The Story of My Life: The Harder Side of Adoption

I think so many times when people think of adoption, they get warm fuzzy feelings about it. Kind of like going to pick up a new puppy or family pet.  With adoption, you go and get a baby, bring the child home, then nurture and love that baby as your own.  You become a happy family and everything from that point on is just fine, right?

Sadly, no. So many times there are other difficulties that go along with adoption and many times, those difficulties take place at home behind closed doors where people outside of the family are unable to see the struggles. There may be glimpses of it in public places such as church or school, but what is seen there is really only the outward response to the issues and not really the root of the problem. It is said that babies that are separated from their birth mothers can sense the abandonment even if they are adopted when only a few days old.  There are pieces of this abandonment that can haunt the adoptee for the rest of their life. Sometimes this manifests itself in areas such as irrational thinking in certain situations which may cripple the adoptee in minor ways. It can be so subtle that they themselves may be unaware of where that type of thinking comes from. At other times, these behaviors can be more obvious and the adoptee will express outwardly the fact that they feel abandoned. They may not "attach" to the birth parents, feel loved or wanted, and always have an urgency to search for their "real parents".

Take the above mentioned factors and pair them with other unknown physical or mental histories in a child's background and the result can be a very difficult situation for the adoptive parents to have to navigate.  Sometimes when the parents find themselves in a hard place, they just give up and decide they are not capable of raising the child. The child is then given back to the system and once again abandoned, which in the end can only lead to more issues in that child's life. Other times, the parents struggle through, determined not to lose faith but still feeling hopeless at times.

Again, not every adoptee has a difficult journey.  My brother, Sam (as far as I know), and I have always been content with being adopted.  There has not been the struggle of being discontent and the constant desire of wanting something other than the family that we were in. I can say, I have had minor manifestations of abandonment issues, but through counseling in the last few years, I can now identify where those issues come from and in those situations I am now able to recognize the irrational thoughts and their root and deal with them accordingly.

That was not the case for my older brother, Nathan.  Even from a very young age, he acted out behaviorally what he was feeling inside.  He struggled with school and that struggle continued within our home.  I watched my parents time and time again try to figure out a way to deal with him, most times without success. I saw how people looked at my parents with a questioning eye and I could sense their judgement as to why my brother was "allowed" to behave the way he did. What those people did not realize was that despite my parents love and best efforts, my brother often said to them things such as "You aren't my real mom" or that he wanted to embark on a journey to find his "real parents". He acted whatever way he felt like and discipline seemed to make no difference. He constantly seemed to be searching for himself.

There is so much pain in this whole situation and even as I sit here writing about it, I can still feel it.  The pain from my brother, feeling the abandonment of his birth parents and the pain of my parents not being accepted in that role by their son. The pain of being a sister and daughter that had to watch all of this unfold.  It is all so very heavy. I would like to say that there was a happy ending to the story, but there isn't.

As he grew up into his teenage and beyond years, Nathan's behavior only became more erratic.  He was in a car accident and bumped his head, which only seemed to make worse the bi-polar tendencies that he had inherited from his birth father.  He tried to seek relief for his unhappiness though smoking, drinking and sex.  He could be very charming at times, which led people to believe he was a nice guy, when really he was very troubled and not really very nice at all.  He and I had always had a rocky relationship growing up, but that worsened the older he got.

When he was in his early 20's, he met a girl at work.  Within a week they eloped and 9 months later their daughter was born.  Even then, his erratic behavior continued.  His marriage became troubled and he got himself involved with a woman almost twice his age. He reached a point where he himself felt like he couldn't deal with it anymore, and the day before his daughter turned two, he took his own life.

I still remember that day.  The police knocking on our front door.  The psychologist for the police department had been a co-worker of my dad's at one point. When he had heard the news, he came along to help break it to my parents.  We all cried.  I threw up my dinner.

I had spoken with my brother earlier that day and he mentioned the fact that he had tried playing Russian Roulette with his gun the night before, but that the chamber had been empty.  I pleaded with him not to do anything like that. That we all loved him and would do whatever we could to help him. He had talked suicide before and even attempted a couple of times. He often talked a big talk for attention and I assumed this time was no different.  I did not in my wildest dreams imagine he was serious as he stood there talking with me and messing with all of the things in the trunk of his car.  It was only later on that I realized he really did have a plan.  That during the time he was talking with me and wrapping up the extension cord into a tight circle, that he was just getting it ready to use later as he would hang himself from the rafters of a gazebo in the park one block from our home.

I watched my parents grieve this child.  The one they loved so desperately who in turn had just hurt them so deeply in a way a parent should never be hurt.  They mourned the one who decided to escape all of his problems, while leaving everyone else to deal with all of the ones that his escape then created.  As a young, twenty-two year old,  I struggled too.  I found it very difficult to want to remember and celebrate the life of someone who caused so much hurt to me personally and who caused such pain to a mom and dad whom I loved dearly. It is a struggle that has continued through much of my life and I feel like I am only beginning to overcome now, twenty some years later.

