I have been approached by a new wave of folks asking questions about our adoptions.  Perhaps because spring activities are in full swing, the neighbourhood has come to life and we are out and about a bit more than in the busy indoor months. 

(Lots of other little guys have come out into the sunshine too – much to the kids’ delight.)

I am usually able to take it in stride. 

It’s like we say here in our “herd” (what we have taken to calling our growing family), 

“We don’t match on the outside, but our goal is that we match up to Jesus on the inside.”

Unique gifts, free spirits, strong determination, bold imagination and loyal to the core.

That is what we hope for our kids.

 

Of late, the questions have been both a mix of gentle and, well, not so gentle. 

And my responses have been varied as well. 

You know, some gentle and some not so gentle. 

Am I proud of it?  No.  Not so much. 

But, it has given me reason to think about the two classes of questions that I get asked. 

 The first is regarding adoption in general and usually allows for a nice balance of give and take in the conversation.  I love discussing adoption in general.  In fact, it’s one of those times that I get positively chatty.  And I’m not one that finds chit chat easy.  (No comment, my dear husband.)

The other type involves questions directed to me about my own children’s adoptions. 

Now, here is where it gets dicey. 

As a parent,  I feel it’s my repsonsibility to create a safe haven in our family for all the members in it.  So talking about the most trauma filled moments of my children’s lives (and that includes my bio kids and my husband as well) to anyone wanting to know more details than have been offered up for conversation gets me going through a little speedy evaluation process.

First: Go on Red Alert

The warning bells go off and I begin to silently evaluate the words I am hearing or the questions I am being asked.

Second: How much information are they asking for ?

Is this curiosity or probing?  Do they want to know more about International Adoption, the orphan crisis in the world or about what makes my kids tick?  Are they wondering about Steve’s and my choices?  Is this something that the Holy Spirit is doing in their lives? 

Third: Can I in good conscience answer that question on behalf of my children?

I will have to answer to my children’s adult selves and even sooner to their somewhat more angst ridden teen years.  My current teen has challenged me to hold tight to the familiy boundaries.  I have no doubt that any one of my other kids will want the same from me in the future years.  I need to preserve and protect their precious info.  Can I do this and blog?  How about sharing God’s heart for the orphan?  This is something that I am working out the best I can.  I think it may prove to be *my* biggest lesson in all this.  Balance.

Fourth: The Bob and Weave

Which requires me to choose:

 a) Give enough info in order to keep the converation light.

b) Change the subject

c) Walk away and ignore the questioner all together.

This is one time when answering “c” or “all of the above” may not be the wisest choice. 

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This is where I really take into consideration who is doing the asking.  I used to think that all “strangers” such as those in line at the grocery store or or the lady at the post office counter would always fall into the categories of b or c.  Really how could it be any of their business?  For the people little closer in, I assumed that their being in a close relationship with our family would allow them a bit more leeway in what I would answer. 

Now I know that there is a lot more grey. 

Perhaps it is because we live in a smaller community.  Perhaps it is because some of those same people that I used to think of as strangers have been brought to opening up about their own stories.

I am honoured to be able to hear them.

People like the young service technician who came to our home a few weeks ago and out of the blue told me very simply that he had a tragic childhood, but that his aunt and uncle had reached out to add him to their already full household in order to give him a great launching place for his later adulthood.

Or the older female lab tech at our local clinic who was so taken by our brave little girl (in for yet another round of invasive bloodwork) and just paused for a moment and said, “Bless her heart”, her eyes a little moist. 

And no, we aren’t from the Deep South.

She simply looked at our girl and really saw her – almost as if for the first time – a real living breathing Orphan-No-More.  Instead she saw her as we do.  A precious daughter.  A beloved sister.

So I have been doing a lot of thinking.  I haven’t always answered with the grace I know He would have me speak with.  I have missed opportunities to share about God’s mercy to me in welcoming our children home.  But I am a work in progress and the more I journey the more I match my Jesus.  And the more I match my Jesus, the more he can use me.  And the more He uses me the more opportunity I’ll have to discern and share.  Or not.