The Culture Bearer

rolling pin

cookie cutter

We woke up the day before Christmas Eve with nothing on the agenda. I looked at my husband and said, "I feel like I should be doing something Christmasy with her...like baking cookies?" Being the excellent husband he is, and the official maker of food in our household, he looked up recipes so we could bake cookies from scratch. He whipped out some makeshift tools, a Nalgene "rolling pin" and kid cup "cookie cutters" and set up a cookie factory on our kitchen table. There were green-iced sugar cookies and chocolate chip cookies...even a few Heath and Reese's cookies. Despite having no butter for the recipes and burning a few batches, the cookies turned out great and we all ate until our tummies ached. 

We've covered all our bases, I suppose. T wore a beautiful Christmas dress and sang in a Christmas program at school. There have been ugly sweaters and Christmas parties. We've exchanged gifts with friends and neighbors, and Santa has been informed of T's wishes. We've made a halfway effort to follow the Advent traditions with candles and prayers and readings found on smartphones at the last minute. This is only my second Christmas being the mama, the culture bearer, and I still wonder if I'm getting it right. Am I giving her the best memories and does she see Jesus in Christmas? Do I see Jesus in Christmas?

I often think what a relief it is to have adopted an older child who has no expectations of the Christmas experience. As far as I know, she doesn't expect to be given a certain number of presents. She probably couldn't list off the many foods one should expect to find at a Christmas dinner table. She seems open to whatever traditions we throw her way and eager to learn as she goes.

She's still figuring it all out. She asked me the other day why our family doesn't light up and decorate the exterior of our house like some families around town. She wanted to know why it's so important to me to send out so many Christmas cards. She wondered why we would give gifts without expecting to receive gifts in return. She asks about Santa. We have discussed it many times. In some ways, we want her to experience the magic and make-believe of surrounding Santa Claus, but we don't push it. She remembers all those Decembers without Santa.We let her decide for herself.

So, since she's growing up in a subculture of people who can generally buy whatever they want whenever they want it, she won't see any extravagant gift-giving this year. I do hope we can one day show her what it means to meet the real material needs of others.

Tonight, we're worshiping with our church family. Tomorrow morning, we plan to sleep in and let the morning unfold as it will, in hopes that we will all remember Jesus and the Love that came down when He came to dwell among us.

May the love and peace of Christ give you peace in this season of busyness, and may all the mamas remember, as I should, it's not about our adequacy as the culture bearers.  Jesus' grace is sufficient for us and His strength is made perfect in our weakness. May we "treasure up all these things in our hearts."

Baby Fever

A friend texted me today, saying she has baby fever and hopes her birth control will fail so she can have a baby. She asked if I ever feel that way. Well, yes, I do. About once a month, I have to wrestle with the deep reasons in my heart and talk myself back into continuing to use birth control. Because I just can't bring myself to believe that pregnancy is the right path for us. Because there are too many children who aren't wanted. And if I produce another one, what if that means one less child will be adopted into our family because one more child was born into my family?

I don't think that's the answer for everyone. Every child born into this world is a result of God's will. You end up with however many children God has planned for you, one way or another. And if God wills that I give birth at some point, we would rejoice in His will. Nothing is stopping Him from bypassing some silly birth control...as if we're in control.

So many of my friends and family members are expecting babies soon, and I am thrilled for them! I can't wait to cuddle those new babies, knitted together in my friends' wombs. I just really wish all babies born into the world were as wanted and celebrated as these.

I want to bring more children into my family who are unwanted by their biological families. It's a struggle.

Not everyone is called to adopt, but I am.

"Jesus said, 'Let the little children come to me and do not hinder them, for to such belongs the kingdom of heaven.'" Matthew 19:15

The Force is Strong with this One - Gotcha Day Anniversary

March 4, 2013

Playing with Dad, October 2013

New Delhi on Gotcha Day, March 2013

 

It's been a year. A whole year since we were given custody of T in India. Today is what the adoption world sometimes calls "Gotcha Day." A year ago today, we rode away from the orphanage for the last time. We stayed one night in a hotel together as a family, and started our long journey home the next morning. 

October 2013

On this day in 2013, we signed the papers, changed her into the first new clothes she'd ever owned, took her to the park to play and ate at a fancy outdoor restaurant, where we took great care to ensure that her meal was strictly vegetarian. We arrived in our hotel room and she asked us, "America?" We ordered room service and she looked at us nervously before digging into her rice. Would we allow her to eat with her hands? We did. She's got some serious rice eating skills. She got her first Barbie doll and snuggled up to me to sleep.

All the while, my husband and I exchanged looks of awe. We still do.

We say "the force is strong with this one." She is a force to be reckoned with. She is powerful.

