When a mother in labor cries out, “I can’t do this!” I think of two things that I know are true.  The first, by the end of the night, one way or another, this baby will be born.  This labor will move forward, unabated, heedless of the mother’s pleas for respite.  My job, of course, is to help this woman find a way to navigate through her distress, to find the healthy, positive outcome that is now eluding her.  This involves the second thing I know to be true.

This woman believes that she is at the end of herself.  She feels spent, yet knows that the full measure of her test still lies ahead of her.  She is terrified at what comes next.  What happens when you are used up, and you must endure more, what happens then?  It is a frightful fearsome place to be.  She knows, truly, that I cannot just “make it stop.”  She knows, I cannot just “take the baby now,” but this panic that grips her, is not about something that makes sense, it is about being lost.

But I know something that she does not.  I know that she is not at the end of herself, far from it.  She has not scratched the surface of the power and strength that lies still within her.  She has not yet reached down into herself, drawn from the well of her soul strength.  I have seen people do this in my medical practice many times, valiant people, who, when the need calls for it, draw amazing things from within themselves that they never knew they had.

I have seen it enough to be convinced that nearly everyone has such untapped resources within them.  When people reach down and draw such an awesome thing out, it is often recognized and described as courage, and truly, it is.  But what kind of courage?  Just a few hours before, the woman in labor was pleading for reprieve.  Where did her courage come from?  Where did she find it?  If this is something we all possess within us, where does one find such a thing?

Mark Twain said, “Courage is resistance to fear, mastery of fear—not absence of fear.  Except a creature be part coward it is not a compliment to say it is brave.”  So it is with the women in labor who cries out in her anguish, “I can’t do this!” then goes on to fiercely battle the very thing she so fears, until in the end, she delivers a beautiful healthy baby.  She truly is the brave coward who resists fear, who masters fear.

Was the woman in labor courageous?  I would say emphatically, yes!  However, in that desperate moment, when she felt that she had truly reached the end of herself, there was no courage evident.  If it were possible, she would have quit then.  It was the fact of her being compelled to endure the unendurable that led her to discover her true ability.  Carl Sandburg said, “Valor is a gift.  Those having it never know for sure whether they have it till the test comes.”  Courageous she was, but courage arose from within her because of what she did.  She did not do what she did because of her courage.

I have seen this happen to people caught in impossible situations many times.  It is the necessity of the impossible situations that draws out more from people than they think they have in them, including the courage they think they need for the task.  It is tricky semantically, but it is not a subtle distinction.  It is the action that generates the courage, not the courage that generates the action.

Orphans too, I think, find themselves in an impossible situation.  With both of their parents gone, orphaned children are without the essential, irreplaceable ingredient God intended for their healthy growth and development.  No one is more truly alone, lost or adrift in the World than an orphaned child.  Sometimes, orphans are placed in Institutions, raised without any parents, without any families, as our two new daughters were.  Rather than being nurturing or warm places, these Institutions are frequently hostile, cold and indifferent places.  Life for orphans too often becomes about survival rather than about love, safety and nurture.

Are these little ones brave?  Yes!  I say, yes!  Do they have a choice but to be brave?  Our orphans are much the same as the mothers in labor, in an impossible situation, to be sure.  They could scream out in their pain in the same way, “Make it stop!  Make it stop!”  Likewise, “Make my parents not be dead, make me have my family back, make me be loved again!”  But, like with the mothers in labor, none of deepest passion of their desire or want changes a thing.  They are forced to deal with the fact that they are orphaned, and as a result, they have been harmed and they continue to be harmed.  The courage they draw on to face their trial comes from within, from surviving.  They have no other choice.  Lucius Annaeus Seneca said, “Sometimes even to live is an act of courage.”

I never think about courage without thinking about Stephen, a noteworthy member of the first church in Jerusalem.  I am jarred by what Stephen did back then.  It shakes me to my core.  Do you remember the story?  Stephen was arrested on false charges and was brought before the Sanhedrin for a public hearing.  They asked Stephen to give an answer to the charges, to give a response if the charges brought against him were true.

These Sanhedrin guys were dangerous.  Out in the open, in public like this, the whole thing was their show.  These guys were arrogant and powerful.  This was not the place to mess around, to take a stand or to make a point.  If anything was going to go down here, it was going to go down their way.  Stephen, if he had been smart, would have played along, taken his lumps and then lived to fight another day.  Anyone would have done that.  Anyone of us would have done that.  Why didn’t Stephen?  This has always vexed me.  Stephen launched into a long monologue outlining the history of Israel.  Then when he finished his lecture, he delivered a daring accusation of his own.  He accused his accusers of betraying and murdering the “Righteous One,” Jesus Christ.  Why did he do that?  Were did that come from?!

