Imagine the most precious child you know. Imagine him or her at age four, five, six, seven, you get the idea. Imagine my friends Enat and Abat, from Africa, taking that precious child on a plane ride with them back to Africa. Don't worry, Enat and Abat know 5-10 English words and will do their very best to take care of the precious child along the way.
In fact, Enat and Abat are extremely excited, as they have been dreaming about bringing a precious child from America to their home across the Atlantic. They have spent months preparing for the arrival. Their family and friends are eager as well, and hope to gather at the airport to welcome this sweet traveler at the end of the long, tiring and bewildering journey.
Are you still imaging your precious child? Can you picture him or her stumbling off the plane, perhaps clutching the arm of Enat or Abat? Will he or she be comforted by the unfamiliar sights, sounds, and smells? What about the welcoming party at the end of the jetway? Would you want Enat and Abat to prod the precious child into the arms of the smiling strangers, who are speaking in foreign tongue? Should they expect him or her to rely comfortably on their lead after 20-plus hours of emphatic hand gesturing and ridiculous quips: hun-gry? thir-sty? toi-let? h-ome? hap-py? Are we asking too much?
Striking, isn't it? While adoption is wonderful and exciting, it can be terrifying, too. We've used our family trip to Kenya in 2010 with our children to make this point. They loved Kenya right from the start. Yet as social and adventurous as they are, I doubt any of the three would have had the same experience had they not been traveling with familiar, trusted people who could clearly communicate and relate to them each step of the way. Can you imagine it compounded by a background of trauma, grief, and loss?
As our travels draw near, we have to shift our thinking. We know the plan for A, but does he?
Each set of parents must choose what is best for their family, circumstances, and especially their new child. We've found this difficult because so many have encouraged and supported us as we've waited for A. Many have even come to love him already, and for that we cannot express enough gratitude.
We look forward to introducing A. However, for our seven year-old boy who likes a calm environment (Lord?), we have chosen a quiet (well as quiet as we can get given his traveling companions) airport homecoming, with few introductions (to our immediate families).
We will share more thoughts on this subject later, but for now, please imagine and pray.
In fact, Enat and Abat are extremely excited, as they have been dreaming about bringing a precious child from America to their home across the Atlantic. They have spent months preparing for the arrival. Their family and friends are eager as well, and hope to gather at the airport to welcome this sweet traveler at the end of the long, tiring and bewildering journey.
Are you still imaging your precious child? Can you picture him or her stumbling off the plane, perhaps clutching the arm of Enat or Abat? Will he or she be comforted by the unfamiliar sights, sounds, and smells? What about the welcoming party at the end of the jetway? Would you want Enat and Abat to prod the precious child into the arms of the smiling strangers, who are speaking in foreign tongue? Should they expect him or her to rely comfortably on their lead after 20-plus hours of emphatic hand gesturing and ridiculous quips: hun-gry? thir-sty? toi-let? h-ome? hap-py? Are we asking too much?
Striking, isn't it? While adoption is wonderful and exciting, it can be terrifying, too. We've used our family trip to Kenya in 2010 with our children to make this point. They loved Kenya right from the start. Yet as social and adventurous as they are, I doubt any of the three would have had the same experience had they not been traveling with familiar, trusted people who could clearly communicate and relate to them each step of the way. Can you imagine it compounded by a background of trauma, grief, and loss?
As our travels draw near, we have to shift our thinking. We know the plan for A, but does he?
Each set of parents must choose what is best for their family, circumstances, and especially their new child. We've found this difficult because so many have encouraged and supported us as we've waited for A. Many have even come to love him already, and for that we cannot express enough gratitude.
We look forward to introducing A. However, for our seven year-old boy who likes a calm environment (Lord?), we have chosen a quiet (well as quiet as we can get given his traveling companions) airport homecoming, with few introductions (to our immediate families).
We will share more thoughts on this subject later, but for now, please imagine and pray.
