I’d seen Cinderella a million times. I could just see myself in the evil stepmother role. I felt like I couldn’t possibly love an adopted child as much as our other kids.
But then I’d think about what it might be like to be an abandoned child in China, living in an orphanage. Let’s see . . . was it better for an innocent little girl to have no mom, or a loving family and a halfway okay, half-crazy mom?
Meanwhile, Steven gathered Emily, Caleb, and Will together. “Okay, listen up. We’re gonna head down the road to adoption” – he was interrupted by wild cheers – “but you know that on every road there are detours. We don’t know if this road will end with us actually getting a little girl from China, but it’s the road we’re heading down.”
This image helped me a lot. It captured my faith journey at that time. As you know, for many of the events in my life I’d made plans and barreled toward what I wanted. With this big life decision . . . sure, we wanted (I think) the outcome to be that we’d adopt a little girl from China. But I felt like I was making that journey one little step at a time, walking each step God showed me to walk, not taking matters into my own hands and churning toward where I wanted to go. I didn’t know where I wanted to go. I was conflicted and chose to believe that being conflicted was right where I needed to be in order for my faith to be put into action.
For the first time in my life, I began to learn to live the verse from Psalm 119:105 – “Thy word is a lamp unto my feet, and a light unto my path.”
“God!” I prayed. “I don’t know that I’ve ever been on a journey where I really needed faith before. I could always see the path just fine. But with this, I truly don’t know where the road will lead. I can only see enough by Your light to take the next little step. And the next . . . ”
“I’m willing to do this, Lord,” I prayed. “But I’m scared!”
I was scared I’d be the evil stepmother. I was scared that I was too unbalanced to handle another child on top of the challenges of Steven’s crazy tour schedule. I could see in my mind how the implications of this would play out over a lifetime.
I was scared that life the way I knew it was over, and I didn’t like not knowing what was coming. Many, many nights my husband would just hold me in our bed as I sobbed and tears of fear ran down my face, dribbling into my ears.
The one good thing in my favor through all this was that I’ve always been a champion at paperwork, and the beginning stages of adoption are all about paperwork. I filled out all our forms and tracked down our certified birth certificates, marriage certificate, and all kinds of other certificates. We had background checks and fingerprints done.
So in May 1999 we finished our adoption dossier, including our home study and everything else in our paperwork pile, which made up one fat stack of papers. After getting every kind of notarization, state seal, and government authentication, I felt like I’d followed God’s path step by step, and now all I was supposed to do was wait.
We didn’t have to wait long. The following January, we received our referral from Bethany. This was the packet that gave us a picture of our child-to-be and what little information existed about her health, birth, and abandonment. There was also the acceptance letter . . . which we had to sign within forty-eight hours of receiving it to say that yes, we will adopt this child.
The agency had sent me the picture electronically, and as I downloaded it, my stomach was in a knot. Back then downloads were so slow because of dial-up speed. Finally the photo opened on our computer screen while Steven and I held our breath. Little by little, our new daughter’s face appeared.
Her name was Chang Yan Yan, from Hunan Province. Chang was her surname, but in China they always put that first. Yan Yan was her first name. It meant “doubly adorable.” The photo was basically a chubby little Chinese face swaddled in blankets, but I thought she was the most beautiful, incredible baby I’d ever seen. I was halfway thrilled and halfway scared, still convinced I was going to be a terrible mother for this poor little, doubly adorable Chinese orphan.
Finally the time came to saddle up our horses and head to China. Emily had just turned fourteen, and she was beside herself with joy. We waited until she’d finished her performances in the school play – she was starring as Little Red Riding Hood – then packed up ten-year-old Caleb and his nine-year-old sidekick Will, and got ready to head to China.
I took a photo as we left our home to go to the airport. It was early in the foggy morning, and there were our three towheaded Chapman children, sleepy but full of excitement.
And so was I, but as I got on the airplane and flew halfway around the world to retrieve the sixth member of our family – certainly not towheaded – I was still afraid. I had no idea that God was going to do a miracle in China. It wasn’t just the wonder of adopting our daughter. It was a spiritual miracle inside of me, one that would begin to heal me of some of the guilt and shame I’d been carrying around since I was a teenager.
13
When Love Takes You In
I will not leave you as orphans; I will come to you.
John 14:18 ESV
God sets the lonely in families.
Psalm 68:6
Our friend and Steven’s road manager, David Trask, came along to help keep us all on time, organized, and sane. The plan was for us to meet our adoption guide and acclimate to the time change for a few days in Beijing while we saw sites like the Great Wall, the Forbidden City, and Tiananmen Square. Then we were to fly south to Changsha, capital of Hunan province, where little “doubly adorable” Chang Yan Yan would be brought, like the best room service ever, to our hotel room.
We had decided to call her Shaohannah. Shao for laughter, of course, and Hannah for the gift of God’s grace.
