To My Child's Teacher

To my child's teacher:

I wanted to make you aware of something you may not have considered in regards to these "Where I Came From" type of assignments. My daughter does not have a birth picture as most international adoptees do not. This can be very painful to some adoptees when class assignments such as this come around. My daughter was born in Korea where children are adopted in a very legal and orderly manner with children being placed with agencies after birth. Yet, part of her past is missing. And some kids from China are left in public places as it is against the law for parents to abandon a child and in that culture the gender of choice is male. Therefore, often girls are abandoned. In addition, due to the one child policy; abandonment happens to females in high numbers. These children often struggle with the fact that they were "left" somewhere.

In addition, having to include a story of their birth is very difficult because many children who are adopted have no clue about the story of their birth. They can't say things like my mother ate pickles during pregnancy and cried and cried when I was born. They have no idea of the circumstances of their birth except that in many countires it is one of disgrace and shame. Instead of their birth being a happy time many adoptees feel that it is a time of sorrow where they lost their identity and their heritage.

My daughter cannot answer the questions of the hospital where she was born and who came to see her and how her mother felt. We can answer those questions from when we first saw her picture at three months and when she came home at almost 8 months but this seperates her out from the other kids. In addition, we only encourage her to share what she knows of her birth story with people she wants to and frankly it is not appropriate for just anyone to know nor it is not everyone's business to know the circumstances of her birth.

These kinds of assignments can be hurtful to adoptees or children who come from "different" families other than a two parent mom and dad type of family. Many kids now come from gay families and may not be comfortable sharing that. Many kids now come from single mother with unknown fathers and may not be comfortable sharing that. Many children come from foster families and had abusive first parents who may have told them over and over things like, "I wish you had not been born." Many times the birth of a child is not a "happy" time in a family and a child may know that. While the jist of these assignments are made with the noblest of intentions, in reality, these types of assignments are often uncomfortable and hurtful for children.

Just wanted you to consider this from another point of view.

Most Important Trip

So Karson teacher said she asked the kids about the most important trip they had ever taken. She said there were a lot of Walmart answers and then Karson stood up and said something on the order of "the most important trip for me was when I was 6 months old and my new parents came to Korea to get me from my foster parents. They gave me a family and lots of love which I would not have gotten if I was still in Korea because kids in orphanages don't get much or do much (not sure where he got that) I really am a very lucky kid because love means everything and I have that now."

To My Child's Teacher

I wanted to make you aware of something you may not have considered in regards to these "Where I Came From" type of assignments. My daughter does not have a birth picture as most international adoptees do not. This can be very painful to some adoptees when class assignments such as this come around. My daughter was born in Korea where children are adopted in a very legal and orderly manner with children being placed with agencies after birth. Yet, part of her past is missing. And some kids from China are left in public places as it is against the law for parents to abandon a child and in that culture the gender of choice is male. Therefore, often girls are abandoned. In addition, due to the one child policy; abandonment happens to females in high numbers. These children often struggle with the fact that they were "left" somewhere.

In addition, having to include a story of their birth is very difficult because many children who are adopted have no clue about the story of their birth. They can't say things like my mother ate pickles during pregnancy and cried and cried when I was born. They have no idea of the circumstances of their birth except that in many countires it is one of disgrace and shame. Instead of their birth being a happy time many adoptees feel that it is a time of sorrow where they lost their identity and their heritage.

My daughter cannot answer the questions of the hospital where she was born and who came to see her and how her mother felt. We can answer those questions from when we first saw her picture at three months and when she came home at almost 8 months but this seperates her out from the other kids. In addition, we only encourage her to share what she knows of her birth story with people she wants to and frankly it is not appropriate for just anyone to know nor it is not everyone's business to know the circumstances of her birth.

