Friday, October 19, 2012

Putting the broken pieces back together... Part 1


In eleven days I will be celebrating my second wedding anniversary. Yes, I know, I’m still a baby and I don’t know anything about marriage beyond the “honeymoon” phase.  Maybe.  Lord knows I still have much to learn about biblically loving and respecting my husband inside the walls of marriage. One of the chief tasks I believe God gave Caleb in our relationship was to love me with His love. I know what you are thinking, “That’s biblical Kate—to love your wife Like Christ loved the church.”  This I also know, but it’s one thing to A) DO it, and B) experience it.   The love of Christ is infinitely more powerful than we give it credit for, especially when it comes to healing brokenness.  In my life, for example, God plays many roles. He set the example in my life for a Father who cares for me, providing for my needs and disciplining me when I need correction.  He is the Lover who loves me no matter what I have done or do, and accepts me by saying, “I want you.”  And He is my Savior, restoring my brokenness and healing my sin problem.

When we think of love in marriage our first thought is romance, but as so many of you know there is a deeper driving passion than that.  Let’s be real, I love him to death but my husband is not always romantic! However there has never been a moment in our marriage where I have not felt the inescapable love Christ lavished on me from my beloved. 

That’s beautiful…but what does this have to do with adoption?  Well, several things. 

As a child ages and begins to grow through the different stages of life new challenges and emotional struggles will arise—for any child this is true.  For adoptees it seems that the more life experiences you go through the more you struggle with who you are and where you came from.  I believe (next to slavation) marriage and children are the biggest life experiences that one goes through, therefore they seem to raise the most questions.  The closer I got to my wedding day the more I wanted to know my identity. As a parent knows, the love you have for your child is every bit as deep and full of healing as the love between man and wife.  This is true, and it takes a lot less effort to love your child that intensely because they are your child.  This is why it is so important to pray for the spouse that your child—especially your adopted child—will one day meet.  They will be entering your child’s life at a pivotal point. Not only that, but they aren’t going to automatically love your child the way you do.  That is a love and a union that can only come from God.   You might have shown your child that they are wanted by adopting them, but their spouse choosing them is crucial. Think about the love and acceptance you felt when you met your spouse.  When my husband asked me to marry him, it said, “I love you and only you. No matter where you came from. No matter who you are. No matter what condition you are in. I want you.” 

I doubt there is an adoptee out there that has not, or will not struggle at some point in their life with the issue of feeling unwanted.  In my case, I struggled with the fact that I was conceived in sin.  My mother was not married, and I believe sex outside of marriage is sin.  You can call me old fashioned if you want to, but not only did it hurt her emotionally to have the burden of having a child as a teenager, but I in turn also felt the brokenness and abandonment associated with her sin.   Please understand that I knew that my mother was sorry, and that she didn’t want to have to give me away but knew that was what was best. Still, I often felt like (and still do) I was simply the product of sin, not really meant to be born.  If I was meant to be, then my mommy and daddy who were happily married and loved each other very much would have been happy to have me and done anything to never have to let me go…right? You may think that the eight your old child that you adopted at a very early age doesn’t understand the logistics of the birds and the bees and what that means for how they were created, but I guarantee you that they have a deeper understanding than your biological child who probably takes their “happy beginning” for granted.  While my parents were the example of what a relationship between a man and a woman is supposed to look like, it wasn’t until I was married that I felt like I had corrected the sins of my parents by saving sex for my wedding night. I was made clean.   I no longer wore their mistake, because I broke the cycle.

When I chose Caleb and he chose me, I was choosing the man who I wanted to build a family with.  That may not sound like much, but through our children we will have a biological connection that I have never had.  My future children won’t have to feel that they were made in anything but love.  They will never have to feel unwanted, or like they were “an accident.”  (I can’t think of anything worse than a parent telling their child they were an accident! ) I know that my husband will be the wonderful biological father that I never had, and I will always fight for my children.

