Category Archives: adoption

May 18, 2012

Mother’s Day

By marciglass

I recognize this post might have been more useful before Mother’s Day, but that’s how it goes.

I’ve had a conflicted relationship with Mother’s Day since 1989. Before then, it was the day I made my mom a card and bought her some plants for the garden. It was a good day. Church, lunch, time with family.

My family adopted me as an infant, and I grew up thankful for my family, thankful for parents who wanted to give me a home, thankful for a woman I’ve never met who chose to give me life. And so I thought about her on Mother’s Day too, wishing I could thank her for the gift of my life.

But back to Mother’s Day 1989. At that point I was 8 and a half months pregnant with my first child, finishing final exams for my sophomore year of college, and preparing to place my son for adoption.

I’m the pregnant one in the middle.

Needless to say, it was a tough day.

I was about to give birth, but not become a mother. I was not going to be raising my son, so as far as everyone in the world was concerned, I wasn’t really a mother. He was going to have another mother, another family. I was going to go through life without him by my side. I wasn’t going to have his car seat in my car. I wasn’t going to make him a birthday cake and throw him a party. People were going to meet me and not be able to tell by looking at me that I had given birth to a son.

Luckily I went to a caring church. They had mothers stand up to be recognized on that day. And they told me to stand up too.

So that day, even before I gave birth, became a conflicted day for me.

My son was born six weeks later.

We went through with the adoption. It was beautiful. It was painful. It felt right. I met his parents and knew, knew without a doubt, we were doing the right thing. When I met them for the first time, I felt I had known them forever. As hard as it was to give him away, I had no hesitation. They were his parents.

the day of the adoption

I am, perhaps, the most blessed birth mother in the entire world. I’ve had a relationship with Eric his entire life. His parents have generously welcomed both Baby Daddy and me into his life. I haven’t seen him as often as I would have liked because we have never lived in the same state, but every time I have seen him has been blessing beyond blessing.

And as the years have gone by, I have gotten married, I’ve given birth to two more wonderful sons who also get to know Eric.

And each year Mother’s Day has continued to be a day of contradictions. It makes me think of my birth mother as I call and tell my mom that I love her. I have sent Mother’s Day cards to Eric’s mom, thanking her for both welcoming me into his life and for doing such a great job being a mom.

And I’ve become more sensitive to other women for whom Mother’s Day is painful.

For women who would give anything to overcome their battles with infertility so they can become mothers.

For women who would be mothers if they had partners with whom to raise them.

For women whose children have died.

For women who have never become mothers in the first place. Whether you’ve noticed it or not, we live in a world where women are rewarded and validated for being mothers. People assume that non mothers just haven’t become mothers yet.

I have become more sensitive to women with difficult relationships with their own mothers or with their children.

For women whose mothers have died.

And so, in any church where I am leading worship, I do what I can to make sure that Mother’s Day is a safe space for women like me. Worship should not be a place where people feel excluded, feel less than, or feel unsafe.

If you are looking for a good prayer to use in worship that encompasses the joy and pain of this day, I’d recommend my friend Ashley-Anne Masters prayer.

This year I wasn’t in worship on Mother’s Day. And this is why I’m writing about Mother’s Day the week after Mother’s Day. Because this was the first year since 1989 that I have been able to spend Mother’s Day with Eric. It was the day after his college graduation.

My college graduation

He was at my college graduation in 1991 and I was at his high school and college graduations.

his college graduation

And because he has such wonderful parents, I was able to spend the weekend with him and his family. And it was a day of great joy and overflowing emotion. It was a day I could give his mom a hug and thank her in person, rather than over the phone. It was a big day for me, 23 years in coming. It was also a day of lying on the couch and going out to Walmart to buy shoelaces for his dress shoes so he could start his new job the next morning. It was a day.