These kinds of assignments can be hurtful to adoptees or children who come from "different" families other than a two parent mom and dad type of family. Many kids now come from gay families and may not be comfortable sharing that. Many kids now come from single mother with unknown fathers and may not be comfortable sharing that. Many children come from foster families and had abusive first parents who may have told them over and over things like, "I wish you had not been born." Many times the birth of a child is not a "happy" time in a family and a child may know that. While the jist of these assignments are made with the noblest of intentions, in reality, these types of assignments are often uncomfortable and hurtful for children.

Just wanted you to consider this from another point of view.

Two in Twenty Four Hours...God Help Me!

If you are an adoptive parent esp one who is parenting a child of a different race then you know how many times you are broadsided by some stranger coming up to you with the expectation that they are allowed to ask any one of a million stupid questions right in front of your kids. It never ceases to amaze me the words that come out of a complete strangers mouth. Lately, I have not had to deal with this so imagine my surprise when in the course of 24 hours I had the following exchanges with some people I have never been formally introduced to and will most likely never meet again.

I have to admit that I was a little evil with the woman at the Mini Mart but gosh darn it I had just been in a video arcade with a bunch of screaming kids for two hours. THat is my excuse.

So yesterday the kids and I go into a Mini Mart and first thing out of the
cashiers mouth as she looks at Kellis " ahhhh she is so cute..."
(Okay I can feel it coming on. Let me see if I can read your mind and finish
the sentence for you sweetie)

"Are they your kids?"

(I knew it. If I only had a nickel. I always know when we start out with a she is so cute it will be followed by nosey questions. But today I was prepared.

"Yep they are all mine."

Funny look crosses her face.

"They don't look anything like you."

"Yeah I know."

"I think they look Asian"

"Naw, my ancestors are English and German"

"Their dad must be Asian then"

"Nope. Here is his picture. ( I pull out my husband's picture) See, He is German too. Oh, and here is a picture of my oldest daughter." (Who is as pale skinned as they come)

She stares at it, looks down at the kids and back at me. Confusion is written
all over her face.

"Yep, the doctors don't understand it either. They think it has something to do
with drinking too much of the water when we went to Asia. Bye now."

And then this afternoon it happened again.

I was in the Super Wal-Mart. Up walks this 50ish man.
(Oh crap... here is comes I think to myself trying to turn my body away but can't get turned fast enough.)

"I know you get this all the time"......

(NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO Don't you F'ing say whatever is about to come out of your
mouth)

"but are your kids adopted?"

(Hmmmm should I go with the No, why do you ask tactic?)

"Are they from the orient?"

(Oh God...not one of these I just can't take it today!)

"They were born in South Korea"

"Is that the communist country?"

"No, that would be North Korea"

"THe reason I ask is because I have adopted 8 of my own"

(Okay, maybe I can put my guard down a little)

"WE got them in all colors. We have two of our own and then we got a Mexican one, and a black one and this one here (pointing to a I would guess 16 yo) well we don't know what she is"

(Oh God help me and get me away from this idiot)

"And one we have now is 3 and her Mom is in prison and the man she named as the
father well his DNA didn't match so I think we are going to get her thank god.
She doesn't need to have a loser mother like that."

"Sounds like you have a lovely family. We have to keep shopping. It's nice
meeting you."

And just when I thought I was done I ran into him 2 more times and each time he
starts a conversation and once his daughter looks at me as I pass and says

"Do they all have the same mother?"

"Why, yes they do. It's me!"

I am NOT going out tomorrow....its comes in threes you know!

Here Is One Heck Of An Adoption Story

Without debating the whole "family should prevail at all costs" notion along with debating the "at what age is it too old to adopt" concept I have to say that this story is so sad and disturbing on so many levels. For instance, why is our government not helping this family? Frankly there is no excuse for it. These children have a right to medical services and their great-grandparents should not have to go broke providing them! I don't care if they were born in Canada or not. They are in this country legally and should be covered in one way or another. Shame on our government. And shame on people for not helping these great-grandparents. If everyone would just send a buck!
Here is the story!
http://www.spokesman.com/stories/2009/may/17/difficult-blessing/

Omma vs. Mom

There is a debate going on in regards to a blog by an adoptee who says that adoptive parents wearing things like Omma pendants are appropraiting something that they shouldn't. That adoptive parents by taking on these names are erasing something that does not rightfully belong to them. Interesting concept.

