That is what the IDEAL response is all about.  Take a few minutes to watch this short video that explains the IDEAL response, and then try it with your kids (whether they are adopted or not). When I am consistent to respond to my kids in this way – both in terms of correcting bad behavior as well as praising them for what they do well – it makes a huge difference.  In the end not only is the behavior changed, but we are both more content and our connection to one another is strengthened.

Co-authored by Matt Donovan & Jason Kovacs

What do you do when your wife asks, “would you ever want to adopt?” There’s no playbook answer. It’s not like “how do I look?” or “which paint color do you like?” In some ways, it’s not even the same as “do you want kids?” A lot of us know the answer to that before we even get married. For a lot of very real reasons, adoption doesn’t look attractive to men right off the bat. Never the less – your wife wants to and you feel like you should take her seriously. You’re not alone. A lot of guys find themselves in the passenger seat on the road to adoption, feeling anxious, guilty, and totally out of control.

HOW DO YOU TAKE THE REIGNS?

Have you considered praying first? Prayer is often overlooked in the frenzy to “do” something (anything!). The fact is, God has a plan for your life. Strive to be gripped by it before you make a life-altering decision. One simple thing to do would be to lookup the words orphan & fatherless in the Bible. Read those verses and their surrounding passages and ask God to give you a heart like his.

Perform a serious gut check. Maybe God is leading in another direction or saying wait. Maybe you’re worried about what others will think. Maybe you’ve got a white-knuckle grip on your ideal of a what a family is. Maybe you don’t think you could love a son or daughter that isn’t your flesh and blood. Maybe your just ticked that your wife is driving this train. Try to separate serious concerns from cowardice. God knows our hearts better than we do and He is good at helping us change and grow.

Talk to someone who’s done this before. You’re not the first man to find himself in this spot. Other people have gone before you here and they can help you understand just what kind of impact it may have on your life, including the joys and challenges. If you find someone honest, they’ve probably worked through a lot of the same junk you find yourself faced with. Find another adoptive or foster dad, buy him a beer and pummel him with questions – hard ones – the ones it seems like you shouldn’t ask another dude.

Take it a step at a time. Pray, reflect, converse, and make a move. It may just simply be a decision to start investigating the process a little more seriously. Going to an informational meeting is not a commitment to be a parent. It’s a good first step and God has promised to direct your steps (Proverbs 16:9). Your wife will probably appreciate your leadership and you can move ahead with confidence – whatever direction that may be.

I came across these finger print portraits at dna11.com today. I’ve often heard people reference the fact that, no matter the color of the tops of our hands, our palms are all the same. I’ve seen cool family photos of everyone’s palms – a portrait of their sameness.

DNA 11 looks at these portraits as a monument to individuality. From their website:

No two people have the same thumbprint, so why have the same piece of art? A DNA 11 Fingerprint Art Portrait is a stunning testament to your individuality. Available in an almost limitless range of styles, colors, sizes and frames, your unique Fingerprint Portrait makes a bold, art statement at home, or in your office.

As an adoptive dad, I actually look at these as an opportunity to celebrate our differences and our similarities. We all have finger prints – we are similar in that we’re made in the image of God as humans – we’re different because, regardless of our skin color, we are all completely unique creations. I think that’s a cool statement.

Starting at $190, they’re not cheap. Purchasing five in my case (or even one) of these may not be practical, but I can imagine other ways of producing this same concept. Taking a photo of all your thumb prints side by side and blowing it up would be one method.

The bakery manager was an older guy – probably in his seventies. He came around the counter and had me write out the inscription on a form. As he started to read it back to me he paused and nodded.

“Happy Adoption Day, Gracie,” he read. “Is there anything else you’d like on the cake? Flowers?”

“Maybe some fall leaves,” I said.

He handed the form over the counter to the cake decorator. “Ours came home 50 years ago,” he said. “Such a blessing.”

“You adopted?” I asked.

He nodded just as he had when he read the form.

“Was it local?”

“Back then, it all worked through the church. They paired y’up with a girl who was pregnant – who was gonna give a baby up.” He paused again. “You got what you got. If it was twins, you got twins. If it was blind, then it was blind. However it was made, that’s what y’got. If it was hard, you worked through it – ‘course you had the church to help.” He looked at the cakes on display. “Such a blessing.”

Sufficient to say, this was not the encounter I anticipated – not in my widest dreams. Such a blessing indeed.

