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.

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.