The Refining Process

I keep telling my husband that this whole adoption process is so refining.  It forces me to look deep within myself.

I got my first "Oh!  So you want to adopt athletes?"  What?!  Seriously.  No.  I am not adopting black children in order to get athletes.

I also got "Oh you definitely don't want to adopt a 4 year old.  Character is already set by 4.  There's nothing you will be able to do and they will be completely damaged."  Thank God the majority of us did not grow up with people who believed that we could never change or grow after the age of 4!

Yesterday we visited a friend's church.  The church is led by two amazing African American families, one of whom happens to be really good friends of ours.  The crowd was made up of African American families and one white family who had adopted black children.  I didn't think much about it.  But, at some point during the music, I looked down at Abigail.  She looked like she was about to cry.  She was just looking from person to person.  I picked her up and she rested her head on my shoulder the rest of the time.  After the music she willingly and hesitantly went with the other children to another room.

I couldn't help but watch my daughter.  She is a very confident, independent and secure child, but she was unsure.  She was a little scared.  She was in a new place that was full of people who looked different than her.

I felt like my heart was being ripped out of me as I thought about the little boy or girl that we will bring home.  They won't just be in one room of people that look different than them.  They will be in a whole community of that.  They will be in a family that looks different.  They will be terrified.

(Abigail quickly forgot about all of it and made new friends.  In fact, both of my children said they loved the church and want to go back.)

Then, last night we watched a video that our social worker had given to us.  The video interviewed adults who were not white but had been adopted into white families when they were children.  I'm learning more and more that our entire family is going to have to have an identity adjustment.  I can't expect my black kids to think they are white or even want to be.  And, I can't ignore the issues that they are going to face one day because of it.  On top of that, Parker and Abigail are going to have to embrace Africa as a part of their upbringing as well.  Their identity is going to totally change too.

I wonder if my adopted son will have the cops called on him because he's walking through our neighborhood one day.  Or, will my adopted daughter's heart get broken when she's in middle school and can't use the same beauty products as her friends.  I wonder how long it will take before Abigail gets tired of her friends not believing that her little brother or sister really is her little brother or sister.

Just like Abigail stared at people in the church we visited, I too, stare at people's blogs who have mixed families.  I stare.  I look at their facebook pages and wonder and think.  Lots and lots of thinking.

I think I'm actually mourning the loss of our identity as a family.  Not mourning in a regretful sort of way, but mourning because we are walking into uncharted water.  Mourning because I'm not sure where we will fit in.  But, at the same time, I am compelled to keep moving forward.  I am compelled by a story of redemption and grace-  a story of love and adventure.  I have no idea what the next few years will bring, but I can't wait to look back on them one day and see the story that has been written.