How it All Began (Part III - Roadblocks)

We've been home from Haiti for a few weeks, we've decided to adopt, we've begun to climb the mountain of paperwork required for the dossiers for each of our girls, and frankly, I'm feeling a bit crazy.

I think I'm one of those people who others perceive as fairly put together, and generally I am.  But there are times that is not so.  On the outside I can maintain a cool exterior, but as soon as there are too many categories of things going on in my life, I'm bound to start dropping balls.  Friendships start to suffer, I don't notice important dates coming until they're TOMORROW, and I just want to hole up in my house and attend to the bare minimums, preferably with a good stash of chocolate.  Painful to admit, but true.

By mid-summer there was a lot going on in our household.  We've got the adoption paperwork pressing in, I'm working a couple of days a week, trying to keep the sand-box off my kitchen floor, attending to loads of play-in-the -dirt kinda laundry, AND have decided to take on home-schooling the boys in the fall.  I'm tired just typing that list.

As some of you know, Noah was diagnosed with Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder already in 1st grade.  By the end of 2nd grade there seemed to be some other things going on, and our bright, inquisitive, 8-year-old was hating school.  He began to have some trouble with separation anxiety, was defiant with his teacher on a couple of occasions, and one time ran from school to come home, saying he just wanted to be close to me.  The school was really great at working through this with us and we set some firm boundaries/expectations for Noah's behavior, hoping to make it through the end of the school year!  We began talking about the possibility of home-schooling.  Even seeing this in print now makes me chuckle at the absurdity of it.  And while I had long said, "No way!  Not me!", Noah begged, and I found myself considering it as a possibility.  We had some testing done and began to understand some of what could be of frustration to him, and after talking with many folks, decided to take the plunge.

The summer did not make things better.  Stress is not a friend of anxiety disorders and while there was much to love about our month in Haiti, there were aspects of our time that were stressful; at moments even ugly.  Moments we could only pray for a "do-over", but were stuck with the consequences of our own choices and fallenness.  Moments we could only cry out to God for forgiveness and ask his perfection to wash over our imperfections.

So within the these first few weeks of being home and having made pretty big life and family decisions it was a further strain to notice that Noah was falling apart.  At first it looked like willfulness or disobedience (which was part of the picture), and then one night, there was an awful breaking point.  Noah lost control and I lost control, and Noah went into a rage of frightening proportions.  Kirk and I responded clumsily, and after a few hours of wrestling and praying and crying, it was over. 

The next few weeks and months, were truly rough and for days I found myself on the edge of tears, wondering why it felt like everything was falling apart.  We wrestled with God about why he was allowing this just when we had decided to adopt... was it meant as a sign that we had made a mistake?  Had we misunderstood that stirring in our heart?  Or was this a fire for testing and growing our parenting skills and family bond?  We begged our friends and family for prayer, begged our providers and doctors for answers, begged Noah to stop something that seemed nearly out of his control, begged each other to be better parents, begged God for it to end...  And we cried - cried for the loss of our innocent boy, for the loss of our stable family, for the fear that had entered our home, loss of dignity, and the worry of losing the little girls we had started to love.

We really felt a need to be transparent with our home-study social worker, so during our second visit, sitting in a Country Kitchen booth, we reluctantly laid out some of what we were struggling with.  Without batting an eye, she said, "oh, I totally expect things like this to come up.  Satan loves to try to mess up a God thing.  Can I just pray with you right now?"  We were floored and relieved and readily accepted her prayer, and then continued on with the rest of our interview.

Friends came near and offered shelter for our hearts with meals, offers for care, offers for time away... it meant SO much to be carried through, surrounded by love, and bathed in prayer. 

One day a friend called.  Beth Hoekstra had been home from work, sick, and had seen a program on tv talking about an unusual condition called PANDAS.  I'll talk more about this in another post, but I should say we were amazed to find Noah met almost every symptom.  We had something to hold on to, a reason, a potential cause for all the turmoil.  And slowly things did get better.