As a result of this situation and seeing the hurt that he caused my parents growing up, I vowed that I would never intentionally do something that would hurt my parents. They had taken me in and loved me and cared for me as their own.  They deserved nothing but my love and respect.  They had been hurt enough.

I don't tell you this story to make you feel sorry for me or my family. I just want to raise awareness of the struggles that can accompany adoption. Struggles that many adoptive parents and families find hard to discuss.  My challenge to you is this, please when you see someone who has an adopted child who behaviorally isn't acting in a way that you feel is appropriate, instead of judging them or distancing yourself from them, encourage them.  Be supportive.  You don't know what they are going through at home and you don't know the internal struggles that the child itself is having to deal with on a daily basis. Your support and encouragement could be the one thing that helps bring them hope.

The Story of My Life: The Lighter Side of Adoption

Just before turning five, my family moved from Indiana to Wisconsin. My dad had taken a job with Shepherds Home in Union Grove working with adults who had intellectual disabilities.  At this point in my life, I began to understand what it meant to be adopted.  My parents had told me of my adoption from the beginning. They never tried to keep that a secret from me.  I grew up being told that I was special because I had been chosen and that a great sacrifice had been made by my birth mother to give me up.  I had no reason to believe otherwise.  My parents had taken me in as their own daughter and loved me the same.



Three years after moving to Wisconsin, we moved to North Carolina where my dad began teaching the Special Education classes for those training to be teachers at what was at the time Piedmont Bible College.   It was during the next couple of years that I was able to see what the adoption process was like as my parents were going through the steps of adopting my younger brother, Sam.  I remember the home visits, them talking about me getting a little brother and then finally the trip to Indiana to pick him up.  I also remember that at 8 years of age, I wasn't the best at handling babies and the first time I held Sam I accidentally bumped his head against the wall and he started crying. (Sorry, Sam!)  Thankfully I got better as time went on. I really loved having a baby brother to play with and to help take care of, except for maybe the diaper changes.



Through the years, I always found it amusing when we would go places and people would tell my parents that I looked just like them.  Imagine all of the surprised faces when we would tell them that I was adopted.  Inside it always made me giggle a little bit.  At the same time, it also made me feel good to know that to others I appeared to be my parents natural child.

There were awkward moments at times. The one I remember the most was when one of my boy cousins said to me, "You know we really aren't cousins...." That is the moment when you wish you really were biologically related and then you run away as fast as you can from the creep.

Some of my most favorite childhood memories begin the summer I turned 13.  That was the summer I met my sweet friend, Michelle.  She had also moved to North Carolina from Wisconsin and I think that helped us to bond quickly and become fast friends.  We loved to hang out together, share secrets about boys, talk about boys, go bike riding so we could ride by boys houses, write letters to each other about boys,  speak in made up languages and just have a good old time.  Since we both had brown hair and brown eyes, and people often mistook us for sisters, we found it entertaining if we just told people that we were.



Here is the crazy made up story we used to tell:

Our birthdays were only four days apart - mine on August 25th and hers on August 29th.  So when people would ask if we were sisters, we would laugh and say yes.  We would tell people that I was adopted but that we really were twins separated at birth that were just born four days apart.  "Mom" had gone through a long, tough labor and since our "parents" were unable to take care of both of us, they had to give one of us away. Since I was born first, I was the one that was chosen to be given up for adoption. We had amazingly been reunited once Michelle's family (aka my birth family) had moved down here from Wisconsin and were able to enjoy growing up together from that point on.

So many people believed us, especially once we were old enough to have our driver's licenses and could prove our birthdays to them. It was so fun!  Michelle was the closest thing I had to a sister growing up. And even though we really aren't related, I consider us sisters in my heart.  I am so thankful that God brought her into my life and for our friendship over the past thirty years.

Thinking back, I think this may have been the time that I began to wonder if I did have family out there somewhere and if so, what exactly were they like. I wondered if they could possibly be someone that I knew or were friends with. I wondered if it were possible that I could really somehow be related to my parents and that is why people thought I looked like them.  The thought never crossed my mind that I could ever find out.  Little did I know....

The Story of My Life: My Second Adoption

I know you probably read the title and thought, "What? Adopted twice? How can that be?"  Well, I am here to say to you that, yes, I have had the privilege of being adopted two times in my life.

After my first adoption, we continued to live in the state of Indiana for almost five years. During that time, I grew as typical children do. When I was a baby, I loved to spit up on my mom after she fed me....multiple times. As I continued to grow I learned to walk and say things like "Dada." When I was a couple of years old, my parents would put me in bed and go back downstairs to watch television in the living room.  Many times they would open the door to the living room to find that I had snuck out of bed, laid by the closed door and fallen asleep right there. Yeah, and there was the time I tried eating dog food....  [Okay, give me a break. They looked like little hot dogs and anyone who knows me knows that I love hot dogs!!! :)] I was a quiet kid who loved to read, play with dolls and sing in the car.

