Dear Mommy

Dear Mommy,

Do you know I held your baby boy this weekend? He is tiny, new, and helpless. Do you know how sweet he is? His little neck is wrinkly with newborn baby skin. Dry, peeling, perfect baby skin. His hands and feet are perfect. And tiny. His little nose wrinkles when he sleeps. He smiles when his belly is full. A crooked grin. A foreshadowing of the mischievous boy he will (no doubt) become. He loves to cuddle up next to my face while I whisper in his ear. He loves to be wrapped up tight, but always pulls one hand free up next to his face. Do you know I loved him? Do you know he’s forever in my heart? He is perfect and precious, and I held him for you.

Dear Mommy,

Do you know I was angry? In the middle of the night when I first held your baby boy, I was angry. As I bathed and re-bathed him. As I boiled the bottle and pacifiers. As I washed and re-washed the clothes. I was angry. When I tried to find kind words to explain his presence in my life to others. I was angry.  How could you allow this? How could you make this mistake? How could you forget how much he needed you? I was angry. At you.

Dear Mommy,

Do you know I understand? I understand your past. I know. I don’t know the details, but I know. The overall picture is most likely full of sadness. I understand. Becoming a mom when your life is already in broken pieces is hard. I understand. I know that you probably have no idea how to take care of yourself, let alone this precious boy. I understand. I know you’re trying. I know you want to try. I know it’s hard. I understand.

Dear Mommy,

Do you know how much I grieve for you? I know the world is broken. I know you love your little man and I know that you were terrified this weekend. I know your arms were empty. I know your heart was breaking. I know you didn’t know who was holding your baby. I know that you are probably broken. Lost. Alone. Without Christ. Scared. In pain. Defeated. Oh, how I grieve for you. How I cry over you.

Dear Mommy,

Do you know I pray for you? As I grieve, I pray. When my arms feel empty. When they miss holding your little boy, I pray for you. When I wake in the morning from a full night of sleep, I pray for you. When I put the baby clothes back in the dresser. Fold the blankets. Wash the bottles. I pray for you. When I print a picture and put it on our wall, I pray for you. And I will continue to pray for you. As the days go by and the weight in my heart changes: lessens, yet grows, I will pray for you. You see, you’re part of my family now. And I will pray for you.

Dear Mommy,
Do you know how much I love you? You’re so brave. You’re so strong. I know you’ve made mistakes. Made choices that cost you greatly. Made choices that ended up hurting your son. Made choices that made me angry. But I love you. I know I will probably never meet you in this lifetime. Can probably never tell you here, but I love you. Oh, how I long for God’s best for you! Oh, how my heart yearns for you to know you are loved.

Dear Mommy,

Do you know I hope for you? I know what your past is full of. I know how bleak your present is. But I hope. I hope for your future. I know that you are surrounded with help. And I hope for you. I know you have access to much. That many are striving for your success. And I hope for you. I know that people can grow. Can change. Can turn back down the path. Can make new choices. Can heal. And I hope for you.

Dear Mommy,

Do you know I long to see you someday? Do you know I pray, I plead with my Father to draw you near to Himself? To send light into your darkness. To rescue you. He loves you. He’s preparing a place for His children to live forever with Him. And I long. I hope. I pray. That someday I will see you. And your son. Again. Forever.

Dear Mommy,

"For this reason I bow my knees before the Father, from whom every family in heaven and on earth is named, that according to the riches of His glory He may grant you to be strengthened with power through His Spirit in your inner being, so that Christ may dwell in your heart through faith - that you, being rooted and grounded in love, may have strength to comprehend with all the saints what is the breadth and length and height and depth, and to know the love of Christ that surpasses knowledge, that you may be filled with all the fullness of God. 

Now to Him who is able to do far more abundantly than all that we ask or think, according to the power at work within us, to Him be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus throughout all generations, forever and ever. Amen." (Ephesians 3:14-21)

Three

Today, my precious husband and I are celebrating our third year of marriage. It only seems right that I should write a little something about us J

A few months ago I read a blog post where a wife likened the years of their marriage to parenting a child approximately that age. For some reason this analogy resonated with me and (at least in our marriage) I can see the comparisons rather clearly.

If you’re tracking with that analogy, you will have realized that my husband and I just finished the year referred to in children as “the terrible twos.” (I can see the raised eyebrows and question marks in your eyes from here behind my computer screen.) This does NOT mean that this year has been terrible, but I CAN clearly see a correlation. I’ll explain. Don’t worry. But first, let’s go for a little walk down memory lane. (I LOVE memory lane J )

Year 1:  Precious newborn baby. Extremes. Extreme highs and extreme lows. Oh, I remember our first year of marriage! How wonderful and terrible all wrapped into one beautiful mess. We had to re-learn everything. There were hours, days, weeks, months of total bliss. Times when I just couldn’t believe how strong my love for this man was! Times when I wanted to cry because this love was so special. So wonderful. Then there were the times that were opposite. Times when I cried and wondered why no one ever told me how hard it was going to be. Things could go from white to black and back again within just a few hours…or minutes.

