Who is narrow of vision cannot be big of heart.

In nearly every other blog I've read by parents who are adopting or in stories I've listened to, there seems to be a common sensitivity to the words we use to talk about adoption. Back when we first started thinking about adopting, I read a good bit and when these issues would come up in my reading, I realized that I most likely asked dumb questions or made insensitive comments along the way, having no idea I may be hurting someone. I guess it's a classic story of shifting from sympathy to empathy.

I'll give you a couple of examples from my own life. The first, and most hurtful, happened at a womens' soup-party through our church in Portland. The church organizes these gatherings of groups of six women at various homes to eat together and connect. Many of the women are meeting for the
first time. At the gathering I attended, we got onto the topic of our families of origin. Everyone was going around the table talking about how many siblings we have, the age of our parents, etc. Through this topic, someone brought up the issue of people today having kids at a later age than in the past. Apparently, though our ages were varied, the women at this table mostly seemed to follow the traditional model of getting married in their early 20's, kids by mid 20's, kids out of the house by early 40's, grandkids soon after that. A few women started swapping what sounded like horror stories about parents they know who are older than the norm (though what is the norm, I'd ask?). I just sat quietly, biting my tongue. I am 32; Ted is 46. We don't exactly fit whatever they considered to be normal. One lady in her early 50's, I'm guessing, spoke up and in a hushed voice, as if she was sharing a shocking secret, gave an example to trump the rest:

"I know a man who is 45 and has a fourth grader."

I was shocked alright, but not at the fact she shared. I was shocked and eventually deeply hurt by the isolation that comment forced upon me. I am guessing that I wasn't alone in my feeling, as there were several single women at the table. None of us spoke up, I suppose since this was a polite gathering of Christian women.

I got home that night and could hardly sleep. The next morning, it all came pouring out to Ted. In the one place that I should have felt most supported and understood, my church, I felt the most hurt. That one comment made me feel seen as a freak for not having lived my life in the old-school, traditional way (not that there's anything wrong with old-school--I have plenty of friends who had kids in their 20's). I hope I gain compassion for this woman. I hope I can let it go eventually. And I also hope that one day she'll get to see my hot 50-year-old husband dropping off our preschooler in kids' church. Imagine the story that'll give her for her next womens' gathering!

"Who is narrow of vision cannot be big of heart."--Chinese proverb.

*

It was later that morning that we went to our first adoption seminar and where we first were drawn to Ethiopia. I still felt like a sleep-deprived emotional wreck when we walked into the building. We spent some time wandering around the many agency's booths gathering their abundant brochures until we came upon this one simple table with one lady standing nearby. She explained that she was there representing a support group for adoptive families. I am guessing that she read a look on my face saying, "Oh, this doesn't apply to us yet."

More likely, she heard directly from the voice of God because she stopped mid-sentence, made eye contact with me, and gently pointed her finger to my chest. She so earnestly said, "I want you to know that you two are still welcome to join us because the two of you standing here are a family." It was so what I needed to hear, after the night before having been made to feel glaringly deficient and crippled for not having kids. What came next were projectile tears and snot. She pulled me to her and let me sob, this complete stranger, my newfound angel of grace.

God hears our cries, no doubt in my mind about that one.

PS: If you've never listened to The Duhks, I urge you: go look them up. They have an excellent myspace page. Listen to them and breathe in the goodness.