At times I've have wondered how I would respond to God in crisis, if I would feel abandoned or angry or hopeless.  I came to a point when holding on to the frayed ends was no longer working.  I had to lay my child, my family, my future before God, relinquish my "right" for control and actually put my trust in the One I have confessed to be my savior.  And in those moments when my solutions and answers no longer measured up, I felt the maker of a million stars regard me.  I'm not saying everything was magically fixed, but I felt a different kind of strength and hope inside, and that's what's carrying me.

How it All Began (Part II - Adoption)

So we've arrived home from Haiti just days before and are still absorbing what this experience has meant to us.  We are remembering people and relationships and one little girl sticks out in my mind.  I'm having "trouble" letting go.

I work in the field of counseling and in recent years have begun some training and work in infant mental health.  So while in Haiti, the field directors, Nick and Nicki, ask if I'd be willing to help assess a couple of kids they have concerns about.  One of them is a little girl who is not behaving like some of the other children.  While most of the toddlers run up to greet guests and beg to be held and attended to, she holds back by her favored Nannie.  She is slow to warm to new folks and doesn't like to go off with just anyone.  So I spent a few hours with her watching her play and interactions, and I continue to watch her and get to know her during the time we're there.  And now I'm home.  And I'm thinking about her.  I'm thinking about Natalie and missing her.  So I casually mention to Kirk, "I can't seem to get Natalie out of my mind.  I wonder if we should try to adopt her?"  And his respond is equally casual, "sure".  Sure? That's it?  We agree to think about it, and over the next couple of days we do, and we talk about it, and "sure" kinda seems to be sticking.

Now I should say, "sure" does have a little history behind it.  From the time we were married, Kirk had always wanted to adopt, and, in fact, questioned whether or not we should birth children naturally at all.  He pointed to the great need of orphans around the world and God's direct call in the Bible to care for them.  I balked at this idea initially.  "I have a womb and I want to use it!!!  But we agreed that we would likely have a couple of children naturally and then see if we wanted to add more to our family through adoption.  Pretty sure God was on Kirk's side with this one, because pregnancy sucked, for me.  Both times.  Nine months of puking and misery was enough to convince me I didn't need to go through that again!  I'd experienced it.  Done the "womb" thing, twice, and felt no need to return.  Besides, two kids were so manageable.  One of them for each of us and no extras to out-number us.  Simple.  So 5 years passed after having Elijah, and I felt pretty content with our family size.  Except for every once in awhile, when  I would see larger families that seemed attractive to me.  Having a big family around for holidays and as I grew older, having a house full of noisy happy children ... having a daughter to be close to.  Was I missing something... was there more I could offer to a child to have a home to grow up in?

So the 4th of July week-end, Kirk and I were sitting in the family room. I can still see the whole picture in my mind.  I was at the computer, he was sitting in an arm chair, and we decided we would contact Robin Knight, the adoption coordinator for COTP, and at least talk about it with her -- maybe some time next week.

Kirk received a text.  It was his life-long buddy, Mitch, asking,

"Do you guys know of a place in Haiti called Children of the Promise, started by Bud and Jan Bonnema from Prinsburg".

 "Yeah", Kirk responded.  "Funny thing, we just got back from spending a month there a few days ago."

Mitch texts, "hey cool, then maybe you might know something about this baby.  Kara found her on a website and is completely in love.  Think we might pursue adopting her.  In fact, Kara has already contacted Robin to inquire about her."

Kirk says, "oh yeah, who?"

Mitch: "Natalie".

Gulp.

Kirk: "We need to talk.  I'm calling you now."

Right there the conversation got a little awkward.  What were the chances of this happening?  Life long friends, both interested in adoption, both come upon a child.  This child.  Natalie.  Kirk asked me to get on the phone, too, and told Mitch we were thinking of pursuing her adoption, as well.  Kirk and I looked at each other.  A few moments ago, she was really just a thought, and suddenly that thought has become the thought of losing her, and caring, and not wanting to lose her.  The conversation was a little strange and rather short.  Kirk and Mitch agreed that we should both pray about this and talk again in a few days.

Those few days were long.  We did talk to Robin and told her what was going on.  So many thoughts and questions went through my mind.  I wanted her, but what was best for Natalie?  Maybe they could be a better family for her?  Maybe they could provide better for her?  Was I really ready to jump into adoption?  But in my heart I was already feeling she was mine, and I didn't want to lose her. 

