Another Way to Family: Ethiopia

Often, people with good intentions ask why we chose to pursue adoption from Ethiopia. In these moments I shuffle my feet, stick my hands in the pockets of my blue jeans, gaze up at the sky, and shake my head.

At different times, depending on my mood and audience, I've rattled off wildly varying reasons---some the gravely serious sort yet not always quite true of my intentions, others shallow, even frivolous, but sincere on my part: I've cited the number of children orphaned because of drought, civil war, and the HIV pandemic. I've spoken of the lack of basic medical supplies and vaccines. I've also said I like coffee and that the Ethiopian variety, buna, is exceptional. I've argued that Christians who take a pro-life position should back up their words with actions. I've listed, and rated, the various Ethiopian restaurants in New York City according to their "authenticity," which I, an Arkansan, am no doubt qualified to do. I've drawn attention to the numerous times Ethiopia is mentioned in the Bible. I've suggested books to read (There Is No Me Without You, by Melissa Fay Green, The Emperor, by Ryszard Kapuscinski) and music to download (any of the 20-plus volumes of Ethiopiques, though I'm partial to Volume 8: Swinging Addis). Sometimes I haven't answered at all.

The truth is I don't know for certain.

I imagine the person who asks me why Ethiopia is genuinely interested in what brought my wife and me to this decision. On a couple of occasions I've felt---or at least imagined---his or her uneasiness with my uneasiness with the question and my inability to spit out a pat answer, say, a 30-second sound-bite on why I'm adopting from Ethiopia.

Sometimes I get the sense that my Christian brothers want me to say something about God's will---though I've never seen a burning bush. Yet the Bible does call us to care for the "fatherless and widows."

Other times I think those dear socially conscious friends of mine want to hear me speak of the global-mindedness of my decision. I suppose they want me to say I'm a do-gooder. And though I wish I were, I'm afraid I'm nothing of the sort. Most of my do-good energy is spent much closer to home by doing such ordinary tasks as unloading the dishwasher and folding the laundry---simple tasks that hopefully make me a better husband, but certainly no global philanthropist such as Brad Pitt or Angelina Jolie.

So let me focus on what I do know: my story.

In the fall of 2007, after years of discussing adoption, my wife and I attended an informational meeting on international adoption held by Wide Horizons for Children---an agency headquartered in the Northeast. Because of work I was 45 minutes late. But I was there long enough to hear about the agency's work in China, Russia, Kazakstan, India, Guatemala, and Ethiopia. I heard about timelines and country fees. I didn't ask any questions.

Afterward we went to eat at a barbecue joint on Eighth Avenue. The waitress took our drink orders, and then I went to the restroom to wash my hands. When I came back to the table I told Laura that we should have already started the process. I was ready to adopt from Ethiopia.

I can't tell you what happened. It just felt right. Sure, later we did extensive research on Ethiopian adoption, on Ethiopia's history and culture. We spoke with experts. We forced books upon our parents. But all of that was secondary to the initial impulse. And just what was that? I don't know. And that's OK.

Here's some more of what I do know:

This last point is unquestionably the most significant. When I tell people I'm adopting they often say, "God bless you." Or they allude to the fact that Laura and I are "saving" a life. But I have a hard time believing that we are "saving" a child who will bring such joy to us. If anything, I feel like this child is saving us. We are humbled by this opportunity.

Yes, there are many other issues to consider and, yes, there are orphans here in the United States who need parents, too. I may get to those concerns in the future in this space. But I'm afraid I'll not be totally convincing. And you may feel uncomfortable with my lack of articulation or persuasive evidence. That's fine by me. All I can do is keep telling my story.

Editor's note: Updates on Bearden and Laura's quest to adopt a child will appear here on WORLDmag.com in the weeks and months to come. For previous essays in his "Another Way to Family" series, click here.