I wrote about visiting Fundación El Vínculo de Amor (Spanish for “The Love Link Foundation”) while I was on my trip to El Salvador back in February, and I’ve noticed people keep finding me while looking for their information.  So I contacted Sam and Julie Hawkins to get more details on what they’re up to and how to support them in order to be able to post it here.

Mission: 

The mission of Vínculo de Amor is to provide temporary care to children in El Salvador under the age of two who are suffering from malnutrition.  At their facility in the capital city of San Salvador, they feed them, love them, address any medical issues they may also have (in cooperation with local hospitals as well as on-site doctors).  Simultaneously, they provide the childrens’ parents with resources and training in order to promote the children’s future growth and development. 

 The babies they help stay with them for several months, are reunified with their families, then return for follow-up visits with their parents after they return home.  Vínculo de Amor also occasionally takes in abandoned babies from local hospitals and babies and toddlers from state-run orphanages or the national child welfare agency who are severely under-weight and then nurtures them to health as well.

Story:

Sam and Julie Hawkins, American missionaries who went to El Salvador to serve during their retirement years, set up Vínculo de Amor in 1987 after caring for one severely malnourished baby who died despite their best attempts at help.  They began the ministry in their own home in San Salvador - doing all the late-night feedings and constant care themselves.  Over the past 23 years, though, the organization has grown, become formalized, and now is housed in its own facility with round-the-clock staff. 

Severe malnutrition is one of the leading – if not THE leading cause of death of children under age 3 in El Salvador.  But given El Salvador’s (very recent) history of unrest and sometimes outright genocide by government-backed entities, the country’s people are reticent to turn to government-run care organizations for assistance.  When I was there, Julie told me that it usually takes a lot to persuade people – especially those in the rural areas of the country – that the privately-sponsored Vínculo de Amor is there to help, truly free of charge, and that the children will be returned to their families once they are healthy.  Most often they help one child, and then after that child returns to his or her village having been restored to health, other families bring tiny fragile infants and toddlers out for assistance.

In the last three years, the successes of their baby-care program led them to initiate a program they call Proyecto Canasta de Amor (Project Love Basket), an annual 6-month tour of El Salvador during which they provide assistance and food for the poorest families throughout the country.

Their recent newsletter included pictures of an 8 year old boy named Omar they were able to help through Canasta: 

As Mamacita to two 6-year-olds I can easily imagine what seeing this transformation has meant for Omar’s family.  To go from thinking your son is probably going to die to looking again at a healthy, vibrant young boy must seem like nothing short of a miracle.

And as a 32 year old looking at this “retired” couple from Texas, I can only hope I am so meaningfully engaged in this world when I am where they are.  I have it on good authority (official Salvadoran documents) that they’re in their 70’s.  THAT’S the kind of “senior” I want to be.

And so I feature Vínculo de Amor again. 

To Donate:

“And what if you need to go to the bathroom?”

“Well then I’ll go and come right back.”

“And what if one of us gets hurt while you’re not there?  Maybe we could call 911?”  (no, my kids don’t have cell phones of their own) 

… And so on, all the way there.  Even though it’s the same school, the same building as last year, many of the same families, and we’ve done this routine before.  The first year, if I ever dared slip out the the restroom without interrupting the class to let the boys know where I was going and how long I expected to be, I would return to two sobbing and hyperventilating little men.  So much for my attempt at not disrupting the teacher’s flow!

Last year went a little better.  I committed to the boys that I would quietly tap their shoulders if I was leaving the room and then tap them again when I got back.  Somehow that contented them.  All but once, when I got stopped by another mom in the hall and took longer than the customary allotted time for a potty break.  That time, it was back to the aforementioned breakdown.

But this year is the 3rd year, and I wanted to see if they could handle being “like the other kids” whose moms come and go as need be.   So I told them we would try that for that day.  We rehearsed that they know I’m going to be there most of the class time, and if I go out for a moment, I’ll be coming back soon.  And I never leave them anywhere alone.

I have one child who’s ready and one not, it turns out.  One jumped right into participating in class, making friends with the other kids, and only occasionally glancing back to smile at me.

