a few little words.

I love opportunities to write for good causes and places and spaces, and I was so grateful when Jedd Medefind (President, Christian Alliance for Orphans) asked me to write a short piece for Becoming Home (Barna Group – FRAMES Series). I very much appreciated that he was willing to include an adopted person’s voice and perspective in this book. That speaks volumes!

I was asked to capture my “Listen” speech from Summit 9 in a few paragraphs. Well, you know me, I’m a woman of many words and that felt impossible! But, you don’t really tell someone that. Right? But, you can and do nicely ask for more than 150 words. Right?

Well, I asked, I submitted, the editors took off and did their hard work, and the book was published.

And, as any writer would, when the complimentary book arrived at my home, I was elated…to see my name, on that book. And then I opened it. And then I read it (my piece first, of course). And it was different. And, as any writer would, I checked my original submission to compare what was sent to what was printed. Yes, indeed, it was different. Minutely different, but different nonetheless. And, as any writer would, I felt mis-represented. I didn’t like the differences. It didn’t feel “right.”

And what didn’t feel “right” wasn’t that the words and phrases were changed and rearranged, (I understand there’s an editing process and I really do believe that people will “get” the message), but the WAY in which my words and phrases were changed and rearranged…THAT’S what didn’t feel right. Because to me, it’s been very, very important in how I use my voice, in how I use my words, in the adoption and foster care world. And, as any writer would, I care very deeply about each and every word. Because what words you say and how you say them can change a tone, a meaning, a nuance, a message. Right? And in writing, that matters. Well, at least to the author!

NOTE 1: It’s OK if right now you’re thinking, “Carissa – get over yourself and your words” because I often say the same thing to myself. HA!

NOTE 2: There’s no blame on anyone for the changes. It’s just what happens in the editing process. And, the changes don’t take away from the message that the adopted person’s voice, his/her story, is one to be listened to and responded to.

So, those changes? Seriously. No big deal. But, here are my words, my original words. We’re working on changing them for the second print, but for now, you get to have them. Because I want you to have them. From me.

I encourage you to read Becoming Home. I so enjoyed knowing more of Jedd Medefind’s story and heart and insight as he uses his position and platform and passion to invite the “church” to become conduits of safety and love and healing and hope. And, because it’s important to keep the conversation going about what it means “to care for, to preserve, to keep, to take care of…one another.”

May we continue, to listen, to one another.

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Listening…it takes practice.

What does it mean to listen to the heart of an adoptee? How do you hear what’s really being said behind the voice, the eyes, the behavior? How do you begin hearing those who hold a wound from before they can remember – a wound that birthed a deep longing to feel significant, wanted, loved?

Us adoptees, we’re like you…worthy, loveable, capable. Many times, though, we’re defined as voiceless, helpless, forgotten. But, we’re not. We are people who have a story to tell, a voice to offer. We’re learning to trust, and are being healed. We have hope. We don’t need you to rescue us, we need you to see us…the beautiful parts and the broken parts. We need you to remind us of who we are, who we were created to be.

We need you to listen to our hearts…our loss, our heartache, our journey, our restoration.

And then respond.

No, you don’t have to. You get to.

You get to model vulnerability, cultivate courage, build trust, offer grace. You get to show a real-life, real-time picture of Jesus, of his heart…for the orphan, for the world. And then, as that relationship becomes a two-way street, something sacred and beautiful and healing can happen. A space is created where transformation can take place…for all.

You, me, us, them…we get to be in this together. This is the call to the church: to love and be loved; to step into what God is already doing among us, through us. We, the church, get to offer healing and truth and hope – to one another – with a posture of humility and openness and presence as we share our stories, our hearts.

But first, we need you to lean in, be still, be present, and listen. It’s then when something miraculous and mysterious will happen. It’s then when we will begin to embody what it means to connect and trust and feel safe…with one another, with God.

May we all become good listeners…to all of the story.

Because if we do, it just might change…all of us.

**Original submission for Becoming Home: Adoption, Foster Care & Mentoring – Living Out God’s Heart for Orphans (Barna Group – FRAMES, 2013). Written by Jedd Medefind & David Kinnaman; RE/FRAMES by Francis Chan, Jim Daly, Ruslan Maliuta, David Platt & Carissa Woodwyk.

giving face.

I have these moments when I’m completely struck by what’s happening around me and what’s happening within me, simultaneously, and how holy it is.

A few weeks ago, I listened to two stories. Two stories filled with brokenness and beauty.

The first one was about what it was like to live in the shoes of an adoptive mom. She described what it was like to wrestle with herself, with her body, with her dreams, as she walked through her infertility. She shared of her deep longing and ache to love and nurture a child and how God brought about his gift to her…from the womb of another woman. She spoke up and out about what it was like to stand in that hospital room watching a baby enter the world – her baby – and then being passed from the arms of his first mom to hers. She talked about that moment when she and her son’s – their son’s – birthmom hugged goodbye – with compassion, with gratitude, towards one another…each life changed forever.

OH. MY. HEART

The second story was about what it was like to live in the shoes of a birthmom. She described how her physical ability and finances and circumstances were adequate to raise the little girl growing inside of her, yet how her fiancé’s fear and feelings of inadequacy invited him to leave her…alone. She talked about her choices – abortion or single motherhood – and the cultural and religious stigmas that surrounded each of them. And then, how a third choice, a new choice, emerged…creating an adoption plan. And then that choice – the hardest choice of all – to choose to relinquish her daughter, to place her daughter, into someone else’s home, away from her care, but never from her heart. She described the thoughts and questions and fears and hopes – that she, that her daughter, would face someday because of her decision, because of the desire she had for her daughter to experience life more fully, wholly.

OH. MY. HEART.

And then I shared my story – about what it’s been like to live in the shoes of an adopted person. I talked about the missing pieces and people, the missing messages my heart needed. I shared what it’s been like to wonder and wander alone, longing to feel needed and wanted and fought for. I described what it’s like to hear others talk about adoption as only something beautiful when everything within me has felt so broken – the fear, the grief, the shame. I talked about how my unraveling and wrestling and need for others and “leaning into” my story keeps bringing me to a safe place, with Him, allowing me to find more love, more trust, more voice.

OH. MY. HEART.

We had been invited to share our stories – these stories – in front of one another. We were listening…to one another.

Overwhelming. Sacred. Healing.

We were listening to what the other person has lost, what the other person has gained.

We were listening to how the other person’s heart has ached, how it has aspired.

We were listening to one another’s fears and shame and guilt and fragility, to their sorrow.

We were listening to one another’s beliefs and expectations and dreams, and how they got messed with.

We were listening to one another’s longing for hope and healing and redemption – for ourselves, for the people we love.

We were listening to the story of one another’s hearts. And it changed us.

As we listened to each other, we heard ourselves. As we entered into “her” reality, we felt “our” reality. As our eyes looked at “her,” we saw “us.” The “other” person’s heart? It was our heart. Sure, the context and content were vastly unlike, but the feelings…they were so a-like. The feelings each person expressed, with raw emotion, were so close to what swirled around in our own hearts.

Different shoes, different paths, same humanity.

And in those moments, those 3 hours, we felt joined.

Our stories felt known…by one another. Our stories felt needed…by one another.

Our stories connected – birthmom, adoptive mom, adopted person – with one another’s. There wasn’t one story that didn’t include or depend on the other story.

We each came from a very unique and different place, a different journey. Our stories had pain and disappointment and ache – for something we didn’t have, didn’t want. And, our stories contained truth and healing and hope – because we’ve seen a bigger story being put together, because we’re experiencing how each of our stories can be used for good. Yet in some regards, the very thing that connected us all – adoption – has been the very place that has kept us all disconnected and distant.

We want to change that.

Maybe naming the disconnection and distance could open the door for needed relationship, for being known, to more creative love.

