The End Better Than The Beginning

There’s a sobering weight that settles over a parent driving away from the hospital with their first child. Am I even mature enough for this? Who is allowing this child to come home with me?! I don’t know how to raise a child!

It seems like yesterday that we buckled in a little boy we didn’t know and drove away from the cradle care home. Suddenly the burden had shifted: the generous, exhausted caregivers had given him their final hugs and kisses and welcomed the reprieve, while we assumed the weight of it all.

I looked back from the passenger seat to smile at our older boys, scared that we were about to ruin them. I glanced over at this foreign, flapping, huge diaper-wearing three-year-old and tried to catch the eyes that didn’t want to connect. Lord, maybe this is too much. Are You sure? We could turn around…

We drove for hours and arrived at our rental house. After a whirlwind of a couple weeks we now had to slow painfully down. The days ahead were empty, left for us to fill with who-knew-what while we waited for paperwork to be signed and the green light to leave the state. We got things put away and explored the backyard, hopeful that the physical activity would help everyone sleep well that night.

The next handful of nights were nightmares. It started with brushing teeth and would end sometime in the early hours of the morning. Cup after cup of strawberry milk was made, diaper after diaper changed. Back rubs, relaxing lotion, the fan and sound machine on – we had no clue how to decode the screaming and crying and thrashing. Nothing seemed to diffuse the intense emotions this little boy felt, and he had no other way to tell us what he was thinking.

Those two weeks were full of challenges and beauty: trips to the store that ended with screaming; comments from strangers that brought tears, because you can’t possibly explain your situation in 15 seconds; bright sunsets with horses in the foreground; giggles from three little boys and joy in their faces as they jumped around with baby goats.

Up until then, life was fairly easily curated. Planned. Predictable. Learning curves came in stages, with end dates somewhere on the horizon. But this little boy who’s world had been rocked came in and shattered much of what I knew with breakneck pace. All of a sudden, life was messy and I couldn’t do anything about it. Things I never anticipated began happening left and right. He’d wander down the driveway, fall over constantly, make one guttural “ooh” sound all. day. long. There were a lot of little, probably petty things – like ripping books and smearing poop on the windowsill. But it all broke me. What hurt most was the reality that many adoptive mothers experience – pouring yourself out for a child who desperately needs your love and stability but cannot process it, and will push it – you – all away. The poop on the windowsill would’ve been easier to handle with a smile if this little one could have told me what he needed. The ripped books could’ve been tossed with less heartache if I knew he understood boundaries and the concept of possessions.

There were a few days, and many nights, I spent in tears genuinely questioning our decision. If we had said no, God would have brought someone else to take him. Right? God would still have cared for him. We could have waited, maybe taken an infant or at least a child with fewer needs and hangups.

And here we are, officially one year later.

We could’ve said no; we could’ve asked God to send another family. But we would’ve missed all that He wanted to do.

The stretches of good nights, the daily walks that did us all good physically and mentally. The day Kash looked me in the eyes while he was flapping, indicating that he wanted to let me into his world. The countless conversations with our sweet Levi and Caleb, answering their many questions and being humbled by their love for their new brother. The sheer joy as all the boys wrestle together and giggle, as they run outside and balance on the obstacle courses they’ve made themselves. The day Kash came padding into the kitchen to see what I was doing, interested in something other than himself and the object he held. The day he tried to crack an egg into a pan. The fact that I can now read him like a book, without many words. The day, a couple weeks ago, he looked at me and called me Mama when I got him up for breakfast.

We don’t know where Kash would be if God hadn’t placed him here. But we do know that God plucked him out of a life of pain and struggle, drugs and instability, and gave him a fresh start. We have watched his body heal, and we know he feels the difference. We have seen Kash emerge, leaving his autistic behaviors and traits behind. Oh, how much we all have learned!

“Every good and every perfect gift is from above, and comes down from the Father of lights, with whom there is no variation or shadow of turning.”
James 1:17

Early on we received a frame from an adoption organization with this verse scripted inside, and I hesitantly found a place for it. I knew Kash was a gift but truthfully, it was hard to accept that as fact. Are gifts supposed to weigh you down and make you lose your mind?! Turns out, sometimes the answer is yes. Sometimes the story God is writing makes no sense and your job is to be a good character anyway. I’ve learned to laugh more, relax more, take each day as it comes knowing that the Lord will provide for my every need (and those of my children!). God gives us gifts as He sees fit, whether we recognize them as gifts or not. Kash certainly is a gift to each of us from Him. He is now naturally part of our family and we couldn’t imagine not having him here!

