I have always known I would adopt, I have always known I would work with children in some way or another. I have been blessed enough to have done that every single day since I was 16. As a camp counselor, a camp nurse, sunday school teacher, preschool teacher, working with developmentally disabled teens, running a childcare, doing respite or foster care, I cannot imagine doing anything else. When you work with children you know that sometimes you’re going to have to deal with things that make you uncomfortable, sometimes you’re going to have to tick off other adults in their lives, make some waves, you might deal with social workers and disagree with protocol, you understand that you are going to have to let go of any fear you may have of the good fight. When you work with children you are fighting everyday for their best life. I’ve said this before but I believe it whole heartedly, when you work with children you work FOR them. You are the grown up and that means you get loud and reach out, you carry the load so they don’t have to.
Last week adoption was hard. I learned things, uncomfortable things, unethical things, ugly things, things that made me want to throw up, (I’m just gonna keep it real here) punch someone and cry myself to sleep. I have learned things I already knew but didn’t want to actually know, things I’d assumed but hoped and prayed to God I was wrong about. Last week was so hard.
With every blow and every horrific tale of injustice, every disturbing detail of an orphan’s life, of my child’s life right now I feel more confident of this, more sure that I am doing what I am supposed to be doing. I know that adoption is not just a way to grow your family. Adoption is another way we work for children, especially the child left behind. You don’t just pick up your child, go home and forget what you’ve seen or heard, you still fight. Even though I already knew this it’s starting to get so loud I cannot remember what my head sounded like without it. It’s starting to get so raw and real that I cannot remember my heart before it was broken.
I know now after this last week I’m going to have to do some things that make me uncomfortable, might tick some people off, I may have to make waves. I don’t ever want to forget that there is work to be done, I don’t ever want to forget that I work FOR children simply by being the grown up. I don’t ever want to forget that the fear I may feel when it comes to making some noise is nothing compared to a child’s fears, an orphan’s fears. I don’t ever want to forget that my voice is louder, my reach longer and my back stronger. I don’t ever want to forget that my fight is required.