Attached

People often ask me what I love most about being a dad and I guess the response will be different depending on what has happened that day. Yet there is one thing that makes me smile without fail…it happened just a few hours ago.

I have class every Thursday (I’m finishing my Masters of Arts in Ministry Leadership at George Fox Seminary) and I am blessed to have in-laws that will watch Asher so I can go to class. Today I also had an afternoon meeting after class so I was going to be gone extra long. My in-laws had a prior engagement later in the day and so they dropped Asher off at our friend’s house where I was to pick him up after my meeting. So after a long day of class and a great meeting I walked through the door of my friend’s house and called out “Hello?” Somewhere in the distance I hear a little voice start to babble and slowly get more and more excited, and as I walked around the corner and looked at Asher he started clapping his hands while saying “Dadadada.” There is something about knowing you are needed that warms the heart. In the case of an adopted child this type of reaction is even more significant.

One of the main emotional concerns with children of international adoption is what experts call Reactive Attachment Disorder or RAD (Great, now I bet you’re totally thinking back to the 1980s cult classic about BMX biking). RAD stems from the failure to create normal attachment to primary caregivers in the infant stages of life. On the surface this may not seem like such a dire strait but the effects can be severe.   What is feared most in this situation is that the child displays extremely inappropriate relational behaviors which can involve haphazard or excessive attempts to receive affection from any available adult. It can also manifest in a child’s extreme unwillingness to accept comfort from a parent or a move to deep isolation.

So, when Asher looks at me, gets excited, claps his hands and calls me dada I melt because I know he sees me in a different light from all the other people around him (besides his mom of course). He looks at me and somewhere inside he knows that I will meet his needs and that he can trust me to be there. The expectations that come with that are of course daunting, but the coupled excitement that comes from those expectations make me crawl out of bed each morning, grab my coffee, walk into Asher’s room and say “Good morning.” to an amazing blessing.