I think Gracie’s cake was a little sweeter for having had that encounter. It was to me at least.

If you’re in any way associated with international adoption, some of the worst news you can hear involves the word “corruption.” Ugh. Knowing that there is enough bad information out there about international adoption, I hate to hear new news of scandals and corruption. A couple weeks ago, news broke that 16 people were on trial in Vietnam — where my wife and I adopted our daughter — because of unethical practices (some awful stuff) in more than 200 adoptions. Even though our agency wasn’t involved, and even though no one from our daughter’s province was involved, our hearts sank. We don’t want the unfortunate reality of corruption to cloud the miracle of adoption in the eyes of our friends and family, our daughter, or society at large.(Besides, our process was almost cut short when Vietnam closed to US adoptions because of, you guessed it, suspicion of wrongdoing in some Vietnamese provinces.)

Of course, we’d much rather these unethical practices come to light than stay hidden. We’d much rather the corruption at home and abroad be exposed so that the worldwide adoptive community can learn from it, seek to correct the wrongs, and move forward in a healthy and ethical way. It’ll continue to bother me when stories like these break, but maybe that’s a good thing. Maybe that feeling will remind me to do whatever I can to promote lawful and ethical adoptions so that no one’s family journey is marred by wrongdoing. Hopefully, those reminders (and the stories that inspire them) eventually grow fewer and farther between.

A few weeks ago I shared about my wife’s encounter with our first foster child’s mother. That chance meeting changed the way we felt about birthparents and birthmothers in particular. When it was finally our turn to adopt and to meet our daughter’s birthmother, my “fresh perspective” was put to the test. For the purposes of context, I’ll simply mention that we did not meet Gracie’s birthmom until about a year after her adoption.

The adoption agency facilitated the meeting, but in the hours leading up to it I was nervous. I respected her, hurt for her and, above all, I was deeply thankful for her. I was anxious over the idea that she might resent Kristin and I. I was also anxious over minutia, like how I should greet her. Do I shake her hand? Hug her? Maybe I should just smile and sit down.

She arrived at the agency before us and was waiting when we entered the room. She smiled, walked up to me and gave me a warm hug. Kristin received the same. We sat down on some sofas, exchanged some small talk and then she began to share with us how she came to make the most painful and, in my opinion, courageous decision she would ever make. Kristin and I shared with her how we had come to adopt the baby girl she gave birth to. The conversation was dense. Somehow, she seemed so familiar, as if we’d known each other for some time. Not what I expected. Before we said goodbye, she gave us her phone number and email address. I gave her our phone numbers, email addresses and – in true geek fashion – our blog addresses and twitter usernames.

When our oldest daughter was born, she was the perfect mix of both Kristin and I, and my vision for our family looked one way. When we had our first miscarriage… and then our second – and I longed to meet those babies, the picture changed. When our first foster placement arrived and we had visions of adoption it changed again. When our last foster placement left and I wept uncontrollably it changed again. When we met Gracie it changed yet again. When she and Jaimes ate breakfast together for the first time, when we met Gracie’s birthmom, when Davy was born… I could go on.

The bigger and messier my idea of family becomes, the more I am reminded that God’s plans for me are bigger than me. The picture of family I used to hold up now seems so near-sighted and boring. I have no idea what my family will look like in five years and I find that incredibly exciting.

Recently, actress Katherine Heigl (Grey’s Anatomy) and her husband welcomed home their daughter, Naleigh, whom they adopted from South Korea. It’s great that Heigl adopted, and it’s great that the couple adopted a special needs child. But the most interesting part of the story for me is that Heigl’s sister was also adopted from South Korea. In other words, Heigl grew up as part of an adoptive family and felt compelled to extend that legacy as an adult. Along these same lines, I recently reconnected with a guy I hadn’t talked to in a few years and found out that he was an adoptee and that he and his wife adopted their son a few years ago. Wow.

It’s hard to articulate why, but this idea of an adoptive legacy really resonates with me. For those of us who are adoptive or foster parents, I hope our kids want to continue the legacy as adults. Not to put any pressure on them, of course, but kids from adoptive families who grow up and start new adoptive families might be good indicators that their parents did something right. Since my daughter is only a year old, check back with me in 25 years and we’ll see how I did …

“Hey kiddo, you sure are special.”  I suspect many kids hear this often from their parents.  I know my kids do. 

