Adoption

In all its beauty and inevitable struggles, in all its changes and transformation, I marvel at how the seasons of life mirror the seasons of nature.

And on a personal level, I can relate to the cyclical seasons of change because I, too, have traveled through many dormant seasons in my lifetime, only to be blessed with new beginnings, leading me into a season of growth before reaping the benefits of life's harvest once again.

Spring (especially) reminds me of how nature has a way of letting us know that the season of dormancy is over. Similar to the stroke of an artist brush, a new painting begins to appear: Birds return busying themselves building nests. Trees and plants burst into bloom. And the spirit of humankind perks up in anticipation of the seasons ahead.

So, what does the cycle of life/nature have to do with adoption?

Well, whenever I've reflected on a child wounded by abandonment, stuck in the system of adoption, not knowing whether a permanent placement would happen, I've imagined how tough life must have been for them, how fragile and dormant their growth must have seemed.

On the other hand, I've pondered what it must have felt like when a family finally reached out and offered a "forever" home to that child: Did it feel like the four seasons combined? Was it with mixed emotions that they left the dormant season behind, yet wantonly looked forward to a new life, with a chance to grow and thrive and reap the harvest of love in a family that had chosen them?

Surprisingly, some of my answers have come through the eyes of an eight-year-old boy named Joshua.

Joshua entered foster care when he was just five years old, removed from his biological parents, and placed in the system. While he was fortunate enough to be blessed with great foster parents, he knew it wasn't his "forever" home. He continued to wait in anticipation for the day he'd belong and be loved in a family that he would call his own.

 I am happy to announce that the season of dormancy and waiting for Joshua is finally over. He is now part of our family—the Rice-Sawyer clan! Our daughter and her wife have adopted him. We now have a new grandson, and Thatcher has an older brother.

It's been a few months since Joshua entered into the growing season with his new family. Right from the onset Derick and I were eager to show him (something that his brother Thatcher already knew) the unfailing love of his nana and pap, and we had the opportunity to do just that when he visited our home this July.

Of course, we wondered if we could earn this little boy's trust in such a short time, being that his life had been burdensome for the first eight years, especially the first five.

A couple of days into Joshua's visit, however, I overheard him say to his moms, "I am comfortable here at Nana and Pap's house." And "comfortable" became more and more evident as the days went on. Watching him blossom was/is a remarkable depiction of what love and trust and nurturing and stability can do in a child's life. Needless to say, he learned quickly that—in our family—no matter what season of life we may find ourselves in, our harvest of love is never-ending.

While the details of Joshua's past must remain private, it isn't hard to see the hand of God at work in our adoption story.

There are inspirational biblical accounts on adoption as well, and through God's artistry of purpose, He shows us how adoption has played (and is still playing) a vital role in His love for humanity.

For instance, if Jochebed hadn't put Moses in a basket and sent him gently down a river, he'd have been killed by the leader of the royal family that adopted him. But, instead, he grew up to be an essential leader of God's plan to bring the Israelites out of Egypt.

Most importantly: How would the world have looked had Joseph not stepped up to the plate and adopted Jesus? Mary might have been stoned to death, but God had other plans, and together they raised a Son that changed the course of history.

As Christians, we, too, are offered a new life through the sacrifice of Christ. Not unlike an adoption of sorts, with new possibilities and hope for the future, at the end of our Earthly journey, Christ also promises us a "forever" home.

Thanksgiving is just around the corner. What are you most thankful for this year?

I know for me personally, there are a few things that come to mind, but as a family, Derick and I are incredibly thankful for adoption and the role we get to play in our boys' lives. It has enlivened our purpose beyond measure—to say the least.

With regards to the future, perhaps our grandsons will grow up and become leaders for God. Perhaps they will show the world just how blessed they are to have been adopted by two loving mommas and be part of the solution that ends the fear and stigma that still, to this day, surrounds gay adoption. One can only hope, right?

