"How are things going?"
I hear this in one form or another most every day. It's so nice having loving friends, many I don't see very often, who check in on me. I usually comment on Bozi, his attachment and obvious cuteness (duh), and the girls' continued adjustment.
Forget the child trauma issues of adoption for a minute, I'm back in adult trauma issues--aka Toddler World. The world where your super cute child poops in his diaper right before you walk out the door and maniacally laughs in your face because he definitely knows that for once you were leaving on time. Where the word "no" flows freely and it doesn't matter what language it's said in, the sentiment is effectively communicated. The season of your life when you have to fight to have time to take a shower and count yourself lucky if you walk out the door remotely "together." Where you cannot have a complete conversation with another human without 25 interruptions, much less remember where you left off in the discussion when it picks back up two years later when the kid is in preschool. The place where your child wants and expects you to meet every need / want / desire / whim / thought at the exact moment it occurs to them or they just might scream their heads off until they get to be teenagers. For moms, its the land were you are trying to keep up the pace you have been going prior to the super cute child, be everything to everyone and then are forced to semi-accept the fact you can't quite keep up.
I want to be a good mommy to Bozi. So, I make sure he gets lots of love, affirmation and encouragement. I set up playgroups for his social and emotional development. I go to storytime to encourage language acquisition. We teach him about Jesus and read Bible stories and sing songs to help him learn about God. He is starting occupational therapy. We have an evaluation in December for physical therapy and speech therapy is a future possibility. We want to give him every opportunity to grow and reach his full potential. But, I still have this intense desire to fulfill all his needs. Every time he cries, I want to pick him up. Every time he expresses a desire I want to fulfill it. I don't want him to feel any more loss than he already has felt. I don't know why I act like leaving the orphanage and the loss of his prior life was the last time in his life he will experience loss, an unmet need or pain. It's not even the last time he will deal with the loss of his biological family. It's not helpful for me to teach him he won't experience those feelings again, even if it's simply over getting a treat or holding him when he wants. I'm not promoting growth if I shield him from all pain rather than let him experience doses of it in a loving, healthy and safe environment. I'm not teaching him to have Jesus meet his needs when I am sweeping in to do it all.
I want to be a good mommy to Chloe and Violet. I don't want them to feel neglected or experience loss. Why it didn't occur to me that adding a member to our family would by default decrease the quantity of one-on-one time with each individual child, I have no idea. Math was never my strong suit. The kids won't grow emotionally if they don't experience some suffering and pain, even if it's as simple as not getting to sit by mommy at dinner every night. Why would I want to cripple them with the inability to handle pain and loss in a healthy way? Why would I want to train them to be so self-absorbed that they can't see when someone else has a need that requires our attention to have it met. I want them to grow to be strong, loving women of God, not 30-year-old self-centered adult-sized children who only look out for themselves and can't or won't attempt to see things from someone else's point of view. I want them to learn a healthy balance between taking care of themselves and taking care of others. I want them to see me filled with Christ and responding to Him in my life. What kind of example am I setting?
I want to be a good pastor's wife. I simply can't do what I have done in the past. I just have my hands full. I can't meet my family's needs and everyone else's needs and I truly want to. I've struggled with this balance our entire ministry life. A war goes on in my head of the needs I see around me, the people I want to meet with, the ministries I love to serve in and my own ideas of what I think I should be doing counteracted by what I am capable of doing. Pre-kiddos, half the time I ignored what I was capable of and forged ahead doing it all. It wasn't what I would call healthy, I was trying to do everything in my power, I was too busy doing for God rather than God living through me. God calls us to our family first. During this season, my focus is my family, but sadly I feel like I'm letting people down.
Add to the mix an unhealthy dose of perfectionism and people-pleasing and you've got a perfect storm.
There are two ways to go about this. Attempt to be and do everything and fail, or don't do anything and fail. I'm not a "do nothing" type, but this time around I can't do everything either. Obviously, neither is good, and both are self-focused.
So maybe there is a third way to go about this. Stop living for others--even my children (gasp!). Allow Christ to live through me. Realize there is only one person who was ever perfect. Teach my children to seek Christ and to have their needs met by Him only, rather than external sources.
Let's be brutally honest, that's a tough to-do list. Whoever said giving up control is easy, which is what you are doing, is not right in the mind. It seems way easier just to try to do everything yourself, kind of like in school when there was a group project. Yeah, I was the girl you wanted in your group project because I would do it all--in my mind that's the only way it was going to get done right and receive a decent grade (perfectionism alert).
We succeed when we let God fulfill us, demonstrate that example to our children and teach them to seek Him first.
I look back over the past few Thanksgivings. I remember looking at the empty seat at the dinner table, wondering who would fill it. I remember looking up YouTube videos of kids in orphanages at Thanksgiving. I've used Black Friday as an opportunity to advertise upcoming fundraising opportunities to raise money. It's usually about the time I wrote my yearly love letter to our unknown child or children. I longed for the day to fill that seat, to see that face, to hold that hand and to give thanks for all God has done.
But, that's the kicker... All GOD has done, not Emily. God didn't call us to adoption, provide the resources to make it happen and entrust a child to me for me to be anything and everything to him--that wasn't even our original reason to adopt. Yes, we wanted to provide a home and family for a child, but a greater desire than that was to share God's love to a child and teach that child to passionately pursue Him. We wanted to live out the Gospel. We would not have a relationship with Christ if it wasn't for His sacrifice and God's adoption of us through Him.