The other kept checking over his shoulder.  And when he wasn’t looking at me, I strongly suspect he was worrying about me leaving most of the time.  Because he wasn’t retaining much of anything.  He was giving incorrect answers for questions I know he can handle.  And then he’d look again.  About every 30 seconds.

He knows I love him, that I have never left him, that I never will.  In his mind he knows that.

But then there’s that other place in his mind, the place that remembers – even though he does not – that he has been left.  That the person he most counted on disappeared.  Twice, that we know of.  And that part of him just knows that if he doesn’t keep a sharp eye on me, I might vanish.  Or maybe forget that I have kids and leave without them?  Or maybe not care?  Or something.  He can’t tell me exactly what it is that he’s afraid will happen.  Simply that I’ll leave.  And be gone.

And so it’ll be back to taps on the shoulder and possibly a seat-relocation to where he can see me without turning all the way around.  For now anyway.

Will I encourage him to stretch himself to trust me in spite of his anxiety?  Yes.  That’s a life-skill I want him to have – acting in courage in the face of fear.  But I don’t need to fabricate occasions for that.  Life does that all by itself. 

In the meantime, it’s consistency, reassurance and more time.  Back to more than just everyone’s typical routines for us this Fall!

So she doesn’t know we’re coming.  And the boys REALLY want to see her while we’re there.  But I don’t know where she is.

Then, at around 2:00, I got word that the airline we booked to get there is no longer flying.

So I’ve spent the evening looking for good rates with other airlines, rather than getting anything else accomplished.

For a trip that looks like – while it’ll be great site-seeing – will not include the #1 most important thing to the twins: seeing Xiomara again.

Really?

“I think it’s so great that you adopted them.”  ["THEM," meanwhile, are standing right next to me.]

And as I’m thinking “Oh, no!  Shh!” she continues about how great it is that Fred and I have brought the boys here and are “giving them such a great chance in life that they didn’t have before.  And that you really love them like your own.”

And while my brain was firing red flags every which way, my mouth just wouldn’t work.

However, I plan to be ready with a reply next time because…

A)  They aren’t LIKE our own… they ARE our own.

B)  Anyone who knows our kids knows they’re usually like this freakish conglomerate of well-behavedness… They are some of the easiest kids to parent I’ve ever heard of.  Plus they’re smart, funny, sweet with little kids and babies, affectionate, and full of joy and excitement  … so no, there’s nothing amazing about what Fred and I are doing at all!  Or have done.  We wanted to adopt kids.  And we did.  So we’re just living from that point forward.  And quite blessed in that life, I might add!

C)  We  don’t really know what their life would have been like, had they been able to remain with their first mom.  Yes, it might’ve been really hard.  On the other hand, God sure seems to love them and watch out for their protection (and I don’t mean “by having us adopt them,” I mean in every-day life things).  So maybe they’d be doing just fine there.  We don’t know.  So let’s not speculate.  And certainly not while they’re right there because…

D)  We don’t want them to feel like we’re heroes who swooped in and rescued them.  Or to think that we want them to think that.  We followed what we believed was God’s call on our hearts to adopt.  Now that we’ve taken on the responsibility of parenting them, shouldn’t we be doing our best, just like every other parent should be?  Adoptive parent and bio-parent alike?

I fear that behind the “compliments” lies an undercurrent of belief that somehow what Fred and I and other adoptive parents have is second-best.  A “Plan B” that falls after trying to have biological children.  A rebound after disappointment.  [I hope - perhaps naively? - that it's not because they're Latino.]  I’m sure people assume that we adopted the twins because of infertility.  We didn’t.  We meant to adopt.  Adoption is in both our families.

We’re just also ridiculously fortunate that our kids came to trust us and love us back so quickly, considering how many reasons they had to be guarded.

… What I would’ve said.  

Next time.  Just wait.

(Yeah, they just walked back inside and sat down.  Guess that’s a little anti-climactic, huh?)

 We’ll begin from the entrance point.

A couple of years ago, my mother-in-law gave us this gigantic stuffed ladybug embroidered with those little valentine hearts with messages on them all over her body.  We still love the M-i-L, but seriously, how tacky is this thing?

