Fight

So. 

This happened.

This was not an accident or a "boys-will-be-boys" type of moment.

This was bullying.

A you-bugged-me-so-I-am-going-to-rip-these-off-your-face-and-break-them-ha-ha moment. And oh by the way, I am going to wrap my little hands around your neck and squeeze.

Now, I know that Daniel can be a button pusher. I just really hope he learns to not do that anymore.

I am really sad and angry. Daniel said he felt the same way.

I was proud that he didn't fight back. 

Until I heard that he is going to have consequences for fighting because of his "provoking."

Daggum.

Now I am struggling. We have worked and taught Daniel to be gentle. To not fight. To not punch. Now I am kind of regretting it. 

One of my favorite aspects of who Daniel is is the ferocity. The stubborn loyalty. The fight. The boldness.

This brought out my mama bear in a whole new way.

I pray for wisdom and backbone. This isn't Daniel's fight alone. Even if he was in anyway wrong, he is MY CHILD and this was NOT OK.

And the. next. time. this happens, Daniel has my full support to own his crazy and SMASH.

School: Round Three

School is off to a good start.

Grace is in middle school! How did that even happen?

Claire and Daniel are in 3rd grade this year.

Wyatt is in 2nd. 

Last year Daniel did a 1st / 2nd split. It was what he needed to begin trying to catch up. I am so blown away when I think back to the child that he was two years ago!

Two years ago! That's right! He has been home for TWO years now. It is amazing to me to realize how far he has come in terms of growth. God is definitely in the business of binding broken hearts and building families.

I praise God for the work that He has done in my heart through bringing Daniel into our family. Some of the things that we deal with are not things that I ever envisioned for my life, but it is LIFE. You just do what you have to do and the more you do it, the more you realize it isn't a big deal. You learn to find the treasure in all of your children's hearts. There are the obvious gifts and then the hidden ones. The obvious tend to change with the season, but the hidden gifts seem to be the ones that God has planted and nurtured like a precious seed. Those seeds are the ones that root down deep and then flourish, given the proper nourishment.

May we all search for the seeds that God has planted within ourselves and others and upon finding those seeds, may we cherish and care for them in order to allow them to reach their full potential.

Slipping through my fingers

I think that too many times, we parents parent with the end game in mind. As in, "Please don't let my child grow up and still wear his Superman shorts pulled up to his chest." Or more seriously, "What will my child do with his life? How will he turn out?"

I really struggle with that. Being in the moment is something that I often have to force myself to do. If you have read many of my posts I think my impatience is a common theme. Ha.

The danger with parenting the end game is that you can miss the beauty of the here and now. Any enjoyment can be soured by worry or conjecture.

There was a video flying around the adoption circles a few weeks back and it related to RAD (reactive attachment disorder). I watched about half of it and turned it off. Honestly, the guy's voice grated on me, to say nothing of the content. I should know better than to put things like that into my head. My head, specifically, because I think for some people it is a validation and a comfort to have an idea of what is going on in their child's mind, but for me it just makes me a hypochondriac, not for myself, but for my kid; watching every symptom, giving a WebMD worthy diagnoses. Instead of just being in the moment and dealing with the behaviors as they come.

Years ago I worked in a hospital here in town. I had a trainer with me for six weeks and he would coach me through everything. He was a great guy and we had great philosophical discussions while we walked down long, fluorescent lit hallways. One of the things I struggled with in training was wanting people to like me. Let's face it, if someone's learning to draw blood on your arm, it isn't abnormal to not like them. But someone not liking me could wreck my entire day. It didn't matter that they knew nothing about me to form an opinion except for the fact that I woke them up at 4 a.m. to draw vials of blood, it would wreck me. Once I verbalized my fear about someone not liking me and the trainer responded "Why do you even care?"

Why? I know it isn't logical to let someone else's opinion (especially someone who barely knows you) impact your feelings about yourself or others, but, in true Type A, first-born fashion I want people to like me. To praise me.

This extends to I want people to like my children. To praise my children.

And when they don't? I obsess.

It is a problem, I know.