The charges they accused Stephen of were trumped up, false, not true.  On the other hand, the charges Stephen leveled at the Sanhedrin guys were dead-on true.  These guys really had betrayed and murdered Jesus Christ.  But what did Stephen think he was doing?  All he needed to do was just play it safe, go along, pay the fine so to speak, get his hands slapped and he would have been on his way.  What was this deal, calling them out like this?  Was he crazy?  Did he have a death wish?

I don’t know, but I think what he did demonstrates one of the most remarkable examples of Christian moral courage you can find anywhere, what I would consider a reckless disregard for danger while standing absolutely firmly in the right, and I admire it tremendously.  A Christian can offer that kind of action to God and then leave the results up to God, for whatever purposes He wants.  In Stephens case, his execution at the hands of the angry Sanhedrin was ultimately responsible for the spread of the gospel throughout the then known world and the rest is history, as they say.

Was Stephen courageous?  Sure he was.  Maybe in a reckless, crazy sort of way, but certainly heroically courageous.  However, consider this, did Stephen do what he did because he was a courageous man, or did his courage derive from doing what he did?  In other words, did it take a courageous man to do what Stephen did, or did it just take a man in Stephens place to DO what Stephen did?  Many might think Stephan was a special guy, a courageous guy.  I say, maybe not, maybe he was just a regular guy, a regular guy who just DID a brave thing when he had a chance.

The difference between Stephen’s courage and the courage of the woman in labor and the courage of our orphans is that Stephan stood there in a moment of choice.  The woman in labor and the orphans have no choice.  Stephen chose to take the action he did.  This is the single thing about Stephen that captures my imagination most.  When he finished his long monolog about the history of Israel, there was a moment of decision.  A brief, private moment in his mind, known between only himself and God, a moment when he made a decision, whether to play it safe, or to go on and say what he did.  What happens in a Christian’s mind in that moment of decision?  In that moment, when that choice is made to choose something that is safe or to choose something that recklessly disregards danger.

I believe every Christian makes these kinds of choices every day, all of the time, choices between what is safe and what is daring and reckless.

But we don’t see Christians running around doing a lot of reckless and daring things, do we?  Am I suggesting that Christians should start running around and doing a lot of reckless and dangerous things?  That would be irresponsible of me if I was, wouldn’t it?

Well, I’m going to step in it and suggest two things that, in my humble opinion, inhibit today’s church, inhibit the MEN in today’s church, and that inhibit ME, from receiving a full measure of the blessing I think God wants to give us and from achieving the results I think God wants to see.

First, I don’t think Christians dream big enough.  Theodore Roosevelt said, “Far better it is to dare mighty things, to win glorious triumphs, even though checkered by failure, than to take rank with those poor spirits who neither enjoy much nor suffer much, because they live in the grey twilight that knows not victory nor defeat.”  The Christian church today, at least the ones I’ve attended in my life, and the ones I’ve heard about in my life, and especially the ordinary men in those churches, myself included, live this way, for the most part, live “lives of quiet desperation,” “in the grey twilight.”  Must it be this way, I ask.  Henry David Thoreau said, “It is a characteristic of wisdom not to do desperate things.”

The church has its Billy Grahams, David Wilkersons and Chuck Swindols; we can’t all be like that, right?  There have to be the regular people too, right?  I used to think that too, but I’m starting to not buy it anymore.  Think about this, the SDA in Ukraine released data in October.  They say they have 21,000 orphans in their files eligible for International adoption, 11,000 of the kids are between 12 and 17 years of age.  This is just Ukraine, I wonder, what are the numbers in the United States, and for the World?  This I know, there are not enough Billy Grahams and Chuck Swindols on hand to do what God has in mind for the World’s orphans.  But there are plenty of ordinary Christians, more than enough to make all the difference needed for the tens of thousands of orphans in the World.  What does it take from ordinary Christians to accomplish this?  I say we need a lot more Christians out there recklessly disregarding danger.

What do I mean exactly by recklessly disregarding danger?  G. K. Chesterton said, “Courage is almost a contradiction in terms:  it means a strong desire to live taking the form of readiness to die.”  If a hopelessly outnumbered band of solders finds themselves surrounded by their enemy, they have two choices.  One, attack the enemy, suicidally throwing themselves directly at the encroaching enemy masses in an all out attack.  In other words, at least go out in a blaze of glory.  Or two, form ranks into a tight defensive arrangement designed to keep the enemy hordes at bay and wait them out.  Circle the wagons, so to speak.

