Tuesday, July 20, 2010

Six Months Ago...

We were on a plane headed to Miami. Our kids would be flying out that evening. We were tired, emotionally, mentally, physically, and spiritually. We were trying to figure out how one prepares, and realizing they don't. We were trying to figure out what the next 24 hours would involve. We didn't have any idea what to expect. We didn't expect this...



Er pees in the shower. Not while taking a shower. Pulls her pants down, squats over the edge and pees. Explains the smell that I haven't been able to get rid of in that bathroom.



Re just caught a spider in his bare hands. A good size one. He asked to keep it. I said no. So he smushed it on my counter. The take it outside part only came after it was dead. His explanation, "My mom didn't want it."



Re was watering the roses. Er wanted a turn. She walked right up to him. Right up the stream of water. And then got mad at him that her tank top was wet.



All four kids share a room to sleep. They sleep in different arrangements. They sleep in different spots. It's not unusual for there to be someone on our floor. Sleeping arrangements are very fluid right now.



That there would be over $5000 in just medical and dental expenses after insurance. Okay, this we should have known, but we just didn't really give it too much thought.



How exhausted this process of transition is. On them, on us. How much energy it would take to meet the basic needs on a daily basis. Forget the extras like laundry and dishes. How much it would take out of us emotionally to see our children in so much pain.



That our children would struggle with missing Haiti so much. I said I knew that. I thought I knew -- I could not have. That I'd feel so inadequate in those moments. That I'd be so helpless. That there would moments I'd doubt that this benefited them at all. Or was just really selfish on our part.



That our marriage would change. Not like when we had biological children. Not like other life changing events. But that we would both be so changed by our new life, our marriage would have to change to survive.



That these last six months would make us rethink everything we thought we knew. About parenting. About marriage. About loving God. About church. About serving him. About following him. About obedience and trust.



I've said all along that adoption is not for the faint of heart. If that is true, than parenting adopted children are for the warriors. The kind of warrior that goes to bed exhausted, wakes up exhausted, but puts on the gear to fight another day, knowing the battle at hand matters. The kind that steps up to the front lines and says, "I have won the battle, for MY God promises it to be so." and then holds a grieving child. The kind of warrior that says to her leader, " I do NOT understand, but I will GO and DO that which you ask, trusting your supreme understanding."

I'm learning how to be that warrior. I'm learning how to lay down my own desires, for the good of who I serve. I'm learning how to not only love my children, but to be the mother God desires me to be. The woman God created me to be. And it's hard work. It's draining, and some days I think I can't do another day. And then the cry of my heart is heard by the God for the universe, and I have the strength to continue on. That we are adopted by him, and not just brought into the family, but parented. Encouraged, disciplined, loved through action, and being grown.