The Blessing of ADHD

So, I stinking HATE the aforementioned label. Capital letters HATE.

I do not dispute the fact that ....  is a real thing. Not one bit. I do not dispute the fact that I live with two people that (most likely) are blessed with it.

That's right. I said BLESSED.

What I would quibble with is the stigma around that label. The stigma that says, "Oh, that person can't do X Y or Z."

I do not agree with painting people with that label and then trying to cram them into the mold.

I also do not love this being used as a crutch.

Why does everything have to be perfect in our culture? Teeth straight and bleached. Hair straightened. Photoshopped lives. People who can sit for hours in a BORING classroom or in a BEIGE cubicle are more valued than those who need to fidget, who would rather be jumping than sitting. Who the heck defines "perfect?!" Yuck!

I think that maybe it isn't anything that is wrong with you, that it is the way that God, our everlasting, ever loving, all knowing Father, CREATED you. That it isn't a result of faulty programming, but maybe more a fault of our couch potato culture.

I have grown to view ADHD as similar to the Parable of the Talents.

Matthew 25:14-30

The Message (MSG)

^14-18 “It’s also like a man going off on an extended trip. He called his servants together and delegated responsibilities. To one he gave five thousand dollars, to another two thousand, to a third one thousand, depending on their abilities. Then he left. Right off, the first servant went to work and doubled his master’s investment. The second did the same. But the man with the single thousand dug a hole and carefully buried his master’s money.

^19-21 “After a long absence, the master of those three servants came back and settled up with them. The one given five thousand dollars showed him how he had doubled his investment. His master commended him: ‘Good work! You did your job well. From now on be my partner.’
^22-23 “The servant with the two thousand showed how he also had doubled his master’s investment. His master commended him: ‘Good work! You did your job well. From now on be my partner.’
^24-25 “The servant given one thousand said, ‘Master, I know you have high standards and hate careless ways, that you demand the best and make no allowances for error. I was afraid I might disappoint you, so I found a good hiding place and secured your money. Here it is, safe and sound down to the last cent.’
^26-27 “The master was furious. ‘That’s a terrible way to live! It’s criminal to live cautiously like that! If you knew I was after the best, why did you do less than the least? The least you could have done would have been to invest the sum with the bankers, where at least I would have gotten a little interest.
^28-30 “‘Take the thousand and give it to the one who risked the most. And get rid of this “play-it-safe” who won’t go out on a limb. Throw him out into utter darkness.'

I guess I view the energy that God has given you as His investment in YOU!

When we met the director of the home that Daniel lived at, I asked her whether Daniel was a good boy. She gave a very Ukrainian "meh" shrug and then pantomimed that he was like a spinning top.

She was right. (Except for the "meh" part).

What that has translated into for our family is ACTIVITY! And that has been a great gift! We go to the YMCA at least once a week, more often two-three times a week. Yesterday Garth took the kids to family Zumba and then swimming. Hours of physical activity. Muscles are building for all of the kids. They all swim like fish now. And Daniel? He goes and goes!

The boy who was scared of the water? After carefully observing the people who swim laps he is developing great form. No doggy paddle for him!

That boy who could barely pedal his bike? He runs the mile all the time now.

Determination and the energy to match.

Unstoppable.

Confidence blooms for the kids.

And the investment is being spent.

And yielding a return.

Because I'm Happy Happy

The last couple of "Daniel related" posts have kind of veered off into the sadness that is a part of adoption. But, lest you think I am becoming maudlin, let me assure you that we are all happy. And that those sad vignettes are more than outweighed by wonderful things.