Who knows what the next year will hold. Without a doubt there will be more sanctification, and Lord-willing we will come out even more refined and joyful. We genuinely look forward to the things to come because we know that God works all things for our good and His glory – we have seen this proven time and time again. He is good. One year down, many more to go!

“The end of a thing is better than its beginning; the patient in spirit is better than the proud in spirit.”
Ecclesiastes 7:8

We Call Him Ours

Nine months.

Nine months, to the day. Nine months ago we took a chunky little three-and-a-half-year-old boy overnight and he has been with us every day and every night since. And today, he became a permanent part of our family.

Praise the Lord, He has given a needy child a home! Praise the Lord, He has equipped these otherwise-incapable people with the strength and wisdom to do the job!

The analogy isn’t seamless, but the significance of this timing isn’t lost on me. For nine months, we have carefully gotten to know each other. Like a baby in my womb, this little one has grown and stretched me and I have felt his kicks. He knows my voice and without him speaking, I know his personality. I have wondered who he will grow to be, and he has slowly awakened to the world outside of himself.

And today, we have another son and he has our last name. On Josh’s birthday nonetheless, what a gift! And what a gift that Kash has a dad who will always remain in his life, who will continue to play with him and teach him and protect him. He has a dad who will continue to point him to his Heavenly Father, the One who can heal his wounds and give him purpose. The Lord has taken Kash out of a life of brokenness, away from dangers and hopelessness. How humbling it is to see that He has placed him into our family.

Today, Kash has two brothers who love him for better or for worse. They have nine months behind them of getting to know each other, learning from each other, understanding new aspects of this life we live together. When asked if all the boys get along, I answered that they act like brothers - truly, they have melded together and while it’s been rocky at times, none of us could imagine Kash being anywhere else but here with us.

Today, Kash has a mom who will stay steady for him. Since we took him in, I have cared for and loved him - though it has seemed like caring for someone else’s child. Today, I can call him mine. I have prayed for God to make this shift for me mentally, and He has done so in the last couple days. He is gracious!

Kash, my sweet boy - you are a gift. God plucked you out of harm’s way and has shielded you from experiencing more of the world’s brokenness. And as you know, our family is broken too; we will fail you at times and you will see our flaws. We are human and faulty. But by the grace of God, you will know stability, joy, and peace. You will see forgiveness, in the big things and the little. You will hear of God’s goodness, as you have many times already, and you will see how He can heal the deepest parts of each of us.

Your previous caregivers and your tummy momma are never far from my thoughts. I don’t know the roads they’ve walked, I don’t know the struggles they’ve had. I hurt for them and I pray for them often. Have they ever known stability, or the comfort or peace of God? Have they ever been nurtured or protected? Only Jesus can heal them from their addictions, only He can give them hope. May He do just that for each of them.

You are home now. Settle in, little one. Your things have their places, your schedule will remain consistent. And while I know you are getting comfortable, and healing has begun, I know the ache isn’t gone. When the memories are too painful and the loss to great, we will still be here to hold you. When you are able to speak, I pray that you will trust your dad and me to tell us the stories your life has held. We will be here to share in your giggles and rejoice as you learn new things. We will be here to encourage you and support you.

You are loved, sweet boy. God has started this good work, and He will see it to completion. Let’s praise Him together.

Steady

“What makes an ‘uh’ sound?”

“A ‘u’, that says ‘uh.’”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, what are you trying to write?”

I listen to my older boys as they work together writing cards. Day after day we practice sounds, working our way through a textbook and sounding out signs and words we read while out and about. My heart swells, I am so proud of their efforts to learn and be independent. I kiss their sweet heads more often and hug them a little longer these days. My first babies.

The leaves of Fall have come and are on their way out. Tarp-full after tarp-full has been raked and dragged out back to the ever-growing pile. The blue jays are picking away at the gutters and the squirrels are storing up acorns. The same scenes every year are magnificent and comforting.