The Twisted Post

At the end of our daughter's driveway sits a cluster of mature cedars, a once stagnate piece of property, now transformed into a magical tree house setting for our six-year-old grandson, Thatcher (T). What if we were able to change the stagnate parts of our world into something extraordinary as well?

Each day after school, excitement filled the air as T bolted down the driveway to greet his Pap and inspect the tree house progress. In his little world, the tree house represented a big wood LEGO project, and those daily interactions were often priceless. But none was more precious than the day he picked up the level and began to shake it vigorously. "What's this used for, Pap? And why does the bubble move back and forth?"

Derick playfully wrested the level from T's hand and lodged it up against a nearby post. "See how the bubble sits in the middle? This one is considered to be a perfect post to build on." 

 "Huh, okay Pap."

Now our grandson tends to be a bit obsessive when he learns something new. So this new-found "bubble in the middle" revelation sent him on a mission, where he lunged from post to post, to make sure all had passed the test. But it wasn't long before he spun around and yelled, "Oh no, Pap! This post is twisted! The bubble isn't in the middle! You have to get rid of it!"  

"Yes, I agree this post is different from the other ones, Kiddo. But I decided to build around it because, well, it's sturdy and remains an important part of the solid foundation. Besides, it'll add character and uniqueness to your tree house."  

A valuable teaching/learning moment that day perhaps helped our grandson better understand the concept that—in the (grand) scheme of things—being different is okay.

Imagine what life would be like if we lived by the principle that although we are different from one another (or don't fit a particular mold), we can still be a pillar of strength and character, built into a foundation of inclusiveness. 

Unfortunately, though, throughout history, humanity (including inside the walls of religion) has struggled with this view of "perceived" perfection. And while my tree house story is light-hearted, some of life's teaching moments aren't. 

Take the biblical account of the religious leaders who denounced Christ, for example. To them, He was seen as a threat to their power, a false prophet, not worthy of the religious rite that they had perfected. Primarily, He was seen as a twisted post, spreading a different message forward for God, effectively putting their foundation off level.

Christ had tilted the bubble of the religious leaders so far off center that they started to plot against him, instead of building around Him, eventually pushing the ruler of the times to crucify Him, so that they could remain inside a non-inclusive and unchangeable bubble. It was indeed a historical teaching moment because Christ's resurrection burst their view of God, wide open.

In reality, Christ became the only perfect corner post of the Christian faith, and His life story reminds us that if we choose to follow him, we become the "light of the world." In other words, we become the way the world sees God. But yet, we remain divided. And the thing is, whether our conflicting views fall left or right of center, divisive rhetoric has never generated light in the world. Instead, it fuels hatred. 

Christ, on the other hand, taught us to show patience when dealing with our differences; He taught us to show kindness and mercy, to look after the poor, to control our anger, and to recognize that the Kingdom of God has a place for ALL who sincerely seek it. 

As Christians, we envision our stagnate divisive world transformed into one of beauty, through the extraordinary teachings of Christ. After all, He provides us with the tools to build unity, right? 

So let’s continue to be twisted and stretched, to allow our light to remain a representation of His goodness. In turn, we may add to His foundation—one twisted post at a time—through the people we impact.

Legalism/Perfectionism to Grace

In 2004, I accepted Jesus into my heart. There was no mistaking that His love had flooded my soul and that His joy was in me, but instead of taking on my new identity and new nature, I still clung to  the "old self."

You see, I was a perfectionist, and ( as a result) I approached Jesus with a legalistic nature. I knew that Grace alone had saved me. I knew that His love couldn't be earned—because scripture revealed it to me. But yet my perfectionist mentality still fueled a notion that I needed to receive His approval and forgiveness through performance and rule-keeping. And when I couldn't measure up to what I thought was God's expectations of me, I was left feeling inadequate and frustrated.

When we approach God with a legalistic/ perfectionist mindset, that's what happens: We try to earn His approval with our imperfect actions. We have a belief that our salvation depends on how well we perform and how well we uphold all the rules. We become judgmental and critical of others. Legalism/perfectionism, therefore, robs us of our peace and joy, because it emphasizes the external to the neglect of the internal.

