Choosing to Love, Again and Again

When I first met Matt and Amy Frain as their pastor, I was impressed. A wonderful couple with three wonderful, thriving teenagers. Both Matt and Amy were heavily involved in church activities and evangelism. They are proof that even if you live a busy life—Matt is an entrepreneur with his own building company, and Amy is a full-time mom and homeschool teacher—you can make time for family and ministry. It was evident that they took their faith, vocational, and parental duties seriously while keeping a good sense of humor, staying humble, and having a realness that is admirable. Little did I know that despite their busy lives, they still had more space in their hearts for adoption.

It was not an obvious step for them. Years earlier Amy and Matt had discussed adopting, but life interrupted those plans when they took in Matt’s mother to live with them for five years. “We adopted my mom,” Matt jokes now. During this season the adoption conversation faded—not out of disinterest, but because their capacity was already fully spent.

Things changed when Matt’s mother eventually moved out. Within six months Amy prayerfully brought up the question once more. “I’ve been impressed to talk about adoption again,” she said. This time the conversation did not fade.

Choosing the Unknown

Matt and Amy were no longer young parents. They already knew what intentional parenting looks like and requires. That maturity made the decision both clearer and heavier. They knew it probably wouldn’t be the easiest journey.

Much time was spent in prayer. Many questions were asked. Conversations with family members and acquaintances who had adopted took place. Adoption started feeling less abstract. What they did not yet see was how difficult yet rewarding it would all be. “Thankfully, God doesn’t show you everything at once,” Amy reflects. “If we knew the end from the beginning, we’d probably have been too afraid to say yes.” But it was so worth it.

From the outset Matt knew one thing: he would struggle going the foster-to-adopt route. While it is a wonderful way to adopt and a great option for many, the idea of bonding deeply with a child to possibly have that child removed by court order was painful to imagine. “I get too attached,” he says simply. That conviction led them to choose international adoption, in which the legal finality of adoption would come sooner and with greater certainty. After prayer and research, they chose China.

Paperwork, Openness, and the Weight of No

The formal process took about a year—unusually fast by adoption standards. That speed had little to do with efficiency and everything to do with openness. One of the many emotionally taxing parts of adoption, Amy explains, was not travel or logistics, but forms—pages and pages of questions outlining medical, emotional, and developmental conditions they might encounter.

Would you accept a child with physical disabilities?
With cognitive impairment?
With known and unknown trauma?

Each box asked for a yes or a no. “It was heart-wrenching,” Amy says. “You feel terrible saying no. But they kept telling us: ‘You have to be honest. It’s OK to say no.’ ” They chose openness whenever they could. They were willing to adopt an older child. They requested a girl, partly because their daughter Elizabeth had long prayed for a sister. They set an age range that extended beyond what many families consider. Because of all these factors and their openness, they were matched quickly. Rebecca, a sweet little 6-year-old, was to join the Frain family!

“Gotcha Day”

Matt remembers the anticipation. The flight to China was full of expectation and some nervousness, as they tried to imagine a child they already loved but had never met. “You love them way more than they even know,” he says. They sent a care package ahead of time to start the bonding process: photos of their home, their dog, the siblings she would soon meet. This can help ease the transition for the child. Unfortunately, the package never made it.

When they finally met Rebecca, reality hit hard. “She was terrified,” Matt says. “These strangers were taking her from the only life she’d ever known.” Rebecca had lived in an orphanage since infancy. She did not speak English and did not know what to expect. “The first day didn’t go the way we’d imagined,” Matt and Amy admit. But by God’s grace, despite the understandable anxieties a child may go through in this situation, Rebecca quickly began to bond with her new family. Recognizing that she now had a safe space, she started holding hands and even cuddling up to her new big sister. It was an emotional roller coaster, but love had the upper hand. The moment—often called “Gotcha Day” in adoption circles—became special. The family still marks it each year, celebrating with Chinese food and honoring Rebecca’s cultural roots.

You Cannot Rush Attachment

The first few months back in the U.S. had their ups and downs. Exhaustion, miscommunication, and grief were obstacles that had to be worked through. Rebecca struggled to articulate her loss and had to process these things in her heart, learning that she had the loving support of her new family. There were tears shed, but there were also many good moments of joy, fun outings, and playful family time.

Love isn’t subtracted, it’s multiplied.

Children are remarkably adaptive. Games helped to bridge the gap. English started to emerge slowly, then rapidly. Within a few months Rebecca was communicating—first with gestures, then words, then opinions. Surprisingly, she barely spoke Mandarin, Matt remembers. Whether by temperament or survival instinct, she moved forward quickly. “She figured it out,” he says. Attachment is a process that can’t be rushed.

