Faithfulness

I love weddings! My own wedding day was one of my favourite days of all time and, like many others, I tear up every time I watch a bride walk down the aisle. This past weekend, we had the privilege of attending the wedding of Brian’s oldest nephew. It was a lovely day! It is a little hard to believe that our nieces and nephews are actually old enough to do grown up things like get married, though. ;)

The most significant part of the day for me, however, was listening to the vows. Given the recent downturn in my mom’s condition, it was extremely difficult for me to drive away from Calgary to attend the wedding. I felt quite anxious about leaving, even for just a few days. Then, as I was listening to the vows, especially the ‘in sickness and in health’ part, all I could think about was how my parents are actually living this out right now. It was a heart-wrenching juxtaposition – in front of me, a youthful, fresh-faced couple, glowing with love, joy and eager anticipation of their life together, and in my mind’s eye, images from recent days of Dad helping Mom with the most basic tasks, like walking and getting dressed.

It got me thinking about faithfulness. Usually when we think about faithfulness in the context of marriage we equate it with not cheating on our spouses. I think it goes much deeper than that, though. It is choosing day after day, moment by moment, to love and cherish and respect each other. And when hard times come, it is choosing to love each other well no matter how difficult it is.

I have a tendency to put on a prickly shell whenever I’m dealing with tough emotional stuff. I’m pretty sure I haven’t been the easiest person to love this past week! But Brian has loved me faithfully by responding to my prickliness with gentleness and compassion. And it has been absolutely breathtaking watching my dad faithfully love my mom. He shows up in countless ways, day after day, meeting her needs with tenderness, never complaining. He told me today that he is so glad he made those vows nearly 45 years ago. Then he looked at my mom and said, with tears in his eyes, "And it's not even hard. It's not hard at all." Faithfulness is a beautiful thing!

One of my favourite lines from the wedding this past weekend went something like this: “No one gets to the mic at their 50^th wedding anniversary and says, ‘Well, that was easy.’” I’m only 11 years in to this marriage thing, yet I’ve lived this truth. Marriage is hard work. Those vows roll off our tongues almost effortlessly on our wedding day. Faithfulness, however, is not effortless. It means choosing to love in the middle of the really hard stuff, like cancer, but it also means choosing to love in the everyday hard stuff, like disagreeing on how best to discipline our kids, or manage our money. It means choosing to love and respect our spouses when we feel annoyed by their tastes and opinions, or even how they eat their cereal!

I am so grateful for the people in my life who are showing me what faithful love looks like. I am most grateful for my Heavenly Father who has loved me faithfully since before I was even born, and who shows up for me every day, in countless ways big and small.

Drowning/Rescued

It was the morning of Friday, June 19^th, and I was drowning in fear. Later that day, my mom would undergo surgery to partially remove a tumour from her brain, and I could not free myself from the overwhelming fear that I might never see her again. We had learned about the tumour just a few weeks earlier, and it felt like life was spinning out of control. Like many of us, I had always seen my parents as somewhat invincible. My dad has survived polio, heart disease, and cancer, and my mom has always been strong and healthy. Even before the diagnosis of cancer, I had felt an oppressive sense that something bad was about to happen. Sadness and fear had draped themselves over me, and I couldn’t shake the sense of impending doom. On the morning of her surgery I cried out to God, desperate for rescue. I prayed that He would help me to see Him.  Immediately, the image of a face filled my mind. I knew instantly that the Holy Spirit had broken through, because the fear was gone! I felt only peace, and the story of Peter walking on water with Jesus came to mind. I had been terrified and sinking, but Jesus had reached out and rescued me! In the middle of the storm, Jesus spoke to his disciples, saying, “Don’t be afraid. Take courage. I am here!” (Matthew 14:27 NLT) Throughout that day and the days that followed, I felt the Lord’s presence wrapping around me. A supernatural peace stayed with me as I hugged my mom at the hospital, and I was able to recognize that my fear that I would never see her again was based on a lie. I was reminded that even if she died, this was not the end because we share an eternal destiny in heaven.

