It's Not About Us

A few weeks ago Aaron and I were asked to write out our "adoption story."  Aaron did a fabulous job writing out his perspective on our story and I wanted to give you a chance to read it.  It's kind of long, but totally worth the time to read it.

It’s Not About Us

By Aaron Winowiski

Why would a family with three kids want to adopt two more?  The short answer is: It's not about us.

When Michelle first started sharing her thoughts about international adoption, we were teenagers dreaming of what the future could look like.  But then the future comes, and dreams fade away, right?  That's what I thought.  Shortly after our daughter was born (child number three) I thought we were done adding children into our family.  Three is a good number.  But as I settled into the idea of raising three children, Michelle brought up adoption again.  What?  Isn't three enough?

Then we shifted gears and went into a new adventure, giving birth to a different kind of baby--a new church.  I quit my corporate job, taking a cut in pay to become a church planting intern.  Learning the ropes and launching a new church took years of focus and energy.  Almost two years after starting New Day Christian Church in Weston, Wisconsin--just as the dust was settling--Michelle brought up adoption again, and I put my foot down.

No way.  Adoption was a path that we were not qualified to take.  Our choices in life had removed that dream from our options.  We chose to start having kids immediately after graduating from college, and we chose for Michelle to stay out of the workforce to be home with those kids, and we chose to follow the path of church planting, and we chose to buy a house in the upper end of what we could afford (which was already limited by our previous choices).  Faithful people had already committed thousands of dollars to help get New Day off the ground.  I was not going to go back to those people to ask them for more money.  We couldn't afford to adopt.

And anyway, what was wrong with the kids we had?  What was wrong with the life we had?  Why was Michelle not happy?  I just didn't get it.

Michelle took my objections and dealt with them in a constructive way.  She started an in-home day-care business to raise money for the adoption, putting everything into savings except taxes and 10% for offering at church.  She worked with me to refinance the house in a way that helped me feel better about our mortgage.  She assured me there was nothing wrong with our life.  Somehow she understood (even when I didn't) that this was not about us.

Over the course of a year and a half, she kept saving money, and she kept asking if I was praying about the adoption process.  That kind of annoyed me.  I felt like she was saying, "I know this is what God wants us to do; you would too if you ever talked to Him."

I wasn't committed to the adoption process at first, but I am committed to Michelle.  One of my goals in life is to always be her biggest hero.  She supported me throughout the craziness of starting a new church.  Adoption seemed crazy to me, but supporting Michelle is what I do.

So, I listened (sometimes obviously half-heartedly) to her stories about adoption blogs she was reading and information she was learning.  Man, I was negative about adoption.  The places and the situations Michelle talked about just weren't resonating with me, and I told her that.  She listened, and looked into some other countries where kids need families.

Now, I don't know why this is, but I have had a heart for Africa for years.  I have often been frustrated about how insurmountable some of the challenges seem in Africa.  When Michelle started talking about African adoption, my negative attitude softened.  We can't change the continent, but what if we could reach one or two children, and change their whole world?  I began to get involved.

About a year after putting my foot down, I found myself walking along-side (even if just a half-step behind) Michelle in this process.  In a few years we would have enough money to enter into all of the bureaucracy that's required to rescue a child from a dire future.  By American standards we weren't rich, but by international and historical standards we lived in a luxurious castle (Hot and cold running water? Amazing!) that could support one or two additional family members.  We had the means, and there were children with a need.  Maybe this wasn't about us.  It was about them.

In March, 2010, Michelle started praying that God would double the money she had saved, and accelerate our adoption process.  A month later the government changed their tax law for adoptive parents, and suddenly we went from not qualifying to being qualified for a significant tax refund.  The refund would double the money Michelle had saved.  We were both excited about this, but to qualify we would have to start the process.  We only had half the money we needed.  We'd have to trust that the other half would show up in loans or grants until we could benefit from the tax refund (probably in 2012).

By that time we had decided to adopt two older children from Ethiopia.  After finding out about the government money, Michelle looked at me and said, "Are we going to do this?  Is this the time?" 

I said, "I think so.  Let's do this."

"Really?  Because if you say we're doing this, I'm going to take that to mean that we're going to start the paperwork."

"Uh-huh.  Let's start the paperwork.  We're doing this."

It wasn't long before we were diving into the dozens of notarized forms and applications and recommendation letters.  More importantly, we had identified the children we wanted to adopt--two of them, a boy and a girl, cousins listed as eight years old.  (I say "listed as" because ages in international orphanages are often estimates, and they tend to skew young.  They are probably older than that.)  We were really doing this.  It was about them.

Our three biological kids have been part of the conversation for a couple of years now, so they are not shocked to see pictures of their brother and sister-to-be (God willing) hanging in the house now.  Their rooms are filling up with the furniture necessary to house their new siblings.  And they are okay with it.  In fact, they seem pretty excited.

Now it's September.  All of our paperwork (on this side of the ocean) is done.  We have applications for grants and low/no-interest loans out to half a dozen organizations.  We're waiting and praying, and often answering the question, "When will you go to Ethiopia to get them?"  We don't know.  We do know that those two children are becoming a bigger part of our family every day, and they don't even know we exist.  They have been living in an orphanage (a very nice one from what I hear) for over a year.  They are safe now, but they must know that older children are much less likely to be adopted.  Have they thought about what it could mean to be a teenager without a family support system in Ethiopia?  Have they dreamed about a fresh start?

It won't be easy for any of us, especially those adopted kids.  What will it be like to travel from Ethiopia to Wisconsin in winter?  They might as well be travelling to a different planet!  These aren't babies who will have no memory of the country they left; they are old enough to retain their language, their customs, their memories of home.  Will our family ever feel like home to them?  I hope so.  I hope we--not just our family, but our extended family, our church, our neighborhood, our school district, and our community--I hope we can help them retain their heritage and identities, while at the same time weaving them into the fabric of our lives.

It won't be easy for any of us.  But it will be rewarding.  Anyway, it's not about us.  It's about them.