Love Requires Consistency

Adoption did not magically erase Rebecca’s past; rather, it reframed it. Matt and Amy quickly learned that parenting an adopted child requires a perspective grounded in compassion, patience, and humility. “You don’t know what they’ve been through,” Matt explains. “So the rules change.” Behaviors that might be dismissed as manipulation in biological children carry different meanings in children who come from hard places. Safety and love had to be demonstrated repeatedly. Amy learned quickly that food meant safety, and that love had to be shown through consistency—again and again.

Adoption professionals had alerted them: for every year a child lives without a stable family, it may take a year or more to undo learned behaviors. Matt and Amy realized that healing is not linear but unfolds slowly, unevenly, and often invisibly.

“We Knew You’d Call Again”

The first year was hard. Amy remembers praying, not for relief, but for exemption. “Lord,” she prayed, “just don’t ask me to do this again.” But soon she realized that this was not how she truly felt at all. During a sermon in which the pastor asked, “What would you do if you knew Jesus was coming in a year or two?” her first thought was I’d adopt as many children as I could. Shocked at this sudden, unexpected conviction that emerged from her heart, Amy raised the adoption question. Matt hesitated at first, but then they said yes. Calling up their adoption agency again, the social worker’s response was unsurprised. “We knew you’d call again.”

A year later Daniel, another orphaned boy from China, joined the family. Daniel came with additional medical and developmental challenges that would become clear only over time. With a recent decision to homeschool, Amy is now able to create a learning environment to meet Daniel’s needs. Even so, Daniel arrived with gifts of his own: immense warmth, memory, social intuition, and wonderful joy. “He may never write a doctoral thesis,” Matt says candidly, “but he loves people.”

Rebuilding What Was Missed

One of the greatest misunderstandings about adoption, Amy explains, is the belief that children simply “pick up where they left off.” They don’t. “They missed foundational years,” she says. “So you go back to the beginning.” In the adoption process, she shares, “80 percent of the time, life is good! It’s amazing! You are hanging out as a family, enjoying each other’s company.” But in the process, much healing has to take place.

Adopted children often seek what they lacked in their first years of life. “If they missed sitting on their mom’s lap, and they are already 9 years old, then they are going to sit on Amy’s lap,” Matt explains. That meant feeding them when others questioned it. Allowing dependency to emerge before independence could grow. “If your child reaches for you, you don’t push them away,” Amy says. “There’s a natural time when they stop.” Healing required going “backward” in order to move forward.

The Cost—and Gift—to Siblings

Adoption changed not only Matt and Amy but their biological children as well. Before the second adoption there were questions and some initial worries, but they all got on board. “Love isn’t subtracted,” Amy told them. “It’s multiplied.” Over time, that proved true. Bonds formed, character surfaced, and growth followed friction. “They’ve been in the trenches with us,” Amy reflects. “And that changed them in a positive way.”

Seeing God More Clearly

“Parenting adopted children is parenting on steroids,” Amy says. “You are constantly asking, ‘Lord, what do I do right now?’” During this time they grew in their knowledge of God’s character, especially His patience. “God is far more patient with us than we realize,” Matt says, “and adoption makes that visible.” They saw themselves clearly, too—their selfishness, limits, and need for grace. And they saw redemption unfold slowly and faithfully.

A Faith That Became Her Own

Leaving your homeland as a young child and moving to another country with unfamiliar people, a foreign language, and strange customs is hard enough. Joining a family you don’t know is even harder. In addition, being introduced to faith, really for the first time . . . it’s a lot. Rebecca was not only exposed to all these new things but was brought face-to-face with the reality of God.

Her spiritual journey was not coerced or rushed. Everything was new to hear, but she learned to understand and grow in her experience with God. By His grace Rebecca was baptized two years ago. Nobody set the expectation; it was her own choice. “She’s not a pushover,” Matt says. “She doesn’t do things just because everyone else is doing them.”

Now, almost 10 years after her adoption, attending a multicultural Adventist academy, Rebecca is discovering belonging, identity, and faith in a safe setting. She is becoming a young woman, finding her place in this world, and her calling as a daughter of God. “She’s asking questions,” Amy says. “And that matters.”

Who Should Adopt?

“So who should adopt?” I asked Matt and Amy.

“It’s not just a question about if we have another room, bed, or money, but is there room in our heart?” Amy shares. “Let the Holy Spirit recommend it,” Matt says. “Spend much time in prayer. Make some calls.”

Adoption, they insist, must never be about image, heroism, or self-validation. Children do not exist to fulfill adult aspirations. “If you’re doing this for yourself,” Matt warns, “it will not go down well.” But if there is room in your heart—real room—through patience, sacrifice, and long obedience, adoption can become a living parable of grace. “If the Spirit has put it on your heart to adopt, then He did so for a reason,” Amy shares.

Choosing adoption is choosing to love, again and again. It is to follow the greatest adopting parent of all–our God. “Behold what manner of love the Father has bestowed on us, that we should be called children of God!” (1 John 3:1).

There are millions of orphaned children around the world in need of a loving and caring home. What if that home is yours?