One of my favorite family pics of almost all of us a few years ago!
Showing posts with label faith. Show all posts
Showing posts with label faith. Show all posts

Sunday, April 13, 2014

BEAUTY'S POWER COMES FROM OUR ABILITY TO RECOGNIZE IT.

THE REAL POWER IN BEAUTY IS OUR ABILITY TO RECOGNIZE IT.
By Anna Giattina Lee
April 12, 2014

It’s spring again.  And just like the miracle of seeing a baby in the womb of a pregnant women never ceases to amaze me, the transformation that takes place throughout spring overwhelms me with moments of unspeakable joy.

I go to bed in darkness, although sometimes the moon moves through the frames of my 6 windows like a movie in super slow motion.   At first, I awake each morning to light flooding through the empty branches of the 50 foot tall trees, lighting my spot on the bed. 

But as spring makes it’s way into my heart, the light turns to sparkles and flashes as it makes its way through the dense green leaves and is reflected back, making me feel like I’m inside a crystal looking from the inside out. 

The windows are open, and I get to hear the leaves as they gently rustle against their branches and rub across my screens to remind me of their presence.  I hear the geese fly over my house with their familiar sounds and I imagine their predictable formation as they make their way over the mountain to the lake a short distance from our home.  The birds sing their various songs.

The house is still amazingly quiet and my littlest one, who still sleeps in our room, breaths gently and mumbles in his sleep as the sun does it’s job and gently pries his tiny eyes open.  He smiles from ear to ear with his eyes still slightly full of sleep in that sweet way that adds to his innocence.  Whether he sees me or not, his first word is always “Nanna,” which he speaks in a raspy small voice that is evidence that he has just woken up.

“I’m here baby,” I say as he looks for my head poking out of my old quilts that I layer to cocoon myself.  He climbs out of his bed dragging his blanket behind and comes to join me in bed for some cuddle time before the day begins full force.

These moments are beauty.  And when I am aware.  When I allow myself to see and feel and hear beauty.  When I recognize it for what it is, I am stunned all over again.  As if it is the first time I have ever understood beauty. 

Why?  I ask repeatedly.  Why do I have the ability to recognize and appreciate beauty? God you didn’t have to make that possible.  But you did.

And then the answer comes in almost the same words every time.  “The most incredible thing about beauty is not that we can see it and feel it and hear it.  But that God gave us the ability to recognize beauty.  To experience it.  To appreciate it.  To love it.  To take pleasure in it.  To let it excite us.  Motivate us.  Enliven us.   To make us happy and creative and joyful.”

And my friends, that is a gift.  A grand gift from God. 

And one that leads us back to Him and His beauty. 


Thank you God.

Monday, March 3, 2014

CASTING BLAME: There, but for the Grace of God, Go I."

Yesterday, I posted the story of God waking me up from a deep sleep prompting me to think about the possibility of accidentally leaving one of my little ones in the car by making me think I had forgotten my 5-year-old in the car the night before!  I hadn’t actually left him, but within 2 hours of being jolted awake with that feeling, my visiting 4-year-old granddaughter was actually forgotten for a few moments in the car after a quick trip to school for drop off. 

God knows me well.  If it had been a vague feeling about something that might happen in the future, I probably would have dismissed it as my thought. 

If I had actually left a child in the car, I like to think that I would have been prompted much sooner! But by making me stop, process and think about what I had done it was at the forefront of my busy mind.

When my son wasn’t at breakfast (which actually isn’t unusual), it made me ask for more detail and gave me the chance to talk to the kids.

So, because I was so checked into this crazy feeling, when it actually happened within a few hours, God had prepared me to act.
 
The truth is, even if she had been left longer, it was neither too hot nor too cold to cause any long-term damage to her body.  But it would have messed with her emotions. And it would have been terribly scary.

But God protected her.  If it had just been me or my husband, we could have forgotten her for longer.  I could have thought she was back upstairs in the playroom playing with her cousin’s Barbies.

When new factors are introduced - a grandchild that isn’t usually with us on a school morning and normally doesn’t ride along for the trip to school – it is easy to go into rote action mode, not really thinking about what you are doing, but just doing it.