The second option seems the most prudent course of action.  It would be the safest choice.  It follows natural instinct, to protect ones life.  However, one by one, each soldier in the defensive circle will be patiently picked off by the enemy, no matter how well devised the defense may be, until eventually, every single one of the embattled soldiers will be completely annihilated.  The second defensive option, while being the natural choice, results invariably in certain failure, assuming no rescue is forthcoming.  And in my example, there is no rescue.

Chesterton says that, “The paradox of courage is that a man must be a little careless of his life in order to keep it.”  If the small band of soldiers decides to attack, against all the odds, throwing caution to the wind, with the knowledge that their lives are forfeit anyway, the irony is that such an act actually saves them.  It is the fierceness of the attack, the wonton abandon, the full measure of hold-nothing-back reckless disregard for danger that is the very thing that makes a victory possible.  The phalanx charging out explosively from the center has a chance of victory due the ferocity and viciousness of its attack, it can break through the enemy encircling them to escape and survive.  This G. K. Chesterton would call courage.

Does this band of soldiers have the choice in their actions, in the way Stephen did, to call upon that resource from deep within them, that thing we all have deep within all of us, that we would name as courage?  Was it a moment of choice, a moment like Stephen’s?  Or are the band of soldiers more like our orphans or the woman in labor, who have no choice, who are trapped in their fate?  Those who draw on their courage out of necessity?  No, no, the soldiers are the masters of their fate, it is their choice to make, is it not?  Hold fast, in an apparently safe defense, slowly to die in an ignoble, anonymous desperate “grey twilight.”  Or the other choice, the reckless and seemingly careless choice, to rise up and “dare mighty things to win glorious triumphs.”

So, I do not think Christians dream big enough.  The second thing I’m throwing out that I think inhibits Christians revolves around the whole concept of being “called.”  Let me start out with my disclaimer.  I’m all for being “called.”  Paul said he was “called to be an Apostle.”  That’s great, but here’s my problem, I have seen more Christians AVOID doing God’s work because they tell me they have NOT been called to this or that than I have seen people DOING things because they tell me they HAVE been called.  As far as I know, “calling” is not a prerequisite for doing ANYTHING.  I’m not interested into getting into doctrinal discussions and arguments if that is where this topic might lead, to my mind that would be more of the same, avoiding DOING things.

Here’s what I think is going on.  Most Christian’s are just plain outright scared.  To my mind, it’s really usually just about fear.  That’s fine, but when did it become easy to hide behind the excuse of not being “called” to avoid appearing afraid?  Was it so people did not have to lose the appearance of piety that being afraid might threaten?  There is an English Proverb that says, “Some have been thought brave because they were afraid to run away.”  Maybe some have been thought pious when they were just cowards, afraid to engage.

Here is what I notice happens when someone invokes the “called” trump in a Christian conversation.  The conversation ends.  When someone says, “I don’t feel led,” or “I don’t feel called,” it puts an immediate stopper on the discussion.  It is as if they are saying, “God is telling me,” and you can’t argue with God.  There’s a double bonus in it for them too.  Not only does it get you off their back, it makes them look close to God.  Better yet, you can’t touch them.  If you try to call them on the deception, it just turns back around on you and makes you look bad.  A message from God is unassailable.

I’m telling you, this dishonesty in the Christian church is stifling God’s work and allowing fear to dominate the programs and strategic plans of most churches.  The result is passive men and dying churches.  Like G. K. Chesterton’s small band of soldiers, we are huddled defensively, surrounded by enemies and doomed to die.

What do we need?  I think we need courage.  I think we need courage of the G. K. Chesterton kind.  Where do we find it?  Where do we find courageous men, the men who will be a little careless of their life in order to keep it, the men who will save us?  Where are the courageous when we need them?  I say, we will never find them.  I say, there are no courageous people.  There is only you and me, regular, ordinary people.  There is no one else.  If we wait for courage, we will be lost.  What we need, simply, is only action, and that we can do.  It is not hard.  Taking action is something any of us and all of us can do.  Courage, if we need it, when we need it, comes out of us, from within us, when we act.

“One day, Jesus said to his disciples, “Let’s go over to the other side of the lake.”  So they got into the boat and set out.  As they sailed, he fell asleep.  A squall came down on the lake, so that the boat was being swamped, and they were in great danger.  The disciples went and woke him, saying, “Master, Master, we’re going to drown!”  He got up and rebuked the wind and the raging waters; the storm subsided, and all was calm.  “Why were you afraid?” he asked his disciples.”  In fear and amazement they asked one another, “Who is this?”

Yes, who indeed?  That is truly the right question to ask.  When Stephen asked it, his answer involved reckless disregard for danger.  James A. Garfield said, “If there is one thing upon this earth that mankind love and admire better than another, it is a brave man, — it is the man who dares to look the devil in the face and tell him he is a devil.”  God wants such men, God uses such men.

