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)

Finding Joy in Letting Go

I’ve been thinking about expectations a lot lately. Maybe it’s because I turned 40 this summer, or maybe it’s because of where we’re at in our parenting journey, but I’ve been reflecting on how my life looks very different than I expected it to look. Then a few weeks ago I heard a message in church about Mary, the mother of Jesus. I’ve been pondering ever since, as much of what I heard resonated deeply with me.

Mary was all set to begin a very ‘normal’ life with Joseph when she got a visit from an angel. The angel announced that she was beautiful and favored and blessed with the Lord’s presence. Her response intrigues me: different translations record that she was greatly troubled, disturbed, confused, thoroughly shaken, and her mind was spinning, trying to figure out what the angel’s greeting could mean. (Luke 1:28,29) Despite his positive pronouncement, Mary seemed to respond to his greeting with a deep sense of foreboding as she tried to figure out what it all meant. I imagine she realized very quickly that her life would never be the same. Any expectations she had of a normal life were being shattered. The angel’s next words confirmed her suspicion – she would become pregnant before her marriage with Joseph was consummated. Embarking on marriage and adulthood in a cloud of accusations and condemnation would not be part of a young woman’s hopes, dreams and expectations for her life. And yet, the angel’s words stirred something in Mary. Despite the dashed hopes, the far-from-normal life and the suffering that would come her way, she gets a glimpse of the bigger story. She is being invited to be a part of bringing the Messiah, the Rescuer, to earth! By the time the angel is done speaking, she indicates her willingness to be part of the plan. “Mary responded, ‘I am the Lord’s servant. May everything you have said about me come true.’” (Luke 1:38 NLT) It’s as if she recognized that although her life wouldn’t look much like she thought it would, it would all be worth it.

I can identify with letting go of expectations in the face of a new reality. When faced with the reality of infertility, I had to let go of my dreams of being pregnant and giving birth to babies. Those dreams were quickly replaced by others as we embarked on an adoption journey. Expectations quickly formed – I expected that adopting babies would be much like giving birth, minus the pain and discomfort of pregnancy, labor and delivery! I expected parenting to come naturally and easily. Once we realized we’d need to make some drastic changes to our parenting style, I expected others to see the beauty in what we were doing and support us. As our children grow, I continue to wrestle with how reality is not matching my expectations. Like Mary, I feel troubled and confused at times as I imagine how our future might look. My expectations of a happy, successful, ‘normal’ family life are not being met in the way I thought they would be. Adoption can leave deep wounds, even when adopting babies. Parenting is way harder, and often more isolating, than I anticipated. And yet, we have found deep joy, comfort and healing in the midst of great difficulty.

This brings me to another part of Mary’s experience that is starting to resonate with me. Later in the first chapter of Luke, Mary visits her cousin and sings a song of praise to God. She sings, with wonder and gratitude, of His goodness, mercy and love. Despite an uncertain future, she believes that He has a good plan, and that her current circumstances will all be worth it when viewed in the light of His redemptive plan. I am realizing that God has much more in mind for us than anything we could have dreamed. We are part of a much bigger story of hope, redemption and healing; not only in the lives of our children, but in our own lives as well. Our journey continually leads us to places of greater dependence on God, and a deepening awareness of His unfailing love for us.

Like Mary, I want to hold my own dreams, hopes and expectations for the future very, very loosely. I want to be ready to follow God’s plan with joy, gratitude and an expectant heart, trusting His heart and resting in the knowledge that He is at work – healing, restoring and loving us all. 

"Don't embarrass me..."

My four-year-old and I were visiting my dad at his office the other day. As we were leaving, he walked down the hall with us and started heading towards the bathroom. In a loud, clear voice, my daughter asked, “You going pee, Grandpa?” There were a few other people standing around and they chuckled. My first instinct was to tell her that we shouldn’t point out other people’s bathroom needs in public, but knowing how sensitive she is to being told she’s made a mistake, I stayed quiet and waited to see how Grandpa would handle it. He smiled at her and remained non-committal, neither confirming nor denying his need! Her question didn’t really get answered, but as we walked away she had a bounce in her step and I knew that her heart was okay. I’m confident that she will soon learn not to publicly announce people’s bathroom needs!

I wonder, though, whether I am as confident that I will be able to un-learn those instincts that would shush her and point out her errors in front of other people. It’s something I struggle with, these feelings of embarrassment that drive me to respond in less than desirable ways. Whether it’s a meltdown in the grocery store, a display of defiance at church, or a poorly timed observation, I too often find myself thinking about what other people are thinking instead of what my children need.