Maybe naming these divided and silo-ed relationships could give us a chance to experience more connection, more healing, more wholeness – in the adoption triad, in our families, in the “adoption world.”

Every story of how a child came to the place of needing to be adopted is different. Some of those stories are tragic and traumatic. Many of those stories are unknown. But I know that when I heard this birthmom’s story and how her choice to create an adoption plan was necessary for her, I know without a shadow of a doubt that everything inside of her made that decision out of love, for her child. She wanted her daughter to have two parents, siblings, a cohesive family. Something that at that time, she wasn’t able to offer her. But her ache, for what she couldn’t give – it was so, so intense. I could feel it, deeply…with her. Her tears as she told that part of the story – they rolled down her face. They were unstoppable. They were heavy. They were sad. And in that moment, there was no judgment, just heartache. Not for her, but with her. She made a choice that changed her life and her daughter’s life forever without knowing where the story was going to go. She let go of herself – the belief that she needed to create an environment for her daughter alone. And so she chose to invite others into her story, into her daughter’s story. And in that moment, as I listened, something inside of me shifted from, “But why didn’t you fight for her? Why didn’t you keep her?” to “Her decision to create an adoption plan took mountains of courage to admit that she couldn’t do this alone, that she didn’t “have” to do this alone.” And in that moment, as I listened, my perspective changed a bit more from “I” versus “her,” to “we.”

And now, as my heart and mind continue to make sense of this experience, within the context of my own story, I feel her heart. I see her face. Her face – birthmom’s face – it’s been hiding. Maybe I’ve kept it hidden. Because you know what? It’s a hard face to picture, to see, to confront. It’s a lot easier and feels a lot better to keep it tucked away, back in Korea, back into the unconscious parts of my brain. But you know what? I need that face. I need that face because it’s part of my face, it’s part of my heart, it’s part of who I am. It’s not honoring to her to crop her out of the “picture.”

And so, my prayer is that God will gently and compassionately show me what I need to know and understand and see in her face – that he will reveal to me the pieces of her that bring more fullness to my story, more healing to my heart. Because in my experience, the profound and holy moments of truth-telling, of love, of healing – with Jesus – is when I’ve been face to face with him, and I wouldn’t trade that for anything.

So, my friends…are we up for inviting ALL of the stories, ALL of the people, to the table? Are we up for giving one another voice? Ahhh! But before we can give someone voice, we need to give them face. Maybe by giving birthmom a face, you will be able to help your child – her child – give her a face, too.

Let’s invite birthmom’s face (and voice) to the adoption world, to our world. We need her. We need her voice. Not out of pity, but out of love. Because we value her. Because in doing so, we honor her – her heart, her story, her dignity. She completes the “picture.”

NOTE: Clearly, the birthfather’s face and voice need a place to be seen and heard too.

Perhaps for us in the adoption triad, we need the birthparents story in order to bring a fuller picture of the bigger picture of what God is able to reveal of himself, his love, through the process of adoption.

That could be overwhelming.

That could be sacred.

That could be healing.

Because as you’ve heard me say before:

You (we) have this profound opportunity, this profound calling, this profound invitation to provide a place, a space – for healing, for hope, for rebuilding, for renewing, for restoring, for redeeming us (her)…you.

No, you certainly don’t have to, but you get to…you get to offer a sacred, stunning, glorious, beautiful picture…of Jesus, of shalom.

But first, we (she) need(s) you to listen.

Please, please take the time to lean in, be still, be present, and listen to our (her) heart(s).

Because it just might change…all of us.

NOTE: Picture above represents the adoption “triad” – Adoptive Mom (Kim Scholten), Adoptee (Me) & Birthmom (Lindsay Walters). So, so grateful to be able to share an afternoon of storytelling with them. I respect their courage, their faith, their love for their children. Thank you Kim and Lindsay, for being a part of this post, for being an influential part of my story, for offering both your face and voice to the world. Both are SO needed!

 

 

two years + five retreats.

“Love recognizes no barriers. It jumps hurdles, leaps fences, and penetrates walls to arrive at its destination full of hope.”(Maya Angelou)

I love when people show up, especially women. I have a bent towards the feminine soul – how it uniquely bears the image of God. Oh, don’t get me wrong! I love the masculine soul, too. I guess you could say that I lean both ways. But, well…you get what I mean, right? (I’m laughing right now.) The thing is, as a woman, I most understand and resonate with a woman’s heart. And I love it. I affirm it. I admire how it longs and loves and leans towards “bringing forth life.” In others.

This past weekend (and in February), I got to be in the presence and aroma of 450 moms at the Created for Care retreat in Atlanta. And now, this week, I need a nap. I need to rest my heart for a while. I’m sure they do too. Because talking and listening and giving and receiving and crying and connecting can TOTALLY wear a woman out. In really, really good ways.

These moms – they stayed up way too late one day last August to register for what has become known as “the retreat you just HAVE to go to because you’ll feel like you just BELONG with all these other moms.” These women have met and connected all over the Facebook and blog worlds for months and years, and for many of them, meet at this retreat for the first time. And they immediately fall in love – with the feminine soul, with the unique hearts of other adoptive moms, with the stories of one another’s children.

They just “get” one another.

And I’ve learned to appreciate it…them…this love.

Because two years ago, I didn’t. I ran off to my room with cheesecake. And hid. And thought they were crazy.

But each retreat, each year, I’ve stayed a little longer. With them. Because we need one another. We need one another’s stories and mistakes and perspectives and truth-telling and strength and vulnerability and humor. We miss out on something huge when we try to do life alone. We actually may miss out on “bringing forth life.”

The adoptive parent needs the adopted person’s voice. The adopted person needs the adoptive parent’s voice. Because together, we can be known, we can love.

“…it is only when we are known that we are positioned to become conduits of love.” (Curt Thompson, Anatomy of the Soul)

NOTE: The “adoption world” also needs the birthparent’s voice…because there are many people in the adoption “triad.” This post, coming soon.

These past two years, I’ve been surprisingly invited to share my voice and step into the world of adoption. Still honored. Still blown away. And in each space, parents quickly begin sharing stories with me – stories of their adoption journey, stories of their child’s journey. I haven’t always known what to “think” or “do” with all of the details they share. Sometimes I feel like they want something from me that I can’t give them. Sometimes it feels like they’re searching for affirmation or encouragement or the “right” answer in order to prevent disappointment and heartache – for them, for their children. I’ve had to process these moments each time because usually, in my experience outside of the adoption world, people don’t begin conversations with me by sharing so much information about themselves and their children, within minutes of meeting me. So, it’s felt a little weird and awkward at times. I’m sure my little Asian eyes have widened as the stories have been told – eeek!

But here’s where I’m at today…

I sense that these adoptive parents are wanting someone to just “listen” to their story, to the miraculous ways they believe that God brought this sweet, sweet baby into their lives. I sense that they want to know how to love their children well, how not to “mess them up.” They want to heal their babies. They don’t want their babies to feel pain. They want their babies to know they are loved. They want to be “good” moms and dads, grandmas and grandpas. They want to know that their choice to adopt matters, that love will change their child’s story. They want ALL of this, for their child, with EVERY. OUNCE. OF. THEIR. BEING.

I’ve learned to honor that. I’ve come to respect that. I’m learning to listen – to their stories, to their longings, to their fears, to their miracles. Because you know what? I long for the very same things for my children. I think most parents do.

And so I’m learning that I don’t have to “think” or “do” anything. Or, teach or tell. All I can offer is me and my listening heart. And join them. And then maybe, offer a response – a blend of honesty and grace, a glimpse of an adopted person’s heart, a belief that the feminine soul was crafted in ways that can bring forth life in others, and specifically in their children.