How then to overcome living out our lives in small dreams?  How then to avoid living out our lives in a series of meaningless “callings” that allow us to avoid truly dangerous pursuits.  How then can we live lives resistant to fear, lives of courage, lives of reckless disregard for danger—the fear that would impede the courage that would make us alive.

Paul explained this to Timothy.  “God did not give us a spirit of fear, but a spirit of power, of love and self-discipline.”  Jesus asked the disciples in the boat, “Why were you afraid?”  We must remember who it is that we have “in the boat” with us.  Do we live different lives when we remember that?  Do we make different choices when we remember that?  Think about choices, the choices we make.  The choice the small band of overwhelmed soldiers makes, the choice Stephen makes, everything is about our choices, really.  Choices to take action, to do something.  Will they be the safe choices or will we dare to be reckless, to abandon our fears?

Courage.  We know intuitively that there is something powerful untapped deep within us.  We see what people can do when they find themselves facing impossible situations.  The woman in labor who thinks she is at the end of herself, the small band of soldiers completely and hopelessly surrounded.  Stephen making a choice.  A courageous decision made with reckless disregard for the danger it posed to himself.  I admire Stephen.  And why?  Was he special?

People tell me in the aftermath of my adoption trip to Ukraine that, “I could never do what you have done.”  Really?  Am I so special?  If I am, then God help all of those tens of thousands of orphans out there that need families, because I can’t adopt them all.  Forgive my sarcasm, but you get my point.  I certainly know that there is nothing special about me.  And I don’t think there was anything special about Stephan either.  I’ve thought a lot about this.  Stephan had a crucial moment of decision.  And I think he was just a regular guy, just like you and me.  He could have chosen the sane and safe, or as he did, the reckless and daring.  We all have the same options, the same choices, all of the time.  God used Stephan, God can use us, he does use us.  What will we DO, then, when we make our choices?  Everything is about what we DO.  It’s ACTION.  All we have to do, is DO.

Is there anyone thinking about what they might DO when I speak about doing?  Consider this, thousands upon thousands of orphans are plucking what courage they can muster to face life alone and they have no choice.  Whatever courage we may require to face the things WE choose to DO, is accessible to us from that untapped place deep within us, we do not need to be courageous people first.  I have been told by many, “I could never do what you have done.”  I say to any and to all, “Yes, you can.  All of you can do what I have done.”

Now everyone, hear what it is I am saying.  Consider yourselves called.  Go and adopt one or more of God’s precious orphans.  And don’t take too long doing it.  Every day orphans are having birthdays that age them out, forever losing them the opportunity to have a home in a Christian family.

But, what if something happens, something that isn’t supposed to happen. The parents die. The child cries, but there is no mother to mother – the child is alone. This doesn’t work, this is not natural.

Assume that this happens when the child is old enough so that there are no attachment disorder issues, another subject. OK, the child’s parents have died and the child is alone. A new mother adopts the child. The child cries, the new mother mothers – they both attach to each other, it works, it’s natural. No thanks are in order.

It’s not that we think the child is ungrateful to the adoptive parents for adopting him. Kids just aren’t naturally grateful to their parents for just being their parents. And that’s cool, parents are cool with that, aside from the Mother’s Day or Father’s Day thing, when we sort’a expect a little something. So, what are we talking about with these older kids, when we adopt them, and we lament that they don’t seem grateful?

OK, the child’s parents have died and the child is alone. No one adopts the child and now the child is an older child about to age out, still alone. Now the older child faces a bleak future, suicide, prostitution, drugs, HIV, criminal life, jail, disease, struggle and hardship — always alone, hope runs thin. In the words of a Ukrainian official, “There is nothing for these kids here.” Then, a new mother adopts the older child. The older child pouts and is unhappy at losing her freedom, the new mother mothers the older child — they both attach to each other, it works, but it is difficult for them both. The adoptive parents are puzzled as to why the older child showed no appreciation for being rescued from a predicament that threatened to swallow her and destroy her.

Many adoptive parents of older children, like us, are motivated by more than just a desire to parent, they see the terrible future in store for these children, in some, in the very real immediate future. The adoptive parents of older children see themselves as lifesavers. Parents don’t expect their children to be grateful for being a parent that parents them, not usually, but lifeguards, on the other hand, are puzzled, when a drowning swimmer just pulled from the ocean, offers no word of thanks when their life has just been saved.

