We’ve been holed up in our house for the past several days due to what I thought was Ebola; turned out we all had strep throat. Except for Caleb, who came home from the doctor’s office yesterday, all puffed up and cocky, with a diagnosis of ABSOLUTELY NOTHING. "Put that in your immune system and suck it!" he said to me, as I’m coughing and hacking and sweating out a fever for the 100th time in a row.
I’m pretty sure he loves me, though, because he brought home "Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles: The Movie" along with all our antibiotics the other day. Sure, he may have picked himself up a copy of "Rambo" while he was at it. I didn’t care. It gave him something to do when I fell asleep after "CSI: Miami". Who watches that? My husband does.
We also rented one of my all-time favorite movies from the library: "Angels in the Outfield". It combines some of my favorite things–baseball, angels, and orphans. And I’m just going to go ahead and make a judgement call here: if you don’t love this movie, well, then, you have no soul. I figured it was high time the girls watched it, and so we did. Cheyenne yawned her way through, but Mia–Mia, Mia, Mia. She’s ready to go out and adopt a kid (and play baseball with it). Any kid–she’s ready.
And I would have to be a cyborg not to agree. I think about adopting all the time. The problem is, I think about it in a fairytale setting–like on "Angels in the Outfield". Caleb is always quick to bring me back to reality: Who would we adopt? Where would we adopt from? A baby from Timbuktu? Or an older child from our town? What kind of challenges would we face, during and after the adoption process? What kind of changes would we have to make? What kind of effect would adoption have on our family? On my sanity? How expensive is it to adopt? What if that child had needs that I just couldn’t meet? It’s not like adopting a puppy for crying out loud. You can’t send back a kid.
There was a newscast the other night on the fostercare system here–Oklahoma has the worst record for child abuse within foster homes or group homes. That pretty much sums it up, doesn’t it? It absolutely breaks my heart that there are children who are not only in need of a loving family, but are being hurt while they wait for one. And I wonder, where are these kids abused more–with their biological parents, or in foster care? Why is it like that? How does this happen? Why does the system make it so difficult and expensive to adopt or even foster one of these children? I know that DHS’s ultimate goal is to see these kids back with their biological parents. I get that. In fact, if my kids were taken away from me (what if I have a nervous breakdown due to lack of caffeine or something?) I’d want my state to hold onto my kids and not pawn them off on the nearest willing couple.
But I can’t say I wouldn’t have a problem being a foster parent, especially if I knew that my foster children would be having unsupervised visits with the very people that abused them in the first place. And I don’t even want to consider how I, and my family, would feel when that child was sent away to live somewhere else, perhaps back with somebody that I knew was not going to take care of them as well as I could. Selfish? Kind of. I don’t see me being a very good foster parent–Sure! Let them stay here, live here. Leave? Over my cold, dead body. I’d want to adopt all the orphans in the whole world.
You hear the horror stories–but then you also hear the wonderful, happy-ending stories, too, and you know it can work out, because people adopt all the time.
Oh, yeah. I was adopted. I can’t even imagine what my life would have been like had I not been. I love my mom. And my dad, and my sisters, and my grandparents, and all the experiences I’ve had and the places I’ve lived. I’ve met both of my biological parents, and I don’t have this great big empty hole inside of me. I’ve been loved and (for the most part) happy my whole life. One day I’ll go into it a little more in detail–but today I wonder, if there’s anyone reading this that has experience with adoption: what are your thoughts?
Here’s a little something that Jen Hatmaker–one of my most favorite writers, by the way–shared on facebook this morning. It’s a neato link–buy a guitar, help an orphan. I’m in love with the collage guitar. And I can’t even play. But if I had a guitar, I’d paint it right now. And then I’d go out and take lessons. http://www.32auctions.com/organizations/754/auctions/801 Enjoy.
And P.S.–I’ve been getting a lot of friend requests lately through Windows Live–and if I don’t recognize the name, unless there’s a personal message attatched that doesn’t say "Hey, my name is (insert stripper name here), I luv ur blog, come check out my pics", I’m flat out ignoring it. I’m not trying to be mean; so, if you read my blog and want to tell me something, leave a comment or send me a message.