"I apologize that you have the burden to our children," the elderly Korean gentleman told the group of American adoptive mothers who sat before him, too awestruck to offer a rebuttal.

I still get tears in my eyes as I reflect on those words-one poignant moment in a journey filled with them. I became more culturally enlightened by the end of my stay in South Korea-as one of 20 participants in Dillon International, Inc.'s weeklong Moms on a Mission trip this spring-and now I believe I understand what Dr. Kim Duk-Whang, founder of South Korea's Eastern Social Welfare Society, meant: This sensitive man, who is known for the tender blessings he bestows on babies departing Korea to join adoptive families in the United States and Australia, is saddened his country is losing some of its greatest treasures because too few Korean families have been open to adoption.

Our diverse group of mothers from Oklahoma, Missouri, Texas, Iowa, Arkansas, Ohio, and Florida was bound together by our shared Christian faith and a desire to give something back to our children's birth country. We came as volunteers to help Korea's children and senior citizens and to offer our assistance to Eastern Social Welfare Society, the sister agency of Dillon International, Inc., and the non-profit Tulsa, OK-based adoption agency that facilitated our children's adoption.

We also came as grateful mothers eager to share our joy and give our thanks for the privilege of raising our Korean-born children.

But somewhere amid the flurry of Korean news reports about our mission and the rare honor of a private audience with South Korean First Lady Lee Hee-Ho, our group of ordinary moms unwittingly transformed into adoption ambassadors.

Korea's First Lady is very receptive to adoptive families. She said she hoped the media attention our group received would change the hearts of the Korean people to consider adoption. We learned that, although adoptions in Korea are increasing, the cultural belief in the importance of bloodline ties still limits domestic adoption.

And the need for loving homes for Korea's precious waiting children struck me at every turn. The second night we were in Seoul, my group volunteered to hold and feed special needs babies at Eastern Social Welfare Society's hospital. We were touched and amazed by their responsiveness to being held. We prayed they would get better and be placed with foster families and eventually with their forever families. As I rocked one little boy, I felt overwhelmingly connected to this special place: My own son Benjamin had spent time here six years ago before he was placed with a loving foster family and eventually with us.

This sense of connection was reinforced by a visit to Esther's Home, a facility for unwed mothers in the city of Pyongtaek. Seeing the expectant young women caused me to reflect on Benjamin's birthmother, who had stayed there during the latter stages of her pregnancy. I envisioned her here in this place: young, afraid, and torn, as she made the difficult decision to place her child for adoption. She must have felt so alone when she signed her name and sealed the relinquishment papers with her thumbprint. The fate of her child was changed forever. On that day, she lost a child, and we were to gain a son. I am so grateful to have experienced Esther's Home. It is no longer a place of mystery.

Right next door were the children of Jacob's Home, a facility for children ages one to three. Most of these toddlers and preschoolers are not available for adoption, but they are available for sponsorship. During our volunteer work there, each of us encountered at least one special child to whom we attached. One little boy caught my attention as he tinkered with a wind-up toy. His bright eyes and determination reminded me of Benjamin. As I tickled and held this special child, I realized that unlike my own son, this child would probably never have a family to call his own. This experience made me aware of the real need to sponsor at least one child. It was very difficult saying good-bye to these precious children.

The mission also afforded me the opportunity to renew my connection to another important woman in my son's life-his foster mother, Mrs. Kim. I had met her in 1995 when we traveled to Korea for our son, Benjamin "Jung Woo." We had been cautioned that Korean people do not often hug or show much emotion. However, as soon as she spotted me, she embraced me wholeheartedly and we cried together in joy. Through an interpreter, Mrs. Kim asked all about "Jung Woo." We held hands the entire hour we visited and we exchanged special gifts. She gave me a box full of stuffed animals for Benjamin. I told her he still has the little orange cow that his foster dad gave him the day we departed Korea in 1995. She told me she prays for Benjamin every day and wants to see him again. I promised to bring him to see her in a few years.

During our time at Eastern, we saw some foster mothers openly grieving as they said goodbye to the babies for which they cared so deeply. We watched a young missionary gently holding the child he was escorting to a family in the U. S. We felt the joy and pain of each person involved, because our children too had been through this same departure process.

Our mission also led us to Anyang City as volunteers at Eastern Social Welfare Society's Temporary Babies Home. The facility provides care for children from birth to age 11. Most of the children are not available for adoption. Just like in the U.S., abuse, poverty, and divorce topped the list of reasons the children were separated from their families. Some will return to their birth families while others will be placed in other facilities after three months.

I was moved by the spirit and energy that these children possessed in spite of their uncertain fate. They had such bright smiles. They probably gave us more joy than we gave them.

The staff also made the temporary shelter a brighter place. I was taken with the dedication of one elderly woman, a volunteer, who instructed the children in the complexities of Korean manners so vital to fitting in socially. She patiently lined the children up in two lines (boys and girls) and showed them the correct way to bow. Then, they sat around a large table and practiced the proper etiquette for a formal tea. I was so taken with the deep love and commitment these children receive. It was hard saying "goodbye."

As I reflect back on this short, but meaningful, week, I realize the trip is over, but the mission is just beginning. Since returning home, I have collaborated with other adoptive families in Central Florida to form an adoption support group for families with children from Asia. The focus of our group is to support our children with cultural and social events, while promoting international adoption through media outreach. My family will continue to celebrate our son's Korean heritage by attending culture camps and fostering relationships with the Korean American community in our area. Our family has also pledged to sponsor one of the children at Jacob's Home. I will continue to send reports to our son's foster mother and to the Eastern Child Welfare Society. I learned how special these reports are to the recipients. Finally, I will be more open when people ask me about Korean adoption. I feel I have a better understanding of the process from my experiences as an "adoption ambassador" in Korea.


Kim Lively lives with her husband, David, in Orlando, Florida with their two children, Benjamin and Anna. She is grateful to Dillon International, Inc., for sponsoring this trip, and especially grateful to Beverlee Einsig, Lonna Yeary, and Duk Kyung Um for leading the trip.

© Adoption Today

Credits: Kim Lively