What this means, I think, is that the older child is unaware of their peril. They don’t feel like they have been rescued. They don’t see reality accurately because of “the lie,” which I wrote about before, the elaborate and powerful structure of denial the orphan children lives within. Of all of roadblocks and obstacles we have faced in our struggles to adopt, and through everything we have grappled with and endured, I have not seen anything that compares in magnitude or difficulty to the denial the kids posses within themselves.
My heart has broken at seeing one child after the other say no to a family that offered to adopt them because they are BLIND to their own desperate need. One child after the other, lost. So this issue of the kids not being grateful, is not so insignificant, it marks a deeper problem that at its core, for many, is life-threatening.

Their life in many ways is like fantasyland. They imagine that they have unlimited freedom. They cannot see a future beyond the end of next week. They live their lives in the reality of the sit-com world of television, hour after hour, day after day. They are trapped and it is killing so many of them. Even when a family comes and offers to pull them out, some are already lost, they can’t say yes, the smokescreen of “the lie” is too overwhelming, too strong, they say no, and it breaks your heart.

I was asked once what I feared the most during the process of our adoption saga. There were many things to fear along the way, and several significant things, but the thing I always feared the most, right up until last Tuesday when our adoption was approved, was that the girls would not let us help them. I could and would fight any obstacle “out there” on their behalf. But, how could I fight THEM? What if they themselves, did not want to be adopted? If they had ever said no, if “the lie” had ever won the battle in their lives, I don’t know how I would have born the pain of it, of seeing their lives go down that road, of losing them to that dreadful fate. I would have, of course, others have. I thank God for keeping them safe and not letting that happen.

What about the other kids, the ones that are being lost? How can we keep from losing these older kids, the one’s that don’t understand the peril they are in? We can find families that will come to adopt them, but then the kids change their mind and don’t want to be adopted. Is the only way to avoid this to adopt the kids when they are younger, before they ever get to this age? Before “the lie” exerts so much power, so much of a grip? Should all orphans be adopted into families as young children and never be allowed to grow up in an orphanage alone?

Cindie and I came specifically to adopt kids that were aging out, the ones that were not going to have another chance, it was going to be us, or no one else. Why do people like us have to be coming for them now, finally, at the very last moment? And, I wonder, why does any orphan in this world, have to sit so long in an orphanage, alone, without a family, when there are so many Christians in this world? That sounds so very harsh, not Christian-like at all. I’ve been feeling harsh lately.

“Undoubtedly, one of the biggest disappointments many families when going through the final adoption stages in Ukraine is that their adoptive kids seem so ungrateful. At first, it’s just mildly irritating, then after you’ve been there for more than a month, it really becomes a big problem.”

What strikes me in particular has always been the reaction of families toward the adoptive kids apparent attitudes of ingratitude. To be disappointed implies that an expectation has been not been realized. It is dangerous, I admit, for me to guess at another’s expectation, without really knowing, but it easy for me to imagine that many families might expect their adopted kids to show them some gratitude for adopting them. A thank you would be nice, right? What then, if there is NO thank you offered? You could understand a reaction of disappointment, a feeling of being unappreciated, possibly. Worse, what if instead of getting that deserved thank you, there is actually a snub delivered, resentment, even, at being adopted? I think for many, the feelings would run stronger than simple disappointment. As Jim suggests, “…it really becomes a big problem.”

This is what I mean by going to intentions. It relates to expectations. Let me talk about myself, not other families. I can do this now that I am involved in our own adoption. Neither girl has shown either of us any appreciation or gratitude. In fact, the attitude is the opposite if it is anything. They think they are doing us a favor by letting us adopt them. This is an interesting situation, but apparently typical. This cold reaction from the girls does sting and is disorienting, but we learned valuable lessons from what other families experienced and shared, we were somewhat prepared. Jim Hale commented, “It sounds like you are ahead of where most of us were at this stage of the game.” But I was prepared for this reaction from the girls as well for another reason, and that has to do with my intention.

My intention is to rescue these two girls and bring them home with me as my daughters. I see them as lost, as having very limited future opportunities or hope without my help. I do not need them to appreciate what I am doing for my motivation or to feel good or for any particular reason. Their reactions are not associated with the reason I am doing this. (The reason I am doing this is that God called me to do this.) Their reactions are also not associated with my intention. As long as I remain focused on my intention, things remain in perspective, so that I am less likely to be tossed around by all kinds of unpredictable things. I can sort through things that don’t matter to focus on what does, related to my intention.

The girl’s lack of appreciation will not disappoint me if my focus is on a different goal, but this does not mean that the girls get off the hook. Adopted children who show a lack of appreciation to their adopting families may be typical, but their behavior certainly is not normal, regardless of what my expectations are. Something is wrong with this picture.

