I didn’t adopt because I wanted to make orphans miserable. But in the bumpy jostle of daily family life, between Don’t wake the baby! and Everyone get in bed!, I feel like I’m failing. We pursued adoption because we wanted to help—we wanted to make the world a better place, to shine the light of the gospel. But I didn’t know I would need to shine the light of the gospel at 5am, every day, for so many years. In the process, my flashlight has grown dull and weak.
Every day, my husband and I feel the pendulum swing between the tension of Christ’s invitation to “come away by yourselves to a remote place and rest for a while,” and His admonition to “meet together” in fellowship (Mark 6:31; Hebrews 10:25). After one too many family activities ending in disaster, we’ve learned to let our wounds heal in private and decline the next dinner invitation.
Adoptive parenting has been the most difficult task of my life. It’s been astonishingly isolating, because from the outside, we look like an adorable, bustling, young family. But underneath, I’m clenching my teeth, waiting for the shoe to drop and the next terrible thing to happen. During this season, we’ve felt the tension of pulling out of community activities, playdates, dinners, and visits with family. And I fear that folks won’t understand we are dealing with more than just a case of the wiggles.
But in pulling away from community, we miss out on the real, loving, encouragement and affirmation we need from our people. We imagine disapproval in their eyes and judgment on their brows. Again and again, I have wanted to hide our messy family life because I am sure no one will understand.
One May day just a few years ago, my very, very cute adopted son was singing—with perfect pitch—a Christmas song, while I stood in the checkout line at Goodwill. He has a face like a chipmunk and a voice like a chorister, and he knows it. He’d been singing that song for weeks, and now he was shining his face around to draw the attention and approval of the other adults standing nearby. His endless fishing for applause from strangers touches on my fear that he’s still not quite settled on us as his parents; he’s still interviewing for the position.
Although we can never erase the brokenness that led to his birth parents’ inability to raise him, we are the parents that God has given him. In spite of my commitment to love him, his singing was exhausting and painful at the end of a draining day—on top of six wearying years. For me, his song felt like a jarring syncopation, rattling out the death of my dreams. I asked him to stop singing.
At my left elbow, a woman snorted and leaned away from me. “That sweet little boy wasn’t hurting anything. You should know better than to stop him from singing!” she admonished, shaking her head and looking away. I felt my tired shoulders slump lower, even more resolved to hide our troubled story.
And we have found relief and safety in solitude. We’ve been able to rally our forces and find heart for the next fight. But pulling away from community robs us of its gifts, and neglecting solitude robs us of its replenishing powers.
So we live in the in-between tension of the two. We live like a child on a swing, swaying out a little further and retreating a little further, learning to trust our community and learning to accept the peace of solitude.The further we venture out, the deeper we need to retreat afterward. We don’t have an easy solution, but I am sure about which direction to look for hope. “Come to Me, all of you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest,” Jesus says (Matthew 11:28). But in this in-between, our hearts are broken every single day. We are rejected and we are befriended. We are lonely and we are loved.
Just what my heart needer today as we just got 2 boys in foster care. This could not ring more true. Thanks for this reminder.
I relate to this on a spiritual level
Thanks for joining us today, friend. Praying for you and your sweet family today.
xoxo-Kaitlin
Beautiful. I am so sorry for your struggle but totally relate although in different circumstances/ways. It is such a crazy hard life and balance. We DO need community and we do NEED solitude. It is an ever swinging pendulum. Thank you for sharing your heart and your story.
Whew! I posted about this exact same thing today: the importance of support and community. I don’t know where I would be with out it. The community we surround ourselves with is what reminds me to keep moving forward!
http://www.in-due-time.com
A few years ago we had our third child who had a severe and life threatening birth defect. We planned for the worst and prayed for the best. After a long NICU stay, repeat hospitalizations and more than the average struggle to adjust to 3 kids- we also found ourselves floundering between the desperate need and desire to withdraw partnered with the knowledge that God has created us for community. We needed to heal and recover- to celebrate and also to mourn the things that were lost. We didn’t know how to fully explain the scope of our confusing emotions and we didn’t have the strength to even try. As I think back over that time I thank God for those who were gentle but persistent in their love and support- assuming nothing- not needing to understand but just trying love us and be Christ’s love to our family. This has caused me to want to be so much more intentional about loving others well in the midst of all of life’s messy stuff. I so appreciate the honesty of this post and pray that we can all be more honest and open and that can allow us to love and support one another well as sisters in Christ. May the way we love and encourage one another make Christ attractive to all those who see it!
Ladies – you humble me. And lift me up. So thankful for this group of Godly women and the real life application you bring to His word. This is a sacred place to me; a place of honesty and grace, and a joyful reminder daily that He always provides in all our circumstances. God bless you all!
So grateful for you, Susie! Thanks for joining us today.
xoxo-Kaitlin
Rebecca, thank you for this post. My oldest daughter was adopted from China at 18 months. This July marked 3 years home. I can definitely relate to all that you said. It is always comforting and encouraging to hear from others experiencing the same things.
Community is what initially drew me near to the throne of Christ. Community is how I learned who Christ was; my family didn’t teach me, nor did I read the Bible until His people showed me who He was. But at the same time, it’s easy to feel rejected as a new believer because I know so little about being a Christian. I love having quiet time with God, but I also hate too much solitude. It’s hard to find a fine line between the two. But it’s also good to know that where community is wonderful, solitude doesn’t mean we’re alone. We’re never alone, the Spirit within us never goes away. And though it may be difficult to remember sometimes because we can’t see the Spirit, it’s important to know that solitude doesn’t mean loneliness. More than anything, it’s an opportunity to build our relationship with the Lord.
So true. Solitude to abidied in Him will always bring us back to the reality of eternity.
((hugs)) Just hugs. I feel for you. I haven’t adopted but am trying to help provide care for two grandsons who did not have a great start….and we have often felt the same way. Especially as we work to establish routines and change behaviors….it’s hard, sometimes moreso than others. We keep reminding ourselves that God has placed use in this moment and these boys need us – US. Depsite our imperfections. Beyond that I have no words of wisdom – So yes, (((hugs))), just hugs.