I think that bringing Daniel into our home has made me have to deal with this more head-on than I have had to in the past. Because some people aren't very positive about things. Some people hear that he was adopted at the age of eight from an Eastern European orphanage and their opinions are set in stone.

I literally had someone tell me that Daniel needed to learn that actions have consequences. Example: Do a bad thing = do extra chores AND people don't like you. I totally agree that is something that children need to learn. Then she went on to paint a very bleak, institutionalized future for him if I didn't pound that concept into him.

Why would someone who had extremely limited contact with him even say something like that to me? Does she think we aren't teaching him things?

Do I give a rip what she thinks?

I can envision many possible futures for all my children. I pray that they love God, that they pick faithful, Godly spouses and have nice families of their own someday and that at the end of their lives they are surrounded by people who love them, who will care for them and honor them.

But right now? I want to be in the moment and enjoy the daily wonders of having my children. They really do grow too quickly. Grace will be in middle school next year. Slipping through my fingers, for sure. This is my declaration that I won't worry about those things because they will come soon enough, but these little, precious people will grow up too quick and this time will be gone and I don't want to look back on it and think that I spoke anything but victory into their futures.

Quick update

So. I totally know it has been a crazy, long time since I last wrote.

If you could look at my back page for my blog, you would see many starts to many different ideas, but they never would flow and so there they sit.

The way that I write my blog is that I sit down and type. And if nothing worthwhile comes, I stop.

Things have been going great around here. Maybe that is why I haven't written anything. Last year we had definitely bumpy times around Daniel's birthday. This year was bumpy, but not as bad, and I think that is the benefit of giving yourself time before you analyze things. Time gives you a perspective that the moment never can. We have a solid year under our belt and are two and a half months away from having two years.

I think the thing that surprises me about coming up on this anniversary is that things are still so new sometimes. I mean, it's not like having a two year old that you have been able to watch God shaping from day one, so from time to time he will say something or do something and I will just be in awe at where that came from. The last almost two years have been like watching a flower blossom because you think that it is beautiful at every stage, from when it is the tight bud to when it starts to open, but the more it opens, the more aspects you can enjoy; the fragrance, the multitude of petals, the variation of colors. It is awesome to watch. (And I don't mean the Californian "awesome, dude," I mean an awesome awareness of God's work).

We have had an extra kid staying with us. He has been here since mid-December. His name is Raheem and he is from Saudi Arabia. It has been a total blast! We eat Arabic food, which is drool worthy. We laugh. Raheem especially loves Daniel, because Daniel is such a tough kid who loves to roughhouse. I think having Raheem come has cemented Daniel into our family in a new way, because Daniel is no longer the new guy.

We celebrated Daniel's birthday on Saturday. We had a fun time. He decided that morning that he wanted a cake with his face on it.

From My Journal Dated 10/2013

Dear Friend,

You said in a Facebook post that you loved my son. That post have have taken a moment to send off, but touched my heart in a lasting way. A mama, weary of rejection, cried tears at the kitchen sink after checking her phone and seeing that she wasn't really alone. And although rejection has been the theme of a young soul's journey on earth up to this point, that change is afoot thanks to love.

Dear Sweet Friend who I Lean on for Prayer Support,

You are a soul mother to me with your wisdom and your healing communication with God. Knowing you are praying over us gives me faith to face what may come. Faith to believe God is working it out.

Dear Song Leader,

Thank you for the songs you chose today. The reminder of why we choose to love was so timely. Because somedays that is exactly what this redeeming kind of love comes down to. A choice. "I will love because You loved me."

Dear Church Half a World Away,

Knowing our Sunday communion is communing not only with our Savior, but with our spiritual family as well. Blessings to you for your support and encouragement.

Love,
Crystal

Every New Beginning Comes From Some Other Beginning's End

Here we are. All of us. On the cusp of a new year. The New Year. (capital N, capital Y)

Some are so ready to kiss 2014 adios and plunge into a fresh start.

Others sit in this last day of the year and dread the new one.

My dad's best friend is going off of life support tomorrow. Celebrating tonight and welcoming tomorrow makes my heart literally ache.

I ache for my daddy. I ache for the family. I ache for myself, even though I am on the bottom of the list. Just another indicator of time marching on.

