“Daddy, what do we do to celebrate Martin Luther King Day?”

It seemed like an odd question at first. She continued…

“We don’t exchange gifts or anything?”

“Now I understand,” I told myself. With that I was able to see the problem from her little 7 year old point of view. Basically, holidays are meant to be celebrated. Just coming off Christmas and New Years with tons of family, lots of food, gifts a plenty, and cheerful attitudes her alertness and expectations were heightened. I needed to carefully lower those expectations.

I’m not sure if other families, especially those with a skin color other than white “do” something, but we have never even talked about Dr. King much less done anything. It’s not because we mean any disrespect, but it’s kind of like President’s Day. We don’t intentionally talk about George Washington or Abraham Lincoln either.

Back to her question. So, I began to explain that “It isn’t one of those holidays,” when before I could speak a word she beat me to the punch with an announcement that I’ll never forget. In her sweet Kentucky drawl she said,

“I mean if it wasn’t for him we wouldn’t be gettin’ those kids.”

I was dumbfounded…speechless…disappointed…proud.

She was absolutely right.

It had never occurred to me, and I am ashamed.

In her mind this day is significant, very significant. We’ve been trying to adopt three children from Uganda for three years. We pray for them every night. And while I had completely missed any opportunity to make the connection she had not. Martin Luther King Jr.’s sacrifice was making the very attempt, no, the very thought of adopting black children a reality.

Here was my lens for the Martin Luther King Jr. Birthday Holiday. The holiday was first approved by Congress in 1983. No disrespect meant, but again from the Southern White perspective in many ways MLK Day was viewed, by many, as a token holiday. It was slow to be adopted by the states and up until my sophomore year in high school it was a regular school day until January 19, 1988.

Why did that change? Well it wasn’t because a law had been passed. Instead our high school made the national news on January 20, 1987 when the school was overcome by a race riot that broke out amongst the students. We had police at school for the first time in my life and from that point forward the local school system gave us the day off on the third Monday in January in order to avoid another racially tinged outburst. Now the racial tension in my community is strange. It’s always there, but never ever talked about. It’s just accepted.

Almost every black church in my community was formed right after the Civil War. One of those churches was formed in a split within one of those black churches several years later, but it can trace its roots back to the Civil War. The United Methodist Church, in an effort to incorporate some heritage from their old building into their new one actually put a stained glass window over the opening of the sanctuary that says “M. E. Church South.” I’m not sure if anyone actually knew this, but “M. E.” is the abbreviation for Methodist Episcopal and the designation “South” indicates that there must have been a “North.” Basically “South” proclaims that the church was/is pro-slavery, and sadly if anyone were to look it up today that church is still proclaiming it with the prominent placement of that window over the main doors to the sanctuary. Some would argue that the church was pro-Confederate, but the church split between North and South, as far as the Methodist Episcopal Church was concerned, was over the issue of slavery and not state’s rights.

As a confession, in some ways I have always thought that the riot episode was an excuse to get emotional over something that none of the rioters could identify with since none of them had even been alive when Martin Luther King Jr. was alive. So, why in the world would they feel so passionate about a guy that they never really knew? In my whiteness I excused the whole thing as an opportunity for blacks to adopt an entitlement mentality claiming victimization for the lack of opportunity provided them. This entitlement thing is not a black problem. It’s a culture problem. We Americans feel entitled to low prices, easy money, big houses and fancy cars. So, when we get any opportunity we play the role of victim when those entitlements aren’t granted to us.

Now, after a child’s comment, God has redeemed that line of thinking. I see things a little differently. It never occurred to me that if it were not for the Civil Rights Movement our adoption of African children would not be possible. While I’m not 100% sure that the State of Kentucky would have denied us the right. I am pretty sure that the road would have been uphill at best and at worst impossible.

Sadly, for the first time I can appreciate how radically better my life is today because of Dr. King’s efforts. There are opportunities that I now have as a Southern White Man that would never have come about if not for his sacrifice.

Don’t tell my seven year old, but I think we may do something special next year.

Yesterday was Tuesday. Tuesday is Adoption News Day at the Smiths. This is the day that our adoption agent, Jill, is in contact with the people on the ground in Uganda which may include the Ugandan lawyer and Prossy-who runs the orphanage and is married to the Visionary Pastor of about 100 churches in East Uganda and West Kenya. His name is Lucas.

