I’ve been thinking a lot lately about hypocrisy. Since I was a kid, I’ve had a knack for recognizing it when I see it. Adults would say something, but behind closed doors do the opposite. When they thought no one was looking, the mask came off and that ugliness came shining through. And it is ugly, hypocrisy.
Maybe it irritates me now, more than ever, because I’ve encountered it on a few occasions surrounding the adoption. Really? International adoption? That’s what you get fired up about? You don’t want to question my single parent status, my lackadaisical approach to housekeeping or how I expect to properly feed a child when I eat popcorn and cereal for dinner at least three nights a week? If anything, you should be questioning my parenting skills. Aren’t there bigger fish you could fry? Or, I don’t know, a billion other, worthwhile causes that deserve your passion?
On a few occasions, I’ve had people engage me attempting to challenge my decision to adopt internationally instead of domestically. First, I should tell you—I don’t debate. I’m not going to try to win you over with facts and statistics if you don’t agree with me. You’re entitled to your opinion, just like I’m entitled to think (to myself) that your opinions are stupid. You can talk all day long and I’ll respectfully listen but unless you have some very potent arguments, you won’t change my mind.
Even my Mom has encountered someone who was upset that I’ve chosen to adopt a child from Ethiopia. “Why doesn’t she adopt from America, there are plenty of kids here that need help!” And they’re not wrong. There are plenty of children in the US that need help. Believe me, if I felt that God was calling me to adopt domestically, I would be all over it.
But honestly, why would you question it? I’m still trying to help someone in need and isn’t that what we’re supposed to do? Didn’t Jesus direct us to take care of the orphans and the widows? I don’t recall any stipulations regarding their location being involved in that scripture. “Uh take care of the orphans and the widows but only if they are within a 50 mile radius of your own zip code. The rest are on their own,” sayeth the Lord. Don’t bother looking that up, it won’t be there. And ps. if you’re so fired up about helping kids in the US, what exactly are you doing? Are you donating to charities or volunteering? What are you doing every day to lessen a child’s suffering?
What irritates me the most is when so-called “people of faith” try to bring me into the same discussion. Honestly, brother (or sister)? You don’t get to pick and choose your calling. And you, of all people, are supposed to know that! You can pay faith all the lip service you like, you can post verses and inspiring messages on your Facebook feed, go to church every Sunday, praise God with both hands lifted in the air-- but I ain't buyin' it. You can do all of that and still have a heart as cold and black as stone. You’re so blinded by your prejudices that you don’t see the good that can come out of helping one child no matter where he’s from.
There are millions like him in situations you can’t even comprehend. There is no safety net for him, there is no foster care system or group home. If no one steps forward, he will live on the streets, be sold as a sex worker, get hooked on drugs or die of an easily preventable disease. But you won’t help or support those who do because he wasn’t born a US citizen? Lord, have mercy. If that's really how you feel about it, could you just keep your questions and your opinions to yourself? You're making the rest of us look really bad.
Tuesday, April 16, 2013
Friday, April 5, 2013
New Purpose, New Focus
“We slept on little beds of trash.” His words, the words of a four year old Ugandan orphan, played over and over in my head. His name is Derrick; he and his sister were adopted by a friend of my sister’s a little over a year ago. As his language skills developed, he was able to tell his family the things that he and his sister experienced before coming to America. His words haunted me. Little did I know, his story would change my life.
The sights and sounds of the Christmas holidays surrounded me but all I could think of was this child and others like him. As the days passed, my heart broke again and again for the orphans of Africa and around the world. The conditions they live in, so different from the luxuries that you and I experience everyday. True, I have experienced poverty. As the second daughter of a single mother, we struggled to make ends meet, there were days we didn’t have heat, water or food. We struggled for many years but with a lot of hard work, we pulled ourselves up and carried on. I’ve never experienced the bone-crushing poverty that these innocent children face everyday. And so I prayed.
I prayed that God would show me the next step in his plan. I prayed that I could be of service in some way, shape or form to these children. The burden that he laid on my heart for them couldn’t be ignored. He was calling me to adopt.
My family was apprehensive. I have lived the majority of my adult life as a single person. I don’t have a family of my own or a mate. Until this point, I had always been undecided on the topic of children. I loved my nephews as if they were my own and delighted in the children of my friends but I was never certain that children were in the cards for me. It only made sense that my Mom and sister would be confused or conflicted about my announcement. They were full of questions, as they should have been. I had questions of my own but my answer always returned to God’s calling for me.