Here are some of the wonderful things about today:

• Today Daniel had more time added into his school day. That meant that I didn't pick him up until 2:30. I explained to him what was going to be happening. I told him that I would pick him up later, but that I would NEVER forget him, or not come; it would just be later. I also explained to him that even when I am not with him, I am thinking about him and loving him and hoping that he has a good day. And it worked! He had a great day! Clipped up on the behavior chart! I asked him if he felt anxious when I didn't come at the normal time and he laughed and said "No!" Yippee!
• Tonight was McTeacher night at McDonalds and since Garth is working late, I took all the kids over, citing Daniel's school success as the impetus. While we were there, Daniel was so proud to introduce his family. "Dees ees my leetle brodder Vyatt." "Dees ess my Grace." "Dees ees my Claire." Seriously cute stuff, people. I am going to be bummed if he loses his accent. 
• Tonight he has been walking around singing "Because I'm happy, happy, happy." Over. And. Over. To himself. Love it. 

The Gift of Hospitality

This morning, at church, I was asked to share about hospitality. This is what I read, with shaking hands. 

I am sharing this to honor our dear friends in Ukraine today, the day of the Crimean referendum. 

________ 

Hospitality. Such a big concept! I was asked to speak about this today and I am struggling with what to say, so I decided to blog about it. Sometimes my brain works better this way.

I think that what they wanted me to talk about is how our family is hospitable. I am struggling with that. Mostly because I don't think that we have ever done anything special. Having people stay with us has always felt natural. Like breathing. We have rooms in our home that belong to people who are thousands of miles away.

When we have people stay with us, we have never viewed it as having a stranger, even if we just met them, because if you live with us, you are family. For better or worse.

I would say that is a gift that generations of family has taught me. We have friends on nearly every continent due to the love that was shared when I was growing up with whoever didn't have their family around. In my family there always has seemed to be that person (or five) that is there because of course they are invited. Because what is one more? (Turns out we all stink at math; one more is plus one).

We have had amazing experiences with hosting. And not so amazing experiences. There is no magic quality that makes things easy or perfect. In fact, the opposite, it is hard. Because people are people, wherever they are from. People have opinions and emotions. And that leads to drama and conflict. But it also leads to wonderful things. Gifts. I have seen God's grace to me through the hard that we have experienced through opening our hearts. God has made me a stronger person and has shaped me into a better mother. And that friendship? That love? That has stayed with me long after bags are packed.

So, that being said, I don't ever feel like we are doing anything special. Maybe what we are doing is more so selfish, because we get so much out of it as a family.

Some say that they would never host because they want to protect their children. I don't dismiss the need to be very wise when you are opening your home. It can be intimidating to open yourself, your family, and your home to scrutiny and to someone else's reality.

I can say that my children have become better people through the opening of our homes and hearts. They have developed into very compassionate people and are very generous with their space, their things, and their family. But that is not the only awesome thing: I mean, how many kids do you know that can speak a smattering of Portuguese, Spanish, and Russian?

As far as our adoption goes, I can say that our hearts being opened to that, grew from our other experiences of loving people that don't share our DNA. I think it would have been a huge leap to go from zero to "BOOM, here is your kid."

There were comments that we got when we were planning to adopt and they went something like this: "Your family is so wonderful, you don't want to mess that up." Amen! We didn't want to mess up our family, either! That is so scary! Peace came when we put down our definition of what a "perfect" family should look like and allowed God to define our family. And it occurred to me during that time, that I was sure glad that God wasn't worried about messing up his perfect dynamic. I never would have imagined that God's definition of our family would have included an eight year old boy from Eastern Europe. But as I tuck him into bed every night, I can't imagine my life any differently.

And I don't really see our adoption as hospitality, because Daniel is our child. I don't feel like I am doing my kids a favor by letting them live here (although that may change in 10 years).

I struggle with saying that we are hospitable, although I guess by definition, we are.  And it never has seemed like any big thing to me. Until I was on the receiving end of amazing hospitality from the Church this past summer when we were in Ukraine.

We literally were strangers in a strange land and were embraced and fed and cared for by the Christians in Slavyansk and in Kiev.

When we had our layover in Frankfort, we overheard a group of people talking and realized that they were affiliated with a ministry that we were familiar with, EEM. Upon our arrival into Donetsk, we were given a phone number of the minister in the little town that we would be staying in.

