Why bother with Awareness

It was a cool, quiet afternoon in 2002. I was homeschooled so classes often included my little CD player blaring through my work space. I often had music playing to help me focus or just edge out the lonely quiet that could creep up while I was alone.

I remember popping in my brand new Christmas CD - WOW Christmas, I honestly have no idea what time of year it was because I'm one of those wonderfully weird people who can pull out the Christmas tunes any time of year.

That was the year that WOW include TobyMac's "This Christmas".The song captivated me, I played that song over and over to the point I was surprised it wasn't scratched when I finally added it to my ITunes a few years later.

It's a simple song to remember, telling the story of a young boy having a discussion. As the song unfolds you discover the boy has no family of his own. The song really hit me as a teen. I was aware that there were children without families, that's what we were told CAS was for. I had read Anne of Green Gables and knew on some levels that orphanages still existed around the world. For some reason, as I sat at my desk and hear the song unfold into the first half of James 1:27 "Religion that God our Father accepts as pure and faultless is this: to look after orphans and widows in their distress" it suddenly dawned  on me that, maybe, we all had some level of responsibility.

There is such a temptation to fall into the mentality that someone else is already doing something: CAS, staff workers, volunteers, missionaries, etc. .. Worse, we can fall into the trap of "out of sight, out of mind" - a tragedy brought home once again this week in Julia's blogpost. When we overlook we can't challenge for change, we don't open our hearts, and people start slipping through cracks.

November is Orphan Awareness Month. An entire month dedicated to remembering these children and promoting the ways to change because, I think, far too often it's easy to overlook, easy to forget, easy to minimize rather than face our own comfort or maybe or own inability. This is how the Ben's and the Isaiahu's stories are repeated over and over again only, perhaps, without the outpouring that has allowed them the extra care to hold on.

Even in an awareness month it's painfully easy to overlook. Not everyone is called to adoption, it can be a hard and painful road and some people are called to walk other ministries more intimately. However, James makes it clear that we all hold responsibility because adoption is not the only way to help.

Locally, there is a need for parents but there is also a need for those who can foster, those who can provide respite, or even find unique ways to support through gifts and events.

Local and International adopt can be support through prayer, giving financially either to help with adoption like with Tarsha and others through an organization like Reece's Rainbow/ a group working locally/ or a local (overseas) group like Camp Lela.

There's also the ability to help by supporting families both in and post adoption as they anticipate or adjust to their new family dynamics. Be a community by asking what these families need or offering a few choices rather than imposing your own opinions on what you think is needed. There are lots of amazing blogs out there that touch upon this one.

Finally you can raise awareness through education. By getting the information yourself and raising your own awareness on the situation facing orphans around the globe you can be prepared to pass along that information to others and who knows how far those ripples could go.

Are we playing yet?

Sometimes therapy gets confusing especially, it seems, when it involved younger children and if there's one thing I'm learning in this journey it's that our "big boy" qualifies as a young child.

Which is a mixed bag with autism. On one hand, there seems to be this wall of disbelief that I have to deconstruct when dealing with many of the initial agencies I was told to contact, unbelieving that our son could possibly have a diagnosis just months after his 2nd birthday. This has been extremely disheartening given the overwhelming support and awareness towards early diagnosis and intervention. On the other hand, the support we have found, including some really incredible CDAs (communicative disorder assistants) and OTs (Occupational therapists) who work exceptionally hard to introduce strategies that can be fun and productive for our son and we're starting to see a difference.

J is becoming more vocal in his babbling and has added almost half a dozen words to his vocabulary (doubling it depending on who you ask), he understands more, and we're seeing improvements in our life skills throughout the day.

The hard part for me is finding the balance. Even though the strategies are set within the context of play, there are days when both J and I are fully aware that what we are working on isn't a game or even necessarily fun, it's work and it's hard, frustrating, and possibly the last thing on earth either one of us wants to be doing but it needs done.

When therapy and play share a fuzzy boundary though over analysis kicks in: have we played enough today, has it all be strategies, did we have fun, have we practiced fine motor today/this week, am I rushing too much for strategies?  

The list goes on because the boundaries are close, this road is new, and everyone involved is human.

It's hard because the mom in me wants him to succeed - learning and growing as himself  and in our family. The tired human wants progress - less behaviours, more communication and less frustration.

We don't like to see our children suffer if there's something we can do -therapy is something we do and it's good, it works, and it can change lives given time and effort.

sometimes we need that balance, the need to push guilt away and recognize the value if just being, without fearing schedules, timelines, and aging out of assistance too soon.

Even though it's not mentioned on assessments, intakes, or forms it's still important, at the end of the day, not to measure how many minutes were spent practicing scissors (although we are desperately behind on that) but does J feel loved today.

Sometimes playtime needs to be playtime and maybe this Mama can benefit from that too.

Fear

I had a message last night from a friend about Angel Tree (and if you ever see this I hope you don't mind my sharing).

