In every story there are supporting characters that keep the action moving forward, and in most cases make the lead character look good. They share in the hero's quest by fighting along side them, and offering them encouragement when they want to give up. I have shared with you many of these supporting characters in my story, and in part one of this post I shared with you about my closest partner and best friend. Caleb is my Samwise Gamgee (yes, I'm a nerd, and you can get over it, K?). He has carried me up Mt. Doom more than once, and stuck beside me when I have been very low. Kate would not have made it far without Caleb, this much is true. Today you get to hear from him, as he shares with you some snippets of my story from his view of things. I hope you will be as blessed as I was hearing from him.
Excitedly I pulled up Facebook, typed in her name and pulled up one of the best pictures I could find of her.
“This is her, Mom. I think she’s Hispanic or something."
“Why do you think that?”
“She looks like it. What do you think?”
“She’s cute isn’t she, Son?”
I knew there was something different about Kate from the beginning. I picked up on the dark skin, black hair, and dark chocolate eyes. It didn’t help anything that she wore a bracelet on her arm that to me looked like rosary beads. I even asked her denomination knowing that most Central and South American Christians are Catholic, I simply added two and two together (even though I turned out to be wrong about the Catholic part!).
It wouldn’t be until later that I actually learned of her heritage and her story. It was intriguing to me. I wanted to know everything, maybe partly because I was so interested in her romantically, but mainly because though I had been friends with adoptees before, I had never come so close to someone with a story like hers, adopted from another country by a family of missionaries. She wasn’t like other adopted children I knew. She had a deep appreciation for her parents and what they had done for her. She is very patriotic. She had been back to her Venezuela and knew what type of country she could have grown up in. She was not just religious or spiritual, but she shared in a deep relationship with Christ. She was more mature in her mannerism, she was driven, had a dream and a goal that were attainable and had a plan to get there. She was not a flirty young college girl, she had never dated and was not looking for a relationship with a boy, and if one found her, it would and did take a back seat to her relationship with Christ. I learned all these things early on. She was, as I said, different. She was and is special.
One thing that has affected our relationship is her adoption. One of the first things I noticed was when I would go with her to the doctor, they'd never fail to ask, “Do you have any of this in your family history?” I remember seeing the look on her face as she would have to tell them she didn’t know because she was adopted. “That wasn’t fair!” I wanted to scream. I remember a letter she received early on from a relative in her birth family, which told her how much pain and difficulty her birth had brought to the family. Distraught doesn’t begin to explain the way she felt. What was I to do? I remember the fear in her eye and her trembling hand as she prepared to tell her family that she had gotten in contact with her birth mother. I was just there for moral support and to be a glorified tissue dispenser. I was the one who was privilege enough to go with her to meet her birth mother for the first time. I was the one who asked the questions too difficult for Kate to ask like, “Tell me about Katie’s birth father? What was it like to let her go?”
In July 2011 we went to Venezuela on a mission trip with a large church group. While there we were able to meet the rest of her family. As North Americans we view a close family relationship as parents, siblings and their children. Walking into a “welcome” party in Latin America meant the WHOLE family. There was Kate’s birth mother and her husband, their three boys, grandmother, every aunt, uncle, cousin, several friends of the family and I’m sure I missed somebody. They played games, sang songs to an acoustic guitar, gave her gifts, and took new “family photos”. It was fun, but it was a touch frightening for Kate at first. I was the one who stood beside her as they welcomed us in that night showed us to a room they had set up just for her—permanently in their home. I was the one who held her that night when she was scared and confused…
If you are married to an adoptee, then you understand what I mean when I write all of this. If you are an adoptee, you know how important you spouse is to you (or will one day mean to you). It took me while, but I finally understood: she was different. She was broken. I realized it over time. Tears swell in my eyes even as I type this. Even after being adopted, she still honestly felt abandoned. I can’t imagine what she dreamed her birth family was like. I can’t fathom how her mind envisioned the events surrounding her birth and adoption. All I can do is listen, and take note. I can hold her, but I don’t even have the ability to truthfully tell her everything will be alright.
I tried to back out of writing for her blog; after all, it’s her blog and her story, not mine. But upon her insistence, I relented. I have tried to tell pieces of her story that I most remember as one looking in from the outside, and maybe help you understand her a little better as she shares with you. I didn’t know what bit of wisdom I could offer up on adoption, I have never been in a family that adopted (prior to our marriage). As I thought about it, I came to this. If you have adopted, or if you plan to adopt, be prepared that that adoption doesn’t just have an effect on you and your child. It will also affect your whole family, and their future family. Pray for your child’s future and for their future spouse and as they grow, teach them to do the same. Pray that they will find someone who will accept them, broken pieces and all. Their future spouse will have to find broken pieces that you may never have even known were there. I think Kate’s brokenness has made her more empathetic. I wasn’t adopted, but even I had loose end and broken pieces that she helped find and heal in me.
I’m so thankful that God brought us together to share in this journey.
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