I honestly hesitated to even call because I know that Ukrainians are private people and some are suspicious of Americans and do not always have the most positive feelings toward Americans who come to their country to adopt. But my mother encouraged me to call. She said, "they are Christians, of course they will help you." My reply was something along the lines of, "But Mom, you don't know Ukrainians."

Turns out I didn't know Ukrainian Christians. As soon as the call was made, we were swept into the embrace of New Testament hospitality, ala Ukraine.

I was, and am, amazed at the love that we were shown. And I came away knowing that it does matter. That even though it doesn't feel like a big thing to me, to open our home, it matters. My life was changed by their hospitality. To this day, the relationships that were forged in that hard time of struggle persist.

And I came away inspired to be more intentional. And to continue. And to share what that experience meant to me.

It meant a lot.

On Mourning and Dancing

In my last post I touched on the stage that we are in right now. The grieving stage.

Consider what it means to lose that connection with the people who should love you most and always be there for you. I doubt it is ever an easy thing.

As Daniel's awareness has grown he has began to observe the way things should have been. He watches my sweet baby niece and sees how adored she is.

He is moving past the pseudo-acceptance of "This is all I deserve" to the hard truth of "Why was I not cared for?"

And it makes him angry.

Heck, I am not too thrilled either!

I have always been pretty up front about our lives and the struggles, but there are certain heartbreaks a mama has to hold close. Because those little eyes are watching.

His little eyes are watching me and he looks to see how I respond to the bumps that come in our road. And sometimes those bumps are painful to me. Unforeseen issues cropping up; I stand in front of the mirror and say it over and over until it doesn't hurt. Until I can frame the experience in a way that will empower him, when all I want to do is wallow with him. Until I can be matter of fact. Until I can handle it with grace and aplomb. And then I talk with him about it.

Same way for this new grief. This realized abandonment.

Letting him see that my heart breaks too, but that it is ok. That God makes ways where there haven't been ways. Running down the list of people who love him and will take care of him if Mommy can't. A wide, encompassing safety net of ordinary people, except that they are his. Really his. And he won't have to go back to the children's home. Ever.

Learning action and reaction. Finding such peace in the predictable reactions instead of the mercurial lashing out.

And even in this grief, he is seeing he is happy. That things are better. He told me the other day that he likes America, because in America his "brain works better."

He has no problem loving himself. He is a confident kid. Not just false bravado, but rather, to-the-bone confidence that people will be interested in what he has to say and in seeing what he can do. And he has no problem loving this family of his. Even if it blows his mind how big it is.

So, pray for my Daniel, with his Amerikrainian swagger, that as he goes through life and deals over and over again with the pain of losing, that he will also be imbued with confidence of all he has won and knowledge that the price for all our loss has been paid once and for all.

And one last smile for the day:

Seven Months.

Seven months ago this moment I was hurtling through the air via Mother Russia's finest, on my way home with a scared, sleepless child.

The trip home was a trip. Oh my.

The early days were so hard. Something to battle through. Capital "W" work.

And we did it.

We overcame so many  of those institutional behaviors. We fought those battles. We struggled through and triumphed in countless areas.

So now, seven months later, we begin to unpack.

Driving down the road and hearing sobs from the back seat. And it is Daniel. And his heart is breaking. Breaking for what should have been but wasn't? Breaking for his friends? Who knows. I ask him what is wrong and he starts rambling about monsters and Baba Yaga.

Walking him to Sunday school. Tears erupting as he walks down the stairs.

You see, I heard that this was the truth, but didn't foresee it with my happy-go-lucky Peter Pan.

Grief.

He doesn't want to go back. He is scared of going back.

Stories about certain nannies have started to morph into something a little more sinister.

Behaviors are easy compared to this (although I wouldn't wish to go through all of that again). Behaviors make you tired. Make you crazy. Make you creative when you are trying to figure out how to overcome them.

Grief...not so easy.

Those bad things that happen? To all of us? If we don't get rid of them, we tend to bury them, and then something grows. And if we don't pull that weed, it can choke us.

Pulling weeds is hard.

Seeing my happy boy crying hurt is hard.