Here is the most important point. I may not need my girls to appreciate ME for MY sake, but THEY need to appreciate me for THEIR sakes. They are not acting in a naturally normal way when they are not showing appreciation. I think it is because they have been damaged in some way from their experience as an orphan. They have been hurt, and as such, they can’t, or don’t, react as expected. That makes me sad. So, the way they are acting, or reacting, is not about me, it is about them, about their experience, their injury.

From our observations, Cindie and I think the origins of this lack of gratitude stem from what we are calling “The Lie.” “The Lie” is the collective belief by orphans of Internot life that things around them are really not so bad as they seem. Everything is really OK. Their parents were not really as bad as they were told. They weren’t really as mistreated as they thought they were or as they were told they were. They live in a school, not an orphanage. They are just the same as any other kids. When they grow up and leave the Internot, life will be normal for them. They have unlimited freedom and it is great. (The corollary Lie: Going away form the Internot life to be adopted takes away their freedom, and that is not as good.) Ukraine is better than any other country, including Ukrainian food, especially Internot food. (The corollary Lie: Going away from the Internot to be adopted in another country is not as good as being in Ukraine.) When kids graduate from the Internot they do just fine. Their original family, the one that they lost, had nothing wrong with them, unlike what they might have been told. (The corollary Lie: Going away from the Internot by choosing to live with an adoptive family means they are choosing against their real family, turning their back on their Ukrainian family.) They are loved at the Internot. They receive a good education at the Internot. They are well prepared for life in the world by the Internot.

To the extent that they hold on to “The Lie,” they are incapable of recognizing an offer from an adoptive family as being any advantage to them. In fact, a real-life offer from an adoptive family, from their perspective, detracts from the protection denial offers them from “The Lie.” That is why hostility is often encountered, because the stakes are so high, it is survival for them.

I think that deep in their hearts they have an inkling of the real truth. I sense in our girls, at times, the cold fear — will they be safe, will they eat, will they have a place to go, but it is a flash of recognition, soon glossed over, pushed away and refused.

If it were just our girls alone, once we had them home, with some time, I think they would be able to eventually let “The Lie” go completely. Then they would see where they actually come from, who they really are and would be genuinely grateful, not just to us but also to their God. That is what true humility is, knowing who you really are and accepting it. Eventually, their past wouldn’t be something they’d avoid, it would be a source of strength they’d use to help others. Perhaps with patience, time and with love, their wounds will heal and they can lay down the protection they seek in the denial they find in “The Lie.”

For Cindie and I, we know about “The Lie.” We see it all around us, it permeates everything related to the Internot and those who live there. “The Lie” is strong and resilient and opposes attempts to deal with it in any direct way. Our awareness of it is helpful, but not to combat it. It is bald-faced and entrenched. Quite frankly, at the Internot, it is needed. Denial is the oldest and most primitive survival strategy of all. It becomes dysfunctional and unhealthy mostly when alternatives are offered and it interferes. This is happening when families adopt kids from an Internot. Adopting families can realize what is at play. It is nothing personal.

So, long story short, when adopted kids are ungrateful, at first, toward their adopted parents, there is no reason for disappointment. It is not about us, it is about them, it is about “The Lie,” what they use to survive. We help them then, to accept the truth about the world, about themselves, to lay down “The Lie.” Then their gratitude can come, and come naturally, freely, because that’s what happens normally.

She Likes Animals

Here is a simple family scrapbook tribute to my incredible daughter Kristin, who has completed eight years of higher education at Iowa State University and graduates this weekend with a doctorate degree in Veterinary Medicine. Absolutely awesome!

From her button-busting proud dad. You go girl!

To me, Cindie is my COOL person of the day, everyday. A little extra recognition on the radio with a steak dinner and a car wash thrown in are frosting on top. Thanks guys!

Here’s to an awesome lady! Cool in everyway, everyday!

I love surgery. I have always loved surgery. My first case as a third year medical student I assisted the OB/GYN resident save the life of a young woman who came to the hospital with a ruptured ectopic pregnancy. She was bleeding to death internally. The surgery was urgent and life saving. It was my first time in an operating room. My first time garbed in the gowns and gloves. My first time standing next to a surgeon doing magical work, watching a most unbelievable sight, a knife cutting into the flesh of a living human being. Seeing the internal hidden organs of a living human person, that hidden part that no one ever sees, that no one is ever supposed to see. I was standing there with a front row seat holding a retractor so the surgeon could see, so that I could see, helping to save her life. And save her life, we did.

It was exhilarating, I was ecstatic! I phoned Cindie to relate the experience. I had to tell someone. How amazing! How wonderful! Yes, elite, who gets to do this kind of stuff? I have continued to practice medicine for twenty-eight years since that fantastic first night in the operating room. The wonder, joy and excitement are still with me even today when I step into an operating room for a case. I still feel humility and gratitude for the privilege to help people in this extraordinary way.

