Year In Review

For anyone fascinated by adoption, curious about what it looks like, or just a part of our family's life - this is my perspective on Maria and Matias' first year home. We celebrated their first adoption day this past Saturday, October 5th. It wasn't the day they became Roneys in Colombia, but the day they flew home and slept in their own beds here in America. All of our children have very different adoption journeys and stories, but for most of them, their arrival home became their adoption day. 

Some families speak of a honeymoon period where they were enraptured by one another. They spent time cocooning within their immediate family unit, and their time together was sweet. Though I treasure our initial time together - Colombia was beautiful and a delight to explore - getting to know our new children proved difficult. Maria's care was a challenge because of her special needs, and helping Matias stay regulated felt impossible. Several times a day, we would endure tantrums that lasted well over an hour with him kicking and screaming at the top of his lungs from behind his bedroom door. Over a dozen times a day we were changing Maria's diapers. I was hospitalized after failing to properly use an old Colombian pressure cooker, the police were called because neighbors in our apartment building were afraid we were trafficking children, and the country-wide immigration system was hacked, leaving us stranded in a small mountain town for two extra weeks while the system was restored.

It wasn't easy. But it was good. Contrary to popular opinion, resistance and setbacks do not mean you're doing anything wrong. Perhaps it means you're attempting something great and valuable, but outside of your comfort zone? This is adoption: mountaintop sunshine highs and pitch-dark valley lows.

Scott flew home ten days earlier than I did, with three of our older children who needed to get back to school. After the rest of us were finally approved to travel, we arrived back at O'Hare airport to dozens of balloons being held by the four family members we had so desperately missed. Yet, the trip itself was difficult. Maria insisted on pulling her own small suitcase and wound up falling and splitting her lip wide open. In the time it took to clean her up and get through immigration, we missed our connecting flight and struggled to find another. 

This is precisely how our year went. One high, two lows. One valley pit, but then three mountain tops. Messy underwear and an hour-long tantrum before Matias would shower, led later to a cozy snuggle on the couch at the end of the day. "Te amo mucho Mommy," he'd whisper from under my arm. Maria's shrieks of passion and inability to communicate her needs, led later to applause when she clearly articulated "Daddy, go away" as he played with her in the kitchen. 

We have stumbled through this year with so many questions, and so few answers. But for every one of our struggles with Matias, I have been overwhelmed by his awe of the ordinary, his easy ability to love, and his grateful heart. For every frustration with Maria, we have laughed together as a family over her feisty spirit, her stubbornness, and her joy that comes from things most people take for granted - umbrellas, fans, or family pictures.

It has not been easy for a single day, and our family will never be the same. But when I see our thirteen-year-old imitate Matias’ unique way of saying something, and the table erupts in laughter, I know that we'll ultimately be the better for it. We have learned to be a team because we had no other option, and we have learned to love even when it doesn’t come naturally. 

Thank you Jesus, that your way isn't our way, and your thoughts aren't our thoughts - they're better. 

"For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways." declares the Lord. "As the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways and my thoughts than your thoughts." Isaiah 55:8-9