Let Me Elaborate

Ok, so if you know me, you know that I am regretting the negative slant on my last post. I debated about taking it down, but decided to leave it up because it is a part of what life is like. A small part.

There is a part of me that is thankful for the meltdown following the skype call because it showed me the hurt that he has. Most people who interact with Daniel and come away thinking nothing besides that he is funny and happy.

But God has been giving me glimpses of the heart within.

While I was at the orphanage I thought that it was pretty nice, but as I see this little child processing, or trying to, after living that way, it makes me realize that not all was as it seemed. And really, you can have the nicest place in the world, but all it takes is one bad person to make it hellish.

I, in no way, want to give any impression that we are not happy. Because we really are. There is such a primal thrill in watching the cogs slip into place. Watching Wyatt and Daniel doing their version of sign language and giggling together. The improvements that we are having at school. He is learning to color and draw, which may seem very simple, but I believe is very important. He made it through Sunday school by himself. So many leaps forward.

When we were at the fall festival this last weekend, he did amazingly well. We ran into some friends and their boys were rough housing with each other. Daniel didn't try to get into the fracas, but he did sock me in the thigh. It didn't hurt, but it goes to show how affected he is by environment.

And tact. Oh, buddy. We have a ways to go. Haha. I can only hope that people understand that he had never been exposed to people who look much different from him and so when he sees someone who is, he is going to remark. I am looking forward to having more English and being able to explain that God has made people different, for example Daniel is short.  Ay yi yi. That being said, he isn't mean spirited when he makes his observations, he is innocent and there is something refreshing about that. (Even though I want to make excuses and it embarrasses me to death.)

So, Readers, it truly is an adventure. Ups and downs. And God teaching me patience in a way I didn't know existed. The sweets are so much sweeter. The worst day here is better than his best day when we were in Ukraine. The small triumphs are spectacular. The personality emerges and I discover that I have a little boy who likes music and hates homework, well, pretty much any work, but is learning to do it anyway. It is hard to say what other preferences that he has because he is constantly in flux trying to discover just who this Daniel Sponseller is, just what he likes.

And it is beautiful. And messy. And painful. And wondrous.

And a little side note: without going into detail, the call from school yesterday was a misunderstanding. It is sad to me that it happened, but has shown me that those who love Daniel need to rally around and give him the confidence to sail through the rough seas of prejudice and misunderstanding when they come. Because they will.

Please pray for that.

I will close with something that I remember my tenth grade history teacher told me. She said that when she was having to correct her son she would think to herself, "Thank God for strong willed children, for they will not be easily swayed."

Amen.

A Week in the Life

So, the most common question I get is, "How is it going? How is everyone adjusting?"

Adjustment is like cleaning out your craft closet. It is going to look worse before it gets better. And that is the truth. That and the fact that I am going to lie to you. Because you probably don't really want to hear the hairy part. Instead of telling you how I feel sometimes, I will show you a picture, but they are worth a thousand words. (look closely at my eyes)

Hahaha.

In the interest of being open about what it is really like, I decided to give you a play by play of last week. Simply the facts.

• Monday: Good day at school. Read this blog by Jen Hatmaker. It outlines what the first year is supposed to look like, or generally does end up looking like. Felt cheated when I saw that there was supposed to be a honeymoon period. Maybe we can save up and take one on our tenth anniversary.
• Tuesday: Good day at school. Skyped with his friend who was adopted a year ago. Got off of Skype and REGRESSED. Big time. Rocking. Fits. Crying. Delight.
• Wednesday: Hid under the teacher's desk at school (see above as to why). Refused to come out until I spoke on the phone with him. Came out... He should have stayed under the desk. Enough said.
• Thursday: Rough day at school. Ended up in the principal's office playing on an ipad.
• Friday: you know what? I am done enumerating. 
• Saturday: went to Johnny Appleseed Festival. Good times. 

And now it is Monday and I have been called by the school. And it breaks my heart. And the school has no power over him. And I feel like I should go get him but the school said no and I have a headache. 

Boo. 

Moral of the story: we will hold off on the skype for awhile. 

What Home Does

After my post last night I thought that you might enjoy seeing. Seeing what a difference home makes. Seeing what a difference love makes. Even in a short period of time.

Bind Us

The act of creating a family through adoption isn't natural. The mashing together of people from vastly different backgrounds and cultures goes against every biological impulse that we supposedly have.

Yet, it happens. Across borders. Across species. Like the mama dog who adopted a litter of baby tigers. 

And that is interesting to me. Because it shows that, while it doesn't make sense, it works. That the spark of The Divine in us is greater than biology. 

