Someone Saved my Life Tonight...

With all due respect to Sir Elton John, this song has been playing in my mind since this idea took root in my head... hence the title of this post.

When people learn about the boys' adoption stories, I'm often told, "You saved their lives." People mean well, and I realize the statement seems true...but do they really understand it when I say, "No, these children saved mine?"
~~~
Growing up, I dreamed of being a Mom. Not a lawyer, or doctor, or fireman. I wanted to be a Mom! As strong as that desire was, I also had a stirring in my spirit as I got older. I felt this overwhelming conviction I would never get pregnant, that my journey to Motherhood would not be easy.

The years rolled by ... high school, work, college classes, eventually marriage. A very painful period of my life began. It was a decade of infertility. A decade of feeling unworthy, of confusion, of bitterness, of pain. A decade of hating my body, and it's apparent betrayal. A decade of avoidance - of the problems in my marriage, and in my body. A decade of inadequacy, angst, and pleas to God. But through it all, my heart's desire did not change or waiver. I still longed to be a Mom.

Twice during those years, once in Boston, once in Northern California, I contacted social services  and inquired about adoption. Both times, I was greeted warmly until they learned I was married to a man in the military. The answer was the same: "We're sorry, but military families are never in one place long enough to complete the foster adopt process." Slam, another door shut in my face. Another hurt. Another rejection.

Looking back, I can see God's plan and purpose. But during that dark time, loss and despair were all I saw, all I felt. I grieved. I built walls. I tried to hide it, but the dark cloud in my spirit grew stronger. I was trapped, in several ways. The call to motherhood was stronger than ever, yet the way was unclear.

The year was 1998. I opened the newspaper and saw an ad for a class entitled, "How to Adopt." It had to be the Spirit which made me want to go to the class and try again. I'll never know what made my ex-husband agree to attend the class, but he went also. At the class I learned about hundreds of thousands of children living in orphanages in Russia, Romania, and the eastern bloc countries who were in need of homes.

And all of the sudden... Doors opened! Suddenly, there was possibility, encouragement, and support. Papers were signed, home inspections completed, applications submitted, all with hope in my heart. I was going to be a Mom!

All the while, events were unfolding on the other side of the globe. A teen mom, with no source of support and an ill child, made what must have been a very difficult decision. Records show she visited her son 3 times (after he spent a year in the maternity hospital) before signing papers that would allow him to be adopted. She signed those papers in September of 1999, and in October of that same year, I held a picture of the child that would become my oldest son. The caseworker asked me, "Do you want to adopt him? Do you realize how sick he's been?" Without hesitation, my answer was "Yes!" I held him for the first time in May 2000. A decade of infertility. 14 months of an intense adoption process. I was a Mom! Thank you, God!

Our adoption visa was set to expire ... and I had always hoped to mother more than one child. So we moved forward quickly with a second adoption and August of 2000 found me holding another child's picture in my hands. A child who'd been removed from a reportedly unfit home. My only answer was, "Yes! Yes, I want to be his Mom!" I held him for the first time in December of that year.

Several salvation stories started blending together. My sons gave me focus, helped me develop a back-bone, and helped my dream become reality. Both boys were developmentally delayed, but as therapy, love, and prayer surrounded them, their lives became stories of restoration. While I centered my efforts on them, I saw our home life more clearly, and when my oldest was in danger, God orchestrated events (some rather painful) that eventually led to stepping away from the marriage, despite every instinct that said stay and cower. Over time, God used the trials and despair of single motherhood to strengthen my faith and bring me to His gift of salvation.

So let's look at the statement again: "You saved their lives." I'm sure several people have seen me hesitate, then respond, "No, they saved mine." Ultimately, God used each of the three of us, to save each other. My hope is that our story of rescue, redemption, and restoration will be an encouragement to you. Whatever you're going through, keep the faith, have hope. And however you build your family, I pray your story is one of salvation and deliverance, for all involved.

Influences

When my sons and I are out in public and someone asks, "Are they twins?" We usually glance at each other, smile slightly, and I'll answer, "No." Sometimes, the person proceeds to say, "They sure do look alike." Another glance at each other, and depending on our collective mood, I may say, "Actually, they aren't my biological sons, nor are they biological brothers, but they are my sons, and they are brothers." This usually causes the person to pause and look carefully at me, then at my sons. Generally, the next comment is a thoughtful, "They sure do look like you." This causes smiles all around and the short conversation that follows is often my way to promote adoption awareness.

Certainly, at a quick glance, we seem to be a fairly matched set, yet my sons' DNA is from their birth parents, not me. But make no mistake, they are my sons... Robert has a vocabulary years beyond his age, and Ryann seeks justice with a servant's heart. Robert has a northern accent from our time in New Hampshire, Ryann has a southern accent honed in Virginia and Mississippi, yet both have mid-Atlantic inflections much like mine. They are both inquisitive, like a good story, and enjoy history, hockey, and music... just like their Mom.

Like most parents, I've taught them right from wrong, how to tie their shoes, and to turn off the lights when leaving a room... but what other things have I imprinted on their consciousness?

Listening to Ryann read his book about the wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald, I realized I've given my boys a love of the ocean. Because of my gravitation to the sea, we read books about historic storms, shipwrecks, and floods. They know the impact of the Hurricane of 1938, the adventures of Misty of Chincoteague, and know there are treasures and stories off the shores of the Graveyard of the Atlantic (the Outer Banks) and the Pacific Graveyard (Cape Disappointment, Washington). 

A few years ago, they were playing football in the backyard when I heard Robert say to Ryann, "You be the Pittsburgh Steelers, I'll be Virginia Tech." They were little, and didn't understand the difference between pro and college ball. The memory still makes me smile, but it illustrates again how our interests influence our children.

Growing up in what-was-then rural, eastern Virginia, I knew a world of farmland, marshes, and the sea. But through stories, my own father imparted a love for the mountains of his beloved Montana. He would tell stories of growing up in Big Sky country, bringing the mountains to life in my imagination. He shared his love of horses, the outdoors, and gardening. 

When people come to visit, I'm not content until I fix them some coffee, some cookies, or a meal... This is because my Mom, and her Mom, did the same thing. They always opened their humble homes to friends... and made them feel welcome. My Mom would not let anyone leave without feeding their bodies, and dare I say, their spirit. My mom made sure I knew the joy of a good book, the great music of the 1950's, and she taught me manners and etiquette.

Who I am today is a result of God's unconditional love and my family's influence. I think it is that way for all people, whether the family influence is good or bad.

I'm a single parent. There is only one of me. I can only do so much. I'm getting older. Sometimes I get tired, and I lose patience, and I feel disheartened. I pray my sons do not take these negatives to heart. 
 
Sometimes the thoughts overwhelm me:
Am I doing enough? 
Is my influence a good one? 
What am I teaching them? 
Are they ready for this world?
Am I planting strong family roots?
Do they know I love them?


I pray my sons see the positives, feel the positives, know the positives. I am not ashamed to let them see me on my knees in prayer. I admit my mistakes as I realize them. I challenge them to search for justice, encourage them to be positive, advise them to turn to God in all things, and I always tell them to Give Thanks. 


I humbly whisper to the Heavens, "Help me be a good mom. Let them come to know You deeply. Let them be safe and know they are loved. Thank you for letting me be their mother. Let my influence be a good one."

Cape Henry (Virginia Beach), Virginia. 2006