The mathematics of the heart are a complex and emotional equation. With our adoption journey, the past month has proven to be a heart-wrenching journey with many unexpected twists in the road. Last October, the precious photos of a six-year old boy in Yangzhou, China captured Amber and my hearts. As we continued this ever-changing journey, I began to get excited at the visions of playing Hot Wheels cars on the kitchen floor, pushing him on a swing in our side yard, and taking a trip to see Mickey Mouse at the Magic Kingdom with this little guy. Sawyer and Quaid were both excited to have a NEW younger brother to play with and to share a room with. I posted a picture on my classroom bulletin board, and Amber and I would quietly show this beautiful orphan boy, given the name of "Terry", to our family and close friends from pictures saved to our cell phones.. The plan was set. We moved forward on completing our home study, taking online classes, and filling out the endless paperwork to adopt "Terry". We even unofficially gave "Terry" the name of "Wills", founded on the notion that he would be part of God's Will for our family. Just a month ago, as was the dangerous but customary habit of Amber, she was scrolling through the profiles of other children that were connected to the adoption agency we were working with, Across the World Adoptions. One night, in early February, Amber came upon a boy, with the given file name of "Liam". Unlike the many, moving pictures and profiles that Amber had shared with me, "Liam" really grabbed my heart on that night. "Liam", from Taiyuan City in the Chinese province of Shanxi, is this charismatic, stage-loving, energetic eleven-year old boy. Pictures, videos from a church camp "Liam" attended, and the overwhelming testimonials from the counselors at the Bring Me Hope camp he attended, the image and the character of this young boy just grabbed our hearts. "Liam" also was diagnosed with a form of hemophilia. Hemophilia is a blood disorder that affects how a person's blood clots when cut. In "Liam's" case, if he was cut, he would bleed longer. Even more concerning would be any bruises or internal bleeding that went undetected. Hemophilia is treatable, but in China, most orphans go UNTREATED and do not live past the age of twenty-four. With this knowledge, Amber and I felt determined to, at the very lease, advocate for this precious young man to find a home in America. And in God's perfect timing, the VERY NEXT DAY, the China Program Director of ATWA, informed us that "Liam's" file would be release at midnight. In a very urgent phone call, and after just casually mentioning to Amber that "Liam" had nudged my heart, we decided to put in a letter of intent, with the hopes, at the very least, of securing Liam more time. By the end of the day, after frantic paperwork, stressful phone conversations, and prayer, "Liam" was now becoming destined to become McCulloch child #6. The crazed look we got when people saw we had FOUR children and then even more bewildered looks when we announced our intentions to adopt JUST ONE would be even more perplexed at the thought of adding TWO orphans from China to our family. Our home study process was moving forward wonderfully, and we were just attending our final training session when OUR plan to adopt both "Terry" and "Liam" came to another unexpected turn in the journey. Concerns were brought over adopting two boys, separated by hundreds of miles in China, one being diagnosed with hemophilia, for a first-time adopting set of parents. Full faith was in our ability to parent, but both the financial stress and the transition for our family in bringing TWO, Chinese-speaking boys that had never been part of a family were practical and real concerns. Our hearts were torn. Our journey with Wills ("Terry") began over five months ago, but "Liam" had equally captured our hearts in a short amount of time. After presenting a strong argument that we were willing to tackle this "Mount Everest of Financial and Family Stress", Amber was the first to sense that our first journey would be to rescue only ONE of the TWO boys. Imagining the hope-filled and positive impact of being a part our wacky family, how does one determine WHICH boy to bring home? We loved both boys. In the end, our greatest peace came from deciding that our first trip to China would be to bring home "Liam". His hemophilia and knowing that he had prayed and waited for a family to bring him into their home for nearly twelve years were the largest factors in this supremely difficult decision. Knowing that it was wisest to bring just one boy home came with many, many tears these past two weeks. We have received Pre-Approval for Liam, and our finalized and approved home-study will be completed in the coming week. Our journey to bring Liam home is becoming MORE real. We have informed both ATWA and our local home study agency that we fully plan to pursue Wills ("Terry") if another family has not fallen in love with him and taking him into their hearts and home. We want to honor the wisdom of our home study agency's director and allow our family to make the big transition of four children to five. Then, with time to adjust, my bags will be packed again for China to bring Wills, God-willing, home. God-willing, with His wisdom and guidance, has become one of the largest lessons in this story. At first, I had assumed that our family of four children was perfect. God had a different plan. Then I assumed that just one, healthy six-year old boy was the plan. God had a different plan. I boldly jumped to bring home two boys. God, of course, had a different plan. Perhaps the largest part of that plan has been for Amber and I to truly trust Him despite the challenges we perceive. We plan to name "Liam", Jonas. Jonas is similar to the name Jonah. And I chuckle to think that the Jonah of the Old-Testament also had HIS mind made up of what God really wanted him to do. He didn't board that boat to Nineveh, but God, a storm, and a BIG FISH prevailed, showing Jonah that God has the ultimate control of our lives. That's a hard truth for me, a modern-day "Jonah" to embrace. Perhaps that was part of the journey that God intended for us. From four to five children, from five to six children, and from six back to five (for the time being), the mathematics of our hearts fully embrace our "Jonas". Jonas was more than likely meant to be part our family from the very start, but God had to LEAD us to him. Jonas means "Gift from God." We eagerly await this "gift from God" as an ADDITION to our family and home.
