please, please, please do not support Pat Robertson, CBN, or The 700 Club

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A year ago, I wrote a passionate post here titled "an open letter to Pat Robertson, from the adoptive mother of a child with brain damage," written as a response to Robertson's statements about adoption the day before on The 700 Club. These comments included "you don't know what problems" there will be when you adopt and a story of a family you know who adopted a "child [who] had brain damage, you know, grew up weird."

see that child with brain damage laughing with her sister at the beach?
Weird? Maybe. But loved by a family while loving her family in return? Definitely.

Two years ago, I wrote a post titled "Pat Robertson's view of Alzheimer's and divorce: Not just wrong but dangerous" on my special needs ministry blog. That post was my response to his on-air statements that a man could divorce his wife because Alzheimer's disease made it so she was "not there" anymore.

Neither of us have Alzheimer's, but I have some chronic diseases I didn't have when we married.
Would that be grounds for divorce by Robertson's reasoning?

Three years ago, the Christian Alliance for Orphans blogged about when Mr. Robertson said on the air, " “It [adoption] can be a blessing, if you get the right child.”

We're not counting on these three being the right children.
We expect them to be kids.
We're the responsible party as parents.

I don't watch The 700 Club - nor should you, unless you want to support this sort of thing - so I'm not sure if he derails in hurtful and dangerous ways more than once a year. After my examples above from one, two, and three years ago, it was time for 2013's indiscretion, which came a few days ago:
“You know what they do in San Francisco, some in the gay community there they want to get people so if they got the stuff they’ll have a ring, you shake hands, and the ring’s got a little thing where you cut your finger. Really. It’s that kind of vicious stuff, which would be the equivalent of murder.”
You can read more about it here.

Even if those gay HIV+ boogeymen existed, the facts of HIV transmission would render their attacks useless. For starters, those boogeymen would have to cease taking life-saving drugs so that their viral loads of HIV would increase enough for likely transmission. Then, the boogeymen would have to be actively bleeding from an open wound that would directly flow into the cuts made by the rings, because HIV is wimpy and can't survive outside of the body. After that, the boogeymen would need to prevent their victims from accessing the prophylactic meds that can be administered after HIV exposure to avoid infection.

But you know those wacky gays, right? They'll do anything to get us.
(Please note my sarcasm above!)

 I'm past open letters at this point. I don't see remorse or repentance. I don't see any desire for wisdom or efforts toward education or enlightenment. In the absence of those things, I cannot support Mr. Robertson in any way. He is the founder and chairman of the Christian Broadcasting Network and the host of The 700 Club, so I can't support those either.

To be honest, I haven't supported either for quite some time. So what's the difference now? Now, I'm convicted enough of the damages rendered by such unChristlike statements from a very public professing Christian that I must speak up. Personal views aren't enough for me anymore. A public stance is necessary.

Please, please, please do not support Pat Robertson, CBN, or The 700 Club.

If no one listened to him, then Pat Robertson wouldn't be on the air anymore. But he is. That's why I'm asking this of you.

Too much harm is being done to people I love: children waiting for families because people listen to Pat's warnings about damaged kids, husbands who desert their wives when disease strikes because Pat said it was okay, and people who fear those with HIV because of misinformation about rogue infected criminals.

This is personal. I'm a wife who could be left using Pat's reasoning - that is, if I wasn't married to a godly man who would never heed such nonsense. My daughter from Taiwan was one of the brain-damaged orphans he warned against adopting. One of the three siblings we're currently adopting from Uganda has HIV.

I'll say it again: for me, this is personal.

So, please. Please. If you're one of the folks still tuning in to CBN and The 700 Club, please stop.

I won't have to write another post like this in 2014 if no one is listening to or supporting the harmful utterances. And that? That would be wonderful.

 Update: Sadly, it's 2014, about a year later... and Robertson is warning viewers about the AIDS towels they should avoid if they travel to Kenya. If I could link to The 700 Club instead of Huffington Post, I would, but CBN's response to expressed concerns about their chairman's gaffes is simply to remove controversial episodes from their online archive. Sadly, trying to erase the internet record of his words isn't the same as the accountability and repentance needed here. 

okay, call us heroes if you'd like. but remember that we're normal and, at times, needy too.

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I love friends.

True friends, I mean. The kind who are willing to call me on my crap when necessary.

I don't think my post requesting that we not be called heroes was crap, but it was flawed. Two friends privately approached me about it, and I agreed with them (after a moment of defensiveness in my immediate reaction, because I'm human like that). Thus the title of the new post: go ahead and call us heroes, but remember that we are normal and flawed and needy, just like you.

One of my pet peeves, as one friend gently reminded me, is when adoptive parents and special needs mamas throw fits about wording: Do say this. Don't say this. Here, learn this set of rules so lengthy that you'll be afraid to ever open your mouth around a child with special needs or an adoptive family ever again.

Side note: I do think some words should be avoided, like "retarded." Using the r-word is as distasteful and offensive as using the n-word or b-word to address Jocelyn's first grade teacher, a black woman. 

Most words, though, that we perceive as hurtful are wholly unintentional. I love to talk about adoption (and holistic orphan care beyond adoption) and special needs, and I would be grieved if someone felt like we couldn't talk about that because they might accidentally insult me by calling me a hero.

So if you consider us heroes, then feel free to call us that. 

