Aww, you shouldn't have

No, really. I shouldn’t have. I went to St. Louis to follow up an email I sent to our agency's headquarters.

I was encouraged by the presence of the China Program Director, Program Coordinator, and our contact, an Administrative Coordinator. Two had copies of my email, which voiced concerns from lost paperwork to rotating caseworkers to conflicting information.

The Program Director left early to get her kids. The remaining Coordinators took polar roles. Administrative C was concerned but outranked by Program C, who remained impassive. It was up to me to initiate each point of discussion. I realized we are on our own. Agencies are liaisons who facilitate adoption. That’s all. Though never stated, it was clear from Program C’s dismissal of each issue. I was the classic anxious adoptive parent, and my questions, world-shaking to me, are the latest trivial moments she has heard in 12 years. She countered each sentence of mine with one that made light of or didn’t address my issue. I’d respond, and she’d restate her words. I’d take my point further, and she’d echo her first sentence. It was not unlike talking to a road sign. The 2 Coordinators shifted conversation after a while to making jewelry, their effort to offer me an exit without further embarrassment. I didn’t press the issue—I actually just watched, as if in a lab, to see how trivialized my words could become.

The staff at our agency have bios online. The one for Program C states that seeing children find a home is her ministry. It is doubtless a demanding one, but she has focused on the children to the exclusion of parents. The passion to rescue children hasn’t grown into a partnership with families. It’s a subtle distinction in words, but a giant one in actual support, not unlike the difference I’ve seen between my school and other private schools who want to be “Christian” schools.

Thanks be to God for a supportive community of friends. The ones without mission statements seem to help the most.