And how PERFECT for a creepy greeting to the newly-returned couple.  It says “oh, yes, we most certainly did do unspeakable things to your place while you were away.  Welcome home!”

And welcomed they were.  Here are their happy faces upon airport pickup (which fell to me, since guess who’s home during the day and available for such things… ah, the irony).

That’s not to imply they’re naive.  No.  They know.  And here’s the first glimpse of their interior:

It’s great that they’re so up-beat about it all.  ‘Cause here’s what we did…

1.  It’s not your grandmother’s crotchet project.

In every – and we do mean EVERY – room of the house.  It’s remarkable how little yarn costs at the Dollar Store.

2. Got Mice?

(I sincerely hope this is one of the [half dozen or so] gummy rodents they have already located.  Otherwise, I’ve just helped them out.  And we wouldn’t want that…)

3.  Wall of Horror

This one is going to make no sense to anyone who doesn’t know Amy’s #1 verbal cringe-trigger:  any word that contains “ipple” in it.  I was told this was the FIRST prank to be taken down.  That’s how powerful it was.   Cost me $5 at the Family Dollar.  Success!

4.  Good luck with that “Quiet Night In!”

Our friend Ethan and the twins very meticulously moved every one of their DVD’s to another case.

5.  Oh the things you can do with clothing.

          a)  Turn them all inside-out and re-hang/fold them and put them away (pictured below, our friend Leila, industriously flipping)

          b)  Slip mothballs into all the pockets, so Chris has to go to work smelling like an old, old man  (actually, this one back-fired a bit… turns out the smell of mothballs makes him nauseous… oopsies!)

          c)  ”How Do I Look?” – prank version.  Gonna NOT post those pix for all blogsterity to see.  But we took pictures of ourselves in their clothes doing our best impressions of their mannerisms, all around their house.  Nothing says “we were here” like an album full of your best friends and relatives all gussied up in your wardrobe.

6. Clinkity-clink-clink clink.

2,000 tiny beads + medicine cabinets, shelves, and other assorted surfaces.

In case you’re wondering, yes, we’re still friends siblings. 

And I’ve become really sensitive to something that keeps coming up.  I ran across it again tonight.  An off-handed, hopeful comment by an adoptive-parent in-process about how great it is that her agency has connections with an orphanage with “plenty of young children available for adoption.”

To her, that’s great news!  Lots of babies and toddlers, so she and her family can get one! 

But then look how that sounds from the child’s point of view: “Hurray!  Something has gone horribly wrong in your life (and the lives of a number of your peers), and your birth parents can’t parent you - just what I’ve been hoping for!”

Of course that’s not what my fellow-blogger means at all!  She doesn’t wish harm on tiny people from foreign countries.  Not really.

But sometimes we forget, in all our hopefulness as adoptive parents, that our great joy in getting to parent our kids comes at the expense of a whole other family-of-origin.  First-parents lost a child.  A child – our child – lost first-parents.

Not that that family of origin was “doing just fine till we came along.”  Definitely not.  And certainly children should not be left in abusive or severely neglectful situations.  But many times, it’s not abuse or neglect that leaves orphans available for adoption.  It’s poverty. 

So what we sound like we’re saying when we rejoice that a particular geographic region is flush with adoptable young ones is that we’re happy that someone else is desperate.  So desperate that children have to be moved to new families, new countries, new cultures. 

And one of those someones is our future child.  How’s that for a start-out attitude in a life-long relationship that at least at times will involve that child going through deep grief at all he or she has lost?  Whoops.

And how likely is it that we’re going to do something to combat that poverty when we’re benefiting from its existence?

On the one hand, it’s semantics.  Intent is more important right?  But on the other hand, do we as Americans maybe have a latent belief that everyone is entitled to get to parent?  And to parent from infancy or toddlerhood at that?  And if what we’re looking for isn’t available in enough supply here in the U.S., we’ll cross the globe if need be to find it in some other place that conveniently doesn’t have the handle on welfare services that we do here.

It’s great that as a country we have made the move from the adoption-secrecy of the 50’s and 60’s – where parents frequently believed it was best (and certainly most comfortable) to “pass” their adopted children as biological.  To refrain from telling their children their adoption stories.  Yes, we’ve made healthy progress, in my opinion.

