The book was created by the team at the Orphan Justice Center from the International House of Prayer (IHOP).  I’ll confess I didn’t know what to expect when I was first invited to read it.  The branch of Christianity I come from tends to be a bit, shall we say “less expressive,” than IHOP.  But just as I felt after the remarkable “LIVE from Kansas City” Orphan Sunday event at IHOP back in November, the book left me feeling deeply grateful for the diversity of the Body of Christ—and also a rich kinship with these Jesus-saturated brothers and sisters.

I know if they and I talked long enough, we’d find items of disagreement in theology or emphasis.  And some of these differing views we may hold to our dying day.  But what a beautiful thing to join in fellowship around a shared passion for Jesus Christ and for the orphan in distress.  It’s perhaps a little taste of what Jesus begged his Father for in praying for the unity of his followers.  And, dare I say it, I suspect that the celebration in heaven will probably look more like a service at IHOP than Sundays at the beloved Presbyterian church I grew up in…

This post, which serves as our launch into the series, will touch you with its authenticity. Missy Dollahon, the blogger who wrote it and posted it on her own blog last fall, is known for her passionate, honest and fall-down-funny writing, and she has a heart for orphans as big as her home state of Texas. She and her husband and four children have been trying to adopt a baby girl from Ethopia since 2009. You can follow their story – and read more of Missy’s work – at It’s Almost Naptime.

I’ve got a confession to make: I’ve been boycotting all things orphan.

I only casually glance when facebook friends bring home their newly adopted children. Haven’t watched a gotcha video on YouTube in weeks, maybe months. My Africa reading list? Collecting dust.

This book, especially, I have boycotted. I stopped just a couple of chapters in. I knew it would be too painful to read the detailed descriptions of abandoned orphans in Ethiopia. I’d be in complete agony, wanting to go there now, to grab hold of just one of them now. Decided not to torture myself.

We thought we might have our daughter by now. Thought we would at least be close to having her sleep under our roof, in our arms. But our adoption has trickled to a crawl. Slow as molasses. Slower than Christmas. Insert any other annoying euphemism to describe how painfully long this process has taken and the disappointment and heartache that has ensued.

To cope, I’ve shut down emotionally. I can do that, if needed. Years of practice taught me that skill.

I’ve reminded myself that it is God’s timing several billion times. Decided to delight in the fact that I have serendipitous free time, for the first time in eight years, what with all four of my children in school. I’ve painted half the rooms in my house and have big plans for the rest. Organized many cabinets, even built a shelf in one. Got a much needed surgery done. Scheduled long neglected physical therapy appointments. Joined bible studies, prayer groups, the PTO. Met friends for lunch. Got a mani/pedi, right in the middle of the day.

I even convinced myself that this was a good thing, this delay. A gift. Some “me time” before I jump back into the me-less world of mothering an infant, especially an adopted infant.

Then tonight, I get a text from a dear friend, with long awaited and coveted information about the child she is finally about to meet. “He was abandoned in a market,” she writes. “Someone brought him to the orphanage. They gave him a name and a birthday. He was so malnourished, they were probably a year off. Think he’s 3, not 2.”

And the walls I’ve built up come tumbling down and pummel my heart out of its sleep state. As it awakens I remember why I turned it off. It was because these stories hurt. 

Once I was shopping at Target and there was a little girl of about four years old, walking alone. I took note, then a minute later, when she was still alone, I walked closer, and stared. When I took my eyes off her for a quick second, I noticed that there were no less than three other women, all of us staring at her. Our mom-dars had all gone off, and from a safe distance, we had encircled her like a band of wild animals. We would not leave her until we knew she was safe. Finally she cried “Mommy!” and bounded away to a worried faced woman. Instantly the spell was broken, and all of us went back to sifting through sundresses or pocket tees.

Had a boogie man tried to approach that child, he would have had four women to contend with. Would we have let him take her had we any suspicions? Not on her life. Not on his life. Not on our lives. Is it because we were heroes? No. We were just mothers.

I vividly recall myself at her age, wandering in another Target unaware that I was even lost, when someone firmly gripped my arm and began to walk away with me. I tagged along unquestioningly, curious, until we appeared at the front counter where a man asked my name and paged my mother. The strange silent woman disappeared. She had rescued me from the unknown. Was she a hero? No. She was just a mother.

Another time, I was separated from my family at Galveston beach. Another strange woman grabbed my hand, talked to me about seashells as she walked me up and down the beach until I was claimed. Was she a hero? No. She was just a mother.

I picture another little boy, abandoned in a crowded place on the other side of the world. Tears stream down my face as I imagine how scared he must have been. I pray that if he has any memory from that day, the Lord will see fit to erase it. I praise Him that He has taken what was eaten by locusts and is restoring it here, with two parents who have labored so long and painfully for the opportunity to call this child their own.