We decided to tell Mitch and Kara we really did want to pursue her adoption, but that if they did, too, we wouldn't stop them.  We believed either of us would be a good family for her, and what was most important was that this precious little girl had a home of her own with parents and siblings to wrap her in love.

And then Mitch and Kara told us they wanted us to go forward with trying to adopt her.  They had an experience previously that persuaded them that they never wanted to be the ones "taking" an adoption from someone else, and were graciously backing down.

What had been almost a passing thought, became a casual plan, became a fire burning.  We were pursuing her.  We wanted her.  She was ours.

So just a few added notes to this part of the story:  Once we decided to adopt Natalie, Kirk thought we should go ahead and adopt two at the same time.  If our family was to be part Haitian, then having two Haitian children would be good for them and good for us.  So we added a second request, and months later learned we were being matched with Rose (Guerda).  Awesome thing was, she was Noah's favorite baby while we were at COTP.  God was setting all this up before it was even a thought on our part.

And, while Mitch and Kara didn't pursue Natalie's adoption, they are now in process of adoptiong two other beautiful kids from COTP, so God used our connection to bring two more precious little ones into forever families.  Marvelous!

Here is Kara's blog post about the experience from their side...
http://thisblessedlife-km.blogspot.com/2011_07_01_archive.html

And here are pics of our beautiful girls!

Me with Natalie at COTP.

Rose (1)

Natalie (3)



How it All Began...

If you want the short version, here it is:  Pretty sure God is calling our family to live and serve in Haiti, so we're going.  And we like it!

If you want the longer tale, well it might take awhile, so grab a cuppa something (I would highly recommend a good cup of tea, but that's another post) and read on.

Some might think the best place to start is at the beginning, but sometimes the start began quite long ago, so in this case I think it might be best to jump in mid-story and fill in the back story as I go. 

We start in Haiti, June 2011.  It's hot, it's humid, and I've arrived at Children of the Promise (COTP) in Lagosette, Haiti, near Cap Haitian, in the northern part of the country.  Though not in the baby house, I can hear the sounds of babies crying, babies playing, Nannies talking and laughing in sing-song Creole, and the voices and calls of the yard guys back and forth across the compound.  Carla, one of the long-term volunteers, has just finished giving our group a tour of the compound, and yet I feel no better oriented than the moment the open-backed truck bounced and jostled us into the front gate of the compound.  What I do feel is sweaty, tired, and a little overwhelmed. And so starts a month for me and my family, and the first of 3 service teams coming to volunteer with COTP. 

This trip had been in the works for some time.  Kirk, my husband, and youth leader for Willmar CRC and Unity CRC churches, had been putting in action a plan hatched many months before, to offer an overseas service trip.  What began as a modest endeavor, had turned into 3 groups of a dozen + adults and youth from our church and beyond, coming for 10 days at a time, back-to-back.  Support had been enthusiastic and the group had raised considerably more than was needed to pay for expenses.  Kirk thought it would be really great if our family just went along and staying the entire month to share in the experience, and I guess I kinda just went along with it --sounded like a "cool adventure".  There were some who thought we were nutso (and pretty much said so) to be taking our two boys, Noah, then 8, and Elijah, then 5, but many vaccinations and miles later, we were all there.  "Nutso" was feeling maybe just a tiny bit true!

I could give you many details about this adventure, but suffice it to say the initial culture shock did wear off and we settled in.  There were highs and lows, really great experiences and a few moments we truly wish we could do over, but during that month, Haiti began to take root in my heart.  In our hearts, really.  We began to make friendships and relationships and contacts, and most importantly felt a love of the Haitian people begin to deepen.  I was completely unaware there were larger implications to this attraction.  But God wasn't.  In his "big-picture" providence, I can imagine he was watching, smiling and nodding and I can almost picture the Spirit saying to the Father, "Yes, Sir!  Here it goes... we have lift-off!"

That's the start... and there is certainly more to tell, so I will continue with my next post.

Taken from the roof of the volunteer house, looking south.