When I started this blog, my goal was to write a weekly post.  Failed already on that count.  Mindful that I had missed writing a post last week, I was just getting ready to start writing yesterday, when Emm’s school called to say that she’d had a seizure.  My writing plans were thus dumped for the more expedient need to pick her up from school.  Kristin and I still have our days – and I think will continue to for a good while.  Coming to terms with Emmaline’s diagnosis is not an easy task.  Bearing that in mind however, I have decided to write on a totally different topic.  Because…why not?  (And also, because writing about my son Carlos, makes me smile.)

Many years ago – when I was thirty years old, I lived in Los Angeles.  A much lovelier place than New York, I might add.  Good weather.  Palm trees.  Clean beaches. My house in the hills was quiet and secluded – unlike my house in the hills in NYC where, I am constantly subjected to sirens, honking and assorted bad tastes in music.  I was working as both an actor – mainly doing commercials, assorted theatre and occasionally a small tv or film role – and as a half day kindergarten teacher.  I enjoyed my life immensely, but also yearned for many of life’s situation’s that Mormon’s often wish for:  marriage, children, family.  I had a great cat that had singled me out when she had wandered into the kindergarten yard – looking for someone to feed and take care of her.  As much as I love cats however, it just wasn’t the same as being married or having children.  (Though far simpler as I have learned.)

One day, one of my co-teachers who was around my age, mentioned that she had decided to become a foster parent.  The thought stuck in my head and I just couldn’t get rid of it.  I wanted more purpose than going to my singles congregation, shopping and working – so I decided to pursue the foster parent route as well.  However, as I began certification classes – it became quickly clear to myself that I really wasn’t cut out to be a foster parent.  I’d had several kids in my classes through the years who had been in foster care.  I was certainly aware of the need for better foster parents as most of their’s had been rather abysmal.  But even if their foster parent was decent, these children invariably eventually went back to their biological parents – and to a situation that had often barely improved – if at all.  I realized that I just couldn’t bear to see that.  I had always wanted to adopt however, so I decided why not?  I had a house, job, plenty of money.  And though I hadn’t yet managed to find someone who would agree to marry me (that I also wanted to marry) – I was tired of feeling as if life didn’t begin until marriage.  Certainly, a pressure that I think people can feel in not only my church, but many.

Of course, news of my decision did not sit well with quite a few people.  Friends, family, acquaintances, all seemed to have rather strong opinions about what I should be doing with my life.  I certainly knew they cared about me and tried to appreciate that was where their comments were coming from, but there were times where I wished the comments just did not come.  I think some thought I was jumping into the decision to adopt rashly.  Such was not the case however.  I had spent many hours on my knees praying about it – and had come to the firm conclusion that for me, this was the right decision – and that God was pleased with my decision.

I had decided to adopt out of the foster care system.  I also had certain criteria in mind – I would not adopt an infant or toddler for example, because there were usually enough married couples that wanted to adopt these children – and I firmly believed that when possible, a child is always better off with both a loving mother and father.  However, since many children in foster care are never adopted at all – I also certainly felt (and still do), that a child is better off with A parent than no parents.  Thus my search began.

It’s a strange thing ‘picking’ a child.  It can even feel a little awful at times – putting children almost in the roles of commodities to be perused and compared.  I realized that on my own, I was not up to the task.  So, I turned to prayer once again.  Los Angeles county, where I lived, was having an ‘Adoption Fair’.  An event where children who were available for adoption would be at a park, set up with rides, food, crafts and sports.  Parents who had been cleared for adoption were invited to attend.  We would be given a paper that we could write the names of our first several choices on – in order of preference – that would then be given to our adoption worker at the end of the fair.

I thought, how in the world do you ‘pick’ a child.  It seemed far simpler to get married, have a child and let God ‘pick’ the child for you.  But that’s what I decided to do.  Not the marriage part, but the let God pick part.  I prayed before the ‘fair,’ that God would bless a child that he wanted me to adopt to be there.  And that I would make a connection with this child – and no one else.  That it would be clear to me.