But now that adoption is so acceptable, it seems like it has almost become a given-alternative to biological parenting.  “Can’t” have kids?  Just adopt!  “Want a bigger family?”  There are some great, cute babies available in ______ [fill in the "third world" country].  And worse, we sometimes feel like the “sacrifice” of adopting somehow entitles us to the right to “custom-select” our child.

Which usually, statistically speaking, ends up being a girl between 0 - 2 years of age.

Now that I’m reading adoption stories from adults on the other side of the adoption experience from me – many of them adults older than I – it’s hard to ignore how we sound at this end.  We want kids, we’re excited when we’re matched with kids that meet our desires for our families.  Maybe we forget that it’s not exciting for those kids.  Not now, anyway.  Not while they’re in the process of needing to be adopted.  And not completely even years from now.  They will always have gone through great loss in order to get here, no matter how much they and we come to love each other.  We’re going to need to remember that as their parents.

And maybe think about how we sound.  Adoption is not a supply-and-demand proposition.  It’s a redeeming solution to a heartbreaking situation.

We should want less of those available.  Not more.

In the midst of renovations, adoption updates and home-schooling, we decided this year is actually the best time to take the boys back to Guatemala for their first birth-country return trip.  They’re old enough that they’ll remember it, we’re hoping our next adoption will complete in the next year (meaning we’ll need to be at home with a strict routine again for a while, while we and the newbies adjust to one another), and we don’t want to let too much time lapse before we re-connect with the people we (sort of) know there.

So that’s the boys’ “big” birthday item from us up there in the picture: personalized carryon luggage ($20 at Walmart, plus $1.50 for the letters I hot-glued on).

We found great round-trip flight rates with Air Mexicana ($332.70 apiece, total!), and we’re planning to stay at the hotel in which we first met them three and a half years ago.

Squaring away our site-seeing itinerary now.  Can’t wait to see them seeing Guatemala again.  They’re definitely excited to be going back!

Birthday Dinner at Pachanga Cocina Mexicana

We redeemed their free birthday meals at Pachanga the Sunday before their birthday.  Sorry for the grainy pictures; I only had my cell phone camera.

Yes, the icecream dessert is about the size of José’s head:

Diving in:

Fortunately, only Bear likes maraschino cherries, so there’s no debate who gets it:

See those two blurs?  Those are their maracas.  No, it was not a quiet dinner. 

Una Fiesta

Later that day, the Hispanic ministry of which we are part threw a joint birthday pool party for the twins and for their friend Nicole whose birthday just happens to be the day after theirs.  Piñata and all!

Everyone got in on the action, from the littlest to the adults…

… well, except for this one.  But she gets a pass; she’s only one month old.

Birthday Mamas – Ana (right) and me – and our friend Reyna.  I would like to point out that despite my appearance  (and actual heritage), I am NOT the one “shakin’ my shamrock.” 

Birthday at the Fair

For their actual birthday on the 19th, the boys wanted to have their Tío Steven over for a sleepover and then go someplace fun, so we hit a local county fair with some friends, bought the all-you-can-ride wristbands, and stayed till 10 p.m.! 

And then the Actual, Official Birthday Party We Planned

… was another pool party.  And I have a thing about putting kids online in swimwear, so I won’t.  But I do have one shot I’m happy to show you:  the other mamarazzi – my mother-in-law.  We love her.

Oh, and the enormous pile of gifts (that’s me trying desperately to write down who gave what for thank-you note purposes).

So, yeah, that’s where I’ve been for the last week and a half.  The boys are officially 6 years old!  And it OUGHTA be official… what with all this celebrating…

Feliz Cumpleaños, Mis Hijos.

And now there’s one more reason to love this place - FREE BIRTHDAY MEALS FOR KIDS!  

I signed up on Pachanga’s email list back in the spring, and the week before their birthday I got an email redeemable for free meals for both of them.

Then during our dinner, the boys were given a sombrero and maracas (to borrow, not keep) and a complimentary fried icecream complete with candle on top!

It’s a little thing, but one more reason we’ll keep coming back!

For those of you who live locally, Pachanga’s address is:

Their hours are: