They’ve Been Home a bit over a week…
So, they’ve been home a week now…actually a little over.
I don’t really know how to explain what it is to go from 3 children to 5 in the blink of an eye. Or how it feels to introduce two already growing children to a new country where we do things completely differently than they’re used to doing things. Where is the line between necessity and compassion?
I’m trying so hard not to miss something because I know they can’t tell me details right now. I understand that there needs to be some trust built up there. It’s just like nothing I’ve ever done before…a completely different experience of motherhood, like a mountain I’ve yet to climb. And I thought I’d seen it all! How silly of me!
Last week was a roller coaster of emotions and even now I still feel pretty raw. I have myself together one moment, and the next I’m completely at a loss. All things considered, I know it could be worse (as in more difficult)…I am so thankful that I have these feelings of normalcy at times throughout the day…even moments where I feel they’ve always been a part of our family. And then there are the moments of pain, where I feel the depth of how much they’ve been through, but I don’t have a clue how to handle it, or even any idea of what “it” is. It’s the heaviness of how life has been hard for a child and they’ve carried on their shoulders such weight, but they’re only children and their shoulders are much too small.
Such weight is meant for bigger shoulders and they weren’t spared…so how do they learn to trust again or even to be a child again?
Esther has tantrums over food, she has power struggles with us over tiny things. She doesn’t like to feel powerless, I can tell. And I can even understand such a fear because I don’t like feeling that way either.
Moise gets quiet every so often and he doesn’t admit it, but there’s something in his eyes and I would love to know what he’s thinking.
Then I go into my room and feel overwhelmed because I absolutely don’t know anything about what I’m doing here. I feel overwhelmed with the responsibility and the desires I have for each of our children. I worry about plucking Zayne and Ethan up out of their cocoon and down into such foreign territory…and how I want to protect them all.
Sometimes I really want to hyperventilate.
The first full day, I seriously thought I might have a panic attack.
But outweighing all of this is a deep fulfillment and that’s hard to explain. It’s just as deep and mighty as the emotions I’ve felt carrying and delivering three of our children, except it’s subtle. Like the whispering voice of God Almighty.
Just when I think I’m at my wits’ end, I watch and marvel at how our children play together; how they’re already behaving like they’ve been together a lifetime. I feel how soft and precious Moise and Esther’s skin feels under my fingertips and how their cheeks squish just a little when I kiss them goodnight. I notice their profiles when they’re looking at something…how long and curly those eyelashes are and how bright their smiles.
And I realize that although I’m completely exhausted and overwhelmed and waaay out of my depth here, this is what I’ve been longing for all along. They are finally here! They are complex and fearfully and wonderfully made and we’ve made it past the waiting.
The adoption process stretched me beyond my personal borders. It increased my faith because I had to believe in something I had yet to see or realize. I had to believe and hold fast to that belief for almost 4 years. Moise and Esther had to believe it too; they had to live through the waiting.
But here…this…oh wow.
Now I see that my faith was tested and pushed, only to be pushed farther now that they’re home.
Because, you see, I have no idea how to be a mother to all five of these children and all their different needs and personalities and backgrounds. I literally have no clue. I don’t know how to draw them out and raise them past their limitations into a place of confidence and freedom and devotion to God.
I am walking in one of the most heavy places. Here there is no choice but faith.
I do not have the ability. It’s going to have to come from somewhere else.
I want to cry like a baby at the thought of how very clueless I am and there are moments where I’m at a complete loss.
If it wasn’t for God holding me up…
If I didn’t have this faith to cling to…
Well, let’s just say this life built up around me would be crumbling right now.
But instead of crumbling, we’re forging new roads into places completely foreign and maybe that’s exactly how God wants it. Instead of the weight on my shoulders, it’s on His. Complete dependence on Him.
Perhaps there’s nothing more glorifying to Him than when we’re stripped bare.
Maybe this is the only place we get to see the miraculous.
So, nothing has changed. I still know this is where we’re supposed to be, just as before.
I still believe firmly. If you’re ever given the opportunity to step out in faith and completely wreck your life in the process, then you shouldn’t hesitate.
You are setting yourself up for something AMAZING.