I didn’t know I poses a certain creativity when it comes to solving problems. Asking questions was frowned upon when I was a kid. So I learned to find out answers and solutions. I did it out of necessity. But I think I also like it. I loved the success. The independence. I got good at it and it served me well in my admin Asistent job, IT support, Executive assistant, tech support and creative and lead creative jobs. This is the common thread in all. 

I navigate bureaucracy with pleasure because it’s an obstacle course and I love a challenge. On my own terms. I wouldn’t do it every day for a job. 

All the shortcomings or limitations of my family paired with love and safety, community and access to good schools, they contributed to who I became. I made some good choices but I also had options and opportunities. 

Every day my daughters ask me to chat with them. They get all giddy when I get passionate about shy topic that comes up. 

I am stormy speaker. I pour all my passion in whatever I say. Even if it’s correction, or preachy, they want that connection. 

I was listening to Conrad giving them a daddy sermon. They listened quietly. He felt spent by the end of it, especially as he wondered if anything will stick. The futility of our talking feel draining. But I felt seen. I am not the only one who pours words of wisdom into our kids. And they do remember. They do learn. They grow taller and braver with each talk. We just don’t see it yet. 

Yesterday at church a young man, slightly older than me, pleaded with God in the sanctuary of the church, that he would be helped financially. He grew up in an orphanage. Until he aged out, moved across the country and had some odd jobs, but he still relies on government help for his livelihood. Housing and such. 

He is upset with God for giving him this life. But at the same time he reaches out to Him. He has had some good people in his life. I got to know him when shared about adoption on orphan Sunday at church. 

He said he wishes someone adopted him too, as we adopted our daughters. 

Though he is probably one of the most well adjusted young men in his generation of orphans, he is bitter about it. I get it. But at the same time that bitterness hasn’t helped him move on one inch. 

He told me he had a job but he couldn’t handle being yelled at by his boss. His childhood trauma make him freeze. Nobody likes being yelled at, nor do they perform better under duress. 

Listening to him, feeling powerless to help him properly, I realize the value of the many hours of conversation I have with my daughters. 

His story starts in a similar place with that of my daughters. And the journey is arduous to dismantle the lies, the fear, the furry, to bind the wounds and heal the pain. As someone said: it is easier to raise kids than to fix adults. I wouldn’t even know where to begin with someone who is so angry with God and with the society at large.  

My heart aches for him. As I feel he is trying to find a way to attach to someone for help. 

These years, I constantly focus on how I can empower the girls to fly the nest, to become independent, to live life on their own, pointing them to God, giving them tools and a foundation of values and belief. 

But I guess the biggest gift is the knowledge that they belong and that they are loved. Wholly and completely. 

As we start small, we set boundaries, we give and take. I think even with your own kids, into adulthood expectations need to be reset. Independence doesn’t mean freedom to do what you want while being dependent on others. 

I have met quite a few different young adults who grew up in the system, but they were never adopted. Some grew up in foster care others in the orphanage. The society obviously tried to help them, through people, through services, with financial support. But none of them can grasp the idea of commitment once they taste independence. They quit too easily. 

If you find a good thing, a good job, a good community, do everything in your power to keep it. For many of them this concept is foreign. They look at people around who seem to have it all, motivation, a job, a family, nice clothes. 

They can’t hold on to good things because they can’t recognize them as such, and the ones who should have held on to them when their life was young and precious, they discarded them. So this is ingrained in their heart. Forgetting the good things. Throwing away the good things. 

People are more reluctant to give a second or third chance if you didn’t value the first ones. They may not even know how great that first chance in adulthood was. Until it is no more. And thus the vicious cycle. 

From where I stand, resourcefulness seems within reach. Buckle down. Start small. Get a basic job to keep you grounded. Don’t spend more than you have. Keep your word. Work hard. Be humble. Show gratefulness. 

I spell this out with love as I would to myself, my husband or my children. 

How could the society effectively help adults who have had such a rough start in life? Skills, housing, sense of purpose.