As I began doing my research and attending meetings with adoption agencies, my sole focus was on helping these children. In honesty, it hadn’t dawned on me that someone would one day call me “Mama.” It sounded so foreign. I was going to be a Mom. A Mom! And now there is nothing more important to me, everything else in my life has taken a back seat. Every selfish impulse, every doubtful thought has given way to this singular goal– bringing my child home. The paperwork, the training classes, the fund-raising, as challenging as it might be, all gets me one step closer to meeting my child.
I’m adopting from Ethiopia. My request is for a boy ranging in age from 0-3 years. I pray for him every night. I pray that God will keep him safe until I can reach him. I pray for his care givers and his birth parents. Their jobs can not and will not be easy.
I am not a person of great financial means. I’ve been working since I was 14 years old and have always been a hard worker. I am financially stable– my bills are paid on time each month and I put as much as I possibly can into a savings account. Since I began the adoption process, I have saved every nickel, dime and penny that I can squeeze out of my budget but sometimes things come up. Sometimes portions of the adoption fund are used to buy a new washer when the 25 year old model I used breaks down or to repair the plumbing when the toilet starts to leak. It’s discouraging but I press on. Nothing will keep me from my son, certainly not something as surmountable as money.
It is my belief that God will provide everything that is needed to make this adoption successful as long as I keep saying “yes.” “Yes” to things that I can not foresee or plan for. “Yes” to things that will push me out of my comfort zone. “Yes” to things that will challenge me. I know I will be challenged. I will have to turn to others for help when my greatest fear is being viewed as helpless. It’s won’t be easy but no one promised it would be.
This adoption will grow and change me, as much as I will help grow and change the life of this child. But I know, beyond the shadow of a doubt that I was made for this, and this child, this boy half a world away was made to be my son.
The sights and sounds of the Christmas holidays surrounded me but all I could think of was this child and others like him. As the days passed, my heart broke again and again for the orphans of Africa and around the world. The conditions they live in, so different from the luxuries that you and I experience everyday. True, I have experienced poverty. As the second daughter of a single mother, we struggled to make ends meet, there were days we didn’t have heat, water or food. We struggled for many years but with a lot of hard work, we pulled ourselves up and carried on. I’ve never experienced the bone-crushing poverty that these innocent children face everyday. And so I prayed.
I prayed that God would show me the next step in his plan. I prayed that I could be of service in some way, shape or form to these children. The burden that he laid on my heart for them couldn’t be ignored. He was calling me to adopt.
My family was apprehensive. I have lived the majority of my adult life as a single person. I don’t have a family of my own or a mate. Until this point, I had always been undecided on the topic of children. I loved my nephews as if they were my own and delighted in the children of my friends but I was never certain that children were in the cards for me. It only made sense that my Mom and sister would be confused or conflicted about my announcement. They were full of questions, as they should have been. I had questions of my own but my answer always returned to God’s calling for me.
As I began doing my research and attending meetings with adoption agencies, my sole focus was on helping these children. In honesty, it hadn’t dawned on me that someone would one day call me “Mama.” It sounded so foreign. I was going to be a Mom. A Mom! And now there is nothing more important to me, everything else in my life has taken a back seat. Every selfish impulse, every doubtful thought has given way to this singular goal– bringing my child home. The paperwork, the training classes, the fund-raising, as challenging as it might be, all gets me one step closer to meeting my child.
I’m adopting from Ethiopia. My request is for a boy ranging in age from 0-3 years. I pray for him every night. I pray that God will keep him safe until I can reach him. I pray for his care givers and his birth parents. Their jobs can not and will not be easy.
I am not a person of great financial means. I’ve been working since I was 14 years old and have always been a hard worker. I am financially stable– my bills are paid on time each month and I put as much as I possibly can into a savings account. Since I began the adoption process, I have saved every nickel, dime and penny that I can squeeze out of my budget but sometimes things come up. Sometimes portions of the adoption fund are used to buy a new washer when the 25 year old model I used breaks down or to repair the plumbing when the toilet starts to leak. It’s discouraging but I press on. Nothing will keep me from my son, certainly not something as surmountable as money.
It is my belief that God will provide everything that is needed to make this adoption successful as long as I keep saying “yes.” “Yes” to things that I can not foresee or plan for. “Yes” to things that will push me out of my comfort zone. “Yes” to things that will challenge me. I know I will be challenged. I will have to turn to others for help when my greatest fear is being viewed as helpless. It’s won’t be easy but no one promised it would be.
This adoption will grow and change me, as much as I will help grow and change the life of this child. But I know, beyond the shadow of a doubt that I was made for this, and this child, this boy half a world away was made to be my son.
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