Likewise, when you do the same thing over and over again, sometimes you actually think that you have done something, when actually you did it yesterday, and the day before, and the day before that, but NOT today.

But your brain can play tricks on you.  And so can the Enemy. 

It’s not always about caring or not caring. 

It’s not always about loving or not loving.

It’s not always about selfishness or selflessness.

It’s not always too many children or not enough experience.

It’s not always about work or something else being more important.

It’s not about anything other than humanity.

When tragedy strikes a family, I cringe when people are critical of the parent(s). I can’t stand to see the daggars come out as people try to find someone to blame, as if that will solve the problem. 

Although it is certainly possible for some of these situations to be the result of abuse or neglect, the result of drugs or alcohol, truthfully, that isn’t the norm.

I know what abuse and neglect looks like.  I live with the consequences every day.

I also know what it means to be human.  To be overwhelmed.  To be lost in your own thoughts.  To make a mistake. 

And who is going to suffer more than the parent who makes this mistake?

The people casting judgment will forget the incident.

They will forget the name of the one who is now gone.

Their lives will move on as if nothing ever happened. 

Some of these people feel, “It can’t happen to me.”

“I would never let that happen to my child.”

“How could you forget your child?”

 How can you think that you dropped off your child at daycare when you didn’t?"

And it is these people that scare me.  The ones who actually believe they could never make this kind of tragic mistake.

I am an educated woman who has voluntarily dedicated most of my adult life to helping children.  I have more experience than most people.  I have more education and knowledge than many.  Yet, I could easily make a mistake that harms someone else.  And that scares me enough to be hyper vigilant and to listen to the promptings and intuitions that I am given.  

But if I ever did make this kind of tragic mistake, I would hope that people would consider my humanity and the bigger picture and not cast immediate judgment on me.

For the record, I’m not above reproach on the judgment problem.  I confess that on the same evening all this happened, I read about the Sommer Wilford, a Birmingham woman who supposedly watched her child burn in a car fire following an accident without telling the police or firemen her son was in the car.  They found his body after the fire was out.

The article clearly implied this she knowingly let him die.  It even mentioned charges of reckless murder.  And possible drug use.  Her wild hair and what looked like a smirk in her mug shot didn’t help her case.  Admittedly, I went in the precise direction that the author of the article intended.  Casting blame on the mom for ruthlessly watching her beautiful son die in the fire.  I even repeated the story to my husband.

But thankfully, I make it a habit not to comment publicly before I’ve done my own research. Out of curiosity, I checked out her young fiance’s Facebook page and found family portraits of a large extended family together with his handsome blonde-haired little boy. 

And this was his last entry.

People look if someone has shit to talk its (deleted his address) where I am I mean you people are clueless she didn't let him die she would never do that that baby was our world and it got taken from ous all of you saying dope was involve I can assure you there was no dope involved no one knows what happened bc guess why no one seen what happened but them and god So before you make all these horrible assumptions stop have some respect and dignity this news thing has taking it way to far and I will personally be putting a stop to it But no matter what is said done etc. nothing can bring my precious baby back he will dearly be missed and please All I am asking for is for everyone to stop until you find out the true story bc I don't even know yet but she was my better half and either of us would have done anything to stop this anything and yes No Matter what I will stand behind her till the end please pray for my family and stop the nonsense

Suddenly, Sommer Wilford wasn’t an object of blame.  She was a human.  With a story.  And a fiancĂ© who believed in her. 

And that’s when I had to recognize that I was judging without all the facts. Perhaps she was under the influence. Maybe the tragedy itself caused her to go into a state of shock that caused her to dissociate from reality.  Or she could be an evil person who wanted her son to die. 

I have no idea what the truth will turn out to be.  And I’m not going to try to figure it out.


Instead, I will pray.  God the Father, wrap your arms around this family and their friends.  Reveal yourself to them during this tragedy.  Let their minds be filled with joy.  Protect them from the comments and people’s opinions.  If drugs or alcohol are involved, I ask that you remove addictions.  Keep the family focused on what is important.  Heal their wounds and surround them with others that will lead them to you.  