But, my voice is only one voice. There are many voices and many experiences that can be invited into the conversation. I hope we’re listening to those voices too.

So after reflecting on these past five retreats with all of these tender and tenacious and beautiful mamas who hold some of the fiercest love for their babies that I’ve known, I have a few responses (below). Maybe they will be helpful. Maybe not. Either way, I feel deeply honored to have shared space with you these past two years, having my voice invited to speak into your stories, while at the same time allowing your voices to speak into my story. The Created for Care space has felt so safe…to be heard and understood, to feel loved and affirmed, to be known. THAT, crazy mamas, is a gift I hold onto tightly. Forever.

So, my message remains the same as it first spilled out during my first March 2012 retreat:

Please listen to the story and voice and heart of the adopted person. Because it matters. Deeply.

The adopted person’s voice…let’s keep finding it and listening to it and leaning into it.

The adoptive parent’s voice…let’s keep equipping it and supporting it and encouraging it.

The advocate’s voice…let’s keep using it to fight for what’s good and true.

Let’s keep sharing with one another – not just the easy and fun and good stuff, but also the hard and hurting and hidden stuff, because then we will know the places where life needs to be breathed in…gently, compassionately, graciously.

Let’s keep writing this story together – not just the adoption part of the story, but the whole story – the one that begins with loss and ends with redemption.

You, I, we…get to be a part of that story!

So, so grateful to have you journeying with me as I continue to learn how to articulate what’s inside of me, as I continue to experience more of God’s love and grace and healing.

Thank you, from the Korean adoptee, the marriage and family therapist (don’t forget those holidays and birthdays), the glow in the dark fox, and the mama who is cheering all of us on as we, together, create sanctuaries and cultivate shalom all over the world, in our homes.

With deep gratitude and respect, Carissa

So…a few responses to what I hear from the deep hearts of adoptive parents. I’m always allowing ideas and information (and theology) to work themselves out within me, with God, so my disclaimer is that I don’t have anything “figured out.” I’m in process, with you. I just might have the crazy notion to actually write and say some of these things out loud! Ahhh!

Let’s keep the conversation going. Let’s keep moving, forwards, together.

• There’s nothing that’s hard or bad about your child’s story of loss that takes away from all the good and joy in your decision to adopt. Nothing.
• Adoption includes both beauty and brokenness, gain and loss, suffering and redemption.

“My story bears too much heartache to be ignored and too much beauty to be hidden.” (Dan Allender)

• Parenting is not the process of figuring out how to do things “right” so we won’t mess her/him up. It’s about entering in – into their pain, into the brokenness, into their GLAD, MAD, SAD, SCARED. It’s about going to the hard (and good) places, with them. I think we’ll be blown away at what happens in our own life and story when we do that, and how it will change our capacity to love. When our hearts enter into another person’s story, it will just know how to “be.” It won’t be focused on what to do or say. The control will be gone, but the healing will be initiated.

“To console does not mean to take away the pain but rather to be there and say, ‘You are not alone, I am with you.'” (Henri Nouwen)

• Jesus – He does the healing. All we have to do (get to do) is create the kind of space for healing to happen.
• You don’t have to, but you get to…you get to offer a sacred, stunning, glorious, beautiful picture…of Jesus, of shalom.

 

trust.

I just returned from a little trip to Dallas, a little Tex-Mex food, a little speaking, a little fun with friends, and a whole lot of vulnerability practice. Loved it all. (Well, maybe not the crying in front of hundreds of people part.) It was worth it. It was worth finding more of myself so that I could offer more of myself to the gracious audience at the Tapestry Conference – a ministry and team who I have developed such a respect and admiration for the ways in which they are serving the adoption and foster care world. I want to live by them, laugh with them and enjoy them EVERY day! I continue to find healing by being in relationship with them. Deeply grateful for the opportunity to be hosted by such fine Texans, both this year and last.

This time when I spoke, I revealed all the ways and reasons why it’s really hard for an adopted person to trust…people, God. I shared how awful it feels when people leave, fall passive – physically and/or emotionally. And then, how when that happens, the human heart is left fearful of people and wandering – by itself, unprotected and without direction. How does/why would, a heart trust when it begins believing so early that it needs to navigate life and relationships and its feelings…alone?

How does a heart learn how to sink and soar when it has no place, no one, to explore from and return to?

And then, because you can’t leave hundreds of people in despair during a keynote, I shifted my focus from sharing all the ways that I had labored so hard in order to not need people, to how it was only in my awakening to the reality that I actually needed Jesus more than people when my process of learning to trust could begin.

The lies I’ve believed are being named.

The truth of how God sees me is being heard.

The veils my heart have worn for so long are being removed.

And then compassion…God’s compassion, his “rachum.” Oh, how it’s pouring over me. Oh, how it’s beginning to settle in me. The kind of compassion that was designed to flow like a mother’s love to her baby, in the womb – the very space a child is most vulnerable. That’s what I’ve needed. That’s what I’ve longed for. That’s what we all were created for – to be loved like that. To sit in that tender space that rests between us and God…and receive…perfect love, the kind of love that drives out fear. To allow a holy and sacred exchange to happen…of giving, of receiving…so that trust can emerge. And then, offer that kind of space in our relationships, with one another, to our children.

Trust begins with a holy and sacred exchange.

Parents – we need you. We need honest, vulnerable, forgiving, restorative relationships where our healing has a place to work itself out. You are the people I believe God is calling to be a part of your children’s healing. God will do his part. All you have to focus on is your part. And here’s your part…practice entering into the tender and intimate space that God has created between you and him. Practice spending time with your advocate. Practice listening to what he is whispering to you, what he is speaking over you. Practice spending time without your veils. Practice being loved, so that you can be love. Allow the holy and sacred exchange to happen. And in doing so, I believe that in that space, you will begin understanding what trust truly is. And then, because you know what that space feels like and because you know how good it feels there, you will begin realizing that perhaps trust is nothing that can be proven or earned. It’s only something that will happen when a space is created for love to be experienced. And then, create that kind of space for your children, invite them in. Show them how loved they are. Maybe as our children witness our belief, our trust in God, it could pave the pathway for their belief, their trust, to form and deepen with that kind of God, in that kind of love.

Maybe all of this good movement forward, this progression in the parent-child world, is directly related to the extent in which we as the parents, we as the advocates, allow ourselves to be on a healing journey too. We get to model God’s love – how deep and wide it is – and the mystery and beauty that he is, and who we need, to experience trust.

Maybe, trust transforms. All of us.

You create the space. Let God do the healing.

With much love and gratitude for not only the ways you are “listening” to your children, but also “leaning in.”

 

behind the eyes.

my eyes.

NOTE: This is a post in response to the Facebook conversation about the pictures so many places use in the adoption/foster care/orphan care communities. My prayer is that I will be a voice – an adoptee voice – who is cheering you on.

Oh, those eyes, in those pictures, of those babies…those deep, mysterious eyes. There’s something that gets stirred in us when we look at them, into them. Maybe our hearts feel moved by their tenderness and vulnerability and innocence. Maybe we sense their longing to feel loved, known, maybe even seen.

Those pictures, of children, alone, do something to us, for us.

Most of us love observing kids – the energy, the wonder, the belief that the world is a good, safe, wild and thrilling place to live. It makes us smile watching life unfold right before our eyes. Yet, as parents, we know how hard life with these lives can be – the sleepless nights and tantrums, the self-centeredness and neediness, the emotional dis-regulation and limited cognitive maturity. You get what I mean. I often wonder if we would’ve known all the challenges and heartache that came with parenting, would we have still willingly stepped into it? There’s a lack of experiential understanding for new parents that feels protective and good. When we hold our newborn and look into his/her eyes, what we see is beauty and possibility. What we anticipate is joy and shared love. In that moment, we don’t want to know or feel or see, or maybe even believe, that there will be struggle or heartache or distance.

