When I was five years old, my father’s company threw a very special Christmas party for the children from the orphanage in the town where I lived. As children do, I easily made friends with one of the little girls, and we had a marvelous time together that night. As I thought about the experience in the days that followed, I found myself profoundly saddened that children such as my little friend did not have a home and a family in the sense that I felt all children deserved to have—a home filled with wonderful memories that provided safety from the world and a family headed by loving and devoted parents. In my child’s mind I was not able to understand or accept this situation. Although, at that tender age, I could not have known about the complexities of human reproduction, I vividly recall making one of my most important promises to God: I vowed to Him that for every child I was to give birth to, I promised to adopt one of his special children, such as the little girl that I had befriended.
Years later, I was blessed with a beautiful son. In a casual conversation with my husband while doting over our gift from God, I mentioned the promise I made so many years earlier. Without hesitation, he became enthused about my pledge; and our minds began to race with new dreams and the future became one of incredible possibilities.
We went to an adoption agency and were immediately asked about our financial situation. They informed us that new parents would be charged on a sliding fee scale (at the time, I was self-employed and my husband was a first-year teacher). Somehow, the focus became an exercise in deciding how we were going to be able to “buy” this baby. Disgusted and somewhat disheartened, we decided to set our adoption plans on the back burner, at least for the time being.
Soon afterward, however, a friend of mine had mentioned that the Department of Economic Security (DES) might be a good source for adoption. Within minutes, I was in contact with a DES case manager who was delighted to inform me that there were scores of children in the system, ready and available for adoption! He went on to tell me, however, that in order to sign up for the required parenting classes of children from CPS, that there would be a two-year waiting period! I know that I lost my composure at that moment and I could feel hot tears streaming down my face. Too beside myself to speak to the agent, I hung up the phone and angrily shouted out loud to God, “Here I am, trying to do a good thing and it is as though You are putting stumbling blocks in my way!”
I made up my mind that I was going to wash my hands of the whole adoption idea; maybe, I thought, it was simply never meant to be. Thirty minutes later, the phone rang—it was the DES case manager. He notified me that just a few moments earlier, a couple called in to cancel their slot from the parenting classes and that for some reason he felt he had to put us at the top of the list! I immediately made peace with God, thanking him for being my connection in the bureaucracy and for cutting swiftly through the red tape.
A matter of weeks later, we were enrolled in the CPS parenting classes. From that moment on, our involvement with DES adoptions went relatively smoothly. As our infant son approached his first birthday, R., our “Little Princess” came to live with us. She was 17 months at the time; she was cute as a button, with the energy of a dynamo. We realized very quickly that she had attention deficit hyperactivity disorder (ADHD). Soon, it became more than apparent that our biological child also had ADHD! Maybe you can imagine the feeling of having not two, but twenty small children all at once. Extremely frustrated at first, we called St. Nicholas and told them that we didn’t think the adoption would succeed. They gently reassured and encouraged us, offering respite care if we ever needed a break. Strangely enough, we never resorted to the use of this service. I can only guess that we must have accepted that our new lives as adoptive parents would be a constant challenge from then on, and it would be better in the long run to get used to it. Somehow, we prevailed.
As babes, E. and R. became inseparable, very much the way twins would be; partners in crime—if one could not complete the forbidden task, the other would always assist. When they both approached their 14th birthdays, our “terrible two” began to mellow, in a manner of speaking, in the glow of early adolescence. They developed a strong bond, combining love and friendship that continues to this day as they enter their early twenties. Though constantly exhausted from the daily trials of work and parenthood, I kept at the back of my mind this promise: If God were to send another child to our door, we would not turn him or her away. He must have been listening, because He almost literally did just that!
My husband’s job as a special education co-teacher in the regular classroom exposed him to a squirrelly, seven year-old little boy. J. was a youngster in serious need of discipline and a father figure. He latched immediately on to D., and became depressed whenever my husband’s schedule took him away from the class. J. soon informed him that his little brother and sister had been adopted and that he was living in a group home. He went on to say that he was too old to be adopted and that he would be living in the foster home until he was eighteen. When my husband mentioned this heartbreaking story to me, I knew I had to act. Before we knew it, our “Fost-Adopt” license was renewed and J. “came home”. After adopting him, J. told us that he had no intention of staying in that foster home. He decided he needed to find his own family—and now he had!
We truly believe that God led this child to our door. Maybe God felt that we were now well trained from our experience with E. and R. The adoptions that followed were very similar to that of a growing snowball. One more teen-aged girl and five boys later, we realize what a blessing our lives have become.
Critics may judge us to be naïve, idealistic or just plain stupid—we do not care. My husband and I will never pretend that it has been easy for us. As we were warned, each child came to us with deep anger, abandonment and a variety of other issues, requiring frequent counseling sessions throughout the week, usually at opposite ends of town. We have even had an unwelcome education with the juvenile court system over the past two years, as two of our boys made choices that necessitated law enforcement intervention. We know that there is still a long stretch of road ahead, and that there are no guarantees. We know that as long as we are able to, my husband and I will continue working as a team to provide a safe and happy home for our children. We are sustained by the hope that we have made a difference in the lives of these previously lost children. My husband and I have an understanding: That we will never hesitate to say, “Yes” to one, two or several more, if God were to send them to us.
I still think of the little girl from the orphanage that I made friends with. I wonder if a family ever adopted her. I wonder how her life turned out. Of course, my fantasy is that she was lucky enough to grow up healthy and loved, in an adoptive family. Maybe she has adopted children of her own and is reading this article. One way or the other, I would like her to know that she changed my life forever.
