The last 60 years is a blur. I remember hitting 20, then 30, then 40. Years spent raising the first part of our family. Working. Family. Vacations. It went faster than I ever imagined it would. Then 50. Those years brought new challenges with our youngest two hitting their teens and the adoption of four teens from Ukraine. January marked the big 60. I was never one for a lot of reflection until recently. Now it seems I’m making up for lost time. Somehow I thought the older I got, the wiser I would be. My 50’s were filled with some of the worst decisions ever. And those decisions matter. Even today. And will for the rest of my life here on earth.
I was never one to want a do-over. My life was my life. Choices were made and I lived with the outcome of my decisions. I wasn’t a person of regret. Somehow those decisions, both good and not so good, made me into the person I am today. So I embraced those decisions. I like me so I had to like the road that got me here, right?
That’s all fine and good until the decisions you make start affecting the ones you love, especially your children. This adoption thing…I would do it over in a heart beat. My mom heart is breaking for my children who had to live through such trauma – trauma that someone on the outside cannot even fathom – and I HATE it! I hate that it’s affecting them today and affecting their futures. I hate watching how they are handling life and realize it would be far different had I not decided to make a difference in the lives of orphans – orphans who, at least for three of the four, turned out to be psychopaths bent on destroying everything I hold near and dear, including my bio teens. And they did a pretty good job. The shrapnel is still embedded deep in us all, even though they have moved on to greener pastures.
I wanted to make a difference for some teens and instead I not only failed miserably at that mission, my bio teens suffered and are still suffering. In my book (Adoption Combat Zone) I talk about the guilt we adoptive parents struggle with. I don’t know how to make this all better. I cry out to Yahweh for help. For my teens, for me. Not only did Tom and I have destructive people in our home, we were spending so much time trying to keep them from totally destroying us we weren’t there for our bio teens. They were on their own trying to navigate through the war zone. FAIL.
Yesterday someone posted on social media advocating for hosting an orphan. I wanted to scream NO! Because in so many cases hosting leads to adoption and I wouldn’t wish our circumstances on anyone. No mother should have to watch her precious children struggle with the aftermath of living in a war zone in their own home.
This morning I spent an hour reading through the Bible. Looking for hope. Hope for my teens. Hope for me. Hope that someday this weight I carry will not be so heavy. I came across a passage I had underlined during a past reading; Isaiah 40:31. Those who trust in Yahweh will renew their strength; they will soar on wings like eagles; they will run and not grow weary; they will walk and not faint.
The Bible is a book of redemption. Of beauty from ashes. Of overcoming in spite of insurmountable odds. It’s the only thing these days that gives me any comfort at all. His words. Trusting that if He can rescue the ones I read about in His book, then He can rescue me and my family. That gives me hope. I put my hope in Him. And I pray that He holds my teens in His loving arms and gives them healing from the pain.
If you, or someone you know, is considering adoption, please read my book, Adoption Combat Zone, first. Arm yourself with knowledge before bringing someone into your home that could have the potential of an atomic bomb going off in your family. It’s available for preorder on Amazon. Release date March 22, 2018 for shipping. At least you will know what’s possible.
Kathe
www.adoptioncombatzone.com
Yes. Just yes.
Yeah! 🙁