Meet Me in St. Louis: A Family Reunion of a Different Sort

Summer 2012 has been a time for us as a family to enjoy some great American past-times including cook-outs, swimming pool, beach vacation and family reunions.

We recently attended the Children's Hope International Family Reunion in St. Louis to celebrate 20 years of helping adoptive parents and children meet. Families from around the country who have been touched by this wonderful organization traveled to the Gateway City for a weekend of fun and fellowship.

Dwight Gantt, who founded CHI, spoke about God's plan and reflected on His hand's influence on his life. Specifically, Gantt talked about how the hundreds of families who have adopted through CHI have been positively impacted by the events that eventually led to the organization's founding. From humble beginnings assisting one family adopt from China, CHI has helped thousands of families adopt from China, Russia, Colombia, Ethiopia and others.

Daniel had a great experience traveling with us. After a few road trips, he has begun to enjoy the adventure a little more.

We visited the St. Louis Zoo for the first time. It is a wonderful zoo that is offered to the public for free. Thanks to donations from generous individuals and companies, patrons can see a lot of different animals. The highlight of our visit was watching a couple of baby elephants swim for apples and a rhinoceros grunt and huff around to beat the 105 degree heat.

We also enjoyed some live music underneath the St. Louis Arch while the sun set. Daniel loves music and had a blast watching the people and saying, "Yee Haw," at the end of songs.

We met a few families during our trip; including a couple who had adopted two sisters from Colombia. It was really special to meet them and make some more connections with families with Colombian-born children.

By the end of the trip, we realized how much fun we had during the past couple of days. More importantly, we realized we were part of a much larger adoptive family through Children's Hope International. We can't wait to go back next year.

Mano, Sleep and Things that Go Squeak

With an ever-so-slight withdrawal of my hand, I had accomplished something I hadn't done in literally  months.

Daniel was asleep in his crib and I had been the primary parent involved. Every single night for as long as I can remember, the bedtime routine involved Claudia putting Daniel to bed. For whatever reason, I wasn't quite the same in Daniel's mind.

On this particular evening, however, Claudia was out with some friends and the evening routine was left in my hands.

It began with Daniel drinking a bottle while snuggled on the couch with me and watching a T.V. show. As time went on, it became obvious Daniel was becoming drowsy and ready for bed.

"Ready to go to sleep, buddy," I asked.

"Yes," he said and nodded for extra emphasis.

I pulled him up in my arms. We said, "Night-Night," to our dogs, the living room, kitchen and stairs. I laid him in the crib and he rolled up in the blanket. I thought it was going to be that easy for a brief moment.

As he noticed I was leaving, he whipped around, threw off the blanket, bolted up on his feet and cried for me to come back; which I of course did. As soon as I was hanging over his crib, he was laying down again and reaching for my hand.

"Mano," he asked. I reached out and let his miniature fingers curl around my hand and watched him doze to sleep again. After a few attempts, he finally let me withdraw my hand completely. He was sound asleep.

That's when I turned around and realized why God made our bodies make popping noises, creaky floors and things that go squeak. It's to give him a little laugh every night when parents try their best to slink out of their children's rooms soundlessly.

While my back was turned and I was leaning over Daniel's crib, his room had transformed into a virtual mine field of potential sound-making booby-traps. I can only imagine, God smiles down every now and then at our plight as parents.

I gingerly took my first step and heard my knee pop. I prayed the floor wouldn't make a noise, but of course it did.

CREEEEAAAKK.

I slowly put increasing pressure on the carpet; my mouth contorted as I silently prayed for God's intervention. "Help me be silent, Lord, and please, please don't let Claudia come home right now" I prayed. If she did arrive at this time, the dogs would certainly create enough racket that Daniel would wake.

Daniel rolled over. I twisted my neck to look back at the crib while minimizing my body's movement.  The coast was still clear. Daniel remained laying down. Now time to make sure I didn't bump a toy that makes noise.

Finally I reached the door, which of course, during the day opens and shuts silently. But at night, the noise the door makes as the bottom rubs across the carpet is like a child's nails scratching a chalkboard.

I continued my prayer even though the goal was so tantalizingly close. I took nothing for granted. Then with the swiftness of a ninja, I opened the door enough to slide out and shut the door behind me.

Mission accomplished. Good night.

Raising a Colombian in the USA

Daniel looked down at his plate, grabbed a fistful of arepa and stuffed it into his mouth; but getting him to consume other aspects of his Colombian culture are more challenging.

Gotcha Day is ten months behind us and a lot has changed. First and foremost, Daniel is a full blown toddler. He runs. He plays. He talks. His personality shines more brightly each day and the pace of his learning has increased ten fold.

As adoptive parents, it's important to us for Daniel to remain connected to his birth country Colombia. We didn't change his name. We speak Spanish at the house. We attended Novenas during Christmas. We cook arepas and arroz con pollo. We listen to Colombian music and translate English books into Spanish while reading to him before bed time.

We're not abnormal. Many parents of Internationally adopted children do the same type of things. Why? It's because a child's native country is a part of him or her and should be celebrated and encouraged rather than to pretend otherwise. When we've explained our desire for Daniel to speak Spanish, for example, we've had more than one person make comments as though we're in denial of the enevitble and I feel as though I have to defend or explain our rationale. Sometimes it's unspoken and other times it's said out right, "well, he needs to speak English too."

The opposite is true. We want him to be bilingual, but Daniel is exposed to English so much that he is already displaying a preference toward it and could lose Spanish completely if we weren't on constant vigil. Here's a great example of a frequent exchange he and I have.

"Up," he exclaims to me with his arms outstretched.

"No entiendo," I reply.

"Arriba," he says, and I pick him up.

So despite the fact Claudia is from Colombia, we have begun to realize how difficult it will be for us to raise a Colombian in the United States. We admit, on the other hand, that we are blessed to be able to speak with him in his native language at all since many parents of adopted children don't have that resource.

I'm not admitting defeat, only acknowledging the challenge. Our culture has some great aspects, but so does Colombia and we want Daniel to have the best of both worlds.