Cross Words Journey

My grandmother told me a story once of a woman in her adult Sunday School class who treated her poorly.  My grandmother has been deaf since her 20s and apparently this woman treated her as unintelligent because of her disability.  As you may find when you get to know others different from you, intelligence is rarely affected by abibilty or not.  My grandmother was crushed, insulted, hurt, sad.  But she went to Sunday School each week, worshiped with this woman.  This lady continued being cruel, Grandma continued going along unhappy.  And then she read a Gospel lesson one Sunday and had a change of heart.  She decided to pray about this situation and she didn’t pray to make the woman change her tune.  No, Grandma prayed that God would change her own heart toward this woman.  She prayed that God would help her love her Christian sister!  And you know what?  God did.

Grandma did not continue being treated poorly.  Instead she gained confidence in the fact that God was in the midst of this relationship and she perservered.  The woman gained a new perspect of Grandma seeing her as brave, confident, funny, and intelligent.  Once Grandma’s heart changed, everything changed.

I’ve prayed like my Grandma did many times in my life always for some sort of relationship with another.  But now I’m praying this prayer over my whole life.  See, I’m struggling to feel proud, happy, satisfied with my life.  I’m an overeducated stay at home mom who longs for some sense of validation outside of my mother and husband.  I feel called to working, but I can’t stand the idea of putting my kids in childcare full time.  I just won’t do it.  Thus I remain a stay at home mom who longs for something else.  And that longing is draining any joy I have from my life because I’m not appreciating where I am or the time frame for remaining here.

I’m praying that God will change my heart toward my life.  My life!  I mean that is big, huge, everything.  I want to be satisfied.  I want to be happy.   I want to be useful, vital, important.  I know that I am to two little boys and I’m praying that God will change my heart so that I am satisfied, proud, happy with that.

Today I met Dawn.  Her story is one of confession.  Sometimes speaking the words makes them true, makes us stronger.  So it is with Dawn.  She is doing something impossibly difficult: she is giving her daughter over for adoption.  She is speaking her truth into existence by sharing her story, marking its boundaries, finding where the pain is too great to tread.  All in all, she is accepting the reality of her situation by sharing it.

Again, I was waiting with Anders for Carter to come from school.  There was Dawn and her daughter, Anna.  I foolishly assumed that relationship between the two; Dawn corrected me saying she was their foster daughter and that soon she would be going to a “great, Christian family” about 1 hour away.  This family had considered adopting a girl from China with a cleft pallet; this was Anna’s life before her foster parent’s rescued her from an orphanage there.

Dawn’s blended family adopted one daughter from China and immediately filed paperwork to adopt another.  They knew they’d have to wait because the process is painfully long. Wait they did: 3 years.  But by the time they were allowed to travel to China to adopt another member of their family, the children in their blended family were having trouble.  “Serious trouble” according to Dawn, the mother/stepmother.  They knew, even before they left the States that they wouldn’t be able to keep the child they would meet.  Their family couldn’t survive it.  But they went anyway.  They met Anna and they knew when they laid eyes on her that she couldn’t survive if they left her in China.  She wouldn’t survive.  They knew Anna would be tucked away in a back room for most of her life because of the disfiguring cleft.  She would be a freak, frightening, unloved.  These parents who knew they couldn’t keep her also knew they couldn’t deny her the chance to survive, thrive, live, and love.  So they adopted Anna, a name Dawn always loved.

Anna came home with them within a month.  She calls Dawn ‘mama.’  She had surgery to repair the cleft and is a happy, laughing, running, 3 year old.  She is leaving the family, possibly next week and doesn’t even know it nor does her older sister, also from China.  Dawn and her husband are devastated by the decision but know that in order to truly thrive she needs more than this family, struggling with stability, could give her.  Dawn is proud of what they’ve done for Anna.  “This way she has the whole world before her,” she spread her arms to illustrate her point.  Dawn loves this girl enough to let her go.  She kept telling me throughout her story, “This is not about me.  It is all for Anna.  She needs more than we can give her.”

Can you imagine?

We talked a bit about the word “relinquishment,” this formal term used to describe the ending of parental rights.  It is sterile, harsh and cruel to everyone involved.  Dawn isn’t relinquishing Anna.  She and her husband are continuing her life in the best way possible, imaginable.  The word doesn’t do justice to the gift their giving this child and another family.  The word never does justice in any situation.  Even using the word when a terrible parent who’s rights are stripped by courts for the sake and safety of their children is wrong.  Because it has such a negative connotation and that will linger over the children.

No we need another word to descirbe this chance at a future for the families and children involved.  But what word is it?  The one that means the tranfer of a child from one family/parent to another?