If I’m embarrassed, I’m unlikely to recognize their behaviour for what it is: an unmet need. Honestly, I’m more comfortable thinking of meltdowns and defiance as misbehaviour that needs to be disciplined rather than as needs that need to be met with equal parts nurture and structure. The more we learn about our children, though, the more we are realizing that what we used to think of as misbehaviour is actually an opportunity for us to meet a need and connect with them. The correction will come, but often it needs to wait until the need has been met and my child and I are re-connected. Sometimes their needs are physical – hunger, thirst, exhaustion, sensory overload – and other times their needs are emotional – unexpressed sadness, fear, and frustration. Whatever the case, I will not be able to see past the behaviour to the need if I am blinded by my own embarrassment.

So what is at the root of being embarrassed by our children? What is driving this blinding flood of emotions? Embarrassment is all too often a manifestation of shame, and if we can learn to see it for what it is, then we can take steps to own it and deal with it.

When my children are not behaving as I would like them to and I feel embarrassed, I am actually experiencing shame because I am afraid that other people are judging my worth based on my kids’ behaviour. Since I don’t enjoy feeling worthless, I am tempted to transfer my shame to my children by communicating my embarrassment to them and using shame to motivate them to behave more appropriately. Of course, this is a short-term solution at best. I may achieve better behaviour in the moment (or I may not), but am I really okay knowing that I have contributed to my child’s own feelings of shame?

As an adult, I recognize that I have carried a lot of shame around in the form of insecurity and fear; this is not a burden I want to place on my children. Part of my journey in the last while has been learning to rest securely in the fact that my identity is rooted in God’s great love for me. My abilities as a parent do not determine my worth, nor does the behaviour of my children. As I practice resting in this truth, I find that I am better able to focus on my child in those difficult moments and have become less distracted by my own fear and embarrassment.

One of my desires as a parent is that my children will know deep, deep down in their souls that they are precious and loved. It will be difficult for them to believe this if they think they’re an embarrassment to me. So I must continue to work to identify the ways in which I am motivated by shame, and fight against those tendencies with the truth of my identity as a deeply loved child of God. Then I will be free to teach my children about their true identity, their great worth and preciousness, especially in those moments when it would be easy to teach the very opposite.

(This post originally appeared at Empowered to Connect.)

Battleground

Taunts and accusations

Launched like missiles across a crowded hallway

Seeking the heat of my shame

Finding their mark, then and now

Fear flickers, icy hot

Anger rises to smother the shame

Replacing it with something cold and hard, brittle

Eyes averted, I forge ahead

Desperate for an ally, weapons, a more suitable arena in which to engage my enemy

My fists close tight around the stones I've found

Fuelled by fury I'm poised to attack 

But then...

A face emerges from the crowd

Irresistible

Eyes locked on His, I'm seen

Known

Embraced

Rescued

Captivated by light and love, the arena fades

His the only face I see

Suddenly, inexplicably soft my fingers unclench

Stones fall to the ground

All I know is love 

Managing my expectations at Christmas

Look at this gingerbread house. The cheerful candy has nearly disappeared and the icing sidewalk has been consumed. We built it just a few days ago. This wasn't how I envisioned our gingerbread village would look with a week to go until Christmas...
I just assumed that the kids were aware of how the whole gingerbread house thing works. You build it, you decorate it, and then it sits around until after Christmas sometime when you gleefully demolish it and nibble at the stale candy and icing, pretending that it's delicious. I forgot that, last Christmas, we built and decorated the gingerbread village at Grandma's house and then we left it there, where it was safe from little fingers. It took me a couple days of saying "No" at least a hundred times and dealing with escalating levels of defiance and disobedience before I realized my mistake. I had set us up for this misery by putting something they really wanted out in plain view and then expecting them to be okay with being told they can't eat it. It was, in hindsight, an unrealistic expectation.

I've known for a long time that one of our kiddos in particular has great difficulty handling disappointment. If things don't go the way he expects them to go, he can melt down very quickly. We've learned that this is fairly common for children from hard places - hearing the word 'no' and feeling like circumstances are out of their control can trigger a fight, flight or freeze fear response. They may be reacting out of a fear of abandonment ("When you say 'no' I feel like you don't love me") or perhaps they need to feel in control because life has been chaotic in the past and their fear is driving their need to be in charge. Whatever the underlying beliefs are that our children brought with them to our family, the result is the same: they are incredibly fragile when it comes to accepting the word 'no.' This does not mean that we can't ever say 'no' to our kids. We will try to be gentle and compassionate, though, and give them chances - outside of the moment - to practice being okay with a 'no' through fun activities like role play and puppets. We'll also practice pausing before we say 'no' to figure out if we're reacting with a negative response for mostly selfish reasons when we could be giving a joyful 'yes.'

