Unfortunately, social service agencies initially didn't offer much advice about how to include a child's birth culture into family activities.

Now these children are becoming interested — some for the first time — in their birth families' culture. They are not only trying to find their parents but are joining social and support groups for adoptees, moving into communities where many people from that culture live, or even incorporating their culture into their careers.

My parents, Karen and Matt Ernst, adopted Kristin in 1968. The following year Kathryn and Norm Braatz, a Caucasian couple, welcomed 2-month-old Tanya, an African American.

Both families' faith and attitudes toward social responsibility and service played an important part in their decision to adopt. Norm and Matt, my father, are ELCA pastors, while Kathryn is a high school teacher and Karen, my mother, is an occupational therapist.

"All the talk at the time about zero population growth made me know even more that it wasn't responsible to add to the number when there were children who needed homes," Karen says.

Kathryn adds, "There had been articles in the newspaper telling how so many babies were being abandoned, and we thought we could help."

The Braatzes had love to offer — as well as strollers and cribs. So they opened their home to foster children. Tanya was the first. After three years with the Braatzes, Tanya's birth mother released her care to them. "That's how we became an interracial family," Norm says. "We didn't set out to adopt children of another culture."

My parents had discussed the idea of adoption even before I was born, but what triggered them to action was a 1966 issue of The Lutheran Standard. After completing the requisite home study, Lutheran Social Services called about Kristin, who was born to a woman on the Rosebud reservation of the Lakota Sioux Nation. My parents brought her home.

At the time, Tanya and Kristin would have been considered "hard to place" because of their racial backgrounds. That is not the case today. In 1999 the children who have the most difficult time finding a home are those with "special needs" — usually health problems or other disabilities — and older children.

The Braatzes, in fact, took in an older child after Tanya. Mark, also African American, was 7 when they adopted him. "But he never quite adopted us," Norm says. At 14, he moved to foster homes in the African American community. "But we do still see him," Norm says. "We are his family."

Love isn't enough

Some members of the African American community and most American Indian tribes are opposed to allowing children to be adopted by families of other cultures, believing the best environment for a child is one of the same ethnic background. (Federal legislation says people cannot be denied the opportunity to become an adoptive or foster parent on "the basis of race, color, or national origin of the person, or the child, involved." But states are still required to diligently recruit foster and adoptive families that reflect the child's ethnic background first.)

Both the Braatz and Ernst families lived in areas where Tanya and Kristin were a minority, which made it difficult for them to be fully in touch with their heritage. Sociologist Rita J. Simon, a professor at American University, Washington, D.C., studied transracial adoptees for 20 years, starting in 1968. Her research showed that a few years after a family first made the decision to adopt, they realized that love was often not enough in raising the children. Simon says parents have the responsibility to make adoptees aware of their racial background and history.

"Over the years we tried to be honest about Tanya's culture," Norm says. "We did reading, movies, that sort of thing. There just wasn't much available in a small town in Arizona. One reason we later moved to California was to expose her to more black culture."

My family also read books about American Indians, and we were lucky to have found the Indian Education Program in Baltimore. The program shared culture, handiwork, history and camaraderie with children who didn't live on reservations, along with their families (some of whom were American Indian, some who weren't).

Both Tanya, 29, and Kristin, 30, wish they had learned more about their respective cultures when younger but are trying to make up for lost time.

"I do want to find my birth mother," says Tanya, a preschool teacher at The Learning Tree, Fresno, Calif. "I used to be kind of angry, but the older I got, I understood how the world is. Then I was happy she gave me up." Tanya has attended some African culture events and wants to learn more about African American history.

Kristin also attends cultural events — it's her job. She and her husband, Chipa Wolf who is part Cherokee, produce powwows in the Southeast and lead programs in schools. "It lets me share the culture with kids and adults and show them that we're people just like they are," says Kristin of Jasper, Ga. "I think it's good for my [two] children, especially Josh, who is 10, because it helps him look at the world a little differently."

We look at the world a little differently than we did 30 years ago. The civil rights movement has given way to affirmative action backlash, and some people are turning inward to preserve their culture, fearing it's fading away.