Today I met Clara.  Well, she met me.  As Anders & I waited in the cafeteria for Carter to come from his summer school class, I sat on the steps of the stage.  Like many schools cafeteria’s serve many purposes and this one doubles as an auditorium.  Minding my own business I noticed a wee girl running toward me, arms outstretched, huge grin on her face.  I was obviously her long lost person!

I could see from afar that this child was different.  She didn’t run as other children do, but she ran anyway.  She didn’t look quite like most children, but she was beautiful.  She couldn’t speak words, but she spoke volumes with her body and eyes.

This was Clara.

I opened my arms to recieve her because really with her personality there was no choice!  She is magnetic!  I was immediately in love with this child.  We hugged.  She climbed onto my lap and placed both hands over my face.  Her mother quitely informed me Clara wanted to play peek-a-boo.  We did and we both loved it.

I think Anders knew right away this Clara was different, but mostly he watched the way I interacted with her.  When she and I laughed at the end of our game, Anders laughed too and reached out to touch her the way kids do, in order to be included.

Clara’s mom and I visited a bit.  I learned that Clara loves to swim, is 4 years old, has two adoring grandma’s, and two brothers.  I didn’t learn what her “situation” was because it just didn’t matter.  I did wonder how many strangers Clara has tried to charm and how many of those, like me, let her.  It was worth it!  I hope I see her again tomorrow.

Then this afternoon I met another extraordinary woman, Joan.  We visitied at the community pool while our children played in the wading pool.  We talked about God, churches, and the fact that next month Joan is becoming a mother for a second time.  She is adopting another child from the Ukraine, this time a girl.  This time in the age range of 18 mos - 3 years.  Can you imagine not even knowing what size clothing to buy?!  Joan isn’t fazed, nothing matters but the child.  She told me that for every year in an orphanage a child is 1 month behind developmentally.  She told me that her son, also from the Ukraine, came to their family at 8 mos and had never been outside, never seen a man, never been out of his crib to be held.  I praised God then and there for her and her husband.  She immedeately invited me to visit her church.  We talked, we laughed about our children and motherhood.  I sat in awe of this mother who has a child in the Ukraine that she must wait 1 more month to meet and 2 more to bring home!  Can you imagine that?

I remember each friend I made in my old city.  I remember they were hard fought, invariably transplants to the area.  I remember that even they were not always true, not faithful, not present.  That goes for me too, I think the city elders were rubbing off on us.

Don’t get me wrong, we had a good 7 year run.  But my husband said good-bye to only 1 friend.  Me, just a handful.  Sure we knew lots of people, but we never felt that many knew us or actually wanted to.  And until we moved we thought there was something wrong with us.  Now we know, there was something wrong with the people there.

Everyone here is friendly.  They talk to you.  They welcome you.  They actually (gasp) make eye contact with you.  They give you their phone number and they call you, too.  They stop by.  They stop and help.  They mean what they say.  It is a marvel.

We used to invite people to our home all the time.  Just stop by!  You’re always welcome!  No one took us up on this offer.  We felt sad.  We’ve lived here for 2.5 weeks and people stop by to say hello.  Neighbors near and distant.  They stop and visit.  They give of their time.  They’re getting to know us and vise versa.  These people exude a genuine warmth that the “born and raiseds” of our old city couldn’t muster.  Maybe it is the cold weather here, it lasts for so long that the people make up for it by being friendly in the good weather because they can actually stop and talk and see people.

I’m learning to be a consisten friend.  I’m present, I’m faithful, I’m true.  People give that and want that.  I’m ready for it.

Here is the deal in life: shit happens.  And I do NOT for one instant believe that God ordains it all.  I belive that we are “in bondage to sin and cannot free ourselves” - hence we need Jesus.  The sin we suffer from is our own and the effects we feel from the sin of others.

I’m fired up about a comment in a journalism piece on the death of Tim Russert.  I grew up on this guy, listened to his perspective, liked his interviewing style.  I’m sad he’s dead and at only 58!  This is tragic.  During an NBC review of his life and work they did a piece of people saying wonderful things about Tim.  They ended with a Cardinal of the Catholic Church who said life was a journey and we’re all going home (aka heaven).  I’m down with that.  Then he said ‘we never knew Tim would be headed home at only 58 but God wanted him [Tim] there.‘

Embedded in the claim of God plucking people from the earth at God’s timing is the claiming that all things good AND bad are of God’s ordination and will.  What a frightening concept.  Think how far people could carry this.  In fact, not so long ago a dinner guest told me after his family had the flu that he couldn’t figure out why God would choose to do this to them.  We’re talking about the flu!  SHIT HAPPENS!  Do you honestly think God plans when you’ll have the flu?!