So, this Thanksgiving I'm getting a little perspective and friendly reminders. Reminders of who I am
not and who He is. Perspective on my true capabilities. Just like I can't and shouldn't try to be everything to Bozi, I can't and shouldn't attempt to be everything to everyone else--that's Jesus' job.
This Thanksgiving, I know his name and I see his sweet face. This year, the chair is no longer empty.
I hear this in one form or another most every day. It's so nice having loving friends, many I don't see very often, who check in on me. I usually comment on Bozi, his attachment and obvious cuteness (duh), and the girls' continued adjustment.
Forget the child trauma issues of adoption for a minute, I'm back in adult trauma issues--aka Toddler World. The world where your super cute child poops in his diaper right before you walk out the door and maniacally laughs in your face because he definitely knows that for once you were leaving on time. Where the word "no" flows freely and it doesn't matter what language it's said in, the sentiment is effectively communicated. The season of your life when you have to fight to have time to take a shower and count yourself lucky if you walk out the door remotely "together." Where you cannot have a complete conversation with another human without 25 interruptions, much less remember where you left off in the discussion when it picks back up two years later when the kid is in preschool. The place where your child wants and expects you to meet every need / want / desire / whim / thought at the exact moment it occurs to them or they just might scream their heads off until they get to be teenagers. For moms, its the land were you are trying to keep up the pace you have been going prior to the super cute child, be everything to everyone and then are forced to semi-accept the fact you can't quite keep up.
I want to be a good mommy to Bozi. So, I make sure he gets lots of love, affirmation and encouragement. I set up playgroups for his social and emotional development. I go to storytime to encourage language acquisition. We teach him about Jesus and read Bible stories and sing songs to help him learn about God. He is starting occupational therapy. We have an evaluation in December for physical therapy and speech therapy is a future possibility. We want to give him every opportunity to grow and reach his full potential. But, I still have this intense desire to fulfill all his needs. Every time he cries, I want to pick him up. Every time he expresses a desire I want to fulfill it. I don't want him to feel any more loss than he already has felt. I don't know why I act like leaving the orphanage and the loss of his prior life was the last time in his life he will experience loss, an unmet need or pain. It's not even the last time he will deal with the loss of his biological family. It's not helpful for me to teach him he won't experience those feelings again, even if it's simply over getting a treat or holding him when he wants. I'm not promoting growth if I shield him from all pain rather than let him experience doses of it in a loving, healthy and safe environment. I'm not teaching him to have Jesus meet his needs when I am sweeping in to do it all.
I want to be a good mommy to Chloe and Violet. I don't want them to feel neglected or experience loss. Why it didn't occur to me that adding a member to our family would by default decrease the quantity of one-on-one time with each individual child, I have no idea. Math was never my strong suit. The kids won't grow emotionally if they don't experience some suffering and pain, even if it's as simple as not getting to sit by mommy at dinner every night. Why would I want to cripple them with the inability to handle pain and loss in a healthy way? Why would I want to train them to be so self-absorbed that they can't see when someone else has a need that requires our attention to have it met. I want them to grow to be strong, loving women of God, not 30-year-old self-centered adult-sized children who only look out for themselves and can't or won't attempt to see things from someone else's point of view. I want them to learn a healthy balance between taking care of themselves and taking care of others. I want them to see me filled with Christ and responding to Him in my life. What kind of example am I setting?
Add to the mix an unhealthy dose of perfectionism and people-pleasing and you've got a perfect storm.
There are two ways to go about this. Attempt to be and do everything and fail, or don't do anything and fail. I'm not a "do nothing" type, but this time around I can't do everything either. Obviously, neither is good, and both are self-focused.
So maybe there is a third way to go about this. Stop living for others--even my children (gasp!). Allow Christ to live through me. Realize there is only one person who was ever perfect. Teach my children to seek Christ and to have their needs met by Him only, rather than external sources.
Let's be brutally honest, that's a tough to-do list. Whoever said giving up control is easy, which is what you are doing, is not right in the mind. It seems way easier just to try to do everything yourself, kind of like in school when there was a group project. Yeah, I was the girl you wanted in your group project because I would do it all--in my mind that's the only way it was going to get done right and receive a decent grade (perfectionism alert).
We succeed when we let God fulfill us, demonstrate that example to our children and teach them to seek Him first.
I look back over the past few Thanksgivings. I remember looking at the empty seat at the dinner table, wondering who would fill it. I remember looking up YouTube videos of kids in orphanages at Thanksgiving. I've used Black Friday as an opportunity to advertise upcoming fundraising opportunities to raise money. It's usually about the time I wrote my yearly love letter to our unknown child or children. I longed for the day to fill that seat, to see that face, to hold that hand and to give thanks for all God has done.
But, that's the kicker... All GOD has done, not Emily. God didn't call us to adoption, provide the resources to make it happen and entrust a child to me for me to be anything and everything to him--that wasn't even our original reason to adopt. Yes, we wanted to provide a home and family for a child, but a greater desire than that was to share God's love to a child and teach that child to passionately pursue Him. We wanted to live out the Gospel. We would not have a relationship with Christ if it wasn't for His sacrifice and God's adoption of us through Him.
So, this Thanksgiving I'm getting a little perspective and friendly reminders. Reminders of who I am
not and who He is. Perspective on my true capabilities. Just like I can't and shouldn't try to be everything to Bozi, I can't and shouldn't attempt to be everything to everyone else--that's Jesus' job.
This Thanksgiving, I know his name and I see his sweet face. This year, the chair is no longer empty.
 |
Comments