My daughter is experiencing the same great privilege, she is training as a surgeon. In fact, her skills are developing so splendidly that she is exceeding her peer’s abilities. She is being assigned more cases as a result. Doing more cases accelerates her acquisition of skills. It’s a nice positive feedback loop! But Kristin has something Cindie and I never had through all our years working in operating rooms. Even as a budding young surgeon, Kristin now has been filmed by a National Geographic film crew doing a documentary and has a clip of herself performing surgery broadcast over National cable/satellite television stations! The inner sanctum exposed! My daughter is now a star, the celebrated surgeon, for the entire world to see!

The photograph above, I snapped off our TV. The show is turning out to be very popular. National Geographic plans to show reruns, I hear, so the clip she is in is going to keep showing. In case you were wondering, she is removing a leg from a dog, doing an amputation for some reason. They discreetly don’t show any gore in this view. They call the show “Dogtown.” It is about a huge animal shelter in Utah. Kristin was there doing a shelter medicine elective when the National Geographic people were doing the documentary, hence the reason she was filmed.

I’m so proud!

I glanced at his chart. “Do you have some stitches that need to come out today?” I asked, speaking with my best small child soothing voice. I pulled the door closed softly behind me and set the chart down on the counter. I hooked the exam room stool with my toe and casually eased it away from where the two huddled together. Then I took my seat at a safe distance.

“Come on, what did mommy say? It’s not going to hurt a bit,” she said, as she pushed him up from where he was trying to bury his face in her lap. “No, I don’t want to,” he pleaded with her, plaintively. Clearly, he was not happy. Apparently, he had doubts about the not hurting part of her assertion.

I waited patiently while their negotiations ensued. Then they came to an impasse. The young child composed himself and settled comfortably into the security of mother’s arms. Entrenched, he fixed his gaze my direction and regarded me with a remarkably well-executed frown put to good effect. The message was obvious. The suspicious little lad was not going to trust me. Well, why not, I would not trust me either.

I rolled the stool over to the counter and looked again at the chart. “Did you have an owie on your head that had to have stitches?” I asked. “Is it all better now? Can I look?” I asked, tentatively. “No!” he shot back, rather emphatically, his body becoming rigid as he seized hold of his mother even more tightly.

“Come on now, what did mommy say? It’s not going to hurt! You need to be a big boy!” Mother mustered a big cheerful smile to back up the confidence infused words she employed. With more urging, he eventually sat leaning forward in her lap while she held him in a way that would minimize his movement. He didn’t move, but he did cry. Soft, sobbing tears of inevitability, of surrender.

I picked up the clip remover from the counter and palmed it, unobtrusively, creeping forward on the stool slowly, over to the boy’s side, all the while speaking in soft, soothing tones. “Now, you’ll feel me sort of picking at your hair a little bit, but it’s alright if you do, OK? I still don’t want you move, OK. I want you to hold real still and then we’ll be all done real fast and you can go home right away, OK?”

The tears kept coming, but he held still and did not move. I removed the easy clips first. It was painless, fortunately. Then I came to the last clip. I knew when I first saw it that it would be a problem. The clip appeared embedded. New healing skin had grown over the clip and buried it. I needed to dig it out.

“One more, OK? Hold real still and we’ll be all done, just one more.” I did not lie to him. I did not tell him that it was not going to hurt. I did not say that it was going to hurt either. Nothing served by telling him that. Rather, I emphasized that it was the last one. I was using the “light at the end of the tunnel” philosophy here. My goal was to be quick and over, “all done.” And, that was how it went down, skillfully performed, if I do say so myself.

I leaned against the counter writing my note in the chart. Mother blotted out the last of the fallen tears from her little boy’s cheeks when she said, “Now tell Dr. David thank you.” The little guy paused as he considered for a moment his mother’s imperative. I glanced over at him. He seemed engaged in intense thought, brow deeply furrowed, as if wheels were turning around in his brain.

Mother repeated her entreaty, with more earnestness this time, “Tell Dr. David thank you.” He snuffled, you could tell he was reluctant. Then slowly, deliberately, clearly, without any equivocation, he quite simply declared, “No.”

I laughed, “You don’t have to say thank you.” His refreshing honesty touched me. I just wanted to leave it like that. I gave them the encounter form and bid them good day. A three year old has to be thinking, “Why in the world would I want to say thank you to someone who just hurt me. That makes as much sense as eating mud.”

And, he would be right. We adults do many things, that on the surface must not make sense, but only by looking at the abstract relationships involved, can we understand the reality behind them.