The day of the fair came.  It was rather sad, honestly,  Seeing all of these children without parents to love and take care of them.  There were siblings.  Younger children.  Older children.  An awful lot of children.  Shortly after the fair began, a child caught my eye, but I quickly noticed that he seemed quite disabled.  I didn’t want a disabled child.  It was more than I wanted to take on – plus I wanted to be able to throw a ball with him and other stuff that Dad’s dream of doing with their kids.  So, I moved on.  I sat at the crafts table next to a couple of kids.  Cute kids.  Being a kindergarten teacher, I figured I’d have an easy time getting to know some of them.  I turned to the boy next to me and began to help him with his craft.  He pulled it from me and almost immediately turned to some adults on the other side and started working with them instead.  I started to play ball with another boy.  He was seemed smart and lively.  Felt no real connection, but put his name on my list.  I had been there for a couple of hours and my list had been empty.  I had to put someone on their surely.  I noticed a cute kid on the train ride.  Then realized it was the same disabled kid I had noticed earlier.  I went on.  A couple more hours passed and the event was winding down.  Still no ‘connection’ with anyone.  I was feeling rather discouraged.  People were starting to go home.  Some of the kids and their workers were leaving.  I saw the disabled boy from earlier sitting down a hill with his adoption worker.  All alone.  Clearly no one was interested.  I walked down the hill and sat down next to him.  He was eating ice cream and doritos at the same time.  Quite a mess.  He offered me an ice cream and, I think, partly saliva covered dorito in his hand.  I’m not really a fan of sharing saliva – my wife will tell you that I’m not even keen on sharing a straw.  I took his proffered dorito however, and popped it into my mouth.  He gave a large smile and I knew.  This was the person that Heavenly Father wanted me to adopt.

Later, my own adoption worker gave me the rundown on this boy, whose name was Carlos.  He had been in a car accident just before turning two.  His biological mother had been drunk and gone over the side of a cliff.  She climbed out of the wreckage, carried him up to the road and walked until she found a fire station.  He was immediately take to a small hospital in the area, then transferred to a larger one and then flown by helicopter to Children’s Hospital in Los Angeles.  He had a traumatic brain injury that had left him with cerebral palsy, a brain shunt, blind left eye and left side paralysis.  When the extent of his injuries became apparent, his bio mom, left and never came back.  After Carlos had spent a couple of years in foster care, his bio dad – who’d been having weekly visits with Carlos – and bio dad’s girlfriend, took Carlos in.  After a couple of weeks they decided that it was too much for them and they dropped him off at a homeless shelter.

The extent of Carlos’s disabilities was rather overwhelming to me and I felt a little take aback as to whether I could handle it all. My social worker informed me that as well, Carlos’s parental rights had not yet been severed – which could take some time.  However, she informed that the other boy’s name that I had put on my list was immediately available.  I decided to adopt him instead.  I didn’t sleep well the next few days.  I felt that I had made the wrong decision – and yet I couldn’t bring myself to change it.  Adopting a child with the extent of Carlos’s disabilities was simply too much.  One day while I was praying about it, some very strong images and feelings came to my mind.  If I went through with my plans to adopt the other boy, all I saw was darkness and conflict.  Conversely, I saw Carlos as a young man, well-liked, confident, and preparing to leave to serve as a missionary for our church.  Despite this ‘vision’ if you will, for lack of a better word, I still couldn’t bring myself to make the phone call to adopt  Carlos instead.  I did pray however.  I expressed to my Heavenly Father that it was too difficult and overwhelming for me and  asked that if I truly should not adopt the other kid, that he would bless it not to happen and that I would instead adopt Carlos.  A few days later, my adoption worker called to say that this boy was no longer available – that a mess up had happened in the paperwork and that his adoption worker had promised him to someone else.

A couple of weeks after that, I received a phone call from another adoption worker offering me an infant for immediate placement.  I declined.  I knew who it was that God wanted me to adopt and had determined to do so.

Next week, I will write a second installment about Carlos and his adoption.  I invite you to share this blog with your friends and to even sign up to follow my blog if you feel so inspired.  Also, please feel free to leave a comment!