Weeks ago we spent a couple days in hospitals with Kash. A UTI that reached his one kidney; grounds for getting really bad, really fast. He lay on the hospital bed in and out of sleep and fevers, in and out of pain and anger and fear. He couldn’t tell us where it hurt and why. Couldn’t answer our questions. Always on high-alert and pleading, “ah dah, ah dah!” All done, all done. Praise God, at least he had those sounds to tell us he wanted to go home. They strapped a board under his arm and wrapped the IV tightly to it so he couldn’t pull it out as he thrashed. He screamed and screamed, his terrified eyes begging us to understand.

My mind raced back to the previous to hospital trips we’d had with our now-middle child, Caleb. Was he scared? Absolutely. But he knew we were right there, and that comforted him. There was chaos but his world was still steady.

How different life is for Kash. I’ve counted seven different homes he has lived in, for various amounts of time. Some long, some very short. Some probably trying to be stable, but unable, and some quickly passing him off to the next. How does a delayed, nonverbal child process trauma and insanity?

Josh stayed at the second hospital with Kash while I went home for Levi and Caleb. When we were finally able to drive up and get them, I admit I was nervous. Did Kash believe we had done all this to him? That we’d made him wallow in pain and purposely terrify him in a hospital? It had sure seemed like it. Would he be angry to see me? Would he even want to go home, to our home, or would he be anticipating another drive to somewhere new?

I parked in the parking garage. We had bought special donuts to share with Daddy and Kash and I prayed they’d at least spark a smile. We walked around and waited outside the elevator doors. Finally, Josh came out carrying Kash. What a long few seconds it was, watching Kash’s confused little face as I smiled and tried to determine what emotion he was feeling - if he even knew what he was feeling. They came closer and stopped next to me and the other boys, and slowly… Kash leaned out of Josh’s arms and into mine. I hid a tear and held him as we walked back to the car. Lord, thank You.

Something changed for him in the hospital. He began following me around like a lost puppy. Anywhere and everywhere I went, he went. His little hands held on to the kitchen sink as I did dishes, his long lashes and nose sticking out from under his full head of hair, watching intently. “Uh pah, uh PAH,” he would ask every few minutes. Up, up. Had he ever been snuggled and nurtured as a newborn? There are so many gaps. I held him close.

He jumped ahead a bit developmentally, and we were stunned. Then came some of the hardest days yet. I thought it would be hard to beat the intense struggle of that first month he was with us, but I was wrong. Night after cruel night; day after day he and I limped to the finish line. Days when Levi would rub my back and Caleb would come to me with pained eyes, “Mommy, don’t cry anymore.” I held them close.

Someday my older boys will understand. For now, they just know that there are days when we all struggle and there are days we all are light as a feather. They know that Kash pushes me in ways no one else has, and they are the first to remind me - “Don’t be easily upset, Momma.” We go for walks and breathe in deep. We open windows and sing worship music. We stop mid-meltdown and ask Jesus for help, and oh how He does. We find things to laugh about and places to jump and climb and explore. One day at a time, our spiral is moving upward.

Someday, Kash will talk. And maybe someday, he will share his story. There are many more things I don’t share here than things I do. His story is his, and I pray the Lord saves his soul and gives him joy in his testimony.

The blue jays find seeds and fly away. The squirrels bound across the yard, mouths full of acorns. The earth keeps spinning; its rhythmic, routine course. Such comfort our Creator instilled in our universe. I hear all three of my boys laughing and giggling… my heart swells.

“You are worthy, O Lord, to receive glory and honor and power;
for You created all things, and by Your will they exist and were created.”
Revelation 4:11

We Adopted!

It had been a year since we’d signed on with our wonderful consultant, Dawn. Three years since we began pursuing adoption. We had seen children’s situations come through, and had presented our family profile to some. Some we never heard about again, others we were told were a no-go. We began to have hard conversations. Maybe we should pause? Stop altogether? We called Dawn and talked it through with her, deciding to make a last-ditch effort in the remaining two months of our contract. That was a Monday. We got an email that Tuesday evening, and saw it Wednesday afternoon.

Urgent situation: 3.5 year-old-boy, reportedly autistic, born drug-addicted with one kidney. Nonverbal, not potty trained. Staying in cradle care homes, needs permanent placement asap.

We read the email over a couple times and thought about it.

“We don’t really have enough info to be able to say yes,” Josh said.

“We don’t have enough info to be able to say no… Can I ask some questions?” I asked him.

