Childhood trauma leaves scars

Childhood trauma leaves scars?  For those of you who parent children who have suffered trauma when they were younger, you’re probably reading that and saying, “uh, yeah, tell me something I didn’t know……”  That’s not really news.

No for those who are in the middle of parenting children who have been through trauma (adoptive parents, raise your hands – I see you) we know what this can be like.   But that’s not why I kept this article.

What’s newsworthy about this article is that a major college and a fairly substantial city government (Madison Wisconsin – I know, it’s not Chicago, but it’s not Borculo Michigan either) are acknoweldging it and are taking steps to do something about it.

I’ve talked to so many people who have, over the years, suffered through so much grief and guilt feelings because they have been either directly or indirectly that their child’s struggles, their child’s actions, their child’s attitudes are the fault of bad parenting.   The “system” is starting to see that the problem just isn’t the adoptive parents or whatever parents the child(ren) have, the problem is that there was significant trauma that happened when the child was younger.

We’ll talk a little bit later – but a LOT more about the fallacy called, “All you need is love” and how that is true for everyone.”  (It’s not!)

Tom

 

 

Childhood trauma leaves scars that are genetic, not just emotional, study affirms The researchers at the University of Wisconsin-Madison wanted to study the impact of childhood stress on genetic chemistry. Author: John Schmid, Milwaukee Journal Sentinel Published: 11:14 PM PDT July 22, 2018 Updated: 11:17 PM PDT July 22, 2018

Source: Childhood trauma leaves scars that are genetic, not just emotional, study affirms | krem.com

Boy, was I Naive……

If you had asked me before we started this adoption journey what it would look like, I probably would have told you something along the lines of this:

• We’d figure out where we were going to adopt from.
• Then we’d work with the people in charge and eventually figure out who we were going to adopt.
• We’d bring them home – and things would be noisy and crazy and full of adjustments.
• But after a while – maybe a year, maybe two – we’d settle into the new normal and life would go on pretty much as it was – just with more kids and more noise.

Boy was I naive’.

If our adoption story had gone that way, here’s a sampling of what I would have missed:
• I would have missed hearing Haitian roosters who couldn’t tell time – and crowed at 2:00 in the morning.
• I would have missed the sounds of Haiti in the night. It truly is musical.
• I would have missed getting to know some truly amazing people who have given and currently still give so much of themselves to help others.
• I would have missed the privilege of sitting with others in their pain and sadness – a privileged place that few are allowed to enter into.
• I would have missed a lifetime of learning about poverty, corruption, the 3rd world, racism and problems that are worth fighting against.
• I would have missed getting to know some great kids – Michno, Sonia, “Small Man” Peterson, Kenbe, Judith and Kerby and many more.
• I would have missed out on seeing some miracles – and not only did I see those miracles, I got to, I get to see those miracles as they turn from children without a future to children who healed and have a future and are a blessing to many. Elli, Roselaure, Danny – you are just a few of them.
• I would have missed out on conversations with an 80 year old lady in the hospital who told me that God gave her a second chance at life through a successful heart surgery and I gave her a chance to make a difference for kids in Haiti. There is a building at the orphanage named after her.
• I would have missed the opportunity in 2011 to sit on the porch at the orphanage late at night – in shorts and a t-shirt – while messaging with my wife who was at home in the middle of a major snow storm with wind chills approaching 30 degrees below and well over 2 ft of snow falling in 2 days time. I missed the storm and I’m still grateful.
• I would have missed out on being uncomfortable.
• I would have missed out on getting to know people at my current church – people like Christy and LeMaar and Susie and Pastor Darrell and Laura and…….
• I would have missed out on learning about and getting to know the people at Potter’s House School.

Boy was I naive’. Boy am I glad I was wrong. Has it been easy? Not a chance. Would I trade? Maybe for a day or two every now and then.

But not a chance.

TJV

Why Haiti? And why International Adoption?

If I got $5 for every time someone has asked me that question, well, I’d have a lot more than $5, that’s for sure.

Why did we choose Haiti?

We didn’t.

God did.

Shortly after that Christmas, we were on a cruise and got to know a couple. In talking to them, we mentioned that we were trying to figure out what God had planned but were thinking of adopting. Her boss had recently brought home a child they adopted from Haiti.

My brother runs a local Christian youth camp. He was talking with one of his camp counselors and it turned out that counselor grew up as a missionary kid – in Haiti. Actually, it turns out that his parents were good friends with the orphanage director and her husband.

Our oldest came home from school one day and said, “Hey guess what – the B_______ twins have a younger brother and sister they just got home from Haiti.”

At the same time that these and other instances all seemed to be pointing towards Haiti, we were going to adoption information meetings and learning about adopting from different countries. None of them felt like a good fit.

And then there’s Karen Kingsbury – we did actually get to meet her later – but while we were attempting to discern what God had planned my wife was reading one of her books and discovered that Karen had recently adopted.