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This morning, like many mornings, I woke up focused entirely on a great deal of the negativity, worry, and anger. Both Amber and I have commented that it is in the early morning hours where our thoughts tend to invade and corrupt the "peace that passes understanding." Even before my alarm can announce the beggining of another day, I've found myself awake and questioning how God allows so much pain and trials and sadness within our world. It is the kind of thinking that starts to put cracks in the most solid foundations of my faith. A few weeks ago, a young and well-loved girl entered an intersection was killed when another vehicle collided with her car. She was soon to graduate from a local Christian school. Everyday, as I drive to Marine City High School with Logan and Scout, we cross that intersection, and everytime I reflect on the pain and loss that this family, that I assume love and trust God, are feeling. Even though I didn't personally know this young lady, I have felt an incredibly devastated at her unexpected death. Over the past seventeen years, I've had students who have dealt with death and all forms of pain. Some come from foster homes, dealing with feelings of insecurity. Other students struggle with habits of smoking, drinking, and drugs that have been passed down from their mom and dad's addictions. The hardest for me are those that come from verbally abusive homes, physically abusive homes, or homes where all of the "adult" responsibility has been unfairly dumped on them. In my time teaching at my high school, I have grieved over the deaths of students in car accidents and suicides. I have watched the grief of students dealing with chronic illnesses and the death of parents and grandparents, siblings and friends. In response to the overwhelming pain and sadness around me and to the pain I hear about in the news, my response has been one of two actions. Like this morning, I question the Creator. "How can you allow such pain, God?" Besides questioning God's goodness, I also do the easy thing. I RUN away from the pain around me as quickly as I can. Sure, I may offer a person a quick "I'm sorry" or offer up a a 30 second prayer, but being near pain is depressing, is too involved, is too costly. I've really started to wonder if I have ever had that HEROIC and EPIC FAITH to be kind of person to unflinchingly actively engage the pain I witness each day. There is something scary about truly LIVING out MY FAITH, getting in closer proximity to the suffering in the world around me. Besides, I have enough of my own pain. What is the point in having to share the burdens of others? In my Christian perspective, I think I "know" what I should do, but how fully engaged am I in doing more than just uttering empty words? I have come to realize MORE and MORE that I can point a finger to God asking Him, "How could YOU let this happen? What are YOU going to do about ALL of this PAIN?" I even ask Him, "How could you allow these things to happen to such GOOD people?" But in the end, the dilemma with this pain, the dilemma in the problems and trails that people are facing in the world around me, ultimately is MY dilemma, not God's. I am realizing more and the more that despite the over-bearing presence of pain in life I can play a part in ending the overabundance of hurt by bringing comfort in the midst of someone else's dilemmas. James 2: 15-17 counterattacks those feelings of self-pity and gloom I experience on those mornings where I consider the gloomy existence of pain, need, and suffering in our world. "Suppose a brother or a sister is without clothes and daily food. If one of you says to them, “Go in peace; keep warm and well fed,” but does nothing about their physical needs, what good is it? In the same way, faith by itself, if it is not accompanied by action, is dead." I can wake up, consider the pain and the needs of the world, and do nothing because of financial concerns or availability of time concerns, or what I may have to give up or sacrifice, and I am now holding onto an empty shallow faith. Trust me. It is EASY to just allow that shallow, non-acting faith to exist. And this brings me to the ULTIMATE WHY of adopting from China. As much as I may wake up and wonder HOW this is going to all come together, as much as I often let the practicality whisper its so-called wisdom in my ears, the dilemma in the dilemma of orphans comes down to my willingness to do more than talk a good game of Christianity. The dilemma in recognizing and being moved and called to address a need in our world is that it demands action. It demands potential sacrifice. And it demands that I must TRULY trust God to lead. It cannot be enough that I simply say, "Oh, its too bad that those young boys don't have a home and a family to belong to." That is SUPREMELY easy. What am I willing to actually do to help defeat the pain, by LIVING out my faith, in this world? I sometimes sense that family and friends don't quite get why Amber and I, with four children of our own, would go through the challenging journey of international adoption, one that has brought its own share of stress and tears and heartache. Why add more to what seems perfect. For me, it is because I find my heart moved to say it is NOT ENOUGH to just recognize the hurt in our world. That is the dilemma of the many dilemmas in our hurting world. It is not enough to keep our distance and do nothing about the pain around us. May I not just lie in bed, angry at God because of the pain around me. May I instead Do SOMETHING and demonstrate the LOVE of God through my actions. One of our new holiday traditions is to drive to Davison, Michigan and spend a fun-filled day with my wife's uncle and aunt. Renae and Larry Smith. Their house sits deep on property surrounded by woods and the Flint River directly behind their house. They have a zip line, a hot tub, canoes, four-wheelers, trails to hike, and a warm and open home that we all love to visit. Many memories have been made there. This past December, we planned a day to drive the forty-five minute trip