
biological sibling group of six. Their
birth parents chose to repeat generational sins of neglect and worldliness with
their children, which resulted in their removal. These six children, aside from God,
didn’t stand a chance. But God’s grace
swooped in. My girls are now
adopted. Their brother, James, was
adopted into a wonderful Christian home last March. And I just found out that their three older
brothers are to be adopted by their Christian foster family later this
fall. God saved them all!
I’ve heard it said before that adoption is a picture of God’s
relationship with us. Before we were
redeemed, we had no foreseeable future.
We were at the mercy of a cold world that had no love for us. But God paid a terrible price for our lives
and in doing so, grafted us into His family.
We became His children with every right right of inheritance. Suddenly, our pasts no longer mattered. Our only significance was now in our new
name.
My daughters have a new name.
And someday, by God’s grace and my faithfulness, they will take on
another new name – Christian.
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