I have been discussing the purpose of our parenting. Is our “job” to only parent children who provide pleasure and reciprocity in our life, or is it to serve the least, the last and the lost? Are we wrong to want and/or expect something positive to come back our way? Maybe not wrong, but human …


Deb Hannah sent me an email that started me thinking about this. She said:

I know that Beth is doing wonderfully and your relationship is everything you want it to be, and in some ways that can validate us as parents. This child becomes proof that we did not waste our lives, that it was right what we did. They become proof that we are good parents, and we were right to believe that love is enough … I pray that Beth always does well, and I believe there is a good chance of that happening. My concern is not for her—she is surrounded by love, by opportunity and by grace. My concern is for you … Beth cannot be your validation any more than Charlie could be mine. That is more than any one child can bear. She cannot heal the wounds inflicted by other children or prove anything to anyone about adoption, any more than Charlie could.


You see, if you believe that she validates you and then for some reason she fails, then you failed. I don’t want that for you. In true healing you, as I, have to come to accept that Beth, like Charlie, stands on her own, independent of other adopted children, of other failed attachments, other hopes and dreams that were never fulfilled. She is a child separate and distinct from all others and she might fail, she might, but that doesn’t mean you did, and if she succeeds, which I think she will, it doesn’t mean that you did. You succeeded with each of the other children, you succeeded in showing your biological children that we need to give back to the community, to the world, we need to give more than we take. You gave your son a chance in seeking appropriate treatment and placement for a child who could not stay in a family. You gave him a chance by loving him enough to let him go. You gave your daughter, as difficult as she was, a mom who even though she struggles with her feelings, has not abandoned her.

How is it that Deb has reached these conclusions? Why has she had to give this topic so much thought?


About six weeks ago, Deb found a note from Charlie on her computer. He reminded her that it was the 13th anniversary of the day she and Joe had adopted him. He described it as the “happiest day of (his) life” and he went on to say he didn’t deserve the family or her love. He appreciated her unwillingness to give up on him and he reiterated how he meant every word he wrote in the letter he included in the back of her book. He ended the note by saying how much he wanted to succeed but how unsure he was of his ability to do so.


Two weeks later the Hannah family learned that Charlie had been drinking heavily—just like his biological father, who died of alcoholism. He was drinking at school and eventually the problem was discovered and he was expelled. Charlie essentially said he “was who he was” and he refused to address the problem or do what was necessary to return to school.


Believe it or not, he left the Hannah family and returned to his biological family. Because he was deemed “beyond reasonable control” for not complying with the Hannah family’s requirements or the school’s edicts, returning to his family of origin was the only option other than reentering foster care.


Deb was thankful she had worked hard to heal from the wounds of the other children who had left the home. She has heard me say that I needed Beth as much as Beth needed me … how I felt Beth had healed some of my wounds even as I was healing some of hers. What a burden I have placed on Beth to continue to succeed. And how incredibly sad that Deb, who no doubt did measure her “success” by the fact that Charlie appeared to succeed, now has to rewrite that chapter—literally—even as she watches him drown in alcohol.


Deb and I talked about how the "real life" book was still being written, and of course it is. There is no telling if Charlie will one day “wake up” to the realities and consequences of his decisions. But will it be in time to have a functioning liver sufficient for a normal life? Deb told me how many conversations she and Charlie had about addictive personalities and Charlie’s need to stay away from “the sins of the father.” He agreed and promised to do so. Now Deb must watch his slow destruction and think about how her efforts were (apparently) in vain.


But were they? Didn’t she do as God commanded her to do? Didn’t she serve with a willing heart? Must she measure her success by whether or not Charlie chooses to drink? Isn’t that Charlie’s decision? Ironically, Deb believes that Charlie really does want to succeed. She thinks at this point he really can’t do it… can’t, not won’t. This is a very hard concept for me. I have looked at Amy’s biology and Amy’s choices and I still don’t know how to differentiate “can’t” and “won’t”.


Charlie’s name is changed because he chose to keep his real name in the book but given his choices of late, out of respect for him, Deb has decided to use a pseudonym for him as she did for her other children.


Next up I’ll share some of Deb’s own thoughts on her job in healing.