And because I don’t get to spend many days in his presence, the few that I do are gift beyond gift. They are also quite emotional. But it is never sadness. My tears are always because of the gift.  When Baby Daddy and I entrusted him to his parents at the adoption in 1989, we were hoping for an open adoption. We were hoping to receive letters and pictures of him over the years, so we could keep up with him, know he was okay, and watch him grow up from afar.

It never occurred to me that day that I would one day get to spend Mother’s Day with him, that I would get to buy him ties and dress shirts to wear to work, that I would go to a honky tonk late one night and listen to country music with him. That I would have any days with him was beyond my wildest imagination on the day we placed him for adoption.

the boy with his moms

I have two other boys and being their mother is a gift and a joy. It is my joy to drive the soccer carpool, to chaperone field trips, to pick them up after school on days it is raining too hard to walk home, to make a late night run to the store for printer cartridges so the English paper can be printed. Because I get so few normal, routine, every-day-kind-of-days with Eric, I do my best to appreciate those days with my other sons.

And so Mother’s Day is, in many ways, just another day. A day for me to give thanks for my two moms, the one I’ve never met and the one who has put up with me all these many years, loving me beyond measure. It is a day to give thanks for Eric’s mom, for her ceaseless love and constant care of the boy, for the way she picked up his Legos and took him to Pokemon tournaments. For her generosity in letting me be a part of his life. I will never stop giving thanks for her. And it is a day when I give thanks for the gift of being a mother. While it is not the only or best way to be a woman, it is a gift I cherish.

So, next time Mother’s Day rolls around, remember the women like me, the ones who want to hide under a rock so they can avoid the well meaning people who only see celebration on a day of contradictions.

And, in the 350 some days until the next Mother’s Day, be aware. Give thanks for each of the days you have. It is easy to be thankful on the days of celebration. But be thankful, too, on the boring ones. The stressful ones. The frustrating ones. Because each day is a gift.

Be thankful.

13 comments | posted in adoption, Mother's Day

April 30, 2012

Girl Problems

By marciglass

Exodus 1:8 to 2:10

I wonder if Pharaoh ever had second thoughts about killing the Hebrew peoples’ boy babies instead of their girl babies. Because if you read this story, the men aren’t much of a problem. They are slaves. They are brutally abused. They build things for Pharaoh.

But it is the women who cause all of the trouble. Shiphrah and Puah the midwives were so important to this story that their names are recorded. Pharaoh’s own daughter’s name doesn’t get recorded. Neither do Moses’ parents. But all these many years later, we can thank Shiphrah and Puah by name for refusing to abide by Pharaoh’s command.  When summoned before him, and asked why the Hebrew boy children keep showing up on the playground, they make up a story and start talking about “lady parts”, and you know how Pharaoh doesn’t really want to hear about that. So they continue to go about their resistance to Pharaoh’s infanticide policy.  And God blessed them for quietly working for justice, no matter what their instructions had been.

But Pharaoh wants what he wants. And so the lives of all boy children are at risk.
So Moses’ un-named mother and father are in a bind. They have this beautiful son, but they cannot parent him. He will be thrown in the crocodile infested river. They will likely face punishment as well.

So his mother hears the command of Pharaoh to throw the child into the Nile and comes up with an idea. Perhaps she trusts that God would not have blessed her with this boy child if there weren’t a plan for him. Perhaps she is so desperate with love for her baby that setting him loose on a small raft seems like a good plan. Whatever the case, Moses mother obeys the letter, if not the spirit, of Pharaoh’s command, and casts her son into the river.

See why I’m wondering if Pharaoh had second thoughts about which gender he should have killed?

Here the Bible gives us our first illustration of open adoption. Like a birth mother who realizes that she cannot parent the child she loves, Moses’ mother sets him loose on the waters of God’s beautiful and dangerous world and trusts that there is life for him.