In fact, since my kids were little I have told them three things almost every day of their lives: “I love you, you’re special and I love being your daddy.”  As they’ve gotten older we even converted this into our very own sign – three fingers sticking up, each representing an element of my reminder to them.  As they are getting out of the car for school in the morning I typically flash three fingers at them.  In response, Grant, my seven year old, is always good for a “I know dad – you love me, I’m special and you love being my . . .” as the car door slams to.

So the other night we got to talking right before bed and Grant asked me, “Daddy, why am I special?” 

“Good question,” I replied, as I bought myself some time to compose an answer.  “Why do you think you are special?” I asked. 

“Because I was adopted?” Grant replied, as if asking me to confirm that he got the answer right.

In Grant’s response I was reminded of something that we as adoptive parents must be sensitive about.  Our adoption stories are indeed special, full of miracles, joy and blessing.  Our children are special, themselves a miracle and a joy and a blessing.  But our children are not special in the same way that our adoption stories are special.  Even more importantly, our children are not special because of our adoption stories.

Our children are so much more than a story – more than a past, present and future.  They are fearfully and wonderfully made in the image of a loving and gracious God.  They are passionately loved by this same God and they are objects of His pursuing and redeeming grace.  They were made by Him and for Him.  This is what makes them “special” and imbues them with unimaginable worth.

I know firsthand how our understanding of adoption changes over time.  This is true for us as parents as well as for our children as adopted persons.  Maybe “changes” is not the right word – maybe our understanding simply becomes more complete.  As the years go by and the complexities of our story become more evident and understandable, we and our children gain new perspectives and discover varying emotions and realities associated with how “we” came together as a family.  Some of these perspectives reveal a fresh sense of amazement and wonder; some of these emotions and realities can be difficult and even painful.  As a result, it is important that our children are neither defined nor valued in relation to their adoption story.

Having collected my thoughts I replied to Grant, “No, silly.  You’re not special because you were adopted – although I do think you have a pretty special story.  Why are you special?”

“Because God made me?” he replied.

“That’s right,” I said.  “And who loves you?”

“You do,” he said.

“But who loves you more?” I quickly replied.

“God does, I know.”

“Hey, Grant . . .” flashing three fingers as I walked toward the door.

“I know, you love me, I’m special and you love being my daddy,” he said.

How true that is.

My guess is that most of us would agree adoption is an individual calling but that orphan care is a universal calling, and maybe that’s the point Shaun is trying to make. Maybe by leading folks to insist that orphan care, not adoption, is a universal calling, Shaun is hoping those same folks will start believing and practicing that which they’re insisting.

Believe it or not, I don’t watch a lot of MTV or reality shows these days. Don’t get me wrong … I love TV. I just prefer more sophisticated programming (e.g., sports). However, my wife recently introduced me to two reality shows, one of which is on MTV, that changed my perspective on birthmothers.

Honestly, I don’t know much about birthmothers. I’ve heard stories — some good, some bad, some true, some exaggerated — but I’ve never met one. That’s why I’m glad I had a chance to “meet” a couple of birthmothers via episodes of Adoption Stories (Discovery Health, I think) and 16 & Pregnant (MTV).

What I saw challenged a lot of commonly-held stereotypes and fears surrounding women who end up deciding not to parent. The episodes that I happened to watch featured birthmothers who loved their unborn children, wanted what was best for their children, and struggled with incredibly difficult issues. I confess I’m having trouble articulating the effect the show’s had on me but I’ll try.

In the past, I could never imagine placing my child for adoption. After watching these shows, I could never imagine:

• being faced with raising a child at 16
• relapsing into substance abuse
• having a parent who struggles with substance abuse
• having a parent imprisoned for most of my formative years
• feeling like I was unable to provide a safe, healthy environment for my child.

The reality is that people face these issues everyday. After being confronted by that realization, I found myself with much more compassion for women who find themselves pregnant in the midst of the difficult factors I mentioned above. They weren’t scary or crazy or out of control; they were overwhelmed by the combination of mistakes and circumstances. I’m still processing all of this, and I have MTV and reality TV to thank for that.

If you want to watch the 16 & Pregnant episode that I saw, you can do so on MTV.com here. By watching the video online, you’ll be safe from tuning your TV to MTV and accidentally catching an episode of The Hills. See, I’m looking out for you.