So I have been thinking about this.

I do wonder if part of the issue for the adoptee has to do with loss and not giving up on seeing their Omma and Appa again. If you suspected that your birth parents were still alive then it might seem disrespectful like your a-parents were trying to take their places. Like why isn't "Mom" and "Dad" good enough for them. The only thing I can relate it to is this:

If my husband were to die and two years later I married again I am not so sure that my children would appreciate being forced to call the new guy "Dad" For them, "Dad" would have a very specific meaning, the man they grew up with, who read to them every night, the man that the world knew as "Dave" and they knew as "Dad." The man who holds the title of "Dad" in their hearts. And its only when and if they CHOSE to give that title to someone else would it be right. Not just because I wanted them to.

Perhaps for some adoptees the word "Appa" or "omma" has that special place in their heart.The place that gives them hope that someday they will be able to meet the person/s who created and birthed them. The place that is reserved for their Korean birthparents. Perhaps those are the words that they have longed to say the first time they touch their first mothers hair, or feel her warm hand in theirs when in Korea and it would only seem right to use those Korean terms of endearment like "Omma". If my kids were meeting their first mother in Korea they certainly wouldn't call her "mom" because it wouldn't have meaning to her or a shared sense of a cultural meaning plus it would be their term of endearment for me.

Today is Kylee's 17th birthday. It seems so strange to have someone who was the main focus of your life 17 years ago not here to celebrate that wonderous day. I miss her. I want to hug her and tell her how much I love her. And then this happened:

Kylee and I were IMing each other when she says," Mom I want to have a serious discussion with you."

Of course with words like this coming from you 17 yo's typewriter your mind begins to fly wildly. She pregnant...she was hurt...she's in love...she never wants to come home...and a host of other absurdities crammed into the old gray matter.

And then she types, "I just wanted you to know that when I am 18 and if you have saved a little money, if anything were to happen to you and Dad I want to take the kids."

And I started bawling. Not because her offer is necessarily a possibility but because she would offer knowing all the challenges that our special needs children face in the years to come. And because I have secretly wondered at times if the adoption of our younger children had perhaps made Kylee feel left out or at the bottom of the pile. That somehow her needs became secondary to theirs.

But maybe I was bawling because that is the minute that I realized my daughter had matured and grown up. That was the moment I realized that she was beginning to think like an adult, love like a parent and grow into a person whose concern about others that she loves outweighs her immediate concern about herself.

And so on the day I so desperately wished I could hug my girl and give her a gift, she turned the tables on me and gave me the best present ever. A one sentence treasure that came from her heart. And sometimes it just doesn't get any better than that!

Perhaps We Are All Blind

The other day I was reading a blog written by a woman who was visiting a far away land. She was commenting that she went into a Buddhist Temple and just stayed for a second. She found it sad that people were on their knees praying to these golden Buddhas and felt they were idols of worship. I commented to a friend that it made me "sad" to see her write that. I also find it ironic that Christians do not see themselves as doing the same thing when crossing themselves in front of pictures of Jesus or praying to a cross but that is another topic altogether.

I told my friend that I was "sad" because the woman was so closed to anything but her beliefs that she could not allow herself to take it all in and look at the beauty of what was in front of her. I have been in numerous Buddhist temples, Hindu places of worship, Christian cathedrals and in all of them I have felt the spirit of Him/Her at work. I was able to see the beauty of what the religion and her people were trying to convey about the world and their place in it, their sacred relationship with their GOD,and how the people were using their beliefs to try and make their world more understandable to themselves and others. In fact, in every one of these buildings I was able to experience a real sense of tranquility and feel the "spirit." Frankly, I have never met a Buddhist who has said, "I went into a church the other day and saw people singing, praying or looking at a picture of Jesus and it made me sad." It amazes me how so many Christians can have such an holier-than-thou attitude.