Zero population growth hasn't been reached. Almost half a million children in the U.S. foster care system await permanent homes (nearly 60 percent are minority). War and tyranny account for some of the 13,000 children from other countries who were adopted in 1997 by American families.

And we now know more about cross-cultural adoption. Parental love and faith is essential, but in most cases a responsibility to experiencing the birth culture of adopted children is important to helping them establish a cultural identity and come of age.

Kathryn adds, "There had been articles in the newspaper telling how so many babies were being abandoned, and we thought we could help."

The Braatzes had love to offer — as well as strollers and cribs. So they opened their home to foster children. Tanya was the first. After three years with the Braatzes, Tanya's birth mother released her care to them. "That's how we became an interracial family," Norm says. "We didn't set out to adopt children of another culture."

My parents had discussed the idea of adoption even before I was born, but what triggered them to action was a 1966 issue of The Lutheran Standard. After completing the requisite home study, Lutheran Social Services called about Kristin, who was born to a woman on the Rosebud reservation of the Lakota Sioux Nation. My parents brought her home.

At the time, Tanya and Kristin would have been considered "hard to place" because of their racial backgrounds. That is not the case today. In 1999 the children who have the most difficult time finding a home are those with "special needs" — usually health problems or other disabilities — and older children.

The Braatzes, in fact, took in an older child after Tanya. Mark, also African American, was 7 when they adopted him. "But he never quite adopted us," Norm says. At 14, he moved to foster homes in the African American community. "But we do still see him," Norm says. "We are his family."

Love isn't enough

Some members of the African American community and most American Indian tribes are opposed to allowing children to be adopted by families of other cultures, believing the best environment for a child is one of the same ethnic background. (Federal legislation says people cannot be denied the opportunity to become an adoptive or foster parent on "the basis of race, color, or national origin of the person, or the child, involved." But states are still required to diligently recruit foster and adoptive families that reflect the child's ethnic background first.)

Both the Braatz and Ernst families lived in areas where Tanya and Kristin were a minority, which made it difficult for them to be fully in touch with their heritage. Sociologist Rita J. Simon, a professor at American University, Washington, D.C., studied transracial adoptees for 20 years, starting in 1968. Her research showed that a few years after a family first made the decision to adopt, they realized that love was often not enough in raising the children. Simon says parents have the responsibility to make adoptees aware of their racial background and history.

"Over the years we tried to be honest about Tanya's culture," Norm says. "We did reading, movies, that sort of thing. There just wasn't much available in a small town in Arizona. One reason we later moved to California was to expose her to more black culture."

My family also read books about American Indians, and we were lucky to have found the Indian Education Program in Baltimore. The program shared culture, handiwork, history and camaraderie with children who didn't live on reservations, along with their families (some of whom were American Indian, some who weren't).

Both Tanya, 29, and Kristin, 30, wish they had learned more about their respective cultures when younger but are trying to make up for lost time.

"I do want to find my birth mother," says Tanya, a preschool teacher at The Learning Tree, Fresno, Calif. "I used to be kind of angry, but the older I got, I understood how the world is. Then I was happy she gave me up." Tanya has attended some African culture events and wants to learn more about African American history.

Kristin also attends cultural events — it's her job. She and her husband, Chipa Wolf who is part Cherokee, produce powwows in the Southeast and lead programs in schools. "It lets me share the culture with kids and adults and show them that we're people just like they are," says Kristin of Jasper, Ga. "I think it's good for my [two] children, especially Josh, who is 10, because it helps him look at the world a little differently."

We look at the world a little differently than we did 30 years ago. The civil rights movement has given way to affirmative action backlash, and some people are turning inward to preserve their culture, fearing it's fading away.

Zero population growth hasn't been reached. Almost half a million children in the U.S. foster care system await permanent homes (nearly 60 percent are minority). War and tyranny account for some of the 13,000 children from other countries who were adopted in 1997 by American families.

And we now know more about cross-cultural adoption. Parental love and faith is essential, but in most cases a responsibility to experiencing the birth culture of adopted children is important to helping them establish a cultural identity and come of age.