But, there is…there is both joy and sorrow. One doesn’t come without the other.

So, when those pictures are flashed before you, us, what do you see? Is it just joy? For you? For them? Is it just sorrow? For you? For them? What do those eyes – that neediness and vulnerability – stir in you?

You see…them.

You want to respond…to them.

But isn’t the call to “take care of” the orphan just as much about them as it is about you? About what God can do through you for them AND what God can do through them for you? About what God is doing in and through and among us all?

So, why are the pictures we see always just them? Just the children? Alone?

I get what those pictures do for us. I guess my question is, “What do those pictures do for them? To them? To those sweet, loveable children? What is the intent of showing us a picture of a child? Sad and alone? Without caregivers? What messages are the organizations and billboards and websites and fundraisers sending us? Sending them? Is there something, someone, missing? Are we mis-using, mis-interpreting their brokenness? Their need? To get more people to adopt or save or rescue? It feels like the marketing strategy could easily become about the “action” instead of the “transformation,” at least initially.

NOTE: I am NOT implying that this is any person’s or organization’s or ministry’s intent or conscious decision when they promote or market or distribute. I’m asking us to think about what unintentional message(s) might be sent with these real-life, real-people pictures.

We know there is a need, a massive need for loving, protective, safe homes. There’s no question about that. We know there are thousands of families who have chosen to be one of those homes. I’m grateful for that. I celebrate that. But, I also know that thousands of families who have brought one of those pictures home are also struggling with how best to nurture and calm and mentor what’s behind those eyes. So much responsibility and courage and consistency and love comes with “rescuing” one of those babies in one of those pictures. And, being one of those babies myself, I know how much comes with bringing one of those babies home. And there’s something inside of me that wants to make sure that all of you who are looking at those pictures are ready to embrace what comes with those eyes, behind those eyes. Not because I think I or any adopted person’s voice can protect you from the hard, but at least help prepare you to know that there is hard, and that your babies are going to need ALL of you to show up and enter into those hard places with them, not just into the hard places you had to walk through to get them.

So, when you look into the beautiful and stunning eyes in those pictures, would you be willing to ask yourself the question, “What would those eyes tell me if they had a voice, about what they really need beyond a safe home and family?”

My desire – OK, my plea – is that you (we), the church, would see the “need” and potential joy and shared love in those pictures AND see the brokenness, but not mis-use or exploit the brokenness. Because that’s the moment this orphan and foster care movement could miss Jesus in his call to “care for the orphan.” And I know, NONE of us want to miss out on that! Jesus is the one who came to rescue and save. Maybe our invitation, then, is to focus on what it means to “take care of,” one another, as we look into each other’s eyes.

But, like I said above, if I would’ve known all that came with my parenting role, maybe I would’ve never stepped into it. But then, I would’ve missed out on what my children are teaching me about God and how through the really, really hard, God is healing me, saving me, from myself. And, I wouldn’t trade that for anything. OK, well, maybe some days. Ha!

You’ve heard me say it before, but let me say it again. When you step into this calling, may you listen…closely. May you respond…with humility and grace and an openness to allowing your child’s story to change your story as you step into God’s story. And as you find more of him, may you find more of one another…together.

Maybe, in those pictures, what sucks us in is actually holiness – the heart of Jesus himself – in those eyes, and perhaps, maybe what those eyes see in us. Huh. Maybe that’s an idea for a marketing strategy.

Let’s keep this conversation going. Let’s keep listening to one another and learning from one another. Let’s keep asking God what “caring for the orphan” means, personally and collectively. Let’s keep believing that God has offered us the opportunity to bring more of his kingdom, here, to earth.

Thank you, for your decision to adopt. It is a gift. And, grateful for the places and people who are embracing and sharing the “whole” story. May you sense God’s presence in powerful and surprising ways as you continue to believe in the good of what lies behind the eyes of his children.

Disclaimer: I’ve told you all how new I am to this adoption/foster care community. I’m learning, with you. I’m discovering what it means to love our children, with you. I’m learning to not only find, but be Jesus, with you. We need each other’s stories and voices and perspective in order to move towards oneness in responding to God’s call, his invitation, to bring shalom to his world. Let’s keep working out our humanity, our identity in Christ, together. I hope you’re up for that, because I am.

one voice giving voice. #summit9

I did something that I’ve never done before last week. I stepped onto a stage in front of 2,500+ people…people who have a heart for those who have been hurt and rejected and wounded so early in life, people who have a deep conviction to create spaces where healing and love and hope can be birthed, people who believe that God is asking them to respond to the plea of the orphan.

And there I was – the “orphan” – standing right in front of them, ready to invite this orphan and foster care movement to “listen.”

NOTE: It’s important to be careful how we use the word, “orphan,” but that’s another post for another day.

Christian Alliance for Orphans – Summit 9

Let me back up…I keep learning about this big adoption world – this mass of people who have chosen to grow and change their family through adoption. But, for me, I never wanted to be in this world. Adoption has often felt like a distant “event” that includes loss and grief and silence, dismissal and denial. It’s been a world where (seemingly) lots of people focus on rescuing the needy and forgotten and hopeless. It’s been a world (seemingly) where the gospel has been twisted and mis-used to help make people feel good about doing good.

But the gospel, the good news, is that Jesus came to initiate new life, hope, restoration, freedom…for ALL of us.

That means we get to be a part of one another’s healing, not just the “orphan’s” healing. That means we need the “orphan” just as much as the “orphan” may need us.

This was my message. This was my one BIG idea.

We need one another.

So, I walked onto that stage feeling the weight of all those little babies represented in that really, really big church. Hoping, praying, pleading that the Holy Spirit would awaken and refresh and reframe the hearts and minds of those really, really good people.

I was nervous. I was calm. I was in total awe.

It felt risky. It felt dangerous.

But…

I had this sense, that that platform, in that moment, was holy ground…for me, for my voice, for the adopted person’s heart.

And it was.

I’m not implying that I know how thousands of people felt that night, but there was something profound and beautiful happening in those 8 minutes – I mean 13 minutes (ha!). Maybe, in that moment, people were beginning to lean in, be still, be present, and listen…to the adopted person’s heart, maybe even to their own hearts.

Perhaps they listened.

I’m quite certain that I (we) was receiving as much as I was giving. I’m quite certain that when all those hands stretched forwards and upwards, God’s Spirit was moving.

My prayer is that all those really, really good people would walk away knowing that the more they are able to connect with the heart of Jesus, the more they will be able to connect with the heart of the vulnerable – those who have been given the title, “orphan” – and in return, together, experience more of heaven on earth.

I offered my voice on behalf of those the world has defined as “voiceless”…and on behalf of the 13-year-old girl who was watching me from the “green room” who turned to her mom and said, “She gets me.”

This is the heart I was echoing. This is the story that needs to be listened to.

I’m so, so deeply grateful and humbled to have been invited to speak…up, on behalf of adoptees, representing their our hearts. Perhaps this is why tears rolled down my cheeks. I just happened to be the live human standing there, speaking, asking…but I tell you, it felt as if the adopted voices around the world joined one another in that moment, rallying together – unified, courageous, hopeful, strong – saying,

“Listen. Please listen. We need you to listen to our hearts.”

And that is why I agreed to do this – this crazy, risky, daring thing.

She…that 13-year-old girl…she is why I use my voice.

Me…that little girl inside of me…she is why I use my voice.

My voice…it’s one voice, giving voice.

Some of my favorite Summit pictures:

Me, Tara Bradford, Melanie Chung Sherman

Melanie Chung Sherman (Tapestry), Me, Amy Curtis (Tapestry)

Breakout Session: Finding Me (haha!)

Bill Blacquiere, President, Bethany Christian Services and Hudsonville, MI buddy

Finding my roots in the airport.

stepping into the world of adoption.