And she weeps as she watches that flimsy raft float down the mighty river and wonders if she made the right decision.
And Moses’ sister follows the little boat from the riverbank and when Pharaoh’s daughter pulls him out of the river, she helpfully offers to go find a wet nurse. So Moses’ two mothers meet and work out a plan to keep this baby alive, in Pharaoh’s own house. The text doesn’t report any further conversation between them, but I am certain there were, at least, knowing glances, a comforting hand on the shoulder, and assurances that life would continue, even when death seemed the only option.

Leave a comment | posted in adoption, Exodus 2, Moses

March 21, 2012

My conversation with Chuck Winder

By marciglass

You may have seen the news. An Idaho senator made some comments in defending his mandatory ultrasound before abortion bill that infuriated people and went viral. Here’s his quote:

“Rape and incest was used as a reason to oppose this,” Winder said on the Senate floor. “I would hope that when a woman goes in to a physician with a rape issue, that physician will indeed ask her about perhaps her marriage, was this pregnancy caused by normal relations in a marriage or was it truly caused by a rape. I assume that’s part of the counseling that goes on.”

A number of my friends commented on the article, posted the link to Huffington Post on their facebook pages, and were upset about the comment.

I was upset too.

But I know Senator Winder. I don’t know him well. But he is a Presbyterian Elder who has served as the moderator of the Presbytery where I serve. I disagree with him completely on this. Let’s be clear about it. But I also know he is not a monster. I was certain that he couldn’t possibly mean what I heard in his comment. So I emailed him.

Senator Winder:
>
> Dear Chuck,
> I was wondering if you meant your comments about women and their doctors
> to sound the way they did? Do you really mean to suggest that women would
> be unclear about whether or not they were raped? I read your comments on
> huff post, as did many of my friends across the country. They dont know
> you, but my suspicion is that you surely didn’t mean to be so insensitive
> to women? Any clarification would be appreciated. I am deeply opposed to
> this legislation. While I do not like abortion or think it is a good
> solution, I strongly believe it should be legal until we can make it
> unnecessary. Once we start treating the lives that are already here with
> the same respect you want to extend to fetuses, then it is a different
> conversation. And people who are opposed to abortion should be shouting
> loudly to protect womens’ access to contraception. Any clarification
> would be appreciated. I have told my friends that I am sure you misspoke.
> I hope I am right. Blessings, Marci Glass
>

I was hoping that he meant that doctors, not legislators, would be determining if a woman had been raped. I was hoping for a typo. Anything other than that suggestion that a woman would need a medical professional to help her determine if the sex she’d had was consensual or not.

He replied. I am appreciative that someone in the midst of a legislative session would reply so quickly. Here’s his response.

Marci, of course not. I was just saying that the attending physician would hopefully counsel the victim to determine if she was pregnant from a consensual relationship vs a pregnancy caused by the rape. The thought being that knowing the pregnancy was not caused by the rape she may well not want to terminate the pregnancy.

Chuck

This was not the answer I was hoping for.

(author’s note: In the comments, people pointed out that I misunderstood his reply. I acknowledged that in the comments, but to be clear, I want to acknowledge it here too. He is apparently saying that he’s hoping a doctor could help a woman determine if her pregnancy was caused by the rape or by consensual sex. That said, I wonder if I didn’t understand him because it still seems a startling comment. Does he think a woman needs legislation to help her determine whether or not she should be figuring such things out? There are many problems with this idea, many of which are helpfully pointed out in the comments below. But I wanted to make sure you knew that I had caught that error of mine without having to send you to the comments. as you were….)