to Larry and Renae's house. As you might imagine, our four kids were ecstatic at the thought of a day filled with great food, laughter, running through the forest, and playing board games. As the day drew to a close, the weather started to take a turn for the worse, and we had to get back home so that Amber could babysit for her cousin. As snow and sleet continued to fall, my mood progressed from cranky to super ogre at the thought of the LONG drive down I-69. I knew that this would NOT be a simple, forty-five minute trip. Just one mile down the road, we knew, based on the slippery feel on the road and the turtle pace of the traffic, that this was NOT going to be a fun-filled journey home. And believe me, that 90-plus minute drive back to Port Huron was NOT "fun," at ALL. For most of the ride, my speed didn't rise much above twenty-five miles an hour. With the exception of the arrogant four-wheel drive trucks on the road, all of the other cars kept this snail pace too. Neither lane was plowed or salted. I felt like I was on that horrifying show, Ice Road Truckers, but I didn't have the power and stability of being behind the wheel of some beastly semi truck. No, I was in my family-friendly Town and Country mini van. Snow and sleet continued to assault the roads and my view through the windshield. But more than the fact that it was late at night and I was exhausted, more than awful road conditions and extremely slow travel speed, more than the visions of my FAMILY UPSIDE DOWN IN THE DITCH AS THE WOLVES OF I-69 CIRCLED OUR VEHICLE LOOKING FOR THE PLUMPEST PERSON TO DEVOUR, it was the passing semis that concerned and scared me the most. As I crawled down that stretch of highway, semi trucks, with their multiple tires of power and strength, zoomed through the passing lane as if there were driving on a clear, sunny day in June. As the gale-force power of those trucks approached and passed our little family van, I swear that it felt like our whole vehicle would get shook off the road and end up in the ditch. Even worse, as these terrors of the interstate soared past our mini-van, they sprayed a tidal wave of snow and sleet that conquered even the most aggressive windshield wiper speeds. Every time, I saw the little evil eyes of those semi trucks peering in the distance, miles behind us, I got all tensed up. I was convinced that on this night one of those huge freight haulers would simply shove us into one of those deep, never-ending ditches. So my focus kept wildly shifting from the dark and ominous road that stretched ahead of us to constantly staring in the rear view mirror to see if another terrifying truck was approaching to wipe the McCulloch family off the road. There were several moments where I almost pulled off the highway and wanted to be done. My nerves were shot, and I was totally uncertain of traveling any farther down that road anymore. Despite some tremendous moments in our family's current journey through our international adoption process, recently Amber and I have both reached points where we wondered if it was time to pull over and not keep moving forward on this journey. Had we started on a journey that would leave our family in a "ditch"? Was the tension and arguments worth the final outcome? We have never been naive in recognizing that adopting our future son would certainly be a financial challenge, a challenge to the current makeup and chemistry of our family, and, recently, an emotional challenge as we now are considering not just adopting one child but two. There have been several sleepless night with the thoughts that have held captive our heads and hearts. Through prayer and the encouragement of friends, we have continued to move forward, but just as that cold and crazy ride home last December on I-69, I keep switching my panicked perspective from looking at the ominous and frightening road ahead to looking at the rear view mirror. Instead of being overwhelmed by approaching semi trucks, I occasionally catch an overwhelming glimpse of how my family would have been, before making this decision to adopt. As so often in life, we get a certain image as to how our families will look and function, but reality, or perhaps in our case God, delivers a different version than what we envisioned. When the fears of how your family will now POSSIBLY be, after bringing in a child that will most likely have special needs, that may have attachment disorders, and cannot speak any English, you find yourself staring in that rear view mirror, waiting for those fears to eventually shake you "off the road." Other "semi trucks" that seem to blaze down the highway, out of nowhere, include how your parenting will be affected by additional children, how your marriage will be affected by this journey, and how you will juggle work responsibilities with the higher and more important priority of raising a family. It can be enough to make you want to pull off on the next exit and not drive one more mile down that road. But what would have been lost if I had just pulled over on that cold, winter night? I would have never arrived where I always long MOST to be, my home. My home is where my family is. An my family will always be where my heart is. If I had stopped our drive, I would never have arrived where I find the greatest abundance of love. And this is the same with our current adoption journey. If we simply gave up, which with faith and trust in God we have NO intention of doing, we would never arrive where we were meant to be, not just our home, but our NEW version of HOME and FAMILY. Sure the view through our windshield, on this journey, looks downright scary at times. Sure, we foolishly and nervously keep peering in the rear view mirror to see either what we have left behind or to see what fear may try to run us off the road next. But we keep moving forward, trusting that God truly knows the road ahead and will guide us safely to our new version of HOME. |
"Do not be afraid, for I am with you; I will bring your children from the EAST and gather you from the west" Archives
March 2017
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