Sometimes I wonder how I got here – a place where I’m being asked to speak in classrooms and churches and retreats and events, having my voice invited to share a message of brokenness, longing, awakening and redemption. It’s not what I imagined at 38. (Geesh! 38 sounded so old 10 years ago!) I’m blown away each time an email or phone call enters my day asking me to come share my story with parents, learners, on-lookers, skeptics, the curious, those in process, and sometimes, those who are really ready to listen. I’m deeply humbled and grateful, and also (just ask my husband), so incredibly thrilled! Me? Wow.

I’m so new to this huge world of adoption. I’ve only been in it for about a year, and it’s blowing my hair back! It’s filled with parents and families and advocates who are for the well-being of orphans – those whose stories have unfolded in ways that have left them without one or both of their birth parents, those whose stories have experienced relational loss so early in life, those whose stories have set them up to easily believe they don’t matter. There are hundreds of organizations and ministries who are working diligently to bring homes and families and love and hope to vulnerable lives, weakened hearts, questioning minds. They are seeking the GOOD in humanity. They are offering Jesus to the world. I celebrate that. I affirm that.

So, what is it that I’m asked to bring to this world of adoption that’s different, that adds to, what already is being done? Because there’s a lot of good that’s being done.

For me, as I cautiously and delicately step into this world as an adopted person, I have this deep sense, this calling, to share “the other part of the story.” The part of the story that also needs voice, but the part of the story that’s not so easy to talk about or look at or feel or listen to. It’s the “broken” part of the story – where the loss and trauma and fracturing and shame began. This is part of the story too. We have to know where these sweet children have come from in order to understand where they need to go – what needs to be healed and restored, where life needs to be breathed into again. What I’m finding is that this part of the story isn’t always recognized, honored or given light. But, we have to know this part of the story too. Because if we don’t, we’ll miss the chance for experiencing redemption. We’ll miss how the work of the cross can enter in and make new, heal, restore, rescue. And if we miss that, we’ll find ourselves relying on our own human strength to help these children who have come from hard places and we’ll miss the larger story of how Jesus came to heal the brokenhearted by using the brokenhearted. We may even miss seeing Jesus in this whole orphan movement.

“When you stand and share your story in an empowering way, your story will heal you and your story will heal somebody else.” Iyanla Vanzant

So, here I am – one small voice in the sea of voices resounding in our ears. My prayer is that as my voice and my message are invited into these beautiful spaces, that I will use it well – not from an angry or resentful or “you should” place, but from a place of humility, from a place of personal experience, from a place of encouragement…cheering this movement on, yet also reminding us all that we must listen to “the rest of the story” as we proclaim the Gospel – the good news – to the world.

I’m so, so grateful to be invited to speak at Summit 9 – the annual Christian Alliance for Orphans Summit in Nashville, TN. I’ll be speaking in a breakout session called, “Finding Me,” where I will share my own story and the impact that relinquishment has had in my life and how God is healing the deepest places within me. And then I was invited to be a part of an outstanding group of 9 others for the “oneBIGidea” presentations. But, here’s the kicker…my 8-minute “TED talk”-style presentation will actually be in front of the large audience on Thursday evening rather than with the others. Oh my, oh my, oh my! We’ve titled it, “LISTEN: Why we must listen to the beauty and the brokenness in every adoptee’s story, and how doing so might just change all of us.” I’ve got 8 minutes to share a message – my one big idea – that I believe every orphan advocate should ponder. Talk about insane pressure, crazy courage, and pure vulnerability! Ahhhhh! (I’m gonna need a pep talk!)

I hope you consider attending this year’s Summit. As always, it will be filled with amazing speakers and educators and artists and musicians. It’s a time where thousands will gather under one roof dreaming of ways that we can better step into the lives of children who are loveable, capable, needed, wanted…who were meant to be on this earth from the beginning of time. Everyone is invited, not just those who have adopted or who plan to adopt. This is for anyone who is up for fighting for what’s good and true.

Hope to see you there!

If you’re interested, you can follow what’s happening on the Summit BLOG.

healing…a two-way street.

 

“Nothing that’s hard or “bad” for adoptees takes away from what’s beautiful or “good” in a parent’s choice to adopt. Nothing.”

 

Oh, my heart!

I’ve just returned from a weekend spent with 450 beautiful mamas at the Created for Care retreat. Some had adopted, some were waiting to adopt, some came just to support their friends. Lovely, inspiring, challenging, raw, surprising, healing, holy.

Profoundly holy.

I entered into that space a bit weary and looking forward to restoring the parts of me that have become so drained and rugged and discontent, all the parts where love has felt so absent, so depleted.

For those of us who were planning and speaking and leading breakout sessions, we had been praying for all the hearts that were going to enter the gorgeous Legacy Lodge. We asked God to speak to us about what he wanted to share with each woman, knowing that he knew exactly what each person needed. We asked God to breathe new life into each soul, refreshing the places that felt lonely, fearful, inadequate, angry, shameful, worn. We asked God to send his Spirit into each corner and crevice that may be hiding from him, numbed out to him, felt forgotten by him. And he did.

He loved BIG.

I got to see and experience God cover that room…with his love, with his grace, with his mercy, with his forgiveness, with his peace, with his truth, with his shalom. With himself.

Oh, my heart!

I stepped into that space having been invited to represent the heart, the voice, the story, of the little ones not in that room, but yet who were so present in that room. Over 1,000 little souls who were home or on their way home. Over 1,000 little souls who bring so much beauty, so much brokenness, into the lives of each family they are welcomed by.

I was up for the invitation, but to be honest, I wasn’t sure if all those mamas would be up for what God had called me to share. That’s a scary feeling, especially when you know that all those mamas were coming to feel encouraged and equipped and empowered, not jolted or disoriented or challenged. That’s a risky feeling when as an adoptee you desperately want to feel accepted and approved of and liked. That’s a vulnerable position to be in when you know that all those mamas were coming to find assurance and affirmation – that what their Creator had called them to do was right…for them, for their children, for their families, for him.

So, I had to trust…that what God called me to share, my voice, was exactly what I was supposed to offer. And so I did. Unnerving, unsettling, unbelievably frightening!

I don’t know exactly how God will use my voice, my message, my heart, (trying to let that go), but I do know how God is already using the weekend, the conversations, the lyrics, the voices, the love in those mamas…for me.

I never expected that part of my healing could come from the adoption world itself.

I never expected to feel affirmed and embraced and loved through other adoptive mamas.

I never expected the longing and desire and love that adoptive mamas radiate for their babies to connect with my own longings to feel wanted and needed and loved.

I never expected that this one adoptee’s voice would be invited out in such unique ways, and then in return find healing because of what God is doing in other family’s lives, through their stories.

I never expected that having people truly “listen” and respond to the impact of relinquishment and abandonment on an adopted person’s mind and heart would bring a more solid, stronger, securer sense of self.

I never expected that God would turn my words into your words for your children into his heart about how he sees me. (You may have to read this one again!)

But he did…and I’m in awe.

I feel tender, open, moved. I feel ready…for more of him, more of his BIG love, more of his deep healing. And I know it will come because I’m giving myself a little more permission to let go…of her, of him, of what happened. As my hands slowly let go, I feel them opening, little by little, receiving more love, deeper connection, with those who are ready to love and connect with me, especially my husband and my babies.

Oh, my heart!

It’s still raw and bleeding and being gutted out, yet at the same time, it feels more free, more brave, a little more gutsy, ready…to trust. Again. Differently. Wholeheartedly.