When I think back to times in my career as a mother, this totally gels. Newborns are just so precious. So precious that sometimes your heart wants to break with the preciousness of it all! Every single tiny milestone is celebrated and so special. They grow so quickly, but in such tiny steps. Everything is new and soft and precious. And then there is the opposite. The times when the crying just won’t stop. The times when you, as a parent, are just so exhausted that you truly don’t know which way is up and which is down. The days of continual blow-outs. The crazy schedule. The “worn” feeling. It’s all part of that wonderful, glorious first year that is just so hard. Hard, but perfect.

Year 2:  Your little one has had a birthday. The sleepless nights, and worn out feelings are memories. You actually get dressed in the morning, and somehow all of the joys that were so huge and overwhelming during that first year are growing! There are such big milestones this year! Walking, talking, eating. Learning to drink from a sippy cup. From a straw. Running, climbing, exploring, destroying. Yes, there are bumps and bruises. There are the tumbles down the stairs, and the tantrums over the terribleness of a specific food. Naptimes change and life rearranges. However, physical growth is the main characteristic. Leaps and bounds, giant steps of growth.

For Justin and I, those steps of growth were huge. The “sleepless nights” of the first year were forgotten and we were best buddies. We bought a motorcycle that summer. Moved into our first home. Became parents. Weathered huge storms in areas like health, loss, and those first days/weeks of parenting. In many ways, I think we did ourselves a dis-service during this year. Both in our marriage and in parenting. There is something so blinding about huge milestones. It looks a lot like emotional/spiritual growth when in reality it is simply physical growth. We did grow that year, but over all, we let the milestones take over. We enjoyed the ride. In lots of ways it was this year of glorious milestones that set us up for success in year 3, and in some ways it set the stage for the blind-siding reality that was year 3.

Year 3:  The terrible twos. In year 3 of a child’s life, the huge, physical milestones slow down and the growth turns more towards intellectual and developmental growth. It is so fun. Seriously! You get to experience the joy of actually conversing with your child. They watch, observe, and copy. (Sometimes at the exact times when you would rather they didn’t!) At times, it is almost like you can watch their little brains working as they concentrate on learning a new skill. But perhaps the biggest change is in their expression of desires. You see, when you have a two-year-old, you begin to realize that last year you were seeing little tiny flashes of their heart. But those little tiny flashes of their heart weren’t expressed super clearly and were covered up by lots of exciting milestones. This year it’s different. Your child has learned to express their desires. Clearly. Often loudly. And they want what they want with a fierceness that is shocking! You find yourself wondering, “Where did my little angel go?” only to realize that this is merely the expression of a heart they have been cultivating. A heart that in many ways you, yourself, have been enabling.

This is where Justin and I found ourselves this past year. You see, when you get married, you are forced into a different level of honesty, of vulnerability, and of transparency with your spouse. You just cannot hide everything about yourself when you begin living together! I think this is one of the biggest reason for all of the extremes in that first year. There is the person that you fell in love with and there is the person that you are learning about. Two sinners. In the same house. Sharing the same bed. It’s bound to result in lots of extreme ups and downs!! And then that second year comes with all it’s exciting milestones and you kindof forget that the growth you began in that first year must continue! Just because you reached new levels of transparency, vulnerability, and honesty doesn’t mean that those levels are deep enough. Growth must continue. Stunted growth is really never a good thing. In our specific situation, the huge milestones of life slowed down a little, and we began to realize that we hadn’t been dealing with the little “flashes” of our hearts that had been showing through in the previous year. We had run through that year enjoying the newfound companionship that we had grown into, but both of us had stopped dealing with the hard, deep things in our hearts. This year, they came screaming out. Loudly. Sinfully. In very hurtful ways. We had a lot of growing to do.

So that’s it. The truth of “terrible twos.” Our hearts are wicked, and when they shine out it’s pretty terrible. But, God’s grace is bigger, and growth is so sweet. In both the two-year-old and the marriage, the relationship that grows through these times and chooses to change as a result is so much sweeter and so much stronger. And, I’m thankful.

I’m thankful for this year that exposed our terrible hearts because it also exposed the greatness of God’s grace.

I’m thankful for the growth that has resulted from the collision of our terrible hearts and God’s great grace.

I’m thankful for the deeper relationship that has come from that growth.