When we were dating, Caleb would often ask me what feelings I had about being adopted and how that influenced my life. I don’t think that anyone had ever thought to ask me that before. Most people feel that it is too sensitive a subject and don’t go into much more details than, “Wow, you were adopted? That’s great.”  I remember leaning over to him during the closing of one church service and whispering, “I want to find my mother. I really want to find her.”   As always he wrapped his arm around and said, “I’m going to help you.”  He was the first person that I called when I succeeded in this.  When I received a discouraging message back from my family, and began crying uncontrollably, he was the one that let me cry.  He didn’t say anything, didn’t try and tell me things I wanted to hear, he just held me.  When I told my parents the news, when I finally met her, when I was conflicted with a million different emotions, he was there to hold my hand. As I write this blog and have begun to heal from deep inexplainable wounds, he is my biggest supporter.

Parents, I know that you want to be the one to be there for your child during this time if they ever go through a search for their biological family.  I know you want to listen to all of their struggles and concerns about how their adoption has affected them.  But the truth is, for many adoptees (I think many of you adoptees reading this can agree) we feel a sense of guilt for even wanting to approach the issue.  I felt wrong for not being happy with just knowing my adoptive family.  Once I found my birth mother many people told me, “But you know who your real mother is, right? You aren’t going to replace her.”  Well, no.  But that didn’t mean I didn’t want to be able to identify with someone biologically.  I was so afraid in the months that followed meeting my birth mother that I was going to do what everyone told me not to do.  I say this because even though you are the ones that want to be there, your child’s future spouse is probably going to be the one that they feel more comfortable pouring their heart out to about this particular subject.  After all, in marriage God makes them one for a reason, and they will experience all of their pain together. If not a spouse, a best friend—for me they just happen to be one in the same. 

In closing, I challenge you as parents to pray that God will grant your child with a spouse who will love and accept them with the love of God.  Most importantly, teach them who Christ and encourage their relationship with them so they will be able to pick out the good guys/girls from the bad ones.   As adoptees who are yet to find a spouse, pray for the man or woman that God has created for you, and set your standards HIGH—yes, one day your prince will come!  And for those adoptees who have spouse that has lovingly accepted them the way mine has, thank God for placing them in your life, and don’t be afraid to open up and share your every fear with them. 

As I said in the beginning, the chief task God gave my husband was to “be” Christ to me and he has so wonderfully allowed the Lord to work through him in this way.  He cares and provides for me. He loves me infinitely.  And he healed the emotional brokenness of abandonment that I had been afraid to face for so long.



 
 

Monday, October 1, 2012

Sister Sister

“Is this your daughter?” the young teenage cashier asked. “No, this is my little sister,” she said with a grin.  The girl smiled out of slight embarrassment and handed us the groceries. “Have a nice day!”  I skipped out of the small grocery store behind my sister chuckling.  My sister Missy was only in her mid- twenties, and I was ten years old.  I remember thinking how much I liked that the girl thought we were related, and that my sister didn’t say anything about me being adopted...

One of my favorite things growing up was when one of my sisters would come to visit me and my parents.  Once, when I was only about five years old, my oldest sister Amy was coming home from college for a weekend visit.  I was SO excited.   While mom was working around the house, I was sitting by the window waiting for Amy's arrival. I had a plan: when I saw her car turn in the drive way I would pour both of us a glass of tea from the full pitcher that my mom had just made.  Did I mention that the pitcher was full, and I was five years old? Yeah, I think you know where this is going.  I spotted her car turning in and bounded for the kitchen.   I grabbed the glasses of ice I had already prepared and set them on the table. As I tilted the pitcher, gravity took over and sweet tea now covered the table, the floor, and me.  In walks Amy to a sea of tea, and me who stood there disapointingly with tears forming.  Plan failed.   She hugged me as I explained the way things were supposed to happen, and then helped me and mom mop up the mess. 