We are very grateful for the good health Mom enjoyed after her surgery and during her treatments. One of her doctors even called her a ‘poster child’ for cancer treatment! She experienced only minimal side effects, and her MRI in October showed that the tumour was stable (not growing). When Mom and Dad left for Phoenix at the beginning of November, I assumed it would be a time of rest and rejuvenation for them. Shortly after arriving, however, Mom was diagnosed with shingles. The medication worked fairly quickly, and the shingles were clearing up, but Mom was weak and exhausted. We thought she was simply recovering from the shingles, but her condition worsened. By the time they arrived home at the end of November, she was having difficulty walking. On Tuesday of last week, Dad took her in to the hospital. After much testing, it was confirmed that the tumour is growing and she has been experiencing mild seizures. Thankfully, she was able to go home on Friday and has been resting more comfortably there than in the hospital. We are hoping the adjustments they’ve made to her medications will counteract her symptoms, and she has appointments in the coming days to discuss next steps in terms of further treatment.

Receiving this news has been extremely difficult, and I can feel the fear threatening to take over again. We do not know what the future holds, and the “what ifs” can be overwhelming… What if this is our last Christmas together? How do I even find joy this Christmas season? The thought of losing her is unbearable. All I can do when the waves of fear wash over me is reach for my Saviour’s hand. And every time I am reminded that He is with me. No matter what the future holds, He is with me. There is no room for fear in the presence of such perfect love, and I am deeply grateful!

(taken Mother's Day, 2015, weeks before Mom's diagnosis)

What do you need?

I took the kids camping all by myself this summer. Actually, a friend was there with her kids, and we were at a campsite in a town, but still…! Any time I tackle something like that without Brian, I’m going to consider it a major accomplishment! Anyway, the first night was a little rough. One of the boys was taking a long time to settle down, and I was starting to panic. I still had a bit of unpacking to do and I was already dreading the early wake-up I knew I’d have to face the next morning. In an effort to practice trust-based parenting, I kept asking my son, “What do you need?” Every time I asked, he would reply, “Exercise!” and start bouncing around. At this point, my trust-based parenting skills fell apart, because I would then say, “No, you don’t. You need sleep. Now settle down and close your eyes.” We must have had this exchange half a dozen times, and both of us were getting frustrated. Meanwhile, I was also texting Brian, hoping he would have some wisdom and perspective for me. When I mentioned that our son was claiming to need exercise, he texted back with, “So why don’t you let him go outside for 5 minutes?” Exasperated, but willing to try anything, I asked if he wanted to help me unload the cooler contents into the fridge. He jumped at the chance (literally) and within 10 minutes the work was done. Within another 10 minutes, he was asleep. Why did I argue with him for so long?!

As part of our Empowered to Connect training, we teach the importance of meeting our kids’ needs. We discuss how crucial it is to faithfully meet their needs if we want to build trust, and we encourage parents to give joyful yeses whenever they can. We highlight the fact that “What do you need?” is a much more helpful and productive question than “What’s your problem?” or “What’s wrong with you?” I wonder, though, if we neglect to cultivate an attitude of true curiosity within ourselves. When I’m asking my children to tell me what they need, I’m usually pretty sure I already know the answer. At best, I’ve got a short list of acceptable answers in mind. When their response doesn’t match my preconceived ideas, I feel suspicious of them. I wonder if they’re taking the whole thing seriously, and I may even argue with them. Sometimes, I find myself dismissing their needs because they are actually just wants, and I want to get down to the true underlying need. But what if my child doesn’t even know what he really needs in that moment? What if meeting their expressed needs gives them the freedom and ability to trust me with their actual needs?

I believe that if we want to build trust and effectively meet our kids’ needs, we have to honour what they’re telling us. If we approach the conversation with a dismissive “I know better than you” attitude, they’re not going to believe that their voice matters, and they’re not going to trust us to meet their needs. Meeting their needs teaches them that they have a voice, and that they can trust us.

Jesus models this so well for us! In Luke 18, we read of an encounter he has with a blind man. The man is shouting as Jesus and his entourage go by, trying to get the Lord’s attention. People around Jesus are trying to shush the man, but Jesus insists on speaking with him. When the man is brought to him, Jesus asks, “What do you want me to do for you?” (Luke 18:41 NLT) I love how Jesus takes the time to give this blind beggar a voice, approaching his need with gentleness and curiosity. There’s not a hint of arrogance or presumption. How beautiful! Of course, when the man responds with, “I want to see!” he is healed. Jesus could have healed him without that bit of dialogue, but I believe this is an important glimpse into God’s heart – he wants us to know we can trust him with our needs and desires. He invites us into relationship by encouraging us to speak our needs: he gives us voice. And when we do trust him and bring our needs to him, there is no ridicule; we are not dismissed. Instead, we are heard. We are seen. And we learn to trust.