What I think Christians tend to forget is that the Christian religion is full of idols or symbols as is each and every religion. It has to be that way because those symbols, are in fact, the language or the history of where it came from, it's philosophy, etc.

I guess what is "sad" to me is that people cannot find an appreciation in those things that are meaningful to others on their spiritual journey and that they cannot see the beauty in place, spirit or various rituals. I may not agree with other people's religious persuasion but I can certainly step outside of my own bias to see and appreciate the beauty, the history and the symbols in other individuals religion. It does make me "sad" that others cannot. Truly, it is not only the blind who cannot see.

What Does God Know?

Over on one of the adoption BB the subject of G*D came up again. Specifically, how G*D gives us the children we were meant to have, how we were paired with our children through G*D's will and his perfect timing. How G*D planned that our children should end up in our specific family. And this type of talk always confuses me. Because it gives credit to G*D for all the good that comes into our lives due to the adoption of our children yet does not place the "blame" at G*D's feet for our children's first families imploding in on themselves.

Oh I know that people say that it all comes down to free will. That people makes mistakes and that G*D makes sure that beauty comes out of painful situations. But I ask myself if this is indeed true why didn't G*D do a better job of choosing a parent for my boys. I mean afterall, I am not the most patient person. Why didn't God choose a mother for these boys who had the patience of a saint? Or why didn't G*D pick a family that had unlimited financial resources so that my boys could have a special OT gym in their basement. I mean, geex, I don't even have a basement!!! Or why is it that G*D chose a family for them that met the eligible income requirement for international adoption? Why not a wonderful two parent family who both work at
7-11 but would read 10 books a day to their kids, and help them build birdhouses every week. Why wouldn't he give people who are less financially sound the same opportunity to experience the joy of raising a child as I have been given? For if the truth be told my kids will be lucky to do three arts and crafts projects during their life time with me as their mother. And if it is true that we all have lessons to learn and that is why we are chosen why is it my kids responsibility to suffer their fool of a mother? Why should they be the guinea pigs for me to practice improving myself upon? I struggle with the fact that some adoptive parents are of the opinion that they were more "right/qualified/entitled" to parent their mutual child than was his first mother.Why? Why would G*D allow hurt and hardship to enter my son's birthmothers life in order that I get my desires satisfied while her desires are pushed aside.

Or another question. Why me, a quasi believer as opposed to a strong conservative Christian or Jewish family? I mean if G*D is wanting people to enter into the kingdom of heaven with him and knowing how my kids lives have already endured such loss; then why wouldn't he put them with a family that will provide all the underpinnings to ensure that their child gets to sit at the right hand of G*D? A family who prays together everyday, worships G*D and doesn't say his name in vain.

Or is it not like this at all. Does G*D really have no say so. The pile on the SW's desk is just a pile. But that G*D believes that when he gives us the gift of a child that it doesn't matter if that child is in the middle of the pile or the bottom. It doesn't matter how our children come to us just that we do they best job we know how when we get them. That we are there for them...that HE is there for them...and that is all that really matters anyway.

Sets

The other day I was in a store when I came across the "old" metal type of lunch box like I used to take to school. Only this one was new and it had no thermos. I'm sorry but that is sacred...lunch boxes and a new thermos are suppose to go together.They are a pair and they belong together. Some things are like that...they are just meant to be a set.