My sisters were 14 and 16 when I came into the Cashion family.  I immediately became their human baby doll.  The played with me, dressed me up in silly hats, took me around to all their friends at school, and yes—they got me to say bad words when my parents weren’t looking.   They patiently waited at Christmas for me to open all my gifts first, and helped me put together my new toys.  They included me in their weddings, and in all of their black Friday shopping adventures.  They made the drive to my plays, cheered me on at graduations, chatted with me at 2 am about boy problems, and stood beside me on my wedding day. Not once did they ever make me feel…adopted.  

It is one thing as an adoptee to be loved and accepted as part of the family by your parents. After all, they are the ones who picked you out and legally committed to love and care for you.  Being accepted as a sibling is so different, and in a way, a deeper love and commitment.  They don’t have to accept you.  They can treat you like Cinderella if they want to, and talk about you behind your back.  They don’t have to share their toys and adventures and special days.  All these things are privileges for us adopted kids.  I think this is especially true if you are coming into a sisterhood.  There is something unexplainable about the bond between women, and when it is a familial tie that’s even stronger.  Not only that, but when my parents set out to adopt a child, they were looking for a boy. Surprise! Here I came to join and complete the girl power that is my family (we’re up to 11 women now and I am yet to have my kids), and become a candidate for the sisterhood of Cashion women. 

I don’t think I could begin to thank or explain how much their, not just acceptance, but overwhelming welcome of love meant and means to me.

This really is something that as adopted parents you have little control over. All you can do is, raise your biological kids in love and in the Lord and pray for friendships to form, bonds to be made, and the trust of siblinghood to be developed.

I think it was a cross between this love that I had with my sisters, and the fact that we didn’t have any boys in our family, that always drove a curious desire to connect with biological siblings. Next to my birth mother (and definitely above my birth father) I always have wanted to know if I there more “kids” like me running around somewhere.   In fact I have not one, but three half-brothers! Surprise again! 

For once in my life I was the big sister.  I remember step nervously into the sea of people at the Venezuelan airport.  I was met with flowers, balloons, and three sweet boys who hugged and kissed me just like the long lost sister I was.  During our short time together we traded small conversations of mixed Spanish and English, ate meals, celebrated a birthday, and played soccer (they actually thought I was good so I know they are sweet). 


I would like to say that we have a great relationship, but unfortunately it is not more than friends.   This is not their fault.  They have written numerous cards and sent me messages of warm greetings and love.  Sometimes the things we pray and wait for the longest end up very differently once we arrive there.  Even though I had wanted to connect with my birth mother and family all my life, I wasn’t prepared for what all that would entail.   The imaginary figures you have always dreamed about become real people, with flesh and bone, feelings, and dreams of their own.  I have thought so much about the months and now becoming years that have followed finding the woman who gave me life. I felt like once I found them and had this whole other family, it was like I was on the edge of some sort of strange double life.  If I accepted this new life and family, I felt like I would be betraying the one who had supported me for 21 years.  Could I really have both?  As an introvert, there are only a handful of people that I really connect to and keep close contact with.  The idea of instantly adding 20 people to this handful was incredibly overwhelming, and caused me to shut them out altogether rather than allow them in one at a time.  All this to say, that if I could do things again I would do them very differently.  Mainly, I would get to know each person in my Venezuelan family on a one on one personal basis: beginning with my birth mother and siblings, and then moving through everyone else in the family.  I think I was and am most sad that my brothers got caught in the middle of my own personal confusion.  All they wanted was a big sister to love and accept them, and I ended up treating them like they were the adopted ones.  I acted the way I was glad my sisters didn’t act towards me.  I love each one of them so much with my heart, but my mind always wants to trip me up and stop me short of acting on it. Slowly, things are beginning to turn around, and one day I hope I can be the sister that they always dreamed of.

For the mean time, I am learning from the best.  They have been with me during every step of my adoption journey, and just lived life with me.  I couldn’t ask for anything more.

Much love to you ladies—you will always have a special piece of my heart.