Oh, mamas…the ways in which you offered yourselves last weekend, your presence, your posture, it was deeply moving and incredibly healing for this one in a million adoptee. I write with tears and say, “Thank you, thank you, thank you….for listening.” I feel humbled and blown away that God would take my words, my voice, my ache, my fear, my story, and use it to be helpful, even if it was just a little bit, in your journey, your child’s journey. And, please, please know that your words, your voice, your ache, your fear, your stories…they brought SO much to me too. It feels like a two-way street, like this natural and fluid giving and receiving. It feels full circle. It feels like we’re in this together. It feels hopeful.

And, it for sure feels WAY different from last year’s C4C retreat when I snatched a piece of decadent cheesecake and snuck back to my room to hide! I’ve come a long ways, mamas! Get ready, March 2013 women! Can’t wait to meet/re-meet you!

So, to ALL of us, may we remember and “listen” to God’s voice, “Where have you come from? Where are you going? I see you.” We have to name what we’re running from and leaving and fleeing in order to know where we’re going, running to. Because where we’ve been, where we’re going…it matters. It’s seen.

Big Korean adoptee Michigan hugs and love to ya’ll!

PS – Would love to hear about your C4C experience too. Feel free to post your blog posts in the comments or on my Facebook page!

PSS – If you have some great pictures to replace these IG ones, email them to me!

“Healing is in Your Hands” (Amazing worship by Candi Shelton)

“Adoption from Both Sides” (a conversation between an adoptive mom and an adoptee)

Ummm…I may have stopped chatting and started preaching. Oops!

The new “Charlie’s Angels” (with Amy Monroe & Andrea Young)

 

10 voices giving voice.

I feel so grateful for the opportunity each year to be a part of National Adoption Month…as an adoptee, as a voice in the adoption world, as an advocate for the human heart.

I thoroughly loved sharing the voices of Sarah Carter (waiting mama), Tona Ottinger (adoptive mama) and Brad Nelson (adoption advocate) this month. Their message, their voice may be just a sliver of what’s out there, but I know that their heart and experience covers a vast array of the human race. So, thank you, friends, for offering your voice and heart this month.

This last “adoption” post comes from the heart of the adoptive parent. 10 women so happily and eagerly volunteered to read Before You Were Mine and write a review for me, for you. I was totally wow’d at the response and even more wow’d by their ability to not only read the pages, but allow the message on the pages to soak in, deeply. They “got it” – that the story of their amazing and beautiful and precious baby’s heart…mattered. And, that it mattered before they held him or her in their arms.

So, thank you lovely ladies, stellar mamas, gifted storytellers…for being open to not only sharing your voice, but also giving voice to your children. May you sense God’s favor upon you, upon them, as you begin telling their stories.

And, here they are…

Welcome to…MaryLeigh Brown from Tennessee.

She’s a…children’s ministry director by day, mom of three amazing kiddos (Bates, age 3 from S. Korea and Brodie, age 2 from S. Korea, waiting on our daughter, Nell, age 1 to come home), waiting child advocate, blogger at someshadesofbrown.com.

As an adoptive mother, I feel very strongly it is my job to put together the pieces, record, and treasure my children’s stories. For over two years “do lifebooks” has been on my to do list. I’ve tackled mountains of paperwork, blogs, photo albums, and videos – all the while putting off the overwhelming task of my children’s life books. “Before You Were Mine” is the tool I have been needing. Not only does it stress the importance of creating this life long treasure, it more importantly walks you through the “how.” It is so much more than another adoptive parenting book, it is a workbook and a tool so desperately needed in the adoptive community. Now I feel not only inspired to finally tackle my children’s lifebooks, but also equipped with a tool for those harder, heavier parts. I am honored to be able to put together this message of redemption, hope, and love for my children.

Welcome to…Elizabeth Isaak from Illinois.

My name is Elizabeth Isaak and I am a mother of three. The first two came to our family biologically, and our third was adopted from Ethiopia in 2009. Adoption was always a hope of my husband and I, and we are so blessed to be called to this amazing adventure. With an 8, 6, and 4 year old, we are always busy and sufficiently exhausted by the end of our days, but we wouldn’t have it any other way. In fact, we plan on adding more to our brood through adoption, because we feel God has called us to this life. We’ve already broken the “American” standard for a neat and tidy family of four, so we figure, why not keep going? Our life is hectic, there is always a level of chaos in our house, there is always laundry to be folded, and if the house is spic and span, it probably means a social worker is coming over for a home visit. But there is love here, and we have room for more.

Prior to reading, “Before You Were Mine,” I had no idea what a Lifestory was and why it was so important. I am a second-generation adoptive mom, and back in the early 80’s, when my younger brother was adopted from South Korea, there was no education for adoptive families on how to address identity with your child, or the importance of celebrating their heritage. My brother was American, and that was it. We knew a little about his story before he came home to our family, but it was never addressed directly or sensitively. My parents thought that loving him, making him part of our family, and providing for him was all he needed to feel fulfilled. Personally, I don’t have to wonder about my beginnings, or my identity. I am genetically related to my parents, so there is no question where I come from. But my son doesn’t have that privilege. He will wonder about who his biological parents are, what they looked like, what they did, where they lived, what was important to them. Those questions were easily answered for me, but not for him. As his mother, I have the opportunity to help him know as much about his beginnings and his identity as I can. While exploring our child’s life story may become emotional and oftentimes painful, they deserve to know that they HAD a beginning, that they matter, they are loved, and to know their identity. Addressing the beginning of their story is essential for them to embrace who they are and their value. “Before You Were Mine” not only lays out the importance putting together your child’s lifestory, it also provides an easy, step-by-step instruction for how to put it together. For someone like me, who is seriously lacking in the organization and time management department, this book was just what I needed to encourage me to discover my son’s lifestory. The feeling of being overwhelmed has now been replaced by a feeling of confidence. I can’t wait to get started! Thank you Susan and Carissa for this very handy tool!

Welcome to…Ellen Ragsdale from Kentucky.

I have been married for 13 years to my husband, Nathan. We have 3 children two biological sons, Ethan 12 and Isaiah 6; our daughter Annalee is 3 and was adopted from South Korea. Ethan and I traveled to Korea and brought her home when she was 11 months old. I work in military healthcare and my husband is the primary homeschool teacher to our kids in our second year of homeschooling. I am the editor of the monthly newsletter for our area homeschool group and a guest contributor to our ladies newsletter in our church. As a former journalism major in college I have a love for the written word!Just two weeks ago our family moved into a new home to become neighborhood ambassadors in an at risk neighborhood in our town. We will be building relationships with our neighbors and hosting programs such as Jobs for Life, tutoring, and Bible Clubs in our home. We are so blessed to be serving with our children and are in awe of how God is working in our lives!

When given the opportunity to read the book, Before You Were Mine, there were two words that came to mind – curiosity and excellence. As an adoptive parent I had heard the term “Lifebook” many times, but had never given it a thought beyond a scrapbook of my daughter’s adoption, so I was curious as to what exactly this book would share. I expected nothing less than excellence in this piece of writing, as I had been afforded the opportunity to attend a conference in which author Carissa Woodwyk was a keynote speaker. As an adoptee her words were like gold to adoptive moms just hoping and praying they were doing the best for their precious adopted children. Her words were raw, honest, and enlightening…she spoke with passion and excellence.

I picked up the book and read slowly through the first chapter. It seemed hard for me to process the concept of a lifebook outside of the preconceived notion of a scrapbook, but in chapter two I was drawn into this treasure of knowledge and could not seem to stop reading the words that were inspiring me to see my child’s story and that of her birthparents in a new light…

From page 27, “We now become treasure hunters looking for gold – but not just the gold found in the facts and data in our child’s documents, as important as that is, but also the gold found in Scripture that we can intimately tie to our child’s unique adoption experience.”

