After the training I was able to have dinner with my friend Michele. I just spent 10 minutes trying to find the picture that I know I put on this blog the last time we had dinner -- which I am pretty sure was 4 years ago. She and my friend Meg and I all met on an AOL message board back in 1997 when we were getting our home studies done. Between the three of us we adopted 30 kids in 30 months, and then went on to adopt a few more -- I think maybe the total is 33 or something between us.
Anyway, I had a great time catching up with Michele -- Meg has since moved to Colorado so she couldn't join us and we missed her. Of all three of our stories mine is the easiest. I don't know why or how that happened, but it makes me want to complain less... and it makes me have survivers guilt.
We are all wide-eyed, passionate, naive. We adopted hard kids. We fought to get hard kids in some situations. We gave it our all. We were invincible and resilient. And today all of us are still standing. But I haven't had to endure the things either of them have.
I spent the early morning hours today putting togehter a slide show of my kids -- then and now -- and realizing how far they have come and how grateful I am.
Today Dominyk, Leon and Wilson are coming home from a missions trip. I have missed them and can't wait to hear about their trip. Last night I said good-bye to Tony -- more on that later -- and I actually have mixed feelings. Kyle and Christy celebrated 3 years of marriage and their son is a month old now. Isaac's mom Courtney is bringing him to spend the night with us.
Life is good. God is good. And I am sad for my friends whose lives have been so challenging -- but I am grateful that they are still the resilient people I have always known, able to see some good in their situations.
I get to train some more today and then Kari and a panel of people are going to come and she is going to train them. I am looking forward to my day....
But before I hit publish ... I read this today -- posted by my friend Kim Stevens. I'm sure she would want it shared with as many as possible....
For Melvin - A Message of Love and Unconditional Commitment
It is with a very heavy heart that I write this week’s CCN news. Our youngest son, Melvin, lost his battle with heroin addiction this last Tuesday. He was only 21.
Mel came to us at 2 ½ years old with no language, no understanding of what it meant to be part of a family and no capacity for receiving affection. Every day with him was worthwhile – he challenged us, he caused us hurt and worry and he brought us such joy. Melvin’s smile, his laugh could light up the world.
As a fellow adoptive parent, I know how difficult it is to love and stay committed to a child who is unable to receive, appreciate or reciprocate that love and caring. In fact, that pain is one of the contributing factors to adoption breakdowns. We wonder if anything we have done or can do will make a difference. We wonder what will become of our children. But our children are not intending to hurt or anger us out of choice. It is their response to loss and trauma beyond their control and understanding. I firmly believe and have seen the proof that if we can just hang in there long enough, we can and do make a difference.
Many of you have heard stories of Mel over the years and listened to me talk about how much he taught his father and I. There were countless moments when he pushed us to the limit and today I can only say how grateful we are to have had the time with him we did and to know that we never stopped loving, believing in, and being there for him.
I want to share the most recent and most important lessons he taught us. Close to three years ago, Melvin overdosed for what we later found out was the second time. The doctors told us that he would not survive the traumatic brain injury and we all prepared for his death. All of us except Buddy, his dad, who knew he would survive. If you have attended a training or lecture of mine, you know that Dr. Bruce Perry later told me the constant massage and touch we gave him were what saved his life that time. I wish we could have been with him last week to hold and save him again.
As the doctors predicted, he was not the same person after his miraculous recovery. We received the greatest gift; Melvin opened himself up to love and appreciation. He came home within two months – frustrated that his basketball shot was way off, walking a bit slower, forgetful, and without any memory of what happened or his time in the hospital. Those were challenges, but were nothing compared to the positive changes. We had a whole new boy who could give and receive affection, appreciation, joy and hope.
For the last fourteen months, Melvin struggled to find and maintain sobriety. I have lost count of the number of programs he graduated from, was discharged from, or was kicked out of for all kinds of infractions. Each time, he get right back to another and continue to try. He wanted to “get right” and become a drug counselor for other young people struggling with addiction. I have been reading dozens of messages from people he touched – every one talks about how he helped them stay strong, how he inspired them or gave them hope.
To his father, his siblings, his niece and nephew, his aunts, uncles and cousins he could finally say “I love you.” Throughout these last months, there has not been a text, message, phone call or meeting with him that has not included the words “Thank you, I appreciate it,” and ended with the words “I love you.” Now that we can’t say or hear those words again, we truly understand the importance of treating each moment as if it could be the last.
Melvin wanted to do something good in the world for others and I believe that he has and will continue to do so. His big sister called me earlier today to tell me that she has finally found a job after being unemployed and unemployable for several years. She has enrolled in a local community college and will start in September. She says she was inspired by Melvin and wants to make him proud – he is the angel that will sit on her shoulder and help her along the path. His brothers have made it possible for Buddy and I to get through this horrific time. His other sister is doing all she can to stay strong and stay healthy. And his recovery community has asked to participate in his memorial so they can bring a message of recovery to other struggling young people as well.
Today and every day I am asking each of you to honor Melvin’s memory and support his desire to do something good in the world…
Parents – stay committed to your children no matter what. When you think you cannot do it for another minute, that is when they need you the most. Look to other parents to help you hang in there. If we can keep our kids connected to us, they always have a chance to heal from their wounds. It takes time, it is not easy, but it is the promise you made and you must keep it.
Child welfare workers – commit to ensuring that no child grows up and leaves care without a family. When you meet with resistance, fight it. When you get discouraged, seek hope. When you run up against a barrier, challenge it. For every child there is a family and each child and youth has a right to one. The question you can keep pushing is, “What will it take?” and then pursue that.
Community, providers, courts, and legislators – do your part. These children belong to all of us. Vow to not let stigmatization, budgetary issues, politics or indifference guide your choices. With every action, vote, decision you make, ask yourself, “How will this affect this child, all children?” If you aren’t satisfied with the answer if it were your child that would be impacted, then it is not acceptable for any child.
Finally and most importantly, youth – know that you are special, that you are worthwhile, that you have a voice you need to use, and that you are loved and valued. Ask for what you need, find allies in your peers and adults, believe that you deserve and can have a family of your own, and believe in yourself.
With love, deep sadness and hope,