Jesus' message clearly illustrates this in Luke 11:37-54. The Pharisees and the teachers of the law had become more concerned with their traditions and human-made rules than the Word of God. They had burdened others and left them feeling ashamed and condemned when they didn't quite measure up. They taught that the only path to the knowledge of God was through the gates of legalism, yet, they didn't enter these gates—themselves. Instead, they had a heart that desired power rather than equality for God's people. Their self-righteous desires blinded them from seeing the Son of Man as nothing more than a threat to their power, as opposed to a grace offering for the sins of all humanity.

Someone once said to me: "We shouldn't abuse God's grace in our lives or use it as a means to continue in sin." And I agree. We no doubt need to have a balance between grace and the law, and that's where the Holy Spirit comes in: Christ left a beacon of light in our heart so that we may know which way to turn; a means to prayerfully grasp the grace of His forgiveness so that we can move forward and fulfill His purpose. Grace, therefore, is an unmerited favor that sets us free from a legalistic mindset. It doesn't have to be earned or worked by performance. It's freely given. All we have to do is show up and receive it—and once we do—it opens up a whole new world of Christ's knowledge in our lives.

Christ's transforming truth and power not only continues to refine me today, setting me free to extend His grace and forgiveness to others as He so freely gives to me, but it's also teaching me two of life's most important lessons: Humility and Love.

How about you?

Are you struggling with perfectionism?

Is legalism suffocating your faith?

If so, why not allow Grace to cover you with this affirmation: "My child. It's okay that you are not perfect. I love you in spite of your imperfections. I love you not based on any performance that you do. I love you simply because you are my unique, one-of-a-kind child, whom I chose as a work in progress."

Thirty-Five Years Married—Finding Love After Abuse

Derick and I met at a community college, located at a midway point between our hometowns. I was 19. And he was 18.

I had entered this college because it offered an upgrading program for me to complete my General Education Diploma (GED). Derick was there taking a Welding trade, which he has never used to gain employment. (But I am so thankful he decided to take it! I'll chalk it up to fate!)

I remember how our classrooms were around the corner from each other and how every morning Derick's whistles would echo behind me as I walked by him. I should have been flattered that this hot, blue-eyed guy was admiring me. In fact, one time I would have loved all the attention, and I probably would have even shaken my booty at him. But Derick's boldness left me uncomfortable.

At 19 years of age, I had already been in two abusive relationships. I escaped one only to fall into another, the last one ending six months before I entered college. So my emotional scars were still very much present. My self-esteem was damaged, and I had a negative mindset with regards to trust and dating and even love. In my young life, it had only shown itself to be abusive, untrustworthy, controlling, and manipulative. And besides, I had entered college for the sole purpose of obtaining my GED. I didn't need any distractions; I only wanted to achieve a better life.

It's not easy re-engaging in the dating scene after abuse. (In my case, abusers.) The question always at the forefront of my mind was, "Will he abuse me? " and it held me back from Derick's persistence of wanting to date me. It would be months before I said yes. And I am so glad I did. He mirrored love in my life in ways I had never experienced before. It was a love that would take us down the aisle two years later.

We by no means went on to have a fairytale marriage. It has been far from perfect. Through busy careers, parenthood, sickness, grief, lack of intimacy, it all, at times, left us wondering if our love would stand the test of time.

However, here we are today celebrating a marriage milestone of 35 years. Our love has not only evolved, but it has indeed stood the test of time, for better, for worse, in sickness and health, until death do us part...

Do you believe in fate? I sure do!

The Ties That Bind Us

What started out as a night of socializing at a well-known club, a supposed safe zone for gays, ended in tragedy perpetrated by gun violence, but more than that, it was a hate crime against the LGBT community, leaving many lives lost, and survivors forever changed.

Between sadness, fear, and anger this past week, I have been trying to transfer my thoughts into words of support for the families of this horrendous shooting that took place during the early morning hours in Orlando, Florida, on June 12th.