Page after page I was prodded to make notes of wisdom written by a mom that has been in my shoes, a mom to three young kids, knowing someday questions will surface and still thankful that there is still time to prepare. The overwhelming task of being a story teller and guarding our children’s hearts and self-worth is simplified in such a way that it does not take away from the sacredness of the mission, but makes it manageable for a parent to undertake, whether they consider themselves creative or not.

I am thankful for Before You Were Mine, because now I am prepared to write my daughter’s story, not just from the day she joined our family, but from the day she was born. This book is a treasure…both excellently written and sure to fulfill the curiosity of an adoptive parent that is seeking the inspiration to create a loving keepsake that will provide guidance and assurance for their child.

Welcome to…Julie VanderMeulen from Michigan.

She is…a stay-at-home adoptive mother of two children born in Guatemala.

Before You Were Mine is a treasure for adoptive families. It weaves the practical steps of creating a Lifebook with invaluable reminders of how God’s hand is at work in every moment of our children’s lives, including the ones they lived before we were united as a family. It shows how to tell our children’s sacred stories, no matter how painful they may be, so that our children come to understand how God has always been their loving Father, even through relinquishment, encouraging healing throughout their lives. Before You Were Mine reiterated to me how necessary Lifebooks are, and it made a huge project do-able. I’m so grateful!

Welcome to…Karen King from North Carolina.

I am Karen King, 43 years old, wife, mother and special education teacher. I have two wonderful children. Declan, 8, is my biological son. He is red headed, bright, loves learning about all things science, building with Lego and thinks his sister is way cooler than she thinks he is. Terefech, 7, is our daughter from Ethiopia. She is curly headed, athletic, girly, loves school and loves her brother some of the time. We were brought to adoption for a variety of reasons. I had always said I was going to adopt for as long as I can remember. Around Declan turning 2, I was diagnosed with rheumatoid arthritis which led us to the path of adoption at that point. My husband has his undergraduate degree in international affairs/African studies which drew us to Ethiopia as a place to adopt from.

I was excited to read “Before You Were Mine” because I saw Carissa speak at an adoptive mom’s retreat. I identified with her ways of thinking about talking with your children about adoption, race and how to talk to your children about their life and challenges. I just felt there was so much I could learn from her as an adoptive parent.

As I started reading “Before You Were Mine,” I felt I had addressed many of the issues it would be talking about. I was lucky that my adoption agency provided us with a pre-made lifebook while we were in Ethiopia. It documented Terefech’s life in Ethiopia once she came into care. Our agency also had provided us with information about her birthplace and her birth family. Terefech has these books in her possession and looks at them occasionally. have also made books of our trip to Ethiopia and pictures of her friends from the orphanage and care center I basically felt like I was done. I still wanted to get all of our paperwork organized for her to look through at some point but I felt pretty accomplished.

“Before You Were Mine” has made me realize I am not done. I need to keep going I have so much more of Terefech’s story to tell. And I saw her in the personal stories that the authors shared. I saw that she needs to hear all I can tell her about her life before me, what I know of what happened and why, and see the faces of the people who continue to love her from another country. It will help her in ways that I can’t even define at this point in her life. I am so glad that I got to read this book and have it help me be a better mom!

I liked this book for so many reasons. I really enjoyed the personal stories that were told, how the life book can work in your life and your child’s life, the different ways scripture was shown to incorporate into the life book. I am a Christian and a very liberal Christian at that. Often my views of Christianity and Christianity as it pertains to adoption, don’t agree with the way others views it. I felt as though I had a place in this book. That it gave me a place to incorporate my beliefs of God and how his love is involved in our story. The quotes and quotes of scripture give me the ability to share with my daughter the love I know God had for her from the very beginning and that hasn’t changed because of who she lives with. “May the God who gives endurance and encouragement give you the same attitude of mind toward each other that Jesus Christ had.” Romans 15:5. I was especially drawn to the lines in the book, “We believe our children are with us today because God responded to their need and our desire to parent them.” As well, “He is the defender of the fatherless, not the cause.” To be honest, those words helped me define how I believed it all worked or why it worked or why I hope it is working.

Welcome to…Natalie Henderson from Kentucky.

I am a mother of two sons, adopted from Ethiopia, one of whom is HIV+. I am also a pediatrician, training to be pediatric intensive care doctor and live in Louisville, Kentucky with my boys. I spend my time free from work with my boys and advocating for HIV+ children. I hope in the next three years to be running an adoption clinic in Louisville.

When I adopted our first son, I was guilty of saving every momento, picture, and piece of paper throughout the process for his “lifebook.” It was not until he was home for over a year, in the middle of our second adoption, that I realized this was more than a scrapbook of our adoption. We were going to meet his birth mom and I wanted to tell the real story for him. I did my best but still felt something was missing.

I just finished “Before You Were Mine” and now feel equipped to do justice to both of my sons’ stories, both the one overflowing with information and the one scarce and full of pain. Having heard Carissa Woodwyk speak previously, I instantly valued her opinion, but having that combined with Susan’s personal experience as an adoptive mom gave a palpable and real look at the impact of lifebooks in both the adoptee and the adoptive parent’s life. Moreover, they integrate the necessity of faith and Christ’s words into the life book in a way that both teaches and gives deeper meaning to the child’s journey. A must read for all adoptive parents.

Welcome to…Janet Disotell from Arizona.

I’m a stay at home mom of two children – school aged son and preK daughter. Both of my children were adopted internationally, and I’m always in search of resources to help me be the best mom I can be to them.

I’ve been an AP (adoptive parent) for 6+ years now, and I “thought” I knew what life books were all about. When I first opened “Before You Were Mine,” I expected another viewpoint on adoption and life books. Let me say that the “Overview” in itself inspired me to do a better job at creating my children’s life books. Finding scripture verses to add to the pages of their story, I’d never considered that before. Reading about that was such an “aha” moment for me. I now see that my children’s stories before coming home need to be written out so that they can put the pieces together when they want. I’m responsible for sharing everything I know in an honest yet delicate manner to help my children. “Before You Were Mine” is filled with checklists, thought provoking questions, numerous ideas and suggestions to help AP’s tell their children’s stories. Any AP who is looking for help or where to begin with their child’s life book needs THIS book. I also think that those who “think” they know what lifebooks are should get a copy as well. Thank you, Carissa Woodwyk and Susan Tebos for your knowledge and for sharing your hearts.

Welcome to…Kamarah Sietsema from Michigan.

I’m a stay-at-home, homeschooling mom of two biological children who are 8 and 10. I’ve been married to Ryan for 14 years and God has recently called us to expand our family through adoption. We are currently waiting for one or two children to join our family from Ethiopia. We are excited and blessed to be on this journey and can’t wait to see how the Lord continues to guide us. In my free time, I love photography, reading, hanging out with friends, walking, cooking, and eating tasty food.

Many of us have grown up not giving a second thought to where we came from or parts of our history…the details of our past have been woven into our lives as a natural, effortless component of our story. But for adopted children, this is not always the case. Their past is fragmented and torn; parts of their story are often left untold.

“Before You Were Mine” is an amazing resource aimed to equip parents in capturing their child’s story. The book details how to write a ‘Lifebook,’ which is “a story book that acknowledges, celebrates, explains, and honors the life of an adoptee prior to adoption.” It also gives insightful information on when to discuss sensitive aspects of the child’s history, as well as which details to share, depending on his/her age.

The writing guide this book provides is well laid out and organized; I don’t need to brainstorm a list of what to write about. Well thought-out questions are divided into sections and parents are guided step-by-step through the writing process. Example Lifebook pages are provided with tips on how and what facts to include.

What I appreciated most about the authors’ perspective on writing a Lifebook was their God-honoring focus. Prayers are sprinkled throughout chapters, encouraging parents to pray through the writing process and for their children. Scripture verses are included as empowering guides for parents as they prepare to engage in adoption conversations with their kids. This book embraces God’s Word as Truth and fully acknowledges our trust and reliance on Him as we guide and raise our children.