I’m thankful for my husband who has patiently, graciously, and lovingly dealt with the exposition of my terrible heart.

I’m thankful for my husband who has humbly and diligently allowed God to expose his own heart and push him to grow in the areas that have been exposed.

I’m thankful for God’s gift of year 1: the year that gave us extreme joys and taught us to grow through extreme sorrows.

I’m thankful for God’s gift of year 2: the year that gave us such precious memories of fun milestones and special times of companionship.

I’m thankful for God’s gift of year 3: the year that taught us to keep growing AND to keep enjoying the companionship that we have with our God and with each other.

I’m thankful for the picture below. This picture has been the equivalent of “watching your two-year-old sleep” for me this year J (You parents know what I mean!)

And, I’m thankful for year 4! I’m so excited to see what God will teach us, take us through, and bless us with this next year!!!

Broken

This post has been swirling around in my head for many months. It is something that I work through personally almost daily as a foster/adoptive mom, but have a hard time expressing in a way that makes sense.

There are so many “common” questions that are asked of parents in our unique situation, but there are some that are much harder to answer.

“I know they’re adopted, but are they yours (speaking of emotional attachment)?”

“Are they ‘normal?’”

“Are these issues that you will deal with when they are teenagers?”

These questions aren’t always phrased as questions. Sometimes they are phrased as statements with extreme stories attached. You’ve all heard them: 

“You know, my brother’s, uncle’s, step-mother’s grandpa adopted kids and…(insert horrible story here).”

Now please don’t think I’m living in a hole. I know that those stories exist and that horrible things really do happen, but this post isn’t about those stories. It’s about something I am learning in spite of the fact that some of those stories are true.

I have three adopted daughters. This week, my two-year-old has begun exercising an ability that she has been capable of for many months: climbing out of her crib. Sunday afternoon my husband and I were enjoying…well, let's just say that we were enjoying the quiet of the house during naptime..., when an adorable Paula wandered into our room informing us that she “needed to poop.” This may seem totally normal to many of you moms out there. For us, however, it is not something we have had to work with our children on. I’m going to spare you all of the details because they are very heavy, but let’s just say that the background our children came from made this part of parenting (and many, many other parts) very unique. 

For our oldest, it took months of training and reassuring before she would EVER leave her bedroom – even if it meant wetting the bed, sleeping in her throw-up, or remaining scared from a nightmare. It is still very rare that she will come to inform us of a need. She will typically wait for me to come to her. 

Our second child has never seemed to feel a need to come get us – or maybe just not yet recognized that she can. She never climbed out of her crib and is my “loner” child. It took many months for her to run to me to kiss a skinned knee or other injury even during the daytime. She seems to be unaware that there is or will be an “answer” for her hurts. 
Unfortunately, both of them have seen too much of the brokenness that the world has to offer. 

My little Paula, on the other hand, still seems blissfully unaware of it and my heart hurts for the day she will begin to see the brokenness of her past.

Because her past is broken. She is broken. Her sisters are broken. In fact…all of us are broken!

I was recently struggling through a personal issue that was causing me to feel very “broken.” My husband and I were speaking with a counselor about the issue and he said something that turned my thinking completely around to where it should rightly be. He said, “Well, you are broken! We are all broken. This side of heaven everyone is broken.”

Broken: separated into parts or pieces by being hit, damaged, etc; not working properly; not kept or honored.

Each part of this definition can easily be applied to any one of us. We all have experienced a feeling of “brokenness” at some point in our lives. For me personally, this feeling is something that I have fought against and sought to subdue for most of my life. I wanted no one to know how broken I really was. I wanted to conceal it, pretend it didn’t exist, look as perfect as possible. I have felt deep shame at the aspects of my life that I viewed as irreparably broken and have struggled to admit the depth of my brokenness.

When the counselor spoke those words to me, it jolted me back to truth. The truth is that if we refuse to recognize our brokenness, we make the cross of Christ an unnecessary evil! Why did God have to send His Son to die the death of a criminal in our place, to right the wrongs, and perfectly satisfy His justice and love? If we are not broken, we have no need for a Savior. If we are not broken, Christ died in vain. If we are not broken, no satisfaction of God’s wrath would be needed for us to have a relationship with Him!

Here’s another question I get asked:

“How can you do it? How can you care for kids so ‘broken’ without your own heart breaking over and over again?”

My answer? I can’t. We don’t. Our heart does break over and over again. We are stretched past the limits of our own wisdom almost daily. But there is also great hope. It’s in darkness that light shines the brightest. And Christ wins. This brokenness will end. For my daughters. For you. For me. We are all broken and one day…

We will all be whole. Healed. Made perfect through Christ. No more tears. No more pain. No more brokenness.