My parents, after going on deputation to go to the Philippines for a while, realized that God was closing the door.  We moved several times within the state of Indiana, all in relatively the same area.  My dad pastored for a while and we lived in a parsonage that was connected to the church by a tunnel and an overhead walkway. We also lived in a trailer at some point, a town house and eventually we found ourselves living in a house.  

And that is when it happened....

I was adopted again.

It was the summer of 1978. I can't remember the exact date, but it was in June sometime.  I was four at the time, but would soon turn 5 in August.  We had gone to church that day, and I can't remember exactly what was talked about in Sunday School, but it must have been something important.  I remember coming home from church that morning and telling my dad that I needed to talk with him. He took me in a separate room and it was at that time I told him that I needed Jesus.  And that very day, I was adopted into God's family. Chosen for the second time.

I know that some of you may be wondering what exactly that means, so let me explain.  I believe that God created the world.  In the beginning, when He did that, the earth was without sin.  He created Adam and Eve. In the days following in the garden, Eve was deceived by Satan and ate the fruit that God had specifically told them not to eat, and convinced Adam to eat along with her.  With that first disobedience, we all inherited sin from Adam and Eve and along with that inheritance we also received the punishment of eternal death.  Because God is holy, He cannot fellowship with sin,  but because He loved us, He wanted to make a way that we could have a relationship with Him.  That way was Jesus, His son. He sent Jesus here to earth as a man, to live a sinless, perfect life and to sacrifice himself in our place, taking our punishment and redeeming us with his precious blood.  When Jesus Christ died on the cross, his blood was offered to us as a gift to accept as a salvation from our sin. But we have to make the decision to do so, and I did that day.

You may be wondering what that even has to do with my adoption story.  You might think that it is something that is a bit too personal to be sharing.  And what would God have to do with this whole thing anyway??

I am here to say He has had EVERYTHING to do with it. God has been a part of my life since I was a small child. My parents love God and they were always open to hearing his voice. Because of that, off and on through they years they have been involved in ministries of different types. Throughout my life, they were faithful in making sure that I went to church and that I was taught the Bible at home. Over the years I have learned how I can have my own personal relationship with Him and that He cares for me on an individual level.  I have seen God work from a distance and most of all from up close.  Some people see God as this huge being that is out there somewhere in a distance. I see Him as one who is up close and is in all the details of my life.  My story is made up of details. As it all unfolds, you will see how the tiniest of things made some of the biggest impacts in my discoveries. You may say it is just coincidence, but I believe it is all a part of His bigger plan for me.

As this story continues to unfold, I want to make sure I give glory where it is due. 

Thank you, God for everything you have done in my life. Thank you for opportunities that you have given me that I don't deserve, but am so very thankful for.  Thank you for being there for me when times are hard and when times are great. But thank you most of all for loving me, choosing me and adopting me into your family. 

13 

For you created my inmost being;
    you knit me together in my mother’s womb.
14 I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made;
    your works are wonderful,
    I know that full well.
15 My frame was not hidden from you
    when I was made in the secret place,
    when I was woven together in the depths of the earth.
16 Your eyes saw my unformed body;
    all the days ordained for me were written in your book
    before one of them came to be.

Psalm 139: 13-16

The Story of My Life: Chapter One

It was August 27, 1973.  Gordon Finley was working at a school as a teacher and administrator of a special education program when the phone call came. It was the Baptist Children's home.  A baby girl had been born over the weekend and they wanted to know if he and his wife might be interested in adopting her.

They had previously adopted a little boy from this same agency.  Nathan, as they had called him, would be two the following month.  They had originally wanted to adopt a girl,  but when the adoption agency presented them the idea of a little boy, they prayed about it and agreed to take him.  Both they and the agency felt it a good idea to have more than one child in the home, so after  making Nathan a part of their family, they again applied for another child.

And the opportunity had come.

Gordon called his wife, Bess, from work and they discussed it.  There were several things to consider before making a final decision.  They were in the process of starting deputation to go to the Philippines as missionaries.  Would it be difficult to be on the road visiting churches with a new baby in the family?  It could get difficult having two young children at the same time. Would Bess be able to handle it with everything that was going on?

They talked about it and came to a decision.  They wanted the little girl. So they called the agency back and said they were interested.  Because it was Monday and the work week had already begun, they were not able to make the trip to get the little girl until Friday after work.  In the meantime, the baby would be put in foster care.

When Friday afternoon arrived, they made the hour and a half trip from Warsaw, Indiana to Valparaiso. There was excitement and curiosity. What would she look like? Who would she grow up to be?

They would go to the adoption agency office which was located above a shoe store.  There they would be handed a six day old baby girl and they would make her theirs.

They named her Lorena Lynn.
And when they all left together, they were family.