But I wonder what happened, that day at the market. How many strangers passed by, not taking note of a crying, lonely toddler? But some noticed. Some strangers stared, and circled him, until one grabbed his hand, took him to the proper place, made sure he was not left prey to anyone who might wish him evil. Because Lord knows they are out there. The stranger who took his hand knew that they are out there. And the stranger rescued him.

Was that stranger a hero? No. But I bet you, I just bet you, she was a mother.

And now that child, who has fattened up and found his smile in an orphanage in Africa, will soon be held firmly by the hands of my friend and her husband. She has sacrificed more than the woman at the beach. She has spent a lot more than the women at Target. Is my friend a hero? No. She is just a mother.

There’s a lot of controversy about those of us who adopt thinking of ourselves as “rescuers” – there’s a lot of criticism for rich white people who “swoop in” (as if) and adopt poor brown babies. This mentality is probably contributing in part to the slowdown in Ethiopia now.

I get it – now, finally, over two years in this wretched process. I’ve been schooled. My innocence is gone. I’ve learned things about the adoption ‘industry’ that has made me literally want to throw up.  And recently Walker and I watched this movie, which shows clearly that indeed, those people do exist.  A certain celebrity and her questionably ethical adoptions have only perpetuated the stereotype of a brown skinned baby being the latest must-have accessory for the highly fashionable trendsetting white woman.

Do I think that we are “rescuing” our daughter?

Another confession: (deep sigh) (bracing myself) yeah. I believe fervently that orphanages are no place to raise children. I believe that even the most loving, well run orphanage is an institution, and God did not design the human child psychologically, emotionally, or spiritually to be mothered by an institution.

Was I rescued as an infant by my own adoptive parents? Yeah. Although that was not their intent, I was. Because I also don’t believe that I was designed psychologically, emotionally, or spiritually to be mothered by an unwed, unsupported, immature teenager.

Is adoption the answer? Not in the long term. Adoption is chemotherapy to the cancer of the orphan crisis. And like chemo, it is painful and sickening and makes your hair fall out and sometimes it doesn’t even work. In a perfect world, there would be no adoption. There would be no need.

But our world is far from perfect.

And this imperfect world is full of orphanages full of children.

I am white, but am not rich (not by American standards anyway). It takes an incredible amount of effort for me to be marginally fashionable, and I haven’t set a trend in a good twenty years. I’m just someone who enjoys being a parent, who (with my husband) was called to adopt – neither by a chorus of angels nor a burning bush, just the boring ole way of seeing it mandated in Scripture over and over and over and over to care for the orphan.

There are millions of little children wandering alone in places like Ethiopia and Russia and Korea and Houston and Dallas and Nashville and Peoria. My mom-dar has got to beeping, and I am slowly, oh so dang slowly, encircling one of them.

Am I a hero?

No. I’m just a mother.

Today opened an important opportunity for families who have adopted internationally to help improve the inter-country adoption process.  The U.S. State Foreign Relations Committee is circulating a survey to receive feedback on the experiences of adoptive families when interacting with U.S. government officials.  This represents a great opportunity to help improve the current process.  Note that all questions should be answered based on a family’s personal experience with U.S. government officials (not with adoption agency representatives).  Responses will be consolidated and presented in a cumulative format. No personal identifying information will be divulged.

Results received by February 14 at 5:00pm will be made available to the Senate Foreign Relations Committee for use in an upcoming roundtable on intercountry adoption. The survey will remain open until March 1.

If you are an adoptive parent or prospective adoptive parent, link HERE.

If you represent an adoption agency, please like HERE.

Two newly-released writings delve deeper into this reality.  This month’s Christianity Today explores the impact of last year’s decision by the government of Ethiopia to significantly constrict adoptions in “A Crack Down on International Adoption.”

Meanwhile, the National Council for Adoption today released a more scholarly analysis of what inter-country statistics look like across the world in “Global Trends in Intercountry Adoption:  2001-2010.”

Intercountry adoption will never be the single solution to the global orphan crisis, even if—as advocates hope—these trends can be reversed in years ahead.  It will, in fact, only touch a small portion of the world’s orphans.  So a wide array of in-country responses to the needs of orphans, from support of indigenous adoption movements to active family preservation efforts, must be foundational to any serious effort to address the global orphan crisis on a sweeping scale.

But this broad vision need not present us with a false dichotomy between support of in-country initiatives and intercountry adoption.  Nor should it diminish the unparalleled significance of intercountry adoption for the children and families whose lives are transformed by it.  Those desiring to champion the well-being of orphans have every reason to advocate for “all of the above”—expanding options for the loving care of every orphan, both nearby and far off.

The webinar, “Foster Care Ministry – 25 Little Things That Make a Big Difference” is now viewable on the Alliance Webinar Page and also here below.  See also the document created to accompany the webinar, “25 Ways to Help Youth in Foster Care.“

Foster Care Ministry — 25 Little Things That Make a Big Difference from Christian Alliance for Orphans on Vimeo.

