My Overthinking

Philly Area mom, Life forever changed by adoption

A picture’s worth a thousand praises

I love a good photo. Sharpness of color. An interesting perspective. A perfectly precise moment capture.

This photo is not a work of art. There’s nothing particularly remarkable about it at first. It was taken by an adoptive family making a short visit to their child’s orphanage, an orphanage where we have been, where we have hosted programs for kids and for caregivers. It was a relatively normal day there when the family visited. The children aren’t dressed up for a special performance. The caregivers too are in everyday clothes with no lipstick, no fanfare. But, everything about this picture makes me want to clap and jump up and down.

Each time we have been there, we have left our supplies. We leave them all with lots of permission: Please, use these. Don’t put them away because they are too nice. Go ahead. Use them up. Wear them out. We can bring more next time. They hear us. They smile. But, typically, they shake their heads. These are so nice. We will keep them here safely. We don’t want to ruin them. 

The picture I saw shared online, a picture of many they took that day, months after our visit, shows that at some point, someone decided to use the supplies. The colored bottles set up in in a triangle to the left of the teacher are sensory bottles we made with the children when we were there, made from recycled water bottles, filled with glitter and a glue and water concoction so they slowly sparkle and spin when turned. That colorful cube that the teacher is holding is part of a game we played as a large group. It has a deck of cards that goes with it with pictures and words, cards that aren’t in the picture from what I can tell which makes me even happier because that means she is using that colorful cube in some sort of new way, not the way we used it, engaging the little girl across the circle from her. If we could see her face, I bet that if she wasn’t smiling at this moment, she would be just moments later. With a little one on her lap close by, another Ayi is looking on, smiling herself and wearing one of the aprons my mom and other seamstresses made that we gave as gifts to the caregivers.

A simple interaction captured by a family in a simple image, simply to remember their visit to the orphanage. And, it provokes in me a thousand praises.

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Just a little note to my Chinese teacher {advocating}

Xiǎo mèimei, I hope you aren’t too mad at me. I can picture you perfectly, shaking your head side to side when I tell you. But, you’re smiling while you do it because that’s what you do. You smile a lot. I like that about you. Maybe I’m trying to prepare you so I know you’ll forgive me. Maybe just a little. But, it’s true; I do love your smile and how often you show it.

You worked so hard to teach me Chinese. You pointed things out to me in the park–a rock, a waterfall, flowers, fish, a dragon, a weird scary statue dude. You so carefully enunciated what each word was in Mandarin. I’d nod my head and echo you…or try to. Sometimes you smiled bigger and gave me a thumbs up. That always made me feel good. Sometimes you smiled bigger and made me keep trying. I’m not used to a tonal language, you know. A couple times you said something that I was told meant good enough. Thanks for showing a bit of mercy, xiǎo lǎoshī.

You used toys and paints to have me say colors. And, I did too. You’d say it in Mandarin, then I’d say it in Mandarin. I’d say it in English, then you’d say it in English. Every interaction we had took way longer than it needed to. And, they were perfect that way because we both were enjoying it. Not because I got to learn Chinese and you were learning English but because we figured out a way to connect. You knew right away that we couldn’t understand each other, and you figured out a way to give us a common language.

You gave me a really, really good start so that I could say a bit more words than I started with. I promised I’d keep learning. But, I confess, I’m just as bad at Mandarin as I was when I saw you last. I’d like to learn Mandarin, but it’s super super hard for me. But, I really really like connecting with you, so I’m happy to learn from you whenever our paths may cross again.

“Annalise” just turned 9 years old in January, is healthy, and currently available for adoption through Madison Adoption Associates. Any potential families must like big smiles, dancing, and learning Chinese. Email me or Sarah@madisonadoption.org for more information.

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Let it shine

My mornings in China tend to start much the same. I wake up early while the sky is still dark, and I text home because the window of time when we’re both awake and able to respond is quite narrow. Mark shares pieces of what happened while I slept. I read and respond. And, I write out my heart in the form of phrases, short texts one after another, glimpses of feelings in the form of little blue bubbles on a screen.

It’s near the end of the trip. I’m tired. My body is tired from days of being on from beginning to end. My heart is tired of hard conversations and coming face-to-face with deep brokenness. At the very same time, I want to run home to be with my own, run away to be alone, and run in and ask to stay just a little longer for one more conversation, ten more pictures, another song, to give another touch on the back.

It feels sadder here.
Like the kids know there’s something a lot better, and they are powerless to do anything that might make their life look different.
The injustice feels thicker and deeper.

He told me:
Yeah. Tends to happen.
It is good. Take advantage of it.

I boiled my hot water. Made my milk tea. And, I opened my Book.

It is for this reason that I bow my knees before the Father, after whom all families in heaven above and on earth below receive their names, and pray:

Father, out of Your honorable and glorious riches, strengthen Your people. Fill their souls with the power of Your Spirit so that through faith the Anointed One will reside in their hearts. May love be the rich soil where their lives take root. May it be the bedrock where their lives are founded so that together with all of Your people they will have the power to understand the breadth and length and height and depth of your love, surpassing everything anyone previously experienced. God, may Your fullness flood through their entire beings.

I have never faced brokenness so close as when I am in this place…holding the hand of a child who tells me she remembers her parents and doesn’t know why she is where she is…reading a note found pinned to a abandoned baby’s blanket…being asked by a caregiver if there’s any hope left for this older boy who she says isn’t so clever. These places are hard. They are uncomfortable and painful and messy. And, they are good. It is here that I am rescued from complacency. It is here where my spirit is stirred to hope for immeasurable, seemingly impossible, all-things-new redemption. And, it is here where He asks me to fight for it, and I say yes.

The injustice is thick and deep. But, His love is deeper still.

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Magical Bunchems

I discovered them at our local Goodwill in a ziploc bag on a shelf buried under wallpaper border and puzzle boxes. They looked like fun for Lydia well worth the Goodwill price tag. A few days later, and many dragons, new Monsters Inc. characters, and potato heads later, I decided they were a lot of fun for all of us. And, when I find something that is fun for all of us that doesn’t weigh much and squishes into a much smaller package, you know what I think about next.

China.

Hundreds of colorful little velcro-like balls went with me to China this time, squished into zippered pockets and stuffed into shoes. And, they proved their worth. Eyes were wide when I poured them out onto their table.

Little fingers started touching them, giggling at how they prickly little loops tickled them.

Kingly creatures were created. Many bracelets adorned tiny wrists and larger wrists as kiddos decorated the wrists of their nannies.

And, little ones sat and focused like I hadn’t seen them do before.

Complete with a teeny tongue sticking out when she was working the hardest to make whatever it was she needed every single color to create.

Oh how it makes my heart happy to bring simple things that produce so many sweet moments.

{click HERE to check out the Bunchems that filled our bags. They’d be so great to take on an adoption trip to pass the time and build connection during down times in a hotel room.}

The little lady creator is currently available for adoption, and Madison Adoption Associates is offering a grant to families who want to bring her home for lots more creating. Email Sarah@madisonadoption.org for more information.

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