The Adoption Journey

In May 2005 I asked a question that would change our lives forever. “Lord, do You want us to adopt?” The question came while I was in Ukraine serving orphans…and God’s answer was undeniable. Could I return home and stand in my church service with hands raised, singing to the God who created these children for His glory and yet do nothing?

I (Johnny) got a call from our local foster care agency back in the summer of 2010. She began to tell me about a little boy named J.J. “He is deaf,” she said, “and we know your family has adopted several deaf children. Would you be open to one more, or do you know of anyone interested in adopting a deaf child?”

Kids are expensive. We all know that. Before they’re 18 we’ll dump $250,000 on them. So, when the summer of 2007 rolled around and Karen, my wife, was convinced that God was calling us to adopt from Ethiopia, I was a tad reticent. Although I was fully open to adopting, and fully open to Ethiopia, I was struggling with how to pay for such an adoption.

It was hard. We’d had our boys Chris and Jon-Jon and knew God wanted us to have more kids in our family. But what do you do after three miscarriages? Was it all just a test? Were we to keep trying?

I’m adopted. But I never viewed it as anything but positive—beautiful even. Growing up, when my friends asked me why I had blond hair and my Mom and Dad had dark brown hair, I proudly replied, “It’s because I’m adopted.” In my mind, there’s no distinction, they’re not my adoptive parents. They’re my parents.

We are parenting damaged, traumatized children; don’t let the pictures fool you. We’re in the weeds. Every minute is on; there is no off. We’ve arrived late, cancelled altogether, hunkered down in therapy mode, missed appointments, failed to answer hundreds of emails in a timely manner, left voice-mails unlistened to, and texts unread. We’ve restructured, regrouped, replanned, reorganized. We’ve punted and called audibles. We’ve left “the bigs” on their own, hoping they are functioning well on auto-pilot after a lifetime of healthy stability. And sometimes, we put Tangled on for the eleventh time and cry in the bathroom.