 

Here’s my reply to him:

Thank you for your reply. As a woman who faced an unplanned pregnancy, I have to say that I never needed anyone to help me determine if the sex had been consensual or not. I chose to place my child for adoption, and I get to go see him graduate from college in May. So I know what I am talking about.
When I was facing that choice, I went to Planned Parenthood for the pregnancy test. Never once did they encourage me to get an abortion. They never even brought it up.
The only reason I even considered an abortion– for a second– was so people at my church wouldn’t judge me and so my parents wouldn’t be disappointed in me. I chose to go through public shame to bring my child to the world, but I was thankful that it was MY choice. I knew my parents wouldn’t kick me out. And I decided I was willing to lose my faith, if needed.
And never, ever, ever did I need a physician or any other person to counsel me as you are suggesting be done. I would encourage you to walk back your words and reconsider.
As a woman who faced this situation after the first time I had sex, who felt bad that she had let her family and her church down, I can tell you that your comments would have hurt me to the core. Shame was one thing I did not need help with. And it is patronizing beyond belief for a man, even a nice man such as yourself, to suggest that I would have needed a doctor to help determine if the sex had been consensual or not.
I know you are approaching this legislation out of the depth of your faith, but I pray you would consider that in the aim of saving life, you might be ruining life. Your comments, though I am sure you would not intend them this way, are inflammatory and painful for me, and for any woman facing an unplanned pregnancy.
Thank you for your time.
Marci

If you don’t know my adoption story, you can read a sermon about my experience here. But let’s be clear. THE most compelling reason for me to consider an abortion was to avoid the shame that conservative Christians offer to unmarried pregnant teenagers.

Did you hear me?

The only reason I considered an abortion was so other Christians wouldn’t judge me.

I am thankful, to the bottom of my heart, that the only judging that came my way was from people who didn’t know me and who had marginal voices in my life. The people who knew me loved me, supported me, and carried me through the entire experience. Friends, family, professors, pastors, university administrators, and little old ladies at church all gave me love and care. The church I was attending offered me grace and acceptance. This issue is probably the biggest reason I became a pastor, truth be told.

So, for people who I know to be Christians who love Jesus to have made abortion THE defining issue of the faith, I pray that they will reconsider.

I didn’t need help understanding shame.

I needed help understanding grace.

Where is grace in the conversation about criminalizing contraception? (And how can people who are opposed to abortion also be opposed to contraception?)

Where is grace in the conversation about abortion? How can we possibly be discussing that women should be subjected, against their will, to transvaginal ultrasounds?

How about this.

Let’s not make abortion illegal. Let’s make it unnecessary. Let’s provide access to contraception. Let’s continue to work at health care reform so that money isn’t the reason people consider abortion. Let’s support single women who find themselves pregnant and give them help so that they can raise their children.

Let’s stop with the shame already.

Yes, I value life. I would even call myself “pro-life” as I also call for legal abortion. But the way I show that is in caring for and advocating for the lives that already on this earth. Life may begin at conception, but our concern for life certainly shouldn’t end at birth.

If Senator Winder replies to my other email, I’ll share it here.

Thanks for your time. Now go out and, as author Marilynne Robinson has said, “participate in the grace that has saved” us.

57 comments | posted in abortion, adoption, Chuck Winder, contraception

November 2, 2008

Who Do You Say That I Am?

By marciglass

A Sermon preached at Southminster Presbyterian Church
November 2, 2008

John 4:4-29, 39-42

I am the woman at the well.
To look at my life today, it might not be so easy for you to connect me with her.
I have not had five husbands. And I can gather my water in the cool of the morning with the other women. Socially and politically, I know I am not a Samaritan.
I am probably more of a Pharisee or something, or at least the wife of a Pharisee, someone on the inside of society’s gifts.
But I haven’t always been defined by being a pastor, or by my marriage to a caring and liberated man, or by my two wonderful children and Siamese cat.
When I was in college, I was defined instead by my sin.
That’s how I saw it then.
To make a ridiculously long story short, I got pregnant my sophomore year of college at Trinity University in San Antonio, TX.
I didn’t wear a scarlet letter on my clothing, but I didn’t need to. I was the “pregnant girl” that year, swelling belly leading me wherever I went.
Luckily for me, I encountered Jesus that year. Not the Jesus of my Sunday school and conventional American moralism. I did not encounter that Jesus, who was lurking in the back of my head, disappointed that I had sinned, ready to judge me.
Instead, thankfully, I encountered the Jesus who knew everything I had ever done, and loved me anyway.
Where did I meet this Jesus?
I met this Jesus at church, of all places. I had been preparing to join University Presbyterian Church when all of this went down. I went to the pastor and told him that perhaps this wasn’t the best time, after all, for me to join. After I wept in his office and told him almost everything I had ever done, the pastor said to me, “when could be a better time to join a church?” This church–which I am sure was scandalized, on some level, by this unwed teenager in their midst—this church was like the disciples in our Bible text. They might have been surprised that Jesus would have been talking to me, but they didn’t say anything about it. They fed me. They gave me maternity clothes. They visited me in the hospital. They had me stand up on Mother’s Day in worship.