Sometimes I look at my son and wonder how he will feel about his adoption as he ages because we don't look like a matching set. I'm like the Barbie Lunch Box. My strength keeps him protected and safe from falls. I act as his cocoon by holding him and carrying him. And the fact that we are not a matching set never seems to bother him until that day someone in school points out that I am a Barbie Lunch Box and he is a Superman Thermos. And in that second it may occur to him that many people think that Barbie and Superman don't go together. That they were never meant to be. And that, in fact, he belongs in the Superman Lunch Box because they look the same and therefore they should be together based on their shared attributes. And I hope when the time comes I remember to tell him that matching sets are not always what is important. That sometimes what really matters is the fact that they needed to be together whether they look the same or not. The lunch box needs the thermos so that a thirst is quenched while the thermos needs the lunch box to help feed a soul. That together they work as a team. That they are a set and while they may not match they still are able to get the job done...together...matching or not.

And this is why you don't write when you have had no sleep!!!!

Bleeding Hearts

In this month’s Oprah Magazine (April 2007) there are three stories concerning adoption. In one story author and adoptive mom, Carol Brennan, writes about when her daughter met her birth mother.

“ She said again how hard it was for her, giving me up. An undertone in her voice confirms that, diverse as the millions of adopted children are, this they have in common: the need to hear and hear again that they were not relinquished easily.”

Those words hit me like a bolt of lightning tonight. Perhaps I am ready to hear.

There appear to be two camps in adoption. One that says to tell the truth if you know it but to never say anything you don’t know as fact just to make things easier for your child. For instance, I have read and been told never tell your child that it was difficult for their birth mother to relinquish them unless you know for a fact that it was. This is because you don’t want your child believing made up truths in case they do meet their birth parents and find out differently.

The second camp seems to say that if your child asks if their birth mother loved them you answer “Well, yes she loved you very much because she took the time to make an adoption plan for you. She wanted to make sure that you were raised by a family who loved you very much.”

I have struggled with this question often but when my five year old asked my gut instictively went with the second answer, “She must have loved you very much.” At the time he needed to hear that as much as I needed to say it, even though I thought I never would. He needed to know that his birth moms love for him was not fleeting and inconsequential just like my love for him will never be. He needed to know that his core is built around the love that he has experienced, both transient and for the long haul. And that both are valuable because the short amount of time he experienced his birthmothers love helped contribute to who he is. And perhaps she is even in it for the long haul although he may never know for sure. Maybe she even prays for him every night.

When you think about it who doesn’t need to hear that they were loved and wanted? Who doesn’t need to believe that those who carry us, those who live with us and those who know us would not easily forget us? Because if they were able to just forget us it calls into question what the real purpose of our lives are and what is important. Is it just living life or is it living life in such a way that others wish to tell your story?

When we divorce we do not think that “getting over it” should come easily. We don’t want to believe that the person who loved us could just walk away and create a life with another person a day later. We want to know that our love is not easy to leave. That the love we give away is meaningful to others and that the feelings that are intertwined with it just don’t vanish overnight. We want to believe that love lasts a lifetime even though it may not be available to us throughout each moment of every day. That is one reason why heaven is so appealing. And it is why our “first love” remains so dear to us so much so that many people go in search of it many years later.

So why would my child want to hear that they were relinquished and then forgotten? Why on earth would I ever want them to think that their first mother just “got over them.” Love doesn’t work like that because in real life it is also filled with regrets and missed opportunities.The highs and the lows...the ying and the yang... that is what love truly is. Hopefully love doesn’t work like that in adoption even though I suspect many adoptive parents might wish it would. For love has meaning, truth and clarity wrapped within it. And love doesn’t just vanish in an instant. Instead love follows us, sustains us and lies with us and within us forever carrying us when nothing else will and all else fails.

So my child you can relax and you can rest assured that you are loved. It may be in different ways but your mother's have both loved you.

Lost and Found

Today all over the news one could find Olympic skier Toby Dawson being reunited with his first father. Toby was born in Korea and at age three was adopted by a caucasian couple in Colorado. After winning a bronze medal in the Olympics many Koreans claimed he was their son. Today he met his birth father who explained that he was lost in a crowded market while with his mother. His father said that he had searched orphanages but was never able to locate his son.