I believe that this book could be a valuable resource for parents to help their adopted children embrace and understand their past and the unique plan God has for each of their lives.

Welcome to…Jennifer Vines from Alabama.

I’m a 40 year old wife and homeschooling mom of four. Our oldest was adopted domestically through the foster care system in Alabama. Parenting my children, especially my now 13 year old adoptee, has stretched my faith and caused me to lean more heavily than ever on my Father. I’m so grateful for the encouragement of Before You Were Mine and in the new year will be leading a group through this book as we compile our children’s life stories. I can’t wait to see how we gain a better understanding of our children’s losses, our own grief and reckon that impact into our parenting.

I heard Carissa at an adoption conference last year and was moved by her honest story and wisdom as a transracial adoptee, a family counselor and a mom. It’s a privilege to be able to review her book and share what an encouragement it has been. I believe Before You Were Mine can benefit every adoptive family. I am recommending it frequently to my many friends who have adopted or are in process. I only wish I had read such a great perspective when my adopted son was younger, but am now eagerly anticipating completing his life book.

So much of TeBos and Woodwyk’s book is practical, real encouragement to parents wishing to explain the story of their adopted children’s lives before their adoption. I loved the beach ball analogy, though it was also a difficult visual to face personally. The authors remind us that as we push down feelings of loss or grief, or at the least, do not encourage release of them, it is like pushing a beach ball under the water; the harder we push down, the greater force with which it will erupt later. The loss of an adoptee is of great impact in his/her life, and must be dealt with – by both adoptive parent and the child who has suffered the relinquishment or abandonment. I greatly appreciated the tips on journaling our children’s stories – keeping entries into the lifebook simple for younger kids and adding information verbally as they age and we share time together, reviewing their books. There was great encouragement to use teachable moments to validate feelings and encourage openness throughout the book, as well as examples of entries, how to handle difficult information, and Scripture to incorporate faith and the truth of God’s Word as it applies to our children’s lives. This book would also be wonderfully used as a group study for adoptive families, and has simple homework/questions for pondering at the end of chapters.

Overall, I found Before You Were Mine to be very helpful for the parent on the road to adoption or those post adoption to give their children voice when dealing with their past losses and to give them security in their places in their adoptive family. This is a story written with great heart, and practical wisdom that I will refer to again and again.

Welcome to…Christi Hughes from Kentucky.

I am a blessed momma, a loved wife and an adopted CHILD OF GOD. I live in Kentucky with my husband and our little Korean cutie, a super dog and a crazy cat. We are in the process of bringing home a sibling from South Korea and have been truly blessed by the miracle of adoption.

Absolutely wonderful..and this doesn’t even touch the fact that this book takes a very scary, daunting task and puts it into manageable goals. It is so wonderfully written with personal experiences and references to God’s unfailing love for our children. There are examples of conversations, which most of us have either had with our children or are dreading about having with our children. It is a road map to create a reminder, a keepsake, about our children’s lives before they came to us. This is sometimes hard to think about because of the circumstances, but our children deserve to know the truth and they must know that God had a plan for them from the very beginning. I will be starting my son’s lifebook now, not with apprehension and confusion, but with a wonderful book that has shown me where to start and how to gather the important information.

Again, thank you mamas for reading the book, writing a review, and for the ways you love your children.

This song was used at the Tapestry Conference special presentation, “Listen to Our Hearts” – a night of adoptee voices. I love the words and I hope you feel inspired as you remind your children of who they are, how God sees them.

Remind Me Who I Am – Jason Gray

Oh, and if you have read Before You Were Mine and would like to share your feedback, feel free to contact me. I would love to hear how your storytelling is going!

a voice, a story, a life.

I love that I get to share Brad Nelson’s voice again. I introduced Brad this past February when he shared a gutsy post about how embracing our fear can lead us to freedom. Brad is not an adoptive parent, nor an adoptee, but…he’s been a friend whose heard the heart of those who have been relinquished, and has listened. Truly listened. He’s someone who has allowed himself and his story to be joined with the heart and story of those around him. His understanding and insight and perspective on adoption is encouraging and affirming and hopeful to me, and I trust that you’ll feel the same way.

The word “adopt” comes from the Latin adoptare—“ad,” meaning “to,” and “optare,” meaning “choosing, wishing, and desiring.” In other words, to be adopted is to have been chosen, to have been wished for, to have been desired.

I cannot begin to imagine the complexity that an adopted child must face. Humans are so deeply formed by the faces of their parents in the earliest days of life. So much of who I am today is shaped by the fact that as a child when I opened my eyes to see as far as they could see there was a face looking back. Imagine for a moment the silence of a child looking into the abyss of absence. I suppose the silence and the absence of that moment lingers in a life.

Unfortunately, the word adoption gets thrown around this time of year in ways that rob it of its depth. Well meaning people speak of adopting a family for Thanksgiving or Christmas, but adoption is about so much more than helping someone or even coming to their rescue.

Others have spoken of adoption in terms of being a “voice for the voiceless,” which is understandable. The Bible has a long tradition of identifying widows and orphans as some of the most vulnerable people in the community. Their vulnerability came from the fact that there was no one in a position of power or means to care for them. And yet, I am regularly blown away by a child’s capacity to heal, and as I hear these stories of healing, I’m overwhelmed with the sense that here is a person who does have a voice. Sure, as vulnerable children they may have lacked the “power” to change their situation, but they certainly aren’t voiceless. They have a story to tell, and maybe instead of thinking of adoption as being a voice for their voicelessness it would be more fitting to think of it as the sacred process of seeing in a child what is already there. A voice. A story waiting to be told. A life that is worth being chosen.

“For he chose us in him before the creation of the world to be holy and blameless in his sight. In love, he predestined us to be adopted as his sons and daughters through Jesus Christ, in accordance with his pleasure and will…” (Ephesians 1v4-5)

This passage from the New Testament is more than a cute coincidence. In the 1st Century, outside of Rome, Ephesus was one of the wealthiest cities on earth. Its wealth came, in large part, from its thriving slave trade. Ephesus was also the hometown of a well known doctor named Soranus. He went on to practice medicine in Rome, but one of his surviving writings deals with “how to recognize the child worth rearing.” Any deformity or abnormality might lead to the child being rejected and subjected to the Roman practice of infant exposure, literally being abandoned and exposed to the elements. Some children were picked up by families and used as slaves.

Now imagine Ephesus. A bustling metropolis. A thriving slave trade. And a community of people called Christians who had received an open letter from a man named Paul. That letter would have been read aloud, probably in someone’s home where Christians and their households had gathered. It’s quite possible that some of those hearing Paul’s words were the very same children who had been abandoned or exposed and had become slaves. Can you imagine what it must have been like for them to hear those words?

He chose you before the creation of the world.

You were predestined to be adopted as sons and daughters.

In accordance with his pleasure.

Eugene Peterson writes, “It wasn’t a last-minute thing because he felt sorry for us and no one else would have us, like a stray mutt at the dog pound, or an orphan whom nobody adopted. He chose us ‘before the foundation of the world.’ We are in on the action, long before we have any idea that we are in on the action. We are cosmic.”

If you are reminded of anything during National Adoption Month, be reminded of this: Those who have been adopted have been chosen, wished for, and desired. They are the beloved. They are a story that has been being written from the moment the world was a spark in the eye of the Creator.

I, for one, cannot wait to hear their voices finish telling the stories that began so long ago.

Brad is the pastor of formation at Church of Hope, Florida. A speaker, writer, and student at Western Theological Seminary (MDiv), he and his wife Trisha are the proud parents of two beautiful daughters, Braylen and Clara. You can hear more of Brad’s voice at http://www.bleedingoutloud.com