My trip to Holland

This weekend Phil and I dedicated our kids (finally!) We decided that it was about time; especially when the four found out that Lukas had been dedicated when he was a baby and they had not...oh the injustice of it all!

And then what followed our family dedication was Kate's baptism, which was powerful and emotional for me, as in that moment, I saw WHY we were called to adopt. God was so crazy about Kate, that He rescued her twice...wow, sometimes  there are no words.

Adoption is hard work. It is painful. It is exhasting. It is challenging to say the least. But I have come to learn that if I focus on that which is negative, I miss the entire point.

I recently read this account, by a mom who had always dreamed about being a mom, and then she gave birth to a  child who had a disability, which was definitely not what she had dreamed about. And as I read it, I could not stop crying (okay, I will be honest...sobbing - the couch actually moved across the floor a few inches due to my hysterical sobbing escapade). I was convicted. I was heartbroken. And I was more determined than ever to embrace what I have been given.

I am often asked to describe the experience of raising a child with a disability - to try to help people who have not shared that unique experience to understand it, to imagine how it would feel. It's like this......

It's like planning a fabulous vacation trip - to Italy. You buy a bunch of guide books and make your wonderful plans. The Coliseum. The Michelangelo David. The gondolas in Venice. You may learn some handy phrases in Italian. It's all very exciting.
After months of eager anticipation, the day finally arrives. You pack your bags and off you go. Several hours later, the plane lands. The stewardess comes in and says, "Welcome to Holland."
"Holland?!?" you say. "What do you mean Holland?? I signed up for Italy! I'm supposed to be in Italy. All my life I've dreamed of going to Italy."
But there's been a change in the flight plan. They've landed in Holland and there you must stay.
The important thing is that they haven't taken you to a horrible, disgusting, filthy place, full of pestilence, famine and disease. It's just a different place.
So you must go out and buy new guide books. And you must learn a whole new language. And you will meet a whole new group of people you would never have met.
It's just a different place. It's slower-paced than Italy, less flashy than Italy. But after you've been there for a while and you catch your breath, you look around.... and you begin to notice that Holland has windmills....and Holland has tulips. Holland even has Rembrandts.
But everyone you know is busy coming and going from Italy... and they're all bragging about what a wonderful time they had there. And for the rest of your life, you will say "Yes, that's where I was supposed to go. That's what I had planned."
And the pain of that will never, ever, ever, ever go away... because the loss of that dream is a very very significant loss.
But... if you spend your life mourning the fact that you didn't get to Italy, you may never be free to enjoy the very special, the very lovely things ... about Holland.