This woman is a blessing to be around, she's honest, insightful, and has one of the biggest servant's hearts I've ever had the pleasure to meet. I've lost track of how many times I spotted her sharing a conversation or a ready smile with someone while unobtrusively doing some task that just needed doing. So, it struck me odd at first when she mentioned fear as a motivator for not acting on issues of justice.

Fear has been a longtime companion of mine.
Post-Partum anxiety royally sucks and social anxiety and I have been good acquaintances even longer. I've learned to manage my anxiety most of the time and am blessed to have a husband who gives me space to see to my mental health on the days when anxiety tries to take over.

For me, the interesting thing is how my fear has changed in light of my passion.
I'm not an extrovert. Even when my anxiety isn't an issue in groups I still find being with a group of people exhausted (although enjoyable if I know them and feel comfortable around them a key point that can be overlooked when dealing with us introverted folk). Yet, even with that discomfort, I cannot help but speak up when I find myself faced with an opportunity to share my passions whether that is my family, my very nerdy love of sci-fi, disabled rights, or as you may have gathered - adoption (which also ties in to family and disability).

As my knowledge on these topics grows so does my enthusiasm, my drive, and my passion.
Some of this makes a lot of sense. We all like to talk about things we enjoy and honestly have you seen a sci-fi convention? Nerds love talking about what makes us tick we just want the conversations to have purpose even if it doesn't seem meaningful to an outsider without the proper context.
Family is another easy topic for most to understand. I love my guys and want them to know it, so I try to encourage and maybe even brag on them a bit when it's appropriate,

Acts of social justice can be harder passions to understand. They can seem so distant, downplayed, or even overwhelming in our initial assessment that fear can raise its presence to the point our ability to respond is beaten down or drowned out.
That was my first year after discovering Reece's and researching into the state of orphans, especially disabled orphans, around the globe.

We are urged to be unique, stand out, find ourselves but on the other hand, when we constantly seek to stand out of the crowd we realize how alone we are and, in turn, can realize how powerless we feel in the face of the monumental tasks.

So, I prayed for my heart to break and the strength to face the beast of my fear.

Guess what?

It worked. I'm still afraid of raising my one, lonely voice in the face of all this tragedy but I'm more afraid of remaining silent, knowing I could have done something but remained silent in face of my inability to due everything. I'm still afraid but no longer feel my fear of being heard measures up to the suffering that continues in my silence. I'm afraid of the vastness of the issues but realize, like Dr. Suess says "A person's a person no matter how small." We all have something to contribute and over the years I've stumbled across tiny, solitary voices who've dared to shout out like Julia at Micah 6:8
and Jenny at Zero the Zeroes and so many others, who together form a loud chorus that shakes through the bad days, the hard times, and the days when you want to give up - reminding that you aren't alone.

It's astonishing the difference that community makes and I fear that we've forgotten that.

In the end these people don't need thousands upon thousands of people (although imagine how that would cut into the costs of bringing these kids home) all each child needs is one family to step up for each of them. One voice can make a difference and perhaps that's what feeds our fear the most.

Introducing Tarsha

This year my angel on the tree is none other than Tarsha.

In many ways this is bittersweet.

I am grateful for the chance to advocate for this sweet 6 year old.Her bio mentions that she is smart and sweet but that she can be stubborn and unresponsive if things get too loud or impatient. Sounds like a girl after my own heart ;)

She is listed as independent and happy, working on her life skills and practicing her communication which has improved since coming into care.

It mentions that she had heart surgery to correct a defect in 2013.

What it doesn't mention is if she was alone following her surgery or was there a staff member who could sit with a scared 4 year old girl. It doesn't mention her likes, her dislikes, her fears, or her dreams. It doesn't mention funny memories, inside jokes, or fond tones. Those are things that families bring forward. Bios, by necessity, have to be short and factual. They need to give enough information for interested families to understand what they will face without sacrificing the child's right to privacy, a right which stands behind RR's policy of giving each child a different name to represent them.

When I describe my kidlets my mind instantly goes into overdrive. Where do I start, how can I possibly sum up my kids into a few lines. They are full of life and personality, vibrant and curious in their own ways.

Tarsha, like each of the RR, deserves a family whose words trip over themselves as they strive to articulate who their daughter is  to friends and family. Tarsha could blossom in a family.

Here's why it's bittersweet.
I first saw Tarsha last year, on Angel Tree. This little angel has over 2000 dollars in her grant waiting to help bring her home, but her family hasn't found her yet.

Angel Tree is special in its simplicity. A few dollars can make a difference towards a grant, 35 and over can get you an ornament for your tree. Sharing these children, their faces, their stories, their need for a family could result in helping a family bring them home.  It only takes seconds to share on line or donate (depending on your internet connection, for some it can be a much more lengthy commitment :P ) or a few minutes to share face to face, for Tarsha it could mean a whole new life and maybe next Christmas won't have to be so bittersweet.