I have been very introspective today. There is a kind of beauty in life that can only be seen in the pain. It is in the pain that we get a glimpse of what life was meant to be. Joy without pain. That is how God made us to live, so when we experience the awfulness that sin has brought into the world, our hearts naturally yearn even more for the perfection we were created for.

I used to work at the hospital. I would run all over the place, from the ER to the ICU to the maternity ward and everywhere in between. Such a spectrum. Rejoicing and heartbreak, just a floor apart.

Once when I was pushing my cart around, I had a thought about how scary birth is for a baby. Everything that he has ever known…gone and changing. Warm and comfortable in his dark little world, until one day he starts not quite fitting how he used to. Somehow it isn't so comfortable anymore.

But it is all he knows.

And then pain! Squeezing, rhythmic. He doesn't know what is going on. Surely his life is ending. Everything he ever knew…gone.

Wrenched out and away from his entire world.

And then eyes open.

Light.

Love like he never even knew existed.

People who have been eagerly anticipating him. Holding him. Loving him. Rejoicing in his coming.

The end of one thing, but the beginning of an unimaginably better thing.

This will happen twice.

I will end this year sharing my favorite poem, like I did last year. A poem to live by:

To live content with small means;

To seek elegance rather than luxury,

and refinement rather than fashion;

To be worthy, not respectable;

and wealthy, not rich;

To study hard,

think quietly, 

talk gently, 

act frankly;

To listen to stars and birds,

To babes and sages, with open heart,

to bear all cheerfully,

do all bravely,

await occasions, 

hurry never.

...To let the spiritual, unbidden and unconscious,

grow up through the common.

This is to be my symphony.

-Wm. Henry Channing

I wish you all a blessed New Year, full of love, adventure and becoming. May each of us live every moment to the fullest, seek God's guidance and when that isn't clear, seek wise friends. May we revel in the cold air and soak in the summer days. May we, each of us, hold one another dear and tight, so that when we are apart we can remember the feel of love. May we dance in the kitchen at least once a month to a song that is ridiculous and happy. May we have open hands and open hearts ready to receive the people and blessings that God sends our way. Amen.

The Other Mother

As time plods on in our home, thoughts of the whole "adoption" thing kind of dim because it stops being anything out of the ordinary and simply becomes…well, life.

Logically I know that Daniel came from another mother. He has been asking these questions lately. Questions that I am at a loss to answer. Partly because I, quite simply, don't know, and partly because what I do know isn't heartwarming. 

I don't know much. A name. A situation.

This used to bother me. I wanted answers. I wanted to know the "why's."

What God gave me was a dream. 

I was sitting in a small room, like an exam room at a doctor's office. I had Daniel in my lap. Across from me sat a beautiful woman. 

Golden hair. Blue eyes. Freckles. Healthy.

She seemed to almost radiate light.

In my dream, I wondered who she was and was filled with the knowledge that this was Daniel's biological mother.

My mind said "No" it isn't logical that she would have looked like this, given the information I have.

Then I was filled with warmth and love and I heard God say, "This is how I see her."

All the anger that I had toward her dissolved after the dream, back in January of this year.

The thing is, all parents want to protect their kids' stories. Especially adoptive parents who have an ounce of caring, because really, even in the most ideal adoptive situation, there is heartache and loss. Profound loss.

My son's story is nothing that I sit and flippantly talk about. Ever. It is sacred.

And yet, as time passes and the wrinkles start to smooth out, I can go days without thinking about him being adopted. Weeks without thinking about the yuck he came out of. 

The irony of reaching that point is now Daniel starts with the questions. And the speculations. And the fantastic stories.

Do I ignore it? Validate it? Lay the facts out, sparing no hurt?

The fact is there was a woman, someone who I have never, nor will ever meet, yet who's decisions have changed my life and to whom I am connected with until the day I die. And she is one big question mark. I can't help loving her and feeling compassion toward her. And thinking about what a cool kid she had and how it is sad that she lost out, for whatever reasons, on seeing him grow and develop.

And if the above is true for me, it is even more true for Daniel.