Adoption Yoga
It’s all about balance.
Mountain pose.
Our family is already our family. But at the same time we aren’t. Because there are more of us, waiting, lost, yet unknown . . . in Colombia. When Chad prays at bedtime or at dinner, he often says, “Thank you for the time we got to spend as a family today.” And now I always think about how not all of us spent that time together. Because not all of us are together yet.
Throughout the day I say words or phrases and immediately try to say them again in my head, but in Spanish. Duolingo says I’m 42% fluent. But I guess “muffin” isn’t part of fluency. This morning I realized that if we brought Lolo and Lala home tomorrow, I wouldn’t know how to tell them I had made muffins. Or cupcakes. Or eggs on toast. I shift my weight between hopeful and naive.
I predict that I will do a lot more drawing once they’re home. I can draw a muffin. Maybe I need one of those small, portable white boards to hang around my neck so I can easily communicate.
Palms to heart center.
Child’s pose.
I have committed to fully investing in our two current children (bio children? present children?) as much as or more than we always have. Yet at the same time, we are trying to redirect all of our extra funds into adoption costs. When we first started talking about adopting, we acknowledged our conviction to wait until we could offer our adopted children the same quality of life as our biological children. E has taken ballet, gymnastics, and baton. B plays soccer. We are determined to let Lolo and Lala join teams, take swim lessons, and have birthday parties.
And nowadays I shift backward to making sure that E and B aren’t set aside while we look eagerly toward Colombia.
Chad and I do not give each other presents on Valentine’s Day. Instead, I have always celebrated the kids on this day, preparing special breakfasts and setting out presents the night before. This year I continued that tradition. And even as I bought them inexpensive Walmart outfits to wear today, I worried about whether or not that money should be saved instead.
We haven’t been on a family vacation since E was two years old. That would be almost eight years if you’re counting. B was two years from being born. He has never seen the beach.
Before we filled out our adoption application, we committed to a week at the beach with my parents. I am so excited to go! But I worry that it will “look bad” for us to romp around in the sand while we ask people to donate to our adoption fund or participate in our fundraisers.
Turn. One foot out in front of the other.
Warrior pose.
“Adoption begins with tragedy.”
Tonight we had the first interview in our home study - the ten week evaluation process that leads to final approval and immigration applications. At the beginning of that interview, our social worker reminded us of the many ways adoption is a picture of what God has done for us; how we are adopted as heirs into his kingdom family. Then she said those words: Adoption begins with tragedy.
I had been thinking and feeling only joy and eagerness. God is providing encouragement and resources through our friends and family beyond what we expected. I know our adopted kids will be loved, welcomed and cared for by a community that reaches far beyond our house. I know this is a safe home where God’s grace enables us to parent with love.
But we would not be adopting - Lolo and Lala would not need a new, loving, forever home . . . if theirs had not already been destroyed. By loss. By abuse. By neglect. By some sort of damage, destruction - war zone of the world’s brokenness.
Tragedy.
How can I be excited and sorry at the same time? Anxious but confident? Humbled yet passionate?
It is very much a picture of sanctification. The tragedy of original sin made our spiritual adoption necessary. The rightful heir, Son of God, fought for us and brought us home.
Broken, restored, broken, restored.
Breathe out the brokenness, breathe in Christ’s goodness.
Breathe in. Breathe out.
Breathe in. Breathe out.
Savasana.
Our fundraising link: https://adopttogether.org/families/?fundraiser=brogan-family-adoption
Mountain pose.
Our family is already our family. But at the same time we aren’t. Because there are more of us, waiting, lost, yet unknown . . . in Colombia. When Chad prays at bedtime or at dinner, he often says, “Thank you for the time we got to spend as a family today.” And now I always think about how not all of us spent that time together. Because not all of us are together yet.
Throughout the day I say words or phrases and immediately try to say them again in my head, but in Spanish. Duolingo says I’m 42% fluent. But I guess “muffin” isn’t part of fluency. This morning I realized that if we brought Lolo and Lala home tomorrow, I wouldn’t know how to tell them I had made muffins. Or cupcakes. Or eggs on toast. I shift my weight between hopeful and naive.
I predict that I will do a lot more drawing once they’re home. I can draw a muffin. Maybe I need one of those small, portable white boards to hang around my neck so I can easily communicate.
Palms to heart center.
Child’s pose.
I have committed to fully investing in our two current children (bio children? present children?) as much as or more than we always have. Yet at the same time, we are trying to redirect all of our extra funds into adoption costs. When we first started talking about adopting, we acknowledged our conviction to wait until we could offer our adopted children the same quality of life as our biological children. E has taken ballet, gymnastics, and baton. B plays soccer. We are determined to let Lolo and Lala join teams, take swim lessons, and have birthday parties.
And nowadays I shift backward to making sure that E and B aren’t set aside while we look eagerly toward Colombia.
Chad and I do not give each other presents on Valentine’s Day. Instead, I have always celebrated the kids on this day, preparing special breakfasts and setting out presents the night before. This year I continued that tradition. And even as I bought them inexpensive Walmart outfits to wear today, I worried about whether or not that money should be saved instead.
We haven’t been on a family vacation since E was two years old. That would be almost eight years if you’re counting. B was two years from being born. He has never seen the beach.
Before we filled out our adoption application, we committed to a week at the beach with my parents. I am so excited to go! But I worry that it will “look bad” for us to romp around in the sand while we ask people to donate to our adoption fund or participate in our fundraisers.
Turn. One foot out in front of the other.
Warrior pose.
“Adoption begins with tragedy.”
Tonight we had the first interview in our home study - the ten week evaluation process that leads to final approval and immigration applications. At the beginning of that interview, our social worker reminded us of the many ways adoption is a picture of what God has done for us; how we are adopted as heirs into his kingdom family. Then she said those words: Adoption begins with tragedy.
I had been thinking and feeling only joy and eagerness. God is providing encouragement and resources through our friends and family beyond what we expected. I know our adopted kids will be loved, welcomed and cared for by a community that reaches far beyond our house. I know this is a safe home where God’s grace enables us to parent with love.
But we would not be adopting - Lolo and Lala would not need a new, loving, forever home . . . if theirs had not already been destroyed. By loss. By abuse. By neglect. By some sort of damage, destruction - war zone of the world’s brokenness.
Tragedy.
How can I be excited and sorry at the same time? Anxious but confident? Humbled yet passionate?
It is very much a picture of sanctification. The tragedy of original sin made our spiritual adoption necessary. The rightful heir, Son of God, fought for us and brought us home.
Broken, restored, broken, restored.
Breathe out the brokenness, breathe in Christ’s goodness.
Breathe in. Breathe out.
Breathe in. Breathe out.
Savasana.
Our fundraising link: https://adopttogether.org/families/?fundraiser=brogan-family-adoption
Wow! You should be a writer!
ReplyDeleteSo proud of you guys and your heart for honoring the Lord!
ReplyDelete