A Picture (or two) Worth a Thousand Words

Young women will dance and be happy,

    young men and old men will join in.

I’ll convert their weeping into laughter,

    lavishing comfort, invading their grief with joy.

Jeremiah 31:13 (The Message)

The picture on the left was taken at the medical center on July 29, 2013. The one on the right was taken today, October 22, 2013, at home. Twelve weeks between the two of them. Six thousand miles. A world of confidence. A cracking of the shell. A new child.

God knows that this was exactly what I needed to see today. To realize how far we have come. To count how short a time it has happened in. God opened my eyes to these pictures today to encourage me. To see that this matters. And even though I kind of choke on some of the adoption talk, I mean, who are we to redeem? I have always felt that was presumptuous, only God redeems. But you know what? God grants us the grace to partner with HIM in HIS work. Yes, even the work of redemption. And this, Dear Readers, THIS is the face of redemption. A redemption you are taking part in through your prayers and words of support and sense of humor.

May these pictures bless you today, like they have me.

Better and Better

At first this new life seemed ruined. Everything that we were was in upheaval. We were in survival mode. There are days that we don't do what we used to.

When we first thought about adopting an older child we had the thought that we really didn't want a baby because we didn't want to start the clock over. But adoption is starting the clock over, in a sense. But you have to work harder. Old habits to unlearn. New options to be explored. Such an adventure. And a shorter time to do it in.

As you know from past posts, we have really struggled with Daniel's school situation. Right now he is going partial days, which really has been a positive step for him. He is much less stressed. Much more centered. The hard part is for ME. I had been mentally gearing up to have the day to myself to get things done. But instead, I have about two hours by the time my running is done. And then I have a curious, discovering, exploring little sponge with me for the rest of the day. Who barges in while I am going to the bathroom to show me whatever thing he has figured out.

I have had to reconfigure my expectations. I had to gain the perspective (and am still working on it) that I have poured into each of my children. Years at home with Mama. Hours spent at story time. Days whiled away walking through the mall or the zoo. Even my big exchange student boys, Pedro and João, hours spent talking about everything and nothing. I have decided that I need to pour into Daniel too. Hours spent watching Lilo and Stitch. Going to Walmart. Reading books. That I must sow if I ever hope to reap.

And so, I sow. And I water. And we laugh. And he tells me that he is Daddy's baby. And the brown-eyed ones are starting to love him, not just put up with him, not just feel sorry for him. But accept him. He calls Gracie "Monster" last night. So she calls him "Booger." And they all laugh about it. And they hug him and he prays for them.

And slowly but surely the seeds are sprouting and we continue to sow and water and laugh. Because what else can you do when things go sour and you respond to being beat with a balloon by popping said balloon like a fiend?

I was reminded of the line in the song, "You make beautiful things, You make beautiful things out of the dust. You make beautiful things, You make beautiful things out of us."

Nothing More Than Feelings

I was re-reading past entries today and it struck me what a roller coaster that this all has been.

The "should we or shouldn't we" stage where we considered what it would consist of for us to adopt. Period. Learning about possible special needs and how it would be to live with them. How overwhelming those seemed.

The waiting. The busting hump to get paperwork finished, sealed, sent. Worrying if it would be approved.

The advice. Well-meaning. Annoying when you don't want to hear it. Coming from a variety of sources. Tuning my ears to hear The Truth. I am a positive person. A can-do person, so I tried to gather a good support group of a few people who were the same way. They have been my sanity. There are a lot of people who seem to relish negative drama. And are bursting at the seams to share that with you. I had to come to a place where I could distance myself from that kind of negativity. I literally met a woman who told me that adoption was the hardest thing that she had ever done and that she never thought that she would want to kill a child, but that was how she felt every night when she would tuck her adopted son into bed. I was horrified and couldn't imagine feeling that way. Ever. And you know what? I haven't.

The traveling. So wonderful. So difficult. Because not only was I away from my comfort zone, but I was doing something decidedly difficult. So blessed with new friends, who I now miss.

The homecoming. The "Oh no! What have we done? Will things ever be good again?"

The becoming. The becoming of a family. The becoming of a child from a survivor to a thriver. The cost that this process exacts from all who come in contact. The rewards it brings.

And throughout all of this The Emotions. The thrill. The anguish. The faith. The laughter. The tears. This, Dear Readers, is LIFE. The "more abundant" kind.

Here is to a great week. A week of more highs than lows. A week to grow in confidence. A week to listen to the Holy Spirit's guidance. A week to fight the demons. And a week to love.

Amen.

You've Got Your Problems, I've Got Mine

School is our Waterloo.

I mean, all these pieces are just falling into place crazy good when it comes to....well, ANYWHERE but school. 

I have a decent amount of frustration with the situation, but I am not one to spread tales via a platform that anyone in the world can see, because I understand we are all learning and so I will give them grace. Even though a tantrum might be more satisfying. 

One thing I have noticed about the professionals, they are quick to overlook what the experts have to say. I mean, you can go to school until you have enough initials after your name that it looks like the periodic table of elements and that makes you a professional, but you are not the expert on someone else's life and situation. They are. 

I can say that I am the expert on what Daniel is like, so when people who see one aspect of him throw theories around, it bugs me. Well, it more than bugs me, but I am trying to take the high road. 

And you know what I realized tonight? We all have a back story. Very few people have optimum circumstances. Everyone is screwed up about something. So back off. Back off the judgements. Back off the gossiping. Back off the prejudice. 

Back off my son. 

Because, let's be honest, he probably has a better reason for his behavior than you do. 

And he is moving on. Working through things. Living his life, like it was dealt. 

I kept him home today and it was bliss.

So there.