From where?

You guessed it.

From Haiti.

Finally it was like, okay God, we get the picture.

Everything was turning up Haiti. Everything we knew and everyone we talked to, it all kept pointing to this little impoverished country south of Miami.

That’s why we chose Haiti. Actually, we didn’t. That’s why God pushed us to Haiti.

We were about to take the first steps into becoming a transracial family.

Boy was I naive……..

Tom

How Did It All Start?

I’m not going to take you back to the high school sweethearts going to see “Raiders of the Lost Ark” on their first date.

I’m not going to take you back to borrowing my Dad’s car because my 1967 Volkswagen Beetle had absolutely no heat and the aforementioned sweetheart didn’t like that.

I’m not going to…….

Oh wait, never mind.

Instead, I’m just going to go back to let’s say 2002. We had three girls and they were all in the “double digits” age and were doing well.

And then we started hearing a whisper. No, it wasn’t the voices in my head.

It was a whisper that was calling us to consider “more.”

But it didn’t really make clear what “more” was.

Until one Sunday in October of 2002, we were sitting around on a Sunday afternoon and one of those “unspoken” conversations happened between my better half and I. And we realized that we could do “more.”

Or at least we had to find out what “more” was.

For real. Not hypothetical but let’s actually find out what God’s nudging was leading us to. What is the more that he wanted to show us?

We had no idea what we were getting into.

Some days we still don’t.

But we knew it was time to try to figure out what God was up to.

How do we tell the kids?

So, we decided that we’d write a letter.

And we’d give it to them at Christmas. Sort of like Gideon’s fleece – if they all ran to their rooms screaming in terror, well God, now what?

After all of the presents were opened, we told them all to sit down on the couch and I got three envelopes from the top of the Christmas tree. I gave them each one with specific instructions;
• Open it and read what is inside.
• Because you all read at different speeds, do not say anything until all three of you are done reading.

In the letter, we talked about how they were great girls (still are) and that we felt God was calling us to do “more” but we didn’t know what more was. It could be:
• Being foster parents
• Doing medical fostering
• Adopting domestically
• Adopting internationally
• We didn’t know but we felt God was calling us to find out.
And then we ended the letter with the “Starfish Poem.”

It made a difference for “that one.”

Reactions?
⁃ the oldest – I want a baby brother!
⁃ the middle – Please not a boy – my friends all say their brothers are so annoying!
⁃ the youngest – I’m not going to be the baby of the family any more!

Okay, God, it’s a go.

And boy was and is it a ride.

Tom

Time – What Time Is It?

I can’t speak for other countries, but Americans are obessed with time.

What time is it?

How long does it take to get there?

How long is it going to take?

Buy this latest calendar/planner – it’s guaranteed to change your life and make you a multi-millionaire!

(Sarcasm alert)

Let me tell you two stories that changed my view of time. (Second one will come in Part 2).

In 2003, we were in the process of adopting and getting all of the paperwork pulled together. As part of that, we had to get certain documents “notarized” and then “authenticated” by the Haitian embassy. Given as how we weren’t too excited to send important documents by mail, we decided to schedule an appt and take the day off, drive to Chicago, get them authenticated and be back home by supper time.

The night before, I was reviewing the paperwork one last time and realized we had to get one document stamped with the seal of the State of Michigan before the Haitian embassy could authenticate it all. Suddenly our trip got longer – we had to go an hour east before we could go down to Chicago. But we figured out that if we were there, in Lansing Michigan, by the time the office opened, we could still make our appointment on time. If all went well.

If. Two small letters, one big word.

We left home early enough to make it to Lansing on time. In and out, like clock work. Headed straight to Chicago – well, as straight as we could. Traffic was good, all was on time. It was going to be close but all was looking good.

And suddenly, it all changed.

Red lights up ahead.

Almost there – we could see the building. And we’d make it on time!

If the red lights up ahead didn’t block the entire road. It was 4 lanes – give us one or two lanes open, please?

If only. If only the accident had happened a little way down the road. But it didn’t.

And we waited and waited.

And missed our appt. by 20 minutes. “I’m sorry, Mr. ________ left for lunch.” “Okay, can we come back after lunch? We’re sorry we missed our appt. It was because of a car accident.”

So we went and got lunch and came back about 1:30. “Have a seat, they should be back soon.”

And we waited.

And we waited.

And we waited.

Finally, four hours after they left for lunch, they returned. Very friendly, very welcoming, very quick to get things done and we were on our way.

It was our first introduction to Haitian time.

Time where relationships are more important than schedules.

A time that doesn’t worry about technicalities – like how long lunch is.

Over the years, we’ve heard other stories from friends about Haitian time. It was our first exposure to a different way of looking at time.

It also was our first exposure to really truly realizing that when we were entering into international adoption, we were entering into a different culture as well.

In many ways.

What time is it? Yeah, whatever……

Tom