We were all weary but anxious. The kids and Steven were anxiously awaiting the arrival of the newest member of the family . . . while my anxiety was more the kind that made me want to run the other way.
Heavy fog in Beijing delayed our takeoff for five hours. I could barely keep my calm; I felt like the moment that everyone else was waiting for was relentlessly closing in on me.
We arrived in Changsha. Our guide called the orphanage people to tell them that we had finally arrived. She discovered that they had already traveled from the orphanage and were in the city, waiting for us because of our delay. They’d been there a few hours, and they had only brought one bottle of formula. They said they needed to get the baby to us as soon as possible . . . as a matter of fact, they were in the lobby and wanted to bring her up to our room right away.
Of course I had plenty of bottles, formula, and everything else. But things were accelerating way too quickly. I was about to come eye to eye with what had terrified me for the past year. I was getting ready to give birth, and I didn’t at all feel prepared. I didn’t even feel pregnant! I was scared to death. What was about to happen?
As we checked into our hotel, the staff was very professional. They were used to hosting American families, who stayed in this hotel all the time to do the very thing we were getting ready to do.
We had no more than entered our room when the phone rang and a voice informed us in broken English that the people were there with our baby and they wanted to bring her up to us right then, if that was alright. I didn’t have formula unpacked, nothing was settled or nested in our room. I was frantic.
My stomach was turning cartwheels, my hands were clammy, and my heart was racing. There was no backing out now. What had I been thinking? I didn’t even know this little person from China, and now she was being carried up the elevator, down the hall, straight toward my arms . . . and I didn’t feel prepared in the least!
“God,” I prayed, “please, I don’t even know what to say, but, HELPPPPPPP!”
Steven was looking at me, worried. I could see him thinking, She’sgonna completely flip out, and when she does. . . . What do I do?
Meanwhile, David Trask was in the hall with the video camera pointed toward the elevator, his finger ready to push
the little red “record” button.
I was like a caged animal, pacing, frantic. If I could’ve jumped out the window and lived, I would have. Jet lag, anxiety, and the Enemy’s lies were skewing my brain. It was like Satan was whispering in my ear that I couldn’t be a good mom, I couldn’t do this, I couldn’t love this little girl the way she needed to be loved.
I grabbed Emily, Caleb, and Will and lined them up at the end of the bed. “Kids!” I struggled to say. “This is going to change our family forever! Whatever happens in the next twenty-four hours, just remember, I love you!” They stared at me, all in a row, their eyes big and their jaws wide open.
I heard in the distance the “ding” of the elevator. I heard our facilitator’s voice calling from the hall in Chinese/broken English, “They here! They here!”
Terrified, I walked slowly toward the door. Everything went into slow motion. I looked back over my shoulder one last time at my three little towheaded kids sitting in a row: the way things were. It was a kind of death to the familiar life I’d known. I took a deep breath, told God that I trusted Him, and walked through the door.
I saw a Chinese woman carrying a bundled baby. She was wrapped in a million layers, but the outside one was a pink, polka-dotted flannel blanket that I had made and sent from home.
I couldn’t get to her fast enough. I opened my arms, flew toward the woman, and took the baby. Tears poured down my face. I couldn’t believe that this was my child. I stared down at her, crying over and over, “This is my baby!” I wept and clutched her tightly as the nanny handed me everything I had ever sent her: a stuffed pig, a plastic photo album of her new family.
Steven had stepped back. He could see that something miraculous was unfolding. It was like I had walked out into the hall as one person, and now I was holding this baby as a new person altogether.
In that moment, time stopped. It was like God was speaking to me directly. “Mary Beth, you thickheaded woman, do you not understand now that this is the very way I see you? You are this orphan! I adopted you and you are Mine! I bought you for a price! Do you see how you love this baby? That’s just a faint reflection of how much I love you! You didn’t have a name, and I gave you a name. You did nothing to deserve my love, and I love you anyway. You had no hope, no future, and now you are the daughter of the King!”
I saw it. The second she was placed in my arms, I would have fought to the death to protect her. I loved her with everything inside of me.
“Do you get it now?” God was saying to me. Under the blanket, this baby was wrapped in rags. She was poor. She didn’t smell good. She was hungry. There was nothing about her that had “earned” my love. But I loved her powerfully, deeply, absolutely. Period.
I got it.
Steven saw the transformation in my spirit. David Trask saw it through the lens of the video camera. In an instant, God had bonded me forever to this little girl, and nothing would separate us. In doing so, He also showed me the forever fierceness of His unconditional love for me, doing a work of grace in my life that I’d never known before.
Then we heard three little voices from the hotel room. We had forgotten all about our three “natural” children. We had told them to wait because I had been afraid, and we weren’t sure what was going to happen out in the Hallway of Life.
“Hey! What about us?” they called. “You forgot us!”
Steven and I looked at each other through our tears of joy and began laughing. It scared Shaohannah and she puckered up and started to cry, which made it even funnier in a weird way.