Parents do a lot to teach their children about the nuances of sophisticated human interpersonal interactions, like learning to become abstract thinkers rather than remain as concrete thinkers, as in this case involving the abstract idea that hurting someone can actually help them.

However, I just could not resist. That day, at that moment, the simplicity and the honesty of the little boy’s reaction was a breath of fresh air in the usually congested and smoky atmosphere of human interactions and dealings. We are complicated beings. It was nice to be reminded that sometimes things are just not so complicated.

This is a movie trailer, a teaser for a short film Matthew created. The film, titled “Dead Zone,” is the real deal, made with professional actors, special effects, an original script Matt invented, an original music soundtrack, written professionally exclusively for this, the whole enchilada. But he did this thing all himself, and in his spare time, with a video camera he got as a graduation present, editing it in his apartment on a borrowed, obsolete computer, using off-the-shelf consumer software, nothing special really, just using his own raw talent.

This ain’t no ordinary home movie video, no sir. Mark my words, I’m not exaggerating when I say this guy is going places. He’s amazing! And his current success in television production just serves to emphasize what I’m saying.

Love ya lots Matt!

Matthew is destined for greatness as a director of feature films. While time has yet to reveal the exact path he walks to that end, today he lives in Hollywood where he is making a mark. He now works where people that matter recognize his talent. His career is gaining momentum while he gains valuable experience. His film production career has already launched.

His first job after moving to Hollywood was as a production assistant for a cable TV station, the Horse Racing Channel. The production assistant is like a gopher, the person who does just about anything for anybody. It is an entry-level type job. Matt works hard and throws himself into the task. He excels. He keeps his “eye on the ball” and when it comes to doing what he does so well, to what comes natural for him, making film, he excels at it. His talent was immediately recognized. He quickly advanced and now they want to promote him. Pictured above is the credit on the show that aired on his 24th birthday, a showed he produced and edited.

Matthew, hired off the street with no experience or training, now creates entire sequences after just a few months on the job. Amazing. It’s just like the work they did in Speech II in High School, but for pay. Do any of the other kids Matt worked with in Speech II realize that what they were doing was more than just for fun, that it was a career path? And what of Matt’s meteoric rise, a Cinderella story? I think that in creative industries like television and film it is the same as it is with athletics.

For example, for an athlete with athletic ability, no matter what the odds might be stacked against them, the athletic ability carries them to the top in the end. The stronger the ability, the farther they go. Michael Jordan made it to the top because he’s great, not because he knew the right person, or was born in the right place, or had enough money, or went to the right school. It is not that those things are not helpful, but that those things are not enough in themselves. You have to have the talent too, or it’s a no show.

I think talent rises to the top in film and television in just the same way as it does in sports. If Matt is the next Michael Jordan of film directors, all he has to do is show up. The system will do the rest because it needs him. Just like basketball needs Michael Jordan, film needs Matthew. We need Matthew. We need great talent to make great film. And it is great to know that they are beginning to recognize that he is there. He’s on his way.

So on his birthday, one of the few remaining that I can celebrate before his name is known by millions of people across the world, I salute my son, the filmmaker.

Happy Birthday Matthew!

I finished my Application last week and mailed it Thursday, along with the check for $1,250.  The three physicians I asked to send in letters of reference for me must also send their letters in by today for me to qualify for the reduced Early Deadline Fee.  The Application is not considered complete until all materials are returned and that includes the three letters.  Each of the three letters as well as the Application itself must be postmarked by today.

The three doctors that I asked to send a letter of reference know about the Deadline, but they are not out $100 if the letters get in late, I am.  I made it as easy on them as I could, though.  I gave them addressed stamped envelopes along with preprinted forms to use for the letters.  And I gave them almost three weeks to get it done.  The letters have to be sent back directly to the ASAM people, they cannot just give them back to me to send in.  That assures the candidness of their responses, but then I can’t make sure that they get in by the deadline by taking care of it myself.

There is a Late Deadline May 31.  The Fee goes up another $400 then.  That is a big incentive to get the paper work finished on time.  After the Late Deadline in May, you can’t sign up to take the exam in December at all.  This exam you have to be thinking about way ahead of time.

And you have to be thinking about it way ahead of time to be prepared to pass.  I have one year left now to complete my studies, one year left to become an expert in Addiction Medicine.  It was a daunting task a year ago when I started on this road; it is still a daunting task with only a year to go until I take the exam.

Today I am tangibly committed.  The Application is submitted, the Fee is paid, the clock is ticking, the wheels are in motion, the course is set.  The first Saturday in December 2008 is my date with destiny; I will sit for the ASAM Certification Examination.  I have a lot more to learn between now and then.