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)

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.)