As a parent of a gay child, this hate crime felt like a dagger through my heart. Don’t get me wrong. There have been many fatal crimes against humanity that sent me to my knees, and while this one hit home on a personal note, it doesn’t make it any more or less severe. They all have in common a massacre of innocent lives. The difference for me is that the discrimination against the LGBT community had now escalated into a murderous rampage.

As citizens of the free world, this is not only a time to mourn for the victims and their families, but  a time of solidarity. It’s a time to stand alongside the LGBT community, to acknowledge the real discrimination they still face each day. It’s also a time to rethink the real terrorist threat posed by radicalization, a time for more accountability with regards to gun control. And it’s a time to re-evaluate our stance with regards to supporting old government laws, or, for that matter, the enactment of new ones, which can impede the path of equal rights for all citizens, including the LGBT community.

Since the shootings, I can’t help but wonder if some of the victim’s family members are finding out for the first time their loved one was part of the LGBT community. Or some knew but hadn’t come to terms with his/her sexual orientation, yet.

As someone who has walked this difficult road, I know coming out for our children, unfortunately, (even though it’s better today than it was ten years ago when my daughter came out) still carries a stigma, and it takes time to process. My heart breaks for the people who have now been robbed of this time.

Regretfully, though, we cannot change the events of this terrible night. However, the victim’s lives needn’t be lost in vain. Perhaps in time, if it hasn’t already, it will help estranged family members re-open the dialogue with their LGBT relatives. And perhaps the broader community will continue to step up and become advocates for positive change in the lives of the LGBT community and their families.

Perchance one day, when the grief isn’t so raw, we can look back in remembrance and see how this tragedy is the ties that bind us as one unified community.

Being Grateful for the Now

Today is a gift and that’s why it’s called “the present.”

We spend so much of our lives seeking and longing for things that we forget to appreciate all it holds for us today. The past is the past. Our future hasn’t happen yet. The only thing we have control over is how we live our lives, right here, in the Now. 

When I read about the tragic death of Anna Whiston-Donaldson’s twelve year old son, Jack, four years ago, it saddened me to the core. His death not only sent me to my knees in desperate prayer for Anna and her family, but for my own, as well.

Our daughter, Heather, had come out gay a few years prior to hearing about Jack’s death. And life was really, really hard. Derick and I were distraught and gripped by feelings of confusion, (mostly, over religious views) and it had put a strain on our family, not to mention how it was damaging mine and Heather’s mother/daughter relationship. 

Anna's story of her dear, sweet Jack made Derick and I more appreciative for the Now. It forced us to look at our heart, bring together all that was close to us, and hold it closer. It helped to lift us from our own losses and difficulties, changing our perspective on things. After all, our daughter was still alive.  For the Donaldson’s, however, their world would only become darker. 

In the rawness of her grief, Anna poured her soul on paper, bringing forth her book Rare Bird, which was published last year, and became a New York Times best seller. 

I have read Rare Bird. It’s not a scary book about death. Anna openly wrote about the loss of her son, how her family found their way out of the darkness of grief, and back into the light of living; she openly wrote about how in the rawness of her devastating loss, her faith and love for God was tested, but found the strength to hang on. Anna’s words will bring you to tears, but they will also make you smile, as you come to know Jack and his family. 

Rare Bird taught me a lot about life, grief, faith, and trusting God in the storms. It taught me that the past holds both fond memories and sorrow, and that God purposely designed us to not know our future, but it’s living in the present that truly forges our path to this future. It taught me that when we show up and be present with our presence, whether it’s with a smile, a hug, or a listening ear, we are a channel of light, love, and compassion for others. But more important, it taught me to cherish what I have in the Now. 

Jack would of been sixteen today. He is deeply missed by his family and friends. And that will never, ever change. 

As for Anna, she continues to show up each day with her presence. Even through her grief, she is a beautiful channel of light, love, and compassion for others. 

You can read more about Anna’s story on her blog at Inch of Gray. She is also on Facebook.