Goodbye, India! March 2013

She is passionate. She is hilarious. She calls us out. She makes us laugh. She makes us melt. She makes us crazy. She makes us happy.

She's a princess and a warrior. She loves pink and piles on the accessories. She tromps around in the mud and the creek and plays in the rain until she's soaked to the bone. She blows kisses and throws tantrums. She has lots of friends and carries an air of confidence everywhere she goes. She adores teacher and excels in school.

She is so, so smart. She questions everything. She reads our mail. She finishes our sentences. She is musical, always singing.

February 2014

"How do you keep a wave upon the sand?...
How do you hold a moonbeam in your hand?
She is gentle! She is wild!
She's a riddle! She's a child!
She's a headache! She's an angel!
She's a girl!"

Just like her Mama. Because,
She's my daughter. Our daughter.
God is good. Thanks be to God.

Last Christmas, First Christmas

Two Christmases ago, we had just received T's referral. Family and friends were seeing her face for the first time.

Last Christmas, everyone was asking when she would be home. In our minds, she was already several months late. We were getting very impatient with India. We would tell people, "maybe next month," and they would say that's what we always said, which was true. Because we never knew.

This Christmas, she's home! Two years after we passed her referral photo around, now she's passing hugs around at family gatherings. She's so affectionate with our extended family, who shower her with generosity and love. She actually feels loved by them, unconditionally, and that's huge for a little girl who has only been home for nine months, who still wonders aloud when we, her new parents, will want to trade her in for another child who is less noisy, more obedient, etc...oh, my dear one.

On Christmas Eve, we celebrated with two other local families who adopted children from India this year. These two families have been with us every step of the way. God brought us all together to raise funds for our adoptions, and though we don't see each other often enough, we are always on call for one another, to talk through the nitty gritty of adoption and compare experiences. It was breathtaking to see all our children under one roof, these children for whom we have all prayed for the past two years. Together with these families, we attended T's first Christmas Eve candlelight service. She knew all the songs, thanks to the months she and her classmates spent preparing for their school Christmas program.


It was lovely to have T all to ourselves on Christmas Day. Just the three of us with our dogs. T was thrilled when I let her uncover her eyes to see her brand new, pink bicycle from her grandparents.
She loved opening presents and was very excited to watch us open the presents she picked out for us at her school Christmas store.

A few days before Christmas, we were able to leave T with her Nanna and her cousins for two nights. We needed that time of quiet and solitude, out in a yurt in the woods with our dogs and a grill. T needed that time to play with her cousins and be spoiled by her grandmother.

We're so thankful for so many blessings this Christmas.
We wish you the peace and joy of Christ, today and always.

"Why You Adopt Me?"

I have learned that sitting around, doing not much of anything is the best way to get T to talk.
We have our best conversations in the car or sitting around the house without electronic stimulation.
The other night, she and I were sitting at the kitchen table. I was addressing Christmas cards and she was doing homework. All was quiet.

Suddenly, she looked up at me and asked, "Why you adopt me?"

My heart leapt to my chest. I looked up and gave her a playful smile, but her face was all seriousness.

I said something like, "Well, your dad and I wanted to adopt a little girl. We prayed and prayed that God would show us the right girl to adopt, and it was you."

T: "No it wasn't. You want just one child? There are lots of one child in India. You can adopt Pooja."(another girl in her orphanage.)

So I told her that we had decided to adopt the first child we were referred to. I told her about the night when we got her referral via email, how we were nervous and excited, how we knew we didn't have enough money, and how the adoption agent told us that if she were to be our child, God would provide the funds. I showed her the email with her photo, and she laughed at how different she looked then. I told her how God HAD provided the money we needed, and how everyone had prayed for her before she came home.

T: "How God give you money! What? It come down from sky?"
T: "How they pray for me? They not know me then!"

I listed names of people who had prayed for her and given money for the adoption. She was skeptical.

A few days later, she "confessed" that the manager of her orphanage was "just kidding" about her age and birthday. She told me her original family name and the date she believes she was born. I told her it didn't matter if she's 6 or 16. We love her. It doesn't matter when her birthday is. We love her. She can choose a date, or we can celebrate the date given by the orphanage, or we can celebrate every month. I told her I'm glad she remembers her family name, and that I would give her a journal in which to write all of her memories of India.

I say she "confessed," because her tone and manner made it seem as if she felt guilty that we were given false information. I told her the orphanage didn't know her family or when she was born, so they just had to guess.

Since then, she has opened up even more with memories of her birth family. Sometimes it seems as if she feels safe opening up to us, and sometimes it seems like she expects us to turn our backs on her if we find out "the truth."

We are thankful to have adopted an older child who remembers so much of her past. It's helpful to know a bit about her first years of life.

