Finding Light in Unexpected Places

It was spring break 2010. I was in a rented condominium in Orlando, Florida, watching a graceful, long-legged bird as he stood outside my bedroom window. He had been hanging around for days, and his presence comforted me – I wanted the peace he radiated.

My three boys and husband were off enjoying Disney World while my 12-year-old niece and I stayed behind, too sick from food poisoning to join them. She was resting in a room down the hall, all alone. I knew I needed to get up and check on her, but I felt terrible and wasn’t sure I could make it to her room without being sick.

The vacation was supposed to bring rest to our family, and especially my niece. I had asked my sister, who was in the final stages of ALS (aka, “Lou Gehrig’s” - a degenerative and fatal neuromuscular disease) to allow me to pull her daughter out of school to bring her with us so she could have a break from her home life, but nothing was going as I had hoped.

Although my sister was a loving and devoted mother, ALS is a thief, and it had slowly robbed her of the ability to care for her daughter. At the time of our trip, my sister was paralyzed and receiving full care from family plus a rotation of friends and caregivers. Despite all the suffering caused by the disease, she radiated joy and grace - these poured from the deep well of her faith.

As the disease had progressed, my sister relied on me more and more to help care for her daughter. We lived over an hour apart, and my three sons were in elementary and middle school, so it was challenging. But my challenges paled in comparison to what my sister must have endured.

Earlier that year, I had started bringing my niece and her dog to my house on weekends. Having been granted joint custody the prior year, I had also begun managing medical and dental appointments, school conferences, clothing purchases, etc. But as a pre-teen, she still needed daily care and attention, and I couldn’t be there every day. We all knew that it might not be long before my niece would become part of our family for good. 

I had hoped that bringing this young girl on a magical vacation would allow her to be a kid again, but the trip had begun to feel as stressful as at home. We had been plagued by rain, flooding, a trip to the ER, and now food poisoning.

A noise from down the hall shook me from my thoughts. Weak from the illness, I had to muster my strength to walk down the hallway to check on my niece.

When you see those adoption or foster stories in movies, the parents seem so perfect. They have it all together and know just the right things to say. That wasn’t me. I felt like I had no idea what I was doing and no energy to figure it out. Sadness for my sister nearly consumed me - all she had endured - all that was ahead. I desperately wanted to do the right things, and I loved this child, but I was overwhelmed. It wasn’t just a physical weariness - it was something deeper - an emotional and spiritual depletion.

I tried to get my niece to sip some water, but she didn’t feel well enough to drink it. Mumbling something I hoped was soothing, I encouraged her to rest, and made my way back to my room, nauseous. I felt guilty for leaving her alone again. She looked so small in the big bed in that strange place, far away from home. She needed more than I was giving. 

Back in bed, my mind raced ahead, thinking about what it would be like to parent a teenage girl after a terrible loss. I didn’t know anything about raising a girl. I was like a loving platoon leader raising three boys. Wouldn’t a teenage girl require skills and experience I didn’t have? Would she even want me to mother her? Would our love be enough to help her to heal? How could I ever fill her sweet mom’s shoes? I couldn’t even get her to drink some water to stay hydrated during a simple illness. Instead of acting like a loving and supportive mom-to-be, I was like a sad and scared child myself. If I was feeling that way, how must she have been feeling?

I longed for a deep sleep, from which I would awaken and find myself refreshed and replenished, full of hope for the future and energy to face it.

I didn’t get rest like that for quite a long while, but by the end of the trip, we were finally well, the sun was out, and we all shared a day together at the amusement park.

As we prepared to leave the Sunshine State for the long drive home, I looked out at our patio and saw the long-legged bird once again. Watching him, I inexplicably felt a fluttering of strength and hope return in my spirit. A verse popped into my mind: “but those who hope in the Lord will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles; they will run and not grow weary; they will walk and not be faint.” Wasn’t that what my sister had been showing me for three years, even as she grew more and more helpless? Yet I needed a bird to remind me that God would renew my strength, even when I felt powerless to help myself.

Even though my vacation illness had been temporary, it helped me see that I was only human and weak. There was no hope of doing this on my own. I did not have what was required to parent this little girl through to adulthood, even with my husband and family’s love and support. The only way forward would be to trust God to give me what I was lacking, just as my sister had been doing. On the long drive home, I determined that I would rely on God’s strength, not looking too far ahead, staying focused on the present. I felt a slight glimmer of peace that somehow, all of us would have what we needed, even my sister and niece, despite anything we would face in the coming days and months. 

Adoption often comes as a result of a traumatic or difficult circumstance. Ours was no exception. In retrospect, that Disney trip was the beginning of the traumatic labor and delivery of my niece becoming my daughter. Instead of hours, like a typical delivery, this one lasted for months. Just like the traumatic birth of my firstborn, it was not easy for either of us. But that disastrous trip was the start of a new bond between my niece and me.

That was ten years ago this month.

They say that no labor or delivery goes as planned. After my third son, I never expected to have another child, and this fourth “labor” was even more painful than the others. For me, it meant losing the sister who had been my lifelong and dearest friend; for my new daughter, it meant losing her first mother. But despite all the sadness and loss that accompanied my daughter’s delivery into our family, she is, like all my children, a wonderful gift - the beautiful surprise that greets you at the end of a difficult birth and changes your life forever.

November was National Adoption Month. Countless children need a loving home. According to Virginia Kids Belong, an organization that “mobilizes government, business, and creative leaders around the goal of permanency and belonging for every child,” there are over 850 children legally available on any given day for adoption in the foster care system of Virginia alone. No matter each child’s situation, the goal is the same: to provide a loving home for children of all ages. If you are interested in adoption, I invite you to check out Virginia Kids Belong (vakidsbelong.org) or reach out to a local church, adoption agency, or foster care agency. Just as God has invited us into His family through adoption as sons and daughters through Christ, we can invite others into our families to share love with the youngest members of our world! Not everyone feels called to adopt, but there are many other ways to support adoptive and foster families and the children they love. We will always be incredibly thankful to all of the people who supported and cared for my sister, my daughter, and our family.