I have to be honest and admit that I'm a very curious gal. Maybe that's the nicer way of calling myself nosy. Listening to someone's story, hearing about the things that stir their hearts, checking out how they decorate their homes- hey, keepin' it real here- inspires me. It addresses that void inside me that longs for connection, the void God placed in each of us.
So in the spirit of connection and community, I will also tell you that I don't generally mind one bit when a person approaches me and
gently asks me about my daughter. My internationally-adopted daughter. The girl whose skin isn't the same shade as mine, the one who looks different from her father, me, and her other fair-skinned siblings.
Sometimes, people are interested in hearing the details of the actual adoption process, and I choose my words carefully because I don't want our difficult journey to dampen someone else's potential journey before it has even the chance to sink into their hearts. We would retrace those very painful steps a million times over if that's what God called us to do because we were
that certain of his plan for our family. The process of adopting a child is rarely easy, but we move mountains for those we love.
Other times, I think people are surprised to see that adopted children can be as vibrant and well-adjusted as any other child on the playground or in preschool class. The cry of the special needs orphan weighs heavily on my heart, and I pray that families would rise up for these children; but there are also millions of children who don't have mental and physical disabilities and are in need of families, too. Of course, there are always risks. If you're the sort who prefers to map out your life in order to avoid all risk, well, then, um...good luck with that.
More often than not, I'm caught unprepared in the check-out lane or at the library or even in the middle of the street when a delightful bombardment of these types of questions comes fast and furious:
"Is she yours? I mean, really yours?"
"Where did she come from?"
"When did you get her?"
"Couldn't you get an American baby?"
"Why not take care of our own first?"
"Why did her real mother not want her?"
Sorry, Bill, if you're reading this for the first time and absolutely fuming about now- I don't generally allow these questions to occupy much of my mind or time, so naturally, I forget about them over the course of the day. They're still there, obviously, but hopefully only filling a teeny tiny portion of my mental database.
How would you answer those questions?
I used to be nice. And gracious.
And then I grew up, because my daughter is growing up. She is so aware of people, of how they react and respond to her, of how they appraise her, and let me assure you: her feelings and well-being will
always take priority over some random stranger's in the store. Suddenly my voice got less timid and my words more direct, and now people are told without delay or excuse that my daughter is none of their concern. I hesitate to share that I once asked the clerk if she'd had c-sections or delivered vaginally and had needed stitches in response to her ruthless query about my little girl, but isn't that really the same kind of thing?
It's private. I don't know you and you don't know me, and therefore neither of us should feel the right to demand such personal information. Connectedness and community aren't going to be unhinged when we refrain from simply wondering
out loud. As a whole, we're a very curious and open nation, but that doesn't mean we get to ask people whatever we want, whenever we want to.
Her eyes got wide, her cheeks rosy, and she huffed but wouldn't speak after that, just in case you were wondering.
I'll add here that I do not enjoy being rude or confrontational. And it's worth repeating that I'm more than happy to share some of the details of our adoption journey, but only if you ask nicely and in a respectful manner. Then again, if my daughter is nearby, I'll probably redirect the conversation.
I can usually tell right away if someone is genuinely interested in adoption or if they're being just plain nosy. If you really want to hear more, I'll give you my email address, and if you write me, I'll gladly respond with as much encouragement and helpful information as I can. And then I'll pray like crazy that you consider moving forward on your own amazing adoption journey.
Please know that it hasn't been my intention to shame anyone, but I do hope that if you've ever asked any of those kinds of questions from that list above, you might reconsider and understand the harm this does. If not, then don't be surprised when you get told to buzz off and mind your own business.
You've been warned.
Thanks for reading. Have a great day!