I also met this Jesus at my university. While there were people who would have liked me to take my water jar and go to a different well altogether, most people made room for me. Boys offered to type my papers, carried my books, took me out for dinner to make sure I was eating enough. My sorority sisters expected me to remain an active member of the club, even though I was worried that my presence would ruin the reputation of the club. My professors made allowances for me and had the grace to encourage my intellect at a time when most all else was out of my control.
And because I met this Jesus, I now call “blessing” what I used to call “sin”. I placed my son up for adoption. Eric is now 19 years old and a sophomore at TCU in Fort Worth. My boys get to know their brother and it is a gift for me to see them all together. I am blessed to be a part of his life and would love to tell you more about him. Adoption has touched our lives in a beautiful way, allowing blessing to come from pain.

And, because I received the gift of living water from Jesus at the well—the gift that came to me in the form of grace, acceptance, love and support from my family, my community of faith, and my college community—I was able to leave my jar there by the side of the well and have been able to go and tell everyone about the man who knew everything I have ever done.
And who loves me anyway.

Before I met Jesus, I was often to be found at the well of self-reliance. I would go every day and fill my jar with the illusion that I could solve any problem, take care of myself, and didn’t need others to get through life. Truth be told, I don’t think I even thought I needed God. I was a “good girl”. I believed that Jesus was God’s son, but I acted as if the gift of life through the cross event was for others because if I could be good enough to take care of myself, then God would be freed up to take care of the people who really needed help.

But Jesus has this way of shattering illusions. When he quietly makes his statement at the well, it becomes apparent that he isn’t fooled. When he tells the woman to go and bring back her husband, she realizes he knows who she is deep down inside. And not just the person she projects.
I wonder what went through her mind as she realized he truly knew her. Was there a pause as she considered her answer?
Did it occur to her to say, “He’s working late at the office. I’m not expecting him back for a while.”
Did it occur to her to get angry with this stranger who was messing into her personal life? “How dare you ask me for a drink and then insult me?!”
But all John records for us in the text was her answer. “I have no husband.”
Because when you encounter someone who sees you as you really are and then engages your best self, the truth is the only answer to give. We can fool each other, and we do. We can put on our best face when we come to church, and we do. But God is not fooled. God knows who we really are and loves us anyway.

If there is ANY place where you can bring your TRUE self, it is to church.

What jar are you carrying around that you could perhaps set down? Because we do that, we keep taking our jars to the wrong wells, and we keep running out of water. We go to the wells of acceptance or popularity. We go to the wells of compromise, or anxiety, or fear. We go to the wells of self reliance or the well of “everything is just fine”.

Jesus gives the Samaritan woman the gift of living water, and frees her from the daily task of coming to a well that will not satisfy. When I was in college, in the midst of my pain, I encountered him as well. Leaving my jar is what freed me to embark on the path to ministry.
Because, like the other woman at the well, I encountered someone who gave me such grace, I have had no other option but to keep running back to the city, telling everyone I meet all about him.
“Come and see a man who told me everything I have ever done! He cannot be the Messiah, can he?”
Yes. He is. A messiah of Grace, and Truth, and Life.
Amen

12 comments | posted in adoption, John 4

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