A Day in the Life of a Gladney Intern

This is Just the Beginning The ending of a chapter has fallen upon me, but I know that the next one is going to be just as fruitful as the last. Before I leave however, I wanted to share with you the things that have stuck with me from this internship: You are not just an intern when you come to Gladney’s internship program. When you walk through the doors to be a part of this workplace, you become part of the family that is Gladney. People take time to know you, to encourage you, to celebrate with you, and to help you grow. There is not a doubt in my mind that you become a part of the team fully when you intern here. You will be lucky if you find such a loving and uplifting workplace aside from Gladney. (I am positive they’re out there, I am just biased. J ) Don’t be shy, MAKE FRIENDS!! Of all of the struggles Jesus could have given me, I got the socially awkward one (among many other goofy quirks that make me uniquely and wonderfully made), so believe me, I get how ha...

I’m ten out of forty fingers, four out of sixteen arms and legs, two out of eight little eyeballs, and one out of four kids that make up my generation of the Twomey family. My oldest sibling is 21, my youngest is 18, and my sister and I are 20. My parents had four kids under the age of four at one point in their lives. No, that wasn’t always the plan. And yes, we’re all so glad it worked out this way—I know my siblings and parents would say the same. I want to back up for a second, though, and share with you how I became one of four. My oldest brother, Paul, was adopted by my parents in 1994. I was then adopted in 1996. Two days after my homecoming to New Jersey, and just twelve days after I was born, my mom gave birth to my sister, Laura. Then, in 1997, my parents had my little brother, Mark. Four kids, three years, two adoptions, one miraculous family. I do have to admit that the only thing better than having three siblings is having an amazing set of parents to lovin...

My day started out just like any other day; It was 7:30am, and I was quietly minding my own business, studying for my summer government class at Starbucks, when a small child came up to me and started dancing. I smiled at her, said hello, and went back to my studies. However, she didn’t leave, and she didn’t stop “whipping.” It was actually pretty cute. Eventually, her mother gently guided her away from my table with a very apologetic look in her eyes. I studied for a little while longer, and around 8:15am realized I needed to get to work. Naturally, I decided to leave the coffee shop at the same time as my new little friend. As I’m packing up she starts asking me a bunch of questions. “What’s your name? How old are you? What are you doing today? What are you doing this summer?” I told her, “My name’s Margot, I’m 20, I work at the adoption agency down the street, and today I’m going to go sit in on a parenting class for moms and dads who want to adopt kids.” She said, “Okay well have ...

I have now been working at Gladney for a month. It’s been a crazy whirlwind of an internship, and I can say with certainty that I have learned more than I ever thought possible. I truly can’t imagine spending my summer anywhere else. From sending emails to adoptive parents, to getting documents notarized in Austin, to getting visas for a group of kiddos about to come to their forever home, Gladney (especially my boss, Beth Whitacre) has really shown me what goes on day in and day out in intercountry adoption. In all honesty, the job can be frustrating. Now that I’ve established myself as the Colombian Waiting Children advocate, I’ve seen how many kids there are who are freed for adoption that I just don’t have time to fight for in my three months as the International Adoption Intern. On top of that, I was recently told I wouldn’t receive any new reports or photographs of over ten of the kids I’m advocating for until I find homes for three older sibling groups I’m currently working...

Yesterday we had a new hire/intern orientation that equipped us with knowledge and joy to be a part of Gladney. During this day, however my Gladney story whispered in the halls. We took a beautiful tour of our museum in the visitor center, which I personally loved. It was beautiful to hear how historical adoption is and how many hearts fought to make it what it is today, a loving decision celebrated by many. At the end of this tour, we ended up in a place I have walked by many times in the past 6 years. I knew it was there, always praised the Lord when I saw that another family was created in that room, prayed for the women who left there without a piece of their heart, but never once did I think of going into the placement room. Yesterday I saw those four walls for the first time in 6 years and I was surprisingly emotional, but not for the obvious reasons one would assume. It was emotional because it reminded me why I love Gladney. Because it is my story, passion, and my heart is abu...

If you know me, you know I never shut up about adoption. I can, and will, talk your ear off about anything and everything adoption for as long as you’ll let me. However, the toughest question I’ve ever been asked on the subject is probably, “What’s it like to be adopted?” Although I typically shy away from this specific question, I’ll answer it here: I really, truly do not know. In the mere twenty years and twenty-three days I have been alive, I have never felt “adopted.” I have never felt like there was a time in my life where I didn’t belong in the Twomey family; it’s just not something I consciously think about. I’ve got two awesome parents, three wacko siblings, a fantastic grandma, and a really intelligent dog, all of whom I love more than anyone and anything else on this planet. Now, I don’t confuse that with the knowledge that I am adopted. My bedtime story growing up was the story of my dad’s trip to Texas to come get me when he got the news my birthmother was in...

If I’m going to be completely honest, I didn’t even try to smile for this photograph. I was tired, dirty, probably hungry, probably in pain, and definitely heartbroken that this was my last day with these kiddos. While it’s important to insert boundaries into the relationships you make with kids you see once a year for a week in July, and to actively assess your (and their) attachment levels to one another, there’s no limit to the amount of love you can give. I’m actually having a very difficult time trying to condense Colombia into a blog post. How do you put four years of San Mauricio into about 900 words? (Spoiler Alert: you don’t). So instead of trying to talk about La Fundación San Mauricio as a whole, I’m just going to tell you a couple stories. My first story is about the very first five minutes I ever spent at San Mauricio. I was 16 years old, and still exhausted from an extremely long trip to Bogotá ( think: pilots locking themselves out of the cockpit, mech...