He agreed to ask and get more information. It could be a situation way over our heads, or it could be doable.

The more we found out, the more our hearts broke for this little boy. He deserved a loving home. We shared his name and some of his story with our biological boys, and we asked God for wisdom. Our boys talked about the things they would share, and all that they would teach him and show him if he came to live with us.

“Does he have a mommy and a daddy?”

“He does, but they aren’t taking care of him.”

“Does anyone care about him? Where is he staying? What does he like to eat?”

We prayed and prayed and kept asking questions and obtaining information. God kept sorting out details before we knew they existed. We committed to pursue Kashton, and the rush began.

The house was quickly rearranged and cleaned, and the four of us packed up to drive to Florida. Two weeks after we had heard of his situation, we were down in his State to meet him.

Kash was staying with a third cradle care family (similar to foster care, but not State-run) when we arrived. They are a wonderful Cuban couple who only speak Spanish. We had a translator for the first meeting, and an app for the interactions that followed. Our limited Spanish vocabulary was put to the test! We learned all that we could about how Kash had been doing; his behaviors, sleep patterns, food and drink intake, progresses and regressions. Kash stayed isolated and refused to interact, but after some time Levi and Caleb got him giggling and playing on one of the beds. Kash’s caregiver began to cry, as she hadn’t seen him open up and interact that way with any other children.

The second day, we took him out with us to a local playground where he promptly took off running. His poor balance combined with a rough night of sleep the night before resulted in more of a free-fall than a run and he toppled over a few times before sitting to play with the grass. We played a bit, then fed everyone lunch and brought him back to the house for nap time.

The third day, we packed up our belongings from the friends’ house we’d been staying at, picked up Kash and arrived at our first Airbnb. We took placement of him the following day, and he has been with us ever since.

That was five weeks ago. And it turns out, this is in fact way over our heads – and because of Christ, it is doable.

“Count it all joy, my brothers, when you meet trials of various kinds, for you know that the testing of your faith produces steadfastness. And let steadfastness have its full effect, that you may be perfect and complete, lacking in nothing.

If any of you lacks wisdom, let him ask God, who gives generously to all without reproach, and it will be given him. But let him ask in faith, with no doubting, for the one who doubts is like a wave of the sea that is driven and tossed by the wind. For that person must not suppose that he will receive anything from the Lord; he is a double-minded man, unstable in all his ways.

Let the lowly brother boast in his exaltation, and the rich in his humiliation, because like a flower of the grass he will pass away. For the sun rises with its scorching heat and withers the grass; its flower falls, and its beauty perishes. So also will the rich man fade away in the midst of his pursuits.

Blessed is the man who remains steadfast under trial, for when he has stood the test he will receive the crown of life, which God has promised to those who love him. Let no one say when he is tempted, “I am being tempted by God,” for God cannot be tempted with evil, and he himself tempts no one. But each person is tempted when he is lured and enticed by his own desire. Then desire when it has conceived gives birth to sin, and sin when it is fully grown brings forth death.

Do not be deceived, my beloved brothers. Every good gift and every perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of lights, with whom there is no variation or shadow due to change. Of his own will he brought us forth by the word of truth, that we should be a kind of firstfruits of his creatures.

Know this, my beloved brothers: let every person be quick to hear, slow to speak, slow to anger; for the anger of man does not produce the righteousness of God. Therefore put away all filthiness and rampant wickedness and receive with meekness the implanted word, which is able to save your souls.

But be doers of the word, and not hearers only, deceiving yourselves. For if anyone is a hearer of the word and not a doer, he is like a man who looks intently at his natural face in a mirror. For he looks at himself and goes away and at once forgets what he was like. But the one who looks into the perfect law, the law of liberty, and perseveres, being no hearer who forgets but a doer who acts, he will be blessed in his doing.

If anyone thinks he is religious and does not bridle his tongue but deceives his heart, this person's religion is worthless. Religion that is pure and undefiled before God the Father is this: to visit orphans and widows in their affliction, and to keep oneself unstained from the world.”
James 1

We have clung to this chapter in Scripture. Never did we think adoption would be easy – yet, like all of life, it’s impossible to fully know the difficulties until they are experienced. Our faith has been put to the test, and we have questioned ourselves.

Why are we caring for this little boy? Because God asks us to care for the orphan, and He gently and firmly set Kash in our laps.