Why does it work? According to scientists we bond with our young because they look like us, smell like us. These are the ways that babies can ensure their survival. 

And yet thousands of families cross borders to pick a child that doesn't look like them. That certainly doesn't smell of Johnson and Johnson. 

When I think of that, I really do question the idea of destiny. Because why else would that happen?

The things that God worked out to show Daniel to us. That opened our hearts to him. That exposed him to God. The resilience that this child seemingly has. To lose everything. But find new things. To bravely forge a new path for himself without the benefit of a stable foundation. I have seen much more educated, well adjusted people struggle with it so much more. 

And yet our little Peter Pan carves out his place. Not a replacement for anyone or anything but something completely new. A fighter that wants to be a lover. That makes a bed for the dog, that up until two weeks ago, he was terrified of. And prays over each of his siblings and wants to tuck them in. That loves the garage sale floral comforter that I tossed over him tonight. No complaints about it being girly. 

The desire to be a son. But the conditioning of being the outsider. The stone that the builders rejected. 

The fervent prayer and fevered desire to be enough of a family. To make the connections and relationships instantaneous. That the family will accept him. Bolster him. That he may need more than the natural born Sponsellers. For awhile? Forever? God knows. 

The insecurity that I feel. Can I be enough? Show God's love enough? To make up in some way, to give confidence in the face of the ultimate rejection--that led to the ultimate acceptance. 

I know we aren't there. But we are closer than we were. Home six weeks tonight. 

A month and a half in the US. 

The other kids weary of his energy. Of his struggle to relate to children who aren't merely surviving. 

Me seeing. God opening my eyes to the energy and showing me that it isn't naughty. That it is adrenaline. Fear. 

Bind us together, Lord, with chains that cannot be broken. Bind us together with love. 

Because mine will never be enough. 

Simple Graces

Look at me. Being all prolific. Two posts in as many days.

I have been thinking about things that I am thankful for.

There are really too many to list, but here are some of my top faves.

• A mama who came over every morning for two weeks to help me herd cats get the kids ready for school.
• An anonymous benefactor who ordered a shipment of tooth boxes to be sent to a certain Claire Sponseller. (Thanks, whomever you are. She loves them and has decorated her bed with them.)
• A sister who went with me to the pool every night for a week, before it closed for the summer, so that the kids could get their wiggles out.
• Finding a wonderful doctor that can address ALL of Daniel's needs. And she is ten minutes away. Instead of three hours.
• A little boy who says "I love you" to people. Even when he is being an absolute stinker.
• A tender hearted teacher for said little boy.
• Faithful friends who have walked this road before us.
• A job that is flexible.
• A husband who I adore.
• A little girl who wants to be on the Lego team who has never played with Legos.
• Another little girl with the prettiest curly hair who conned me into straightening it this morning.
• A little boy who "clipped down" at school today, but pointed out that he didn't feel bad about it, so I shouldn't either. Who can argue with that logic?

To See and Be Seen

Things have begun settling into somewhat of a routine in the Sponseller home. I haven't posted as many updates as I would like, mostly because things are changing every day. Every time we have a good day it seems to eclipse every other good day that we have had. Meaning: things are getting better and better.

Over the last several days, the idea of the importance of being seen has been stirring in my mind.

How us seeing an image of Daniel, long before we met him, set events in motion that have eternal reach.

This was the first picture that I saw of Daniel. And, try as I might, I couldn't get him out of my mind. I told my other kids the story of the little boy in Ukraine. We prayed for him at night. There was just something about that face... Something that stuck with us.

Now, of course, Daniel is at home. With us. Asleep in the room above mine. In his fire truck pajamas.

Tonight when he was getting ready for bed I just looked at him and thought how precious he is. How he already is such a part of our entire family. 

Sure, sometimes he is a handful. No doubt. He is an eight year old boy. Enough said. 

And then I thought of all the other children I saw. Sasha, Katja, Anya, Peter, Andrew, Igor, Vika. Names. With worlds connected to them. Children who need love.

Oh, tonight they weigh on my heart.

What comforts me is knowing that God sees these children right now. As they slumber. As they play. As they dream. As they cry. And He is Father to them. And He is writing His name on their hearts.

And God sees you. Where you are.

I am reminded of the passage where Hagar is fleeing Sarah and Abraham with her son Ishmael. She is dying in the desert. And the scripture says that "God SAW her." He told her that things would be hard, but that He would bless her and that He would bless her son. He saw her.

And that made all the difference.

Maybe you can make all the difference to these children.  

Pray. Share pictures. 

See these children. Not as unwanted, but as treasures of the King.