Running Toward Love

Jim and I attend a weekly community meal at our church in the city and every week, invariably, there are loads of kids who come.  Some of them attend the weekly services and others just come from the surrounding community to play in the playground and have a tasty burger (or taco, or pancake, or whatever dish is being served up for that evening).  There is one particular young lady who my heart is particularly drawn toward named Veronica.  She's a beautiful black girl with a killer singing voice and a whole lot of joy.  Every time I see her she runs up to give me a big squeeze and wonders why I haven't been around much this summer.  (The church is way up on the north side of Chicago and until we sell our house and move up there, my time at the meals is scarce.)  I miss her when I can't make it up there.

I did make it yesterday for the end of the meal... and she was the first one I saw standing in the parking lot with her friends.  She gave me a warm hug and asked where my boys were.  I told her they were with their aunt for the evening and she followed that up by asking if we were still adopting a little girl.  I told her that yes we were and she wondered why it is taking so long (how do you explain the bureaucracy of international adoption to an adolescent???).. I started to say "well, there's lots of paperwork and processes...." and then just decided to go with "It just takes a long time... it stinks."

"Is she going to be from Africa?"

"Yes... from Ethiopia, actually."

"Will she be white?"

"Nope, she'll be black."

And with a thoughtful and slightly perplexed look on her face, she said... "Hmmm... that's goin' to be HARD!... How're you gonna do her hair??!"  to which I enthusiastically replied, "You're going to teach me!"

While I think she was thinking about outward difficulties like the difference between my brunette caucasian hair and my daughters black African hair, I think she had a great deal more intuition regarding the difficulty surrounding inter-racial adoption and pinpointed in one sentence why I am sometimes paralyzed with fear when I think about what we are doing.  "That's going to be HARD."  Yes. It will be hard. For our daughter, for me and Jim... and it will be hard for our kids and even for friends, extended family and strangers of every color.  I don't have any illusions about that fact and I think anyone who thinks that it is going to be easy is most likely in for some big surprises.

A couple of weeks ago we got an email from our home study case worker stating that she got word from DCFS that they were reviewing our completed home study.  She said that this meant we should hear soon that we have been approved by DCFS to move ahead with the adoption (and we heard just that... a couple of days ago!  YAY!).  I did receive this news with joy but it also struck deep fear within me.  This new "green light" means that things are moving forward... this is FOR REAL... we are actually doing this.  And I thought "what in the world are we doing????  Who do I think I am that I can handle this?"  It began a small landslide of emotions within me... fear, anxiety, uncertainty, feelings of sheer inadequacy, panic... it all came flooding out in hefty and steady sobs.  Question after question battered my brain.  How can I be a mom to a GIRL?  How can I be a mom to a black girl?  What if she hates it here?  What if she hates ME?  How will I be able to even begin to understand what she is going through?   Will Jacob and Tyler adjust well?  Will I be able to love her like I love them?  How can I help her through issues of judgement and prejudice when I have lived my whole life as a white middle class majority beneficiary?  And, indeed, how AM I going to do her hair?!!!

All these questions and so many more rushed through my mind like a herd of elephants and I suddenly wanted to back out of the whole thing altogether.

I thank God that He moved me through that breakdown before Veronica asked me that question about the hair, or she may have been faced with quite a different response... a maniacal "I  DON'T KNOW!!!" followed by hysterical sobs.

But through my husband's gentle words and warm arms the night I had that breakdown, God reminded me that it is He who will equip us for the calling he has placed on our lives to bring our daughter home... our daughter with beautiful black skin and a vastly different cultural background into our home.  Most of all, He reminded me of how much I love this little girl already... how much I celebrate her.

And isn't this the Body of Christ?   God's family... wonderfully and richly diverse, knowing no borders.  I want my family to reflect God's heart and His diversity... His reconciliation (most churches don't do a very good job of this!).  And I know that we'll get long stares and be asked questions by strangers in the grocery store based on ignorance and fear... but I trust that God will give us the grace and love to respond with the desire and hope to educate people about the heart of God... to show them Jesus in the picture of our family.

I have so many... SO MANY thoughts about all of this... I could go on for eons.  But I will end this here...maybe picking it up again at another time as I am sure my feelings of inadequacy will rise up and gnaw on me again... and I can tell you about it.   I hope that what little vulnerability I can offer in this entry will help others who are in a similar process... and speak to those who are not in some small way.

And one day, Veronica is going to help me be wicked-amazing at cornrows, beading, and afros.