Adoption: Go Big or Go Home

I have heard people say that they've thought about adopting, but that they're pretty content where they are.  Which is an interesting view of adoption.  That we only adopt because we want another child--because we're not content with the children we currently have.  (And I know that this is why some people adopt--not hating on that at all.)

Now Matt and I's adoption journey has taken a hard left and we are contemplating a child with cerebral palsy.  And let me tell you, it's not because I just need the challenges of a child with significant special needs to feel contentment.  In fact, I am ridiculously content.  I don't need any more children at all.  I'm so comfortable, that knowing how comfortable I am makes my heart yearn to push myself for Jesus, to be His hands and feet and comfort.

Because I don't think that Jesus rubbed elbows with the sinners and the broken to die dirty and painfully on the cross so that I can know Him, fill my heart with Him, be complete in Him, comforted through Him, and in turn sit comfortably in my uber-nice suburban home, with my three easy children, my white collar husband, and my contentment.

Can I just say that as my heart has opened for the orphan, it's like (and this is going to sound stupid, but accurate) a crowbar was shoved into that opening and someone has been wrenching and wrenching and wrenching it open further?  In a post last January, I wrote that my heart had grown and grown and grown and grown toward adoption.  And I guess it has continued.

Because when we started this process one month ago, I thought we were going to send a dossier to Moldova to be matched with a child.  (I <3 Moldova!) Then we recently received word that things have really slowed down there and that we should look for a different program.  So my heart began to be wrenched open toward Africa, and we were thinking that is where we would perhaps be looking.  I started looking at waiting child lists and inquiring about boys that might fit our family:  July 2008 or younger--so Titus can remain the oldest and possibly with minor special needs.

And then yesterday I remembered another waiting child list and thought I should at least look at it, though most likely I wouldn't see a "fit" because these children have greater special needs.  And one stood out.  Stood out.  And we are seriously considering this, people.  In fact, we're really serious.  But another family could still come forward for him or something might not work out with our requirements, etc., okay, or let's be real, we could change our minds or something.

I don't want to say too much yet, because I do not know what we are doing.  But I should write about this because it hurts my heart that this is still happening today.  In some child institutions or orphanages, if you're born with a disability, you might be considered worthless.  Or considered not worth the effort.  And while the other kids might get to go outside and play, you might be confined to a crib in a backroom of the orphanage, where there is just one small window, and it reeks in your room, and you lay in your crib, sometimes in your urine and feces, and there are absolutely no toys to play with.  And because of this, you haven't even been given a chance to develop in the ways that other kids have.  

From this blog, one mother cites another that adopted from the same orphanage:

A mom who rescued two children from his [her adopted son] orphanage describes the room: "This room is reserved for ‘the worst of the worst.’ The children with the most severe special needs. They are deemed completely worthless...the children that nobody would ever adopt. They are literally kept hidden from the world, except for a few of us who get a very small glimpse. Even volunteer therapy groups are discouraged from going into this room. They are told not to bother."

She also says about the boy: "It didn't appear that his special needs were near severe enough to warrant his fate in this awful room. He also looked entirely too big to be kept in such a small crib. He was always quiet and calm. He looked at me, seemed engaged, and could move around in his crib as his gaze followed me around the room."

And I've known that there have been such places, but I guess part of me thought they had gone away and improvements were being made.  And maybe part of me just wasn't thinking about it, as I contemplated our minor special needs child, that would not have cognitive disabilities.  And now we're pushing ourselves even deeper into the power of Christ... because we can't do it... but He can...

And I don't know why I don't usually do this, but I have a few prayer requests:

1.  For the children wasting away alone in cribs without stimulation.  For God's hand to be upon them and comfort in them and protection and love and families.

2.  That a position with Charles Schwab would open up soon for Matt.  He is currently a contractor so we do not have benefits (they love him though), but if he could get a position with benefits we would have good health insurance which would be a blessing as we look at this avenue.

3.  That our oleanders would come out easily and that the roots would not re-sprout.  The landscaper we hired to remove our oleanders had some trouble with the bigger ones so he is coming back next Tuesday with some different equipment to finish the job.

4.  For my brother, Tyler, and his fiance, Destiny, who are expecting a baby (I'm going to be an aunt!) this summer.