I merely ask that you remember three things as you do:
  1. God is the real Hero. We're just following Him where He leads.

  2. We're normal(ish) and flawed and needy too. Please, please, please don't exalt us.  One of my biggest struggles with being called a hero is the distance that word created for us when we came home with Zoe. Being labelled "hero" felt like we were being put on a pedestal, and when you're on a pedestal, you're up high above everyone else. So when we struggled - and struggled hard - we didn't feel like anyone was close enough to turn to, in part because of the praise being heaped on us and in part because of our own arrogance in not wanting to diminish the exalted view others had of us. Maybe the problem was our perception, but we felt like people couldn't see us as both heroes AND friends so - for a season, at least - friendships seemed far away because our friends no longer viewed us on the same plane as them. I felt isolated by being viewed as a hero and not a mom who was struggling in some of the same ways as any other mom (and in some unique ways due to adoption issues).

  3. Heroism comes in many forms. If you consider adopting three siblings from Africa to make us heroes, remember that you're surrounded by other heroes. My friend who cares for her ailing mother behind closed doors? No one sees her heroism. The one who gets up every morning and loves her family even though her heart is torn in two by the loss of her father? That's a hero, though no one will call her that. The man who puts on his badge, the teenager who chooses what's right over what's popular, and the one who stands for what is good without being a jerk about it... all are heroes. Honestly, I find it easier to obey in the big and visible acts than the small and less visible ones; for example, it's easier to adopt than it is to parent after the adoption. It's kind of like how all the attention is on the wedding looming as a big deal, when the marriage following the wedding is the harder task. It's easier to act like a hero when everyone is watching; it's harder to do it when no one (or perhaps only your family) witnesses your obedience. That's why I started my last post with the example of small acts that people did to meet our needs when Robbie had his seizure; most of those weren't visible to anyone but us, but those people were heroes to us in the moment we needed them. 
two of my favorite ordinary heroes, feeding each other popcorn

I started this post by saying that I love friends. I do.

That's why the word hero makes me nervous. Please cherish our friendship more than you exalt any heroism you might see in us. And please recognize, as you go about your daily lives, you're probably acting as a hero and interacting with heroes far more often than you realize.

when will we travel?

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That's the question on everyone's tongues. Frankly, we don't know.

We do know that our attorney in Uganda will be sending us an affidavit to sign soon, and once we return that, our court date will be issued.

A lot of the timing hinges on our definition of "soon." The affidavit will come soon, but our definition of soon in the US isn't the same as the definition of soon in Uganda. As was the case when I lived on the Mexican border, "soon" means different things in different cultures.

So that affidavit that's coming soon?

It could be next week. Or it could be next month. Or it could be longer.

The irony hasn't escaped me: we're struggling to be patient as we wait for Patience and her siblings.

picture thanks to The Archibald Project
I remember those moments of anticipation as we boarded the plane to meet Zoe like it was just last year. {Oh, wait. It was.} In the next week or so, I'm going to blog in more detail about that trip. I just couldn't unpack our journey to Zoe into words until now.

Heck, I couldn't even unpack my bags from the trip until we had been home for two months. True story.

Today, I'm packing bags for our next trip, preparing items we don't need for a while and clothes for our newest children.

And I'm being refined as I wait impatiently for Patience and her brother and sister.

what I just want to scream sometimes: WE'RE NOT HEROES!

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We aren't.

 I'm just a mom and a wife, roles that I cherish. And I can't possibly live up to the high bar of "hero." Nor do I want to.

When Robbie had his seizure and we were in crisis mode, friends saw our needs and stepped forward: with food, with pajamas for me, with toys for Robbie, and with childcare. Not to mention the encouraging texts and comments and emails.

Simply put, y'all saw our great need and did what you could to help.

 That's what Zoe's adoption was for us, and what the adoption of Patience, Philip, and Patricia is. When presented with a great need, we're doing what we can to help.

And?

In helping, we are blessed beyond measure.

 Our spunky Asian brings light and love into our home in ways that it didn't exist before her. Her adoption made the gospel more real to our first two children and, if I'm honest, to me. We're not all that selfless, you know. I have gained far more in every way from adoption than I have given.


I have also learned more than I could have expected. Lee and I went on a date last night, thanks to the generosity of a dear friend who kept the young'uns, and ended up at a coffee shop. It started as a sweet time as husband and wife, and then turned into a double date for a bit as precious friends joined us, and finally ended in deep conversation with Chris Marlow and Jeff Goins about orphan care and justice and ways to prevent adoption from being needed in the first place for many children around the world.

That's sort of how my life is. Haphazard, but passionate. Ordinary, but with hints of extraordinary things God is doing all around us. A mix of dirty diapers, physical therapy appointments, and playdates juxtaposed with consultations with denominational leaders about adoption ethics, speaking engagements to train church leaders to include people with special needs in Christian community, and conversations in coffee shops with faithful folks who are also saying yes to God where He leads them in helping with great needs.

A hero? No. I think some people call me and Lee heroes because it's easier to label us heroes than to consider what help they can offer toward bringing God's justice to the great needs all around us.

If you're in Christ, you're following the same Hero God we are. Lee and I? We're not heroes. We're just obeying the Hero as we refuse to just pass on the other side of the road and expect someone else to meet the needs that are before us.

Anyone can do that.