During tonight's broadcast Toby stated "I didn't feel like I fit in anywhere. I looked at my parents and I didn't look like them. And if I went to Korea I wouldn't fit in there. I was lost, stuck between two worlds."

And when he said that, while I understood, I mourned for my kids because I suspect that someday they will feel that way too. And why shouldn't they? I can only think on some small level that it would be like moving to Senegal. Even though you might live there for 20 years you still wouldn't be Senegalese, your neighbors would always think of you as "The American" and there are times you would be wondering about and missing what could have been had you stayed in America. Then add the fact that for twenty years you didn't look like the majority of people around you it is easy to see why you might easily feel like an outsider. Yet, in all likelihood, if you returned after 20 years to America you probably wouldn't feel totally American either.You would probably feel a sense of living in two worlds while adapting to one but never totally fitting in because your experience is just so different than the majority of people on this earth. Which is why I believe that it is so important for our children to have close friends who are also adopted. Because being transracially/transculturally adopted is really in a class by itself. You are in a sense an oddity...difficult to label...difficult to classify. And we all know how important it is for society to put nice, neat labels on everyone and everything.

So it is my belief that adoptive parents like me owe it to their children to give them opportunities to make them feel like they fit in somewhere, to give them the opportunity to freely express their conflicted feelings and to navigate between their reality and the ghosts "Of What Could Have Been." And even though we may do our best we should still be prepared for the fact that it may not be enough. Because there are times that you just cannot replace or repair, judge or compare, what has been lost with what has been gained because there is never a way of truly knowing what would have been best. Yes, it is probable that our kids will be stuck between two worlds and the only thing we will be able to do is let them know that we understand that straddling two worlds is hard, disappointing and scary but that we have faith that they can do it. It is the only thing we can really offer to them. That and our love.

The Long Road Home

Opening your heart to the possibility of love can be a difficult proposition especially if you are seven months old and have already lost everything you've known. Three times.

Our journey began five years ago when we first adopted our son. For some children, joining a new family is fairly uncomplicated. The road to trusting a new set of parents is like the joining of two highways...you just get on, navigate a few new turns and before you know it you have arrived. Sure they may have run into a road block or two but they are able to trust with all their heart that their final destination is just around the corner so they gladly continue on.

Yet, for some children the ability to trust takes many years of navigating back roads, taking unexpected detours while traveling to unknown sites and places not bargained for. The journey is often long and tedious and sometimes you wonder if they will ever arrive. Tonight, I have hope that our son has arrived. And while it may not be to his final destination, I am thankful that he at least made it into our drive.

And so my son, whether this is the real thing or just a pit stop as we journey along this highway together; I am thankful that today you decided to open your heart to our love. For once you have opened your heart I believe that there is no going back, because the destination has changed from one of survival to one of trust and understanding. Sure there may be a few ROAD CLOSED signs scattered along the way but now you can make the detours without losing your way completely. For now you will know in your heart that the on ramps to our love are abundant, are clearly marked, and are just waiting for you to take them. And when you travel on them you will experience the comfort that comes from following a familiar path home. A road that leads you to a family that loves you no matter where your journey began or where it will take you. A road that brings you home to a place offering inner peace and unconditional love. It's a home we have stood in front of shouting directions to you as you whizzed by, lost, and trying to find your way. For years we have been waiting for you to turn into our driveway and now you are finally here. Welcome. We are glad you made it home safe and sound into our loving arms.

He's Yours

All good things must come to an end. The last part of the adoption journey is finalization day. It's the day when your adoptive child legally becomes yours and also becomes an United States citizen. However, all adoptive parents already know that our children were ours all along...it just takes awhile for the judicial system to catch up with our hearts.




He’s Yours- A Finalization Story

By Cheryl L. Dieter

Copyright July 29, 2003



"I will not cry," became my mantra as we drove to the courthouse.

"You will not weep," I admonished myself over and over again as we climbed the gray granite steps to the building.

"I will not shed a single tear," I told my husband as the judge entered the court room.