“Come on out!” Steven shouted.
“When Love Takes You In”
Words and music by Steven Curtis Chapman
I know you’ve heard the stories
But they all sound too good to be true
You’ve heard about a place called home
But there doesn’t seem to be one for you
So one more night you cry yourself to sleep
And drift off to a distant dream
And somewhere while you’re sleeping
Someone else is dreaming too
Counting down the days until
They hold you close and say I love you
And like the rain that falls into the sea
In a moment what has been is lost in what will be
When love takes you in everything changes
A miracle starts with the beat of a heart
And this love will never let you go
There is nothing that could ever cause this love to lose its hold
When love takes you in everything changes
A miracle starts with the beat of a heart
When love takes you home and says you belong here
The loneliness ends and a new life begins
When love takes you in it takes you in for good
When love takes you in
14
Show Hope
I saw the face of Jesus
In a little orphan girl
She was standing in the corner
On the other side of the world
And I heard the voice of Jesus
Gently whisper to my heart
Didn’t you say you wanted to find Me
Well, here I am
Here you are
So what now
What will you do now that you’ve found Me
What now
What will you do with this treasure you’ve found
I know I may not look like what you expected
But if you’ll remember
This is right where I said I would be
You found Me
What now
“What Now”
Words and music by Steven Curtis Chapman
We came back from China with Shaohannah Hope Chapman in March 2000. This was, of course, back in the days before airport security had become as restrictive as it is today. There were about 250 people gathered right at the gate when we got off our airplane, jet-lagged, clutching our new little Asian princess. There were camera crews as well as friends and family cheering us across the finish line, taking pictures and waving welcome home signs.
I had already told Steven I was sure that when my brother Jim met Shaohannah, he was going to want to adopt as well. And sure enough, one of the first things he said – after we had hugged and introduced him to his new niece – was something like, “Okay, what do we need to do to start the process to go bring one of these little girls home to our family?”
Before we ever left the airport, five other families had told us that they’d love to adopt too, but they’d looked into it and couldn’t afford it.
Just days before, I had walked through the orphanage where Shaoey had spent the first seven months of her life. My heart broke over and over again as I looked into the faces of so many little ones lying there in their iron cribs, their eyes looking into mine as if to ask, “Did you come for me?”
So when people were telling me that they’d just love to take one of these little ones into their home if they only had the money, what was I to do? I started writing checks. As Steven says, a line started to form around the block as I tried to help wonderful families with the resources they needed to adopt children in need.
In the summer of 2001, we went back to China with my brother Jim and his wife Yolanda, as well as our great friends Geoff and Jan Moore, to be with them as they adopted Isabelle Chapman and Anna Grace Moore, two little girls from the same province as Shaoey. Several other families followed suit, and so we needed to figure out a better way to help as many people as we could to experience this miracle of adoption.
We had worked with Bethany Christian Services for our adoption of Shaohannah, so Steven called Bethany. “Is there a fund where we can direct people who want to adopt?” he asked. “We keep being approached by people who want so badly to adopt but don’t have the money to make it happen. We want to help people experience this miracle we’ve experienced . . . not to mention the fact that there are so many children w
aiting right now for families, and families wanting to give them a home!”
The people at Bethany were wonderful. They told us that they once had such a fund, but it had long since been depleted. They agreed that this was a huge need for Christian families. They were willing to help us if we decided to start something.
We continued to look around for some other organization that helped people who wanted to adopt. Steven felt that he could use his music platform to give a lift to whatever already existed. He’d gladly call attention to the need for believers to adopt, if only he could connect himself to the right organization.
But we couldn’t find what we were looking for. We began to prayerfully consider starting something ourselves. It wasn’t like we didn’t already have enough to do. Our lives were crazy . . . but this idea stayed with us, so we connected with various people who had the same vision.
In September 2001, Steven and I were chosen by the Congressional Coalition on Adoption Institute to receive their annual National Angel in Adoption award. At the time, an amazing woman named Kerry Hasenbalg was serving as the executive director. On September 10, the night before the event, we got together with Kerry and her husband Scott, along with other friends, to talk, dream, and pray about how we might do something to help the orphans and vulnerable children in the world.
The next morning, September 11, Steven woke up early to do an interview with CNN. We even had a meeting scheduled with President Bush later in the day to talk about orphan care and adoption.
When Steven returned from his interview at CNN, we sat down at a table in our hotel restaurant to have breakfast. Suddenly there was a news report that a plane had crashed into one of the twin towers of the World Trade Center in New York. We watched the television in shock, along with the rest of the world. Then the second airplane slammed into the second tower.
We ran back to our room where Uncle Dave – Steven’s road manager, David Trask – was watching Shaoey. We stared at the television . . . and then we saw smoke rising in the distance beyond our hotel window in Washington. The Pentagon had just been hit.
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