I sat there holding my wife’s hand, the door opened and led by the hand of his older brother, our first adoptive son entered the room. He took each step without knowing, without thinking, resting in the hope that those he had come to know as family in his first year were doing their best, were protecting him, were sending him home.
I stood there in awe as this beautiful little boy conquered the distance between us and landed in our arms. My heart was full, my emotions responding like the explosion of a fireworks display. My son was home, the boy we had prayed for, the one we longed for, the champion who had risen above all th e challenges he had faced was about to cross the finish line and we were celebrating with tears, with joy and with an overwhelming sense that the enemy of orphanhood had been defeated.
One day they will arrive. Without celebration, applause, smiles or a hope. They enter the world by the hand of a hero who chose to give life and extend blessing to another family. But there is no time to celebrate, this is a time of great loss. Tears form and fall, not out of joy but from grief. Thoughts of regret, remorse, pain judgment fill her mind as she reluctantly releases her greatest gift to another. The grief, the poverty of mind, of situation and heart have led her to this day, a dark day, the darkest day. She holds only to a hope, a hope that flickers and settles her soul, gently encouraging her that he will be safe, he will survive, He will succeed, he will love and be greatly loved. Continue reading
8 Years ago we began a journey. It was a journey of discovery, a journey with highs and lows but as with all journeys, it starts a process that seems to show that when one ends another begins.
8 Years ago we started dreaming and planning to make adoption a part of who we are and how we grow our family. Today, with two adoptions under our belt and while busy with a third, we are continually amazed at how the process of giving a family to child may seem to bless the child the most, but actually, it is the family who receives the greatest blessing and honour of being able to extend love to another in a way that profoundly changes everything about everyones lives. We are truly honoured to have the love of our children, no matter how they enter our hearts!
Today we are also blessed, as the first family assisted by the The Father Heart Fund is about to become a reality. A special woman is about to become an incredible mom and a little girl is about to be grafted into the hearts of Many. Continue reading
Once upon a time we were sold a beautiful lie. We were sold the idea that for all our works and effort the highest prize that may be obtained is a life of comfort. A life where I find comfort in my home, my job, my income, my possessions, my faith, my family and many others.
This is not a lie because these things don’t bring comfort as they do! It is a lie because for us to have this comfort, it requires that either everyone has found it, we can’t see that others have not found it or that we don’t really care whether comfort has been found by others.
How can anyone ever be comfortable knowing that so many live in complete discomfort? Waking up hungry, alone, parentless, futureless, hopeless, in pain, in depression, in slavery, in darkness. The truth should cause us to realise that we can’t accept comfort when so many live without it! Continue reading
Sitting with a group of 16 students earlier today, I was amazed to find that no less than 11 cultures were represented. These ranged from Twsana, Zulu, British, Italian, Jewish, Afrikaans, American to name but a few. It was an energizing experience as we discussed some unique traditions and practices from the various backgrounds represented.
Last week we were treated to a barrage of racially inspired or fuelled incidences, from hair styles, babies compared to dogs to inappropriate words. South Africa never ceases to stretch the boundaries of what should be seen as ignorant/foolish comment. I sat listening to a radio show where one particular caller took it upon himself to vividly depict what mark Twain meant when he said “Better to Remain Silent and Be Thought a Fool than to Speak and Remove All Doubt” Continue reading
I am currently reading a book at the moment entitled The Spirit of Adoption: Winning the battle for the children. It raises some important questions and recounts some crucial events in history, one of which is the famous American case of Roe vs Wade which legalized abortion in the first trimester of pregnancy and how Norma McCorvey, the plaintiff in that case became a pro-life activist after realising that Abortion wasn’t about ‘products of conception’. It wasn’t about ‘missed periods’. It was about children being killed in their mother’s wombs.
I read this article written on the It’s Time event and felt I needed to respond. Have a read because it has some points and truths that we cannot ignore:
Post-Apartheid South Africa: The Missed Zacchaeus Moment by the Christian Beneficiaries of Apartheid
I find so much of what you wrote to be true. We as the church, the christians, the Christian beneficiaries are doing too little. Your suggestion of having an “it’s time” moment in 1994 is spot on, where financially we gave of ourselves to benefit the true victims of apartheid, the children of those who continue to suffer. Or perhaps the many other moments you spoke of when we should’ve stood up and said “it’s time”. We have lost credibility in many circles, we have missed opportunities to stand alongside victims because of their suffering, not simply because it’s spilling over into my yard now.
I find myself in a unique position. I believe I have a different perspective. I am certain God has allowed me to occupy a space where my voice will find favour with various groups in our beautiful South Africa.
I am fortunate in that I have the opportunity to dream about the futures of my three amazing children. I can occupy my thought life with the hopes and dreams of my sons’ growing into men who stand for what is right and true. Who know when to sit and listen whilst at the same time, confident in their ability to know the times when they must stand with confidence and speak with courage. My beautiful girl brings me such joy, her strength and poise allow me to confidently declare that she will inspire some and she will convict others. She dresses herself with beauty and boldness, and yet she is not even 2.
Raising a blended family, brings certain perks. If I am honest, I love being slightly different, I love going to the shops and seeing that double take on a stranger’s face when they see me and then they see one of my brown people. I say “my brown people” because my son refers to people of similar colour that way, and seeing as he is mine, so are they.
I like thinking I am part of a solution, I like to think I am creating a bridge between pink and brown. I like to think my son’s and daughter will be better positioned because colour won’t matter to them, it won’t feature in their thought processes, it won’t inform their value judgements or influence their opinions. BUT, am I foolish in believing this, because it will matter to YOU?
So this is a bit out of left field. My focus is typically on Fathering, Adoption, family and the like. That’s who I am, that’s what I love and am passionate about and that’s what I feel called to write on. But in the past 3 weeks I have had a burning to add my 2 cents to the discussion on the challenges being faced by both the students and educational institutions in South Africa. Perhaps my voice will fall amongst the noise made by a thousand other opinions and perhaps it won’t stand as a voice of reason for either side, but it is a voice nonetheless and more importantly, it is the voice of someone looking through the eyes of a father, dreaming for his children, remembering his past and hoping my kids navigate their journeys better than those that came before them.
Before I exhale what has been chewing on my thoughts let me disclose a few things and add a few caveats.
Firstly, I am white (or rather peach to be more accurate) and I come from a privileged background. I won’t apologise for the sacrifices made for that privilege as they were made with the best of intentions and fuelled by a love for me by my parents. But, whilst I won’t apologise, I also cannot peddle the lie that I am not privileged. I suppose given my complexion and my previous statement, I am a benefactor of white (peach) privilege.
We pride ourselves in the knowledge that we live in a time like no other. A time where the amount of information created, consumed and freely available is beyond anything we’ve experienced in the past. We exist in a time where at the push of a button, we achieve access to nearly every answer man has ever discovered or needed. I have in the palm of my hand a venerable magic wand which, when fully charged, is able to give its possessor God like knowledge and understanding.
From the correct spelling of the world longest word (pneumonoultramicroscopicsilicovolcanoconiosis for those of you who’d like to know) to the requirements to produce atomic energy, every single person has the ability to answer every single question ever asked, and in most cases correctly.
So why do I get the sense that in spite of limitless knowledge, common sense and general good choices seem to be on the decline?