Webinar Description:  It isn’t always easy to know how best to encourage and aid young people in foster care.  Here’s your chance to hear honest reflections and advice from those who know intimately the challenges of life in foster care…and what a big difference small acts of love can make.

Join the Alliance in welcoming several Foster Youth Interns (FYIs) from the Congressional Coalition on Adoption Institute’s (CCAI).  They’ll share from personal experience as alumni of the U.S. foster care system their ideas about how churches and individuals can love, support and provide guidance for foster youth.

As in many parts of the world, political pressures have caused the government of Korea to constrict inter-country adoption significantly.  According to the Voice of Love website, 20,000 children in South Korea are waiting to be adopted. Many of these children have special needs and little hope of ever finding a permanent family. Of special needs children in South Korea, only 1.5% are adopted by Korean citizens via domestic adoption.

One important response to this need is to support Korean leaders as they seek to help Korean Christians recognize the beauty of indigenous adoption as a vital aspect of God’s call to care for the orphan in distress.

But also critical—especially to the thousands of children now waiting who may otherwise grow up without families—the Voice of Love campaign seeks to ensure waiting children can find a loving family soon, wherever that family may be found.  Toward this end, the campaign gives voice to the countless families and children who’ve known the blessing of international adoption via simple video testimonials.  Ultimately, Voice of Love hopes to ensure that every waiting child in South Korea find a permanent home, without having to wait years in a government system.

Learn more about Voice of Love HERE.  And if good has come to you through an inter-country adoption from Korea, consider sharing your story on behalf of the children now waiting for a family.

On one level, because we’re all made in God’s image, every person holds a certain sense of justice and an impulse toward mercy.  Despite our brokenness, we yet retain the Imago Dei deep within, reminding of what we were made for.  This is something to celebrate, and Christians can make common cause with expressions of what theologians call “common grace” wherever it appears.

Yet our world is profoundly marred by sin.  Each of us are, too.  And when those two realities rub up against each other, even the most idealistic intentions break down.  Enthusiasm ends up on the side of the road, smoking and twisted like a burned out wreck.

When a young man we’ve mentored turns to gang life.  When we discover that a partner in orphan care has been siphoning off money for himself.  When an adopted daughter rejects our love.  When the need statistics are larger than our mind’s ability to grasp them.  When a foster child steals from us. 

In times like these, we find out what has been motivating us and whether it is enough to go the distance.  If we’ve just been driven by guilt…or duty…or idealism, our good intentions will begin to implode.  We’ll often walk away, disillusioned and bitter.

But no matter how great the world’s hurt, there is yet something bigger.  If nourished by the Good News that pulses at the center of the universe, there will be more to the story.

For we serve the God who pursued us when we were destitute and alone.  The God who rescues and adopts.  The God who invites us to live as His sons and daughters.  And no matter how great our sacrifice to love the destitute child, it is small compared to His sacrifice to love us in our destitution.

Indeed, we love … seek justice … show mercy… because He first did so for us.

[This blog post was first shared on the new Summit Website blog, designed to provide updates on the latest with plans, speakers and more for Summit VIII.  Visit it HERE.]

Sure, the work of the Alliance is my day job.  And I love it.  But it is my night job, too—the things I think about when I’m “off.”  How can the church come to look more like Jesus?  Can ordinary people transform lives of destitute kids?  How do parents and mentors and caregivers best connect with children coming from hard places? 

So it’s not just my day job that elevates my heart rate for Summit VIII.  It’s the way that these questions, and countless others that really matter, will be engaged in such deep and inspiring and substantive ways this May.

It’ll be seeing and learning with and from people I admire.  Not just Francis Chan, Rick and Kay Warren, Dennis Rainey and Steven Curtis Chapman.  Them too, of course.  But also so many other speakers, presenters, and fellow attendees who may never be famous, but glow like a lightening strike, lit up with Jesus and a love for orphans.   Foster parents.  Indigenous church leaders from other countries.  Mentors.  Adoptive families large and small.  Adoptees now living a vision for transforming the communities they came from.  30-year veterans of global orphan care and newcomers full of dreams and energy.

Just about every part of me–adoptive dad and mentor, follower of Jesus and guy who wants to learn more about “pure and faultless religion”—is so deeply challenged and nourished at Summit.  I just pray I’ll be able to gift to others there at least of fraction of what I always receive.

Karyn will be teaching a variety of workshops at Summit VIII in May. But to draw upon her insights sooner, and at a particularly in-depth level, consider the Empowered to Connect Conferences. The next one will be in Dallas on February 17-18, 2012, at Irving Bible Church.  This two-day conference features two days of insights and learning from Dr.Purvis.  The conference is designed to help adoptive and foster parents, ministry leaders and professionals better understand how to connect with ‘children from hard places’ in order to help them heal and become all that God desires for them to be.

Registration for the Dallas ETC Conference is open and the “early bird” registration price end tomorrow! Visit www.etcconference.org for more details and to register online.