We have been expecting to hear something for a few weeks. The hopes of my wife, Kristi, were that a newspaper ad had been placed and no one came forward to contest the adoption of the three children that we have been given the opportunity to adopt. The reality was that Lucas and Prossy had been in Kampala for about two weeks trying to obtain NGO status for the orphanage in Busia, and not only had they still not secured the NGO status, but it would be until February before it was granted, if granted at all.

I was prepared for reality, after having served in Uganda for a month in 2007 and after having two years worth of unmet expectations I knew to add 6-8 weeks to the best possible scenario and then only put a 50% chance on that being met. Kristi, on the other hand, is a positive thinker. She says things like, “It shouldn’t take too long to paint the bedroom.” Of course, for those of us who do the painting we know that when painting on a part time basis the painting will be completed in a matter of weeks not hours. It took me a year to finish the bonus room upstairs to prepare for our new additions. I’m pretty sure that was 11 months longer than Kristi thought it would take…ok maybe 10.

So, yesterday’s news came crashing in on her in a very unsuspecting way. Maybe I should have been clued into the fact that this news was going to have a very different impact than I suspected on Kristi as Jill broke down into tears with me on the phone, but somehow I just missed it. Kristi was crushed. I delivered the news in a very nonchalant almost apathetic manner, which I was confident would just enable her to move on quickly to flippantly respond, “Well, that’s no surprise.” Instead, she quietly disappeared. I went looking for her several minutes later with a child’s question about a school project. I found the master bathroom door locked. With this being typically a sign that I’m in big trouble I knocked hesitantly and listened closely. I closed the bedroom doors, picked the lock and found her losing control of her emotions on the floor of our closet. Unable to talk to me, I resisted the fix-it mode we men tend to dive into when our wives are upset. Instead I apologized for my clear mishandling of the news. I reassured her. I prayed over her, held her, and let her cry.

Over the next few weeks, I’m going to try to tell our adoption story. So, tune in on Thursdays as I walk you through the epic that is our adoption story.

I looked through the enormous number of packets on the table, and I can remember saying to God in my head that if there was a child with the same birth date as Shelbi, who was our four year old at the time, then I would take that as a sign to sponsor that child. I looked at every single packet, and found no one matching that description. For some reason I was prompted to ask if they had more packets that were not on the table, and to my surprise they had about 50 more. I asked to look through them, and toward the end as a wave of relief began to come over me that no such child was available I came across Denis Rafael Campo, a little girl from Peru…born the same month…the same day…and the same year as Shelbi. I called Kristi to get permission to make that commitment as she was home with our newborn Baili, and while she wasn’t as moved as I was she confirmed the decision.

Ever since then as our family has grown we have matched a child with our child as they turn 5. I can still remember getting the phone call from Kristi, sobbing, when only months after starting to support a child for Baili she had received word that the child was struck by a car and killed.  We were devastated as the reality of the plight of children in the Third World hit home for the first time. Compassion, not knowing our little system,  asked if we’d be willing to support another child, and soon a packet for Roodnelson from Haiti arrived and he became our third Compassion child. Then a couple of Christmas’ ago Mallori got to engage with her Compassion child, Emma from Kenya, for whom we’ve been praying to get enough materials to build a house.

As we pray every night before bed our kids are conditioned to pray for Son (Roodnelson’s nickname), Denis, and Emma along with the three children we hope to bring home this year just as if they were ours, theirs.

Three children, three sponsored children, and now three adopted children for whom, God willing, will each have a Compassion Child or Promise Kids Child of their own to write to, pray for, and for whom they can be an agent of hope.

While Compassion International had a lot to do with preparing our hearts for adoption it didn’t start out to be three adopted children, but that is a story I’ll save for another time.

But if you are one of those people, who look at us and wonder aloud, “Why?” Then watch this video. If you’ve been conditioned more by the American culture that makes our comfort and pleasure a priority instead of being conditioned by Christ to make orphans and widows  a priority, then watch this video. If you’ve always wanted to be a part of something that REALLY transforms someone elses life, then watch this video.

But be warned, it could change your life. It may haunt you for the rest of it. It may make you look foolish to a whole host of people who will eventually be asking you, “Why?”

This is what I’ll point to when people ask me, “Why?”

Thanks Catalyst for sharing this video!