Peace, Where Are You?

Sometimes what I want, isn't what I actually need. I don't mean that in a I need to eat more veg, but I'd rather eat cake sort of way. I mean it in a I want my independence, abilities, and my being right, dang it! When what I really need is to let that all go.

I need to let it go because while my sense of independence pushes me to achieve, it also pushes me to do so at the expense of relationships.

I need to let it go because while my abilities push me to succeed, they also push me into pride.

I need to let it go because while I may be right, that actually isn't the most important thing.

I need to let it all go because what I really need, more than anything, is peace. Oh my word do I need peace.

I am exhausted, but I don't want to stop. I need peace, but what about all of this other stuff? It's near 11pm and instead of getting ready for a peaceful night sleep, I am writing about the very thing that I need because the train inside my head just won't stop.

Peace, where are you?

Tonight, I'm choosing to let it all go. The train inside my head might just keep running, but I'm choosing to say goodbye to myself and to selfishness and make room for peace. Choosing to turn off the computer, let go of expectations, and fall asleep wrapping my heart around the One who not only promised relief for the weary, but is relief itself.

So good night, friends. Peace is waiting.

“Are you tired? Worn out? Burned out on religion? Come to me. Get away with me and you’ll recover your life. I’ll show you how to take a real rest. Walk with me and work with me—watch how I do it. Learn the unforced rhythms of grace. I won’t lay anything heavy or ill-fitting on you. Keep company with me and you’ll learn to live freely and lightly.” - Jesus

Matthew 11:28-30

Easy Offences

"Some people were upset..." he told me. I hung up the phone, explained the situation to Ben and retreated to the bedroom. I felt as if the wind had been kicked out of me and from Ben's face I could tell he felt the same.

I sat on the bed praying, Lord, really? People we don't even know are upset about something we haven't even done? It's not fair!

Offences are so easily taken up.

"We'll have to get used to it." Ben said, "This won't be the last time it happens."

He's right. It won't be the last time. One of the main reasons people leave this kind of work is because of interpersonal relationships with other expats, not because they are dissatisfied with the work itself.

Jesus talked about this. A short time before he went to the cross, bloodied for the wrongs of the world, Jesus washed his disciples' feet and urged them towards love. Love one another. In the same way I loved you, you love one another.

Easter approaches. Forget bunnies, colored eggs and candy. I'm hanging my heart around an empty tomb. Around the promise that love covers offences and rights relationships.

This is the kind of love we are talking about— not that we once upon a time loved God, but that he loved us and sent his Son as a sacrifice to clear away our sins and the damage they’ve done to our relationship with God.  

My dear, dear friends, if God loved us like this, we certainly ought to love each other.

1 John 4:7-12 The Message 

 

Learning to Love Papi

A colleague at work recently told me about the adoption of his own two children. His son was adopted from an orphanage and the only male influence in his life had been an abusive one. For the first few months after adoption his son wouldn't even want to be in the same room with him. Only time and trust transformed this little boy's perception of who/what a father really is.

Although not to that extreme, our own experience with Isaiah learning to love his Papi has been somewhat challenging. At the full disclosure meeting, before we'd even met Isaiah, we were told "He doesn't really like men". Everyone around the table felt it would take Isaiah time to warm up to Ben. One individual told us, "I don't know how he'll react. He may be scared and run away. Just don't take it personally."

From birth Isaiah lived with a wonderful single foster mother. The concept of "Mommy" already existed, but what about a father? How do you show a two year old what a loving father is? I think it's quite telling that Isaiah chose to call Ben "Papi" right from the start. He had no clue what a "Daddy" was, but Papi made sense to him as one of the nurses Isaiah used to see in his foster home is Hispanic and called her husband "Papi".

To our relief, Isaiah didn't freak out when he met Ben for the first time. He was wary of both of us and mostly kept his distance. No crying or upset, just an uneasiness about who we were. I wonder what was going on inside that little head at the time. It must have been quite confusing.

Isaiah is still learning who his Papi is and the deep meaning of this relationship. Probably one of the most helpful things we have done to reinforce this relationship is to be affectionate in front of Isaiah. He may refuse to give Papi a hug or a kiss when asked, but I quickly and cheerfully chime in "I want one Papi!" After a few months of this Isaiah started to push through and say "No! My hug Papi!" and give a big cuddle.

At some point Isaiah started to ask for hugs and kisses from Ben. And more and more Isaiah seeks Ben out to help when he needs something or gets hurt. I
love watching this relationship grow. Even tonight, as Isaiah went down to sleep and I finished our nighttime prayer Ben said "Isaiah can pray too." I had no idea he'd taught Isaiah how to pray.

Undoubtedly, Father's have a big responsibility. Not just to love, lead, and provide for their families, but to be living breathing examples of our Heavenly Father. By learning to love and receive love from his Papi, Isaiah is also learning how to love and receive love from God. No words could ever express how much this fills my mommy heart with joy.

Welcomed Home

We're coming up to 5 months since Isaiah came home and he is such different child now. There were always little glimpses of the real Isaiah peeking out. Looking back now I can see he was grieving, but grief is hard to identify and understand in a two year old.

My social worker told me he would grieve for his foster mom and in theory I know this would happen. I imagined Isaiah would be shy and insecure at first. I remembered my training and had a plan. We would be joined at the hip and I would work hard at attachment. I'd read the books after all. I knew the stages.

I didn't expect the pushing and pulling. The melt down because he wanted a cuddle this instant only to be pushed away with an angry hand when I went to give a hug. Or the morning Isaiah pointed to the picture of his foster mom and I said, "Yes, that's Ms Debi." And he screamed back at me "No! Mommy!" Or the way he grieved for his foster siblings and refused to play with other children. If they approached him he would yell, "No!" and hide behind me.

I didn't expect the separation anxiety. I couldn't even go to the bathroom without Isaiah desending into a full blown panic attack. Or the nightmares when he would start screaming and hitting something imaginary. Refusing to be comforted when we came to him.

By the end of the most days I didnt want to see Isaiah anymore and I didnt like myself. I felt like a failure. Afraid to say anything because prior to Isaiah being placed with us we had worked hard to convince social workers that we would be great parents. Sure they told us they were there to support, but I lived in fear that they might think they had made a wrong decision and take him away.

It wasn't all bad though. The real Isaiah was always there, just under the surface. And at many points throuout the day he would be his silly happy self. And more than anything I loved him despite the difficulties. I just didn't understand that the moodiness was grief.

I write this because today Isaiah is a totally different child. He is confident and open. He is happy and inquisitive. He charms everyone he meets and although we still have temper tantrums they seem to be the normal two year old kind! Isaiah is a delight to be with and I miss him when we're apart. I can't get enough of him and love when he scoots up into my lap for a cuddle.

From the moment I saw Isaiah's picture I knew he was my son and desperately wanted him. I have loved him from that very moment and feel priviledged to be his mommy. I see plainly that yes, adoption is wonderful. We have a son and Isaiah has parents. But adoption is born from loss and grief is a fact of life.

Thank God that he is in the business of making beauty from ashes. That He knows the condition of our hearts and loves perfectly. That He sets the lonely in families and tells the most amazing stories with our lives. I feel privileged to be Isaiah's mommy, but even more so to be God's child. Adopted into His family. Welcomed home and my grieving and broken heart made whole.