How will we meet Kash’s needs? “God will supply every need of yours according to his riches in glory in Christ Jesus” (Philippians 4:19). Quite frankly, we can’t meet all of Kash’s needs. Not on our own. Only Christ can give us the strength physically, the wisdom to know what he needs and when, the right resources at the right time.

What about our bio kids and their needs? Do we not think the Lord sees them too? Of course He does; they are not forgotten. They have been on this journey with us from day one, and they know what Scripture says. They know God asks us to care for others, and they have jumped at the opportunity. Their world has expanded dramatically as they’ve experienced another State and culture (Florida and New England are not the same, y’all), and as they’ve spent time with a child who does not talk or think like they do. They are learning more to take all of their needs to the Lord, and it is a beautiful thing. They have accepted Kash and chosen to serve him. Josh and I are so proud of them.

What a crash-course for maturity this has been. The first two weeks we were home, I was sure this boy would break us. But Josh pulled out James 1 and we read it over and over and over. God has proven Himself trustworthy and sufficient for each of our trials.

“Better is the end of a thing than its beginning, and the patient in spirit is better than the proud in spirit.”
Ecclesiastes 7:8

This verse is forever in the front of my mind. When we first got Kash, he would not look at us. He would rarely lift his head. His mouth made one sound, a low “ooooh” that would come out as he flapped his hands over a book. He snatched books and toys and held them tight if I tried to move them aside. His steps stuttered and his feet dragged and he wobbled as if constantly drunk. He struggled to climb a playground structure. He only drank strawberry milk and did not feed himself. He would shake and become fearful at bedtime. He would wake in the night screaming, crying, thrashing – inconsolable, for hours on end.

The first night we had him, I placed his hand on his spoon and showed him how to bring food to his mouth. He was thrilled. From that point on, he has been determined to eat his food by himself. Fast-forward to now, just over a month later, and he will look us in the eyes. He has added “mah” and “may” and “bah” and “yah” to his vocabulary, and you better believe we rejoice with each sound! He trusts that if I move a book or toy, he will come back to it and therefore doesn’t hold on tightly. He walks a little straighter, his head stays up longer, his feet don’t shuffle quite as badly. He can climb up and down stairs with minimal help. He drinks water-diluted juice all day and his beloved plain milk at bedtime. Bedtime is no longer a scary ordeal, and his bad nights don’t last quite as long.

A week ago I brought him to the bathroom to change his diaper and figured I’d set him on the potty to get him used to it. Potty training was something I planned to do months later; there are other, higher priorities. But he sat there and peed, like he’d been waiting his whole life to use a toilet. I jumped for joy, he smiled real big. We still have to work on communication so he can tell us he needs to go potty, but for now we make frequent trips to the bathroom and he is happy to have more dry diapers.

With God’s help, he will continue to make progress. God has seen fit to show us which needs to address first, how to adjust diet to help him function better, how to keep our family routine and assimilate Kash into our family life. God is showing me how “the patient in spirit is better than the proud in spirit” – many times I would much rather hold onto my comforts and plans, yet He asks me to be patient and equips me to do so. This is an intense learning process for all of us, but we trust that the end will be better than the beginning!

We had asked the Lord to send us children, and specifically the children who were hard to place. We sought out private adoption as other avenues had failed – and we waited for the unlikely chance that there would be a child older than a newborn. He surprised us, in His timing, and provided the means to go get Kashton. He has cared for each of us. He saw that our finances were taken care of, even last-minute. He worked out an appointment to get our van serviced right before we headed down, and nudged friends to send clothes and gifts for each boy so they’d be ready upon our arrival back home. He located us close to Dawn during our first week in Florida, and she graciously opened her home to us and reassured me when I was scared and in tears. He worked out our rental stays, as we had to wait day-to-day for clearance to leave the State. The final rental especially was a gift – the exact dates we needed were the only available dates, and we received a discount since it was very last-minute. It was on a farm in horse country, and we had freedom to walk around and pet the animals. How sweet it was to have that time together, and to have things to do just outside our door. God has taken good care of us.

Praise the Lord with us, for His goodness and His perfect timing! And join us in welcoming Kash to our family. Finalization will happen months from now, but he is finally home for good. Thank God!

“So we, Your people and the sheep of Your pasture, will give You thanks forever; we will show forth Your praise to all generations.”
Psalm 79:13