In many ways, we are just like her. We wonder why God chose to adopt us, as we are, as His children. We fear that God will one day find out the truth about us and reject us. It may be a long time before T fully grasps God's unconditional love for her. It's still hard for us to understand!

We want her to understand that we adopted her because God adopted us. We want her to know that she will always be our child and we will always love her and keep her, even when life gets tough.

As a side note, she's been teasing me about my muffin-top snacking belly lately. She said, "Maybe you could have a baby in there." I told her I didn't want to have a baby from my belly, because she's my baby and I just want her.

Reasons to Adopt Amazing Children

She will be your hairstylist, braiding and brushing and clipping until you're almost in a trance, followed by accessorizing with sparkly butterfly clips.

She will be your stretching exercise coach, rolling out your mat each morning without being asked, and correcting your poses when you get lazy about it.

She will remind you not to multi-task. "Are you playing computer or watching the show?"

She might be willing to feed the dogs.

She knows how to clean dishes, fold laundry and make beds!

If you tell her to clean her room, she will remind you that your room is messier than hers.

She will remind you that both of you are stinkers in need of grace and unconditional love.

She will complain about your busy American schedule, thereby reminding you to slow down.

If you say you're going upstairs to do your work, and she finds you streaming movies instead, she will report this to your spouse. Accountability, folks.

She will remind you to pray and read stories before bedtime.

She will not let you get away with a fashion faux pas.

She will remind you that if YOU lose YOUR patience, everything will fall apart. So stay calm.

She will teach you about her native culture and correct your strange, American habits.

You will notice that her tantrums resemble your tantrums, and that correcting her is kind of hypocritical, so you'll want to pray, "Lord have mercy." And hopefully, both of you will soon have fewer tantrums.

If you're a woman, and you don't cook, she will call you out.

If you're a man, and you're allowing a woman to drive the car, she will call you out.

If your flip-flops come off in the woods and you step on prickly stickers, she will say, "I told you not to take your shoes off. You hurt yourself."

You never want to get too comfortable, folks. 

Seeds of Love

 

This child is amazing.

Now that I've been working from home, we've made a few changes in our daily routines, and life has been so much better for all of us. T is more affectionate, more attached, less anxious, and so are we.

She had her first swimming lesson yesterday. In India, she swam in the river where her biological parents washed clothes. When I first suggested we go swimming, she wrinkled up her nose in disgust and said water is dirty and the fish will bite her feet. She was surprised and delighted the first time she saw a swimming pool with clean, clear water. Her apprehension quickly disappeared when she saw the splash fountains in a local pool. Now, she is confident and gleeful in the water. Maybe overly confident. She doesn't believe in drowning. So swim lessons it is. The best part of watching that lesson was how often she looked to me and my husband for approval each time she tried a new skill with my friend, her teacher.

Her favorite songs lately have come from the Muppet Movie and Vacation Bible School. She sings passionately, "Am I a mupppppeeet...or am I a man?" I'm thinking this will help her deal with any possible future identity crises. Hah. And her favorite song from VBS is the Seeds of Praise song, "Mighty to Save." She walks around
singing the words, "Zephaniah 3:17" over and over.

I'll admit, it wasn't easy to get her in the car for VBS every day this week. She seems to have more social anxiety since she's realized how her English skills compare to those of her peers. Happily, once she arrived at VBS each day, she had a blast, and proudly shows off the crafts she made there. In the car on the way home after one object lesson on building your house on a firm foundation, she pointed out to me that many buildings, including our house, were made of brick and therefore not likely to blow away. Then she got that lesson mixed up with The Three Little Pigs and started explaining that brick (she calls them rock) houses won't be easily blown down by bad wolves.

In the morning, she wants me to help her choose her clothes, and she wants to help choose mine. She complains that I wear the same things over and over again. She loves to play with my hair, putting it up in "levers" to make ponytails and pigtails.

She clung to me in public for the first time today, in the pet store as we waited for the clerk to give us advice on our three aquatic frogs. When I told her I was going to find a clerk to help us, she said, "Why, mom? I can help you!" Oh, I love her. Love her. Love her.

She loves our dogs. She had learned to use the word cuddle, and mostly in relation to cuddling with the dogs. She often speaks of her love for the dogs, though she's not yet comfortable using the "L" word with us yet. Completely understandable. She loves catching fireflies. She loves blowing bubbles. She loves drawing on the sidewalk with chalk.

It's not always easy, of course. The creation of this family over the past four months has been challenging for all three of us, as is normal and expected with adoption and all other feats of parenting.

I just read in another blog today, "The only way to care for the disadvantaged – is to disadvantage yourself –which is guaranteed to turn out for your advantage."

It's true. Love is a choice. This is what we signed up for. And it's exhausting and frustrating and stressful, but more than that, it's beautiful. T has changed our lives for good.