This is the attitude I want to bring to my conversations with my children – a genuine curiosity to hear what they have to say, and a willing heart ready to meet their needs.

Comet

Like a comet

Orbiting away from the sun

Sluggish and slow

Burdened with dust and ice

In darkness, alone

The anger and disappointment that drove me here give way to fear 

Then I turn my face towards the Son

I am drawn to Love -

A gravitational pull like no other

The baggage I've been carrying is burned away

And the light of his glorious presence sets my heart ablaze

An Act of True Love

I love the movie “Frozen.” I love the music, and I love that Kristoff is such an unconventional Prince Charming. Of course, I love Olaf. Who doesn’t love Olaf?! Most of all, I love Anna’s brave, self-sacrificial love. When she turns away from Kristoff and steps in front of Elsa to shield her from the sword of Hans, my heart is stirred. Such selflessness, to choose her sister’s life over her own! And then, the happy ending: Anna is healed, her relationship with her sister is restored, and summer returns to the land! An ‘act of true love’ saved her. It looked very different from the romantic kiss she envisioned, but the result was healing and restoration, and we celebrate! (And we graciously watch endless performances of “Let it Go”…!)

I wonder, though, how many of us have become caught up in ‘happily ever after’ thinking when it comes to our parenting. We enter adoption and foster care for many different reasons but I believe most of us are motivated by love. We have experienced the joy of being part of a loving family, and we want to share that love with someone who needs it. So, we welcome a child from a hard place into our home and we celebrate! Maybe there is an airport welcome, or a baby shower, or a court date resulting in a judge signing an adoption order. Perhaps at some point in our journey we learned that there would be twists and turns, and that we’d need to embrace new ways of doing things, so we have engaged in a process of unlearning old ways and learning new ways so that our children will be able to receive our love and heal. Whatever the particulars of our stories are, I believe it’s easy to become resentful when our expectations remain unmet. What happens when the celebrations fade and life as a family remains difficult? How do we manage our disappointment when we have eagerly applied trust-based parenting techniques and, despite many gains, our children still display maladaptive behaviours that we thought would have disappeared by now?

For myself, I want parenting kids from hard places to be like a movie – in a burst of heroic energy I engage in an act of true love and my child is healed. Relationships are restored and we celebrate! But the reality is that healing takes time. The children who come to us through adoption and foster care will require much, much more than a one-time heroic act. They will require a sacrificial love that commits to loving them with a steady faithfulness over time, never giving up.

I love how this is illustrated for us by our Heavenly Father. When the Israelites are rescued from slavery in Egypt, God doesn’t just take them straight to the Promised Land, expecting they’ll be able to handle it. Instead, He guides them through the wilderness for 40 years, meeting their needs and teaching them about who He is and of His great love for them. He takes His children, who are from a very hard place, and guides them slowly, with high degrees of nurture and structure, until they trust Him and are ready for the task ahead.

And so it is with our children. We may feel as though we are wandering through a wilderness, waiting in vain for a sighting of the Promised Land. When we feel tempted to despair because our heroic act of true love hasn’t achieved the results we were expecting, perhaps we need to adjust our expectations and remind ourselves that true love is less about grand gestures than it is about making a hundred small, seemingly unnoticed sacrifices a day.

Responding playfully to a child who is being defiant and mouthy is an act of true love.

Willingly accompanying a child to get something from the basement because he’s too afraid to go alone is an act of true love.

Wrapping a child in a warm embrace moments after she’s said and done hurtful things is an act of true love.

Looking past the meltdown to meet a child’s sensory needs in a crowded public place is an act of true love.

Setting aside your own agenda to meet a child halfway when he’s asked for a compromise is an act of true love.

Choosing to spend one-on-one time with a child when you feel she least deserves it is an act of true love.

True love, it turns out, will persevere even when the short-term results seem discouraging. I will still watch and enjoy movies with neat, tidy, happy endings, because they’re a lot of fun! But I will examine my motives and expectations on a regular basis, especially when I start to feel disappointed and resentful, and remind myself that we are in this for the long haul. As we remind parents in ETC Parent Training, parenting is a marathon, not a sprint! And it is helpful to ground ourselves often in the words of Paul in 1 Corinthians 13:4-7:

Love is patient and kind. Love is not jealous or boastful or proud or rude. It does not demand its own way. It is not irritable, and it keeps no record of being wronged. It does not rejoice about injustice but rejoices whenever the truth wins out. Love never gives up, never loses faith, is always hopeful, and endures through every circumstance. (NLT, emphasis mine)