As I reflect on the now destroyed gingerbread village, I realize that I have a lot of expectations of how things will go at Christmas. I love times of anticipation, and I expected that my kids would as well. I remember picking up and shaking presents, savoring the feelings of hope and excitement. That kind of anticipation is almost unbearable for one of our children; the stress is just too much for his system. This year, we are spacing out the gift giving, instead of keeping it all for Christmas morning, hoping that helps him cope a bit better. The kids also started a new tradition with my mom - she took them shopping (one at a time) and let them pick out their own gift. They then wrapped it and left it under the tree at her house for a few days before they opened it. They did really well with that waiting! (And what a sweet Christmas tradition with Grandma!) So I find myself adjusting my expectations. Is it a big deal if we eat our gingerbread village within days of building it? Not really. Next year I might try buying two: one for eating and one for looking at. Is it a big deal if the kids know what they're getting before they open their presents, or if they get to open one a week or two before Christmas? Not at all. As they get older, we can practice waiting and guide them as they learn to navigate seasons of anticipation.

In the meantime, I will practice taking a step back, breathing deeply, and asking myself some important questions when I start to feel frustrated and impatient: Is this a realistic expectation? Is my expectation based merely on tradition, and is it a big deal if things don't look the way I thought they would? Am I looking at my children with eyes of compassion and working to understand where they are coming from? Ultimately, I am grateful for the demise of our gingerbread village. It's been an important reminder of the need to slow down, reflect, and try to make this season, the one that's supposed to be all about joy and hope and peace and love, a little less stressful for our family.

I'd love to hear more ideas - what do you do to take the pressure off your kiddos at Christmas?

Imagine with me!

I got a phone call yesterday that kind of broke my heart. A woman, also heartbroken, explained her friend's situation then asked, "What can we do?" Her friend was caring for an 18-month-old girl who was likely going to be apprehended by child and family services. Her friend had cared for this girl before, had seen the girl's mother come back into her life, and had taken the girl back when the mother left. Again. Already overwhelmed by her own situation and unable to care for this girl long-term, this woman called her friend, who called me. What can we do? 

I wanted to thank her for calling me and to reassure her that we could help. I wanted to tell her that we knew of a number of families who were licensed foster homes, ready and willing to welcome this precious child and surround her with the love of Jesus. I wanted to be able to connect her with people who would not only welcome this precious child, but who would commit to building a relationship with the girl's mother, if possible, and assist her in her efforts to parent her daughter. I wanted to tell her that we were surrounded by an army of like-minded people, people who knew firsthand the redemptive and restorative power of our great God and were eager to see redemption and restoration become reality in the lives of foster children and their families. I wanted to tell her of a network of support, of people ready to provide meals and respite and listening ears and prayer. I wanted to tell her that I could connect her with people who had counted the cost, answered this particular call, and were living in the glorious freedom of faithfully following our Lord into the broken and messy places.

Instead, I told her that unless she knew of a licensed foster home, there was little we could do. I explained how the system works, or what I know of it, and I listened to her. I offered a couple of ideas for ways to stay connected with this girl, perhaps through respite. I hung up, my spirit restless and discontent. I know foster families like this exist. I know there are people who view foster care as a calling, who commit to walking out this calling with courage and compassion. I've heard stories of birth mothers welcomed into families, and given the opportunity to learn from the foster mother. I've heard of mothers eased back into motherhood by being allowed to rock their babies to sleep in a foster home. I know a foster mom who took a young mom under her wing and taught her how to throw a birthday party for her child. I have read of another foster mom who has committed to staying connected with children that have been in her care, and makes herself available to provide respite (relief care) for the biological family who is working hard to keep it together. I know of a foster family being stretched way beyond what they thought they could do so that they can keep a sibling group together. I know foster families who have welcomed a child temporarily, then realized that this child was home, and become that child's forever family through adoption.

So, why did I not have more to offer on the phone yesterday? I'm sure there are many reasons. I'm sure we could do more to raise awareness, and to get connected with foster families, and to be more intentional about seeing this vision become reality. I'm also sure there is great need for more families to rise up in obedience and answer the call God has placed on their hearts to care for the most vulnerable in our society. What can we do?? How can we build a community of families determined to see God's kingdom come, His will done, His children cared for? Will you pray with me that the Lord will raise up people committed to bringing His justice - His restoration and redemption - to the world? Let's do this. Let's lay aside our expectations for how our lives will look, and let's ask the Lord to give us eyes to see what He has for us, and for our world through us.