Now death, strictly speaking, is not shit.  It is tragic, sad.  Even when people have suffered and we’re relived they suffer no more, or when someone has died peacefully at an old age: death is hard for the survivors.  And when you extrapolate the idea of God timing our deaths on a grim reaper eternal To Do list then people can easily say, “Well I guess I don’t have to do anything in life because God has it all planned out.  What does it matter?”  This could be the reverse of “The Devil Made Me Do It.” It is a dangerous theological bent.

When people spout this crap (and they do, listen closely at any funeral for a child and you’ll hear some idiot say God needed another angel) they run the risk of someone believing them.  And if God just killed your loved one, how are you supposed to be able to turn to God for comfort?  When we’ve made God out be our divine enemy how can we find the comfort in God’s presence?

Here is the truth as I see it.  Yes, God welcomes us home to heaven when we die.  But God does not call  us home from our lives like we’re late for a curfew.  Rather, death happens.  God is there in those times to soothe use with the Holy Spirit, to draw us closer to Him.

Don’t listen to those people who liken God to the grim reaper.  Resist the temptation to lay that on God.  Death is a part of life, even tragic death.  But God is there with us in the midst of it all, abiding, comforting, soothing.  Rocking us on Her lap, shushing us, pushing our hair our of our faces until we breathe deep and stop crying…at least for a while.

From the photo you may not be able to tell that we’ve been nuts.  And stressed.  Angry.  Tired.  At least that is how Paul and I have been lately.  This move has us distracted from our kids and each other and, embarrassingly, God.

We planned to do this fun event with our kids: A Day Out with Thomas.  The day before we went we agreed that we needed to get out of this house and spend time as a family, not distracted with projects but just having fun.

We did and it was!  The day was marvelous regardless that we both knew we had tons to do when we got home.  We didn’t care.  We were in the present only.  And we were present for one another.  I realized how much I missed being a mom, which made me sad because I realized how little I’ve been doing since I’ve become so focused on the house.

Here is the thing about loving your neighbor as you love yourself.  You have to actually love yourself. This means self forgiveness in my case.  I could totally beat myself up over my house distraction, but instead I think I’ve learned from it and I’m moving on.  If you don’t love yourself in these true and honest ways, frankly you’re a crappy neighbor.  Take care of your self.  Love yourself.  You’re worth it.

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Galatians 5: 22-23

²²But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, ²³gentleness and self control. Against such things there is no law.

I wouldn’t say that I’m an impatient person, but then again I’ve never been known as one with loads of patience either. Frankly I never really thought about having patience or losing my patience until I became a mom.

Now I think about patience a lot. My oldest son is learning so many new skills and learning takes patience. If I get frustrated waiting for him to put his shoes on then he gets frustrated too. The basic lesson is: impatience gets us no where – fast!

Thanks to these Bible verses I’ve had a revelation about patience. The apostle Paul in writing to the Galatians lists these “fruits of the Spirit” because they are vital nourishment for whole lives.

The Galatians really needed to be reminded that these fruits come not from our own strength or ingenuity but from God. (Who doesn’t need that reminder?)

I need patience; but rather than possessing it – I receive it. It comes from turning to God daily, remembering my baptism, living in Christ.

I see now that I haven’t really lost my patience. Nor has the Spirit stopped offering fruits to me. But sometimes I stop the daily practices that make me attentive to receiving the fruits of the Spirit.

Abiding Spirit,

Thank you for always offering the fruits I need to live a balance life especially patience. Help me keep turning to you and receiving this nourishment.

In Jesus’ name, Amen

*Originally published in 2006 for Your Daily Bread.

Since I’ve written last we’ve let an offer on a house expire and we’ve learned we can’t afford our dream house and I’ve been muttering, “Lord, help my unbelief” constantly!

Carter, my 4 year old, said when looking at one home, “I wonder if this is the house God has in mind for us?”  He smiled as he said it and my heart was full, but we’re no closer to a home today than when we started the process.  When, exactly, will we find the house we’re to call home?  I feel physically ill just thinking about renewing the process in 10 days when we return to our new city.

I’m sad people!  And I’m praying for distraction so that I’ll quit orbiting my own mind with worry.  I’m praying that the devil steers clear of me because I can feel the old temptation surging within me to wallow and languish in the mire of sadness mixed with anger.

Lord, help my unbelief!  I know that you have something for us but could you lead us there quickly please?  I don’t know which way is up in this process anymore.  Where should we compromise?  Where won’t we have to compromise?  Keep me fixed on you Lord.  I love you.  Help my unbelief.  Amen

We made an offer on a home!  We’re excited, I think.  Kind of scared.  And we’re languishing in the process of the waiting game.  What if the seller says, ‘no?’

Each day there are times when I’m convinced we’ve made the wrong choice on which house.  The problem is that there just aren’t alternative choices for our family.   It may be that we return to house hunt again, starting the process anew.  I wonder if next time our stress level would be the same?