Now, normally I’m not a crier but you couldn’t tell that to anyone who knew me for the last twelve months for everything about this adoption had made me cry. Absolutely everything. The day we got the call from Kathy that we had a son the tears started flowing. While pictures may say a thousand words hearing the sounds of, "I ‘ve got good news...you have a son" was worth a million bucks. I cried as if I’d won the lottery ... because I just had.

I cried when the plane took off as we headed to Korea to pick our new son up. I bawled the first time I saw his beautiful face and tears of joy mixed with laughter ran down my cheeks when I first glimpsed his "stick ‘em up" hair. I sobbed when I first held him and fed him his bottle. I cried buckets when it was time to take Karson from his foster mother and I cried at the airport knowing that I was taking this precious boy from the only family and country he had ever known. I blubbered the first time he called me "Mama", during his first steps, and when his first tooth appeared, as well as numerous times in-between. In short, the last year had been an endless river of happy tears but today I vowed I wasn’t going to cry.

Not a tear was shed when the bailiff swore me in nor did they fall as the judge examined the paperwork, making sure that everything was in order. I didn’t cry when she asked me to tell her his name, what he liked to do during the day and what kind of baby he was.

"So far, so good," I concluded. It was then, just when I thought I was in the clear, that the judge sideswiped me.

"Now tell me what it has meant to you to have Karson in your lives," the judge said quietly. "Oh-oh," I thought as I bit my bottom lip to keep the tears in check; the judge had unknowingly just crossed the line. I looked up at her and with an incredulous look on my face reflecting on the fact that there were no words I could ever use that would adequately express what in the world this boy, my hopefully soon-to-be son, meant to me. Yet, we had made it this far and as far as we were concerned we were already a forever family. I knew I couldn’t blow it now.

"The sky is bluer," I suggested quietly, thoughts swirling in my head.

"Since we have had Karson the mockingbird is more melodious, the colors of the rainbow are brighter, and a baby’s laugh is sweeter," I replied, as my voice cracked and I bit down on my lip just a little harder; tears on the horizon and threatening to take me out to sea.

"The sunshine is a little sunnier, the grass is greener, snowflakes fluffier, and the wind whispers softer," I stuttered desperately grasping for the right words that would explain just how precious our son was to us. "Our love is deeper, our hearts are stronger, each minute is more miraculous, our joy more profound..."

"You need not say anything more," came the voice from the bench with a tear glistening in the corner of her left eye. And at that moment time stopped and the silence became deafening. And then, finally, the judge looked over her bench, a soft smile gracing her lips and declared, "He’s yours."

And with that pronouncement I did the unthinkable...

I smiled...

I laughed..

I jumped up and down...

We posed for pictures...

And later that night...

I cried.

All For One And Not For The Other

I think about my one son...caucasian, blonde and tall. I think about my other son, asian, dark and small. And I wonder how will there lives be different because we refuse to acknowledge how racism impacts every part of society. My Korean born son is as much my son as my other but when he steps out on the street he will be viewed differently, perhaps even suspiciously. The "face" that he wears will be that of the white person he has been raised as but the face that will be seen will be that of his ancestors. Worse, being raised as a Caucasian ( because after all that is what I am and I know no differently) he will be thinking white, acting white, dreaming white while the world will be thinking asian, seeing him "act" asian, and "allowing" his dreams to be not necessarily of his choosing but what is deamed allowable for someone of his "color." Society sees one thing, I see another. Society will tell him one thing, and I will tell him another. But in the end it is what he will tell himself that will matter. And all I can hope is that I have taught him that his worth is not determined by others but, rather, by what he decides is important and valuable. And may he always know that value is not determined by what others deem worthy but instead it is measured by how many times one keeps putting one foot in front of the other despite knowing the odds. It is a shame that he will have to wear out twice as many shoes for his walk through live than will his brother. But I am determined to make sure that his shoes provide a lot of support and cushion him when the load seems unbearable. It is the least I can do.