Amen.

Saturday, March 1, 2014

"Thank God: I Can't Do This Parenting Thing Alone."

"Thank God: I Just Can't Do This Parenting Thing Alone"
By Anna Giattina Lee

Sometimes I wake up in the middle of the night and my brain goes from 0 to sixty in 0.4 seconds.   

Yesterday, I woke up an hour earlier than normal with a panicked feeling that I had left my 5-year-old asleep in the freezing cold car overnight. 

I had driven home from church last night in our 15-passenger van filled with children that fell asleep during the ½ hour ride home.  I am fairly cautious because I am not dumb enough to believe that I would never get distracted or change my routine, accidentally forgetting a child in the car.

But after a mental playback in my head, I distinctly recalled giving him my ipad for his nightly video ritual.  I also knew that I had made a visual check of the many sleeping kids in the car when we got home from church and that with only one remaining, I saw my husband unbuckle the baby and out of an abundance of caution, I reminded him to make a visual check of all the seats one more time before closing the doors. 

Persuaded that this was not one of “those” times when I was specifically being called to act immediately, I was able to go back to sleep for another hour. 

As soon as I woke up, I went straight to the kitchen to begin making breakfast. I noticed that my 5 –year-old wasn’t in the kitchen.  So I asked where he was.  My husband said, “He’s still in bed.”

Unconvinced, I said, “Have you personally seen him because I woke up with the feeling that I had left him in the car.”

Pausing for just a moment, he says with confidence, “He is definitely in his bed.” A few others joined in claiming that dad was right and I believed them.

Realizing I had a teachable moment, I talked to the kids, including my 4-year-old granddaughter who had spent the night with us.  We talked briefly about watching out for each other to be sure that we all get out of the car. 

My 10–year-old asked, “What do we do if the doors are locked?” 

Almost in disbelief, I look at her and say, “You reach over and unlock the door. “

She laughed saying, “I’ve never thought about that before.”

At that moment I realized that the technology had skewed her understanding.  She always waited for me to unlock the doors and it didn’t occur to her that you could do it another way. 

My husband was not in the room during this conversation. It was a short conversation – more of a reminder than anything else.  

But my brain was clearly fixed on this idea.  Images of a child left in the car by her mother or father reeled in my mind.  I have done it myself  more than once – although for just minutes. I know one person who endured this heart-wrenching loss.  And as an attorney, I am always thinking about what is reasonably foreseeable.

Fast forward 30 minutes.  It is time for my husband to take the kids to school.  My granddaughter Ava asks if she can ride along. Five kids get into the car for the 2-minute ride to school.

Less than 10 minutes later, my husband walks into the house while I’m folding the laundry and comes directly to where I am. Without any thought, my first question is “Where’s Ava?” 

With a somewhat stunned expression, I see his brain trying to process what I’m saying.  I shout, “She’s in the car.  She’s locked in the car.  Run.  Run.  She is going to be terrified. “

My husband bolts to the parking pad, unlocking the doors with the remote and running to open the door.  Inside is our granddaughter, tiny tears just beginning to stream down her cheeks.  We grab her and hold her tightly, apologizing for leaving her behind. 

When she gets back inside, I rock her and tell her that everything is fine and that God has protected her by prompting me. 

The entire incident from locking her in to retrieving her occurred in less than 2 minutes.  But it was that two minutes that convinced me that God is looking out for his children far better than me or my husband are capable of doing. 

With the memory still fresh, we talk about why she didn’t get out of the car.  In her tiny little voice, she squeaks, “I tried, but Papa locked the door with the remote.”

I know that she had just heard us talk about this exact situation, but it was too abstract for her.  So we took her back to the car and showed her how to unlock the car from the inside.  And how, if the child locks were on, she could always get out through the driver's door.  Confident and with a smile, she came back inside realizing that she could escape if it ever happened again.

The whole situation is so predictable.  There was a change in my husband’s routine. The one he has followed for years.  An extra child.  Young.  Unusually quiet.  And one who didn’t know how to unlock the doors from the inside.

I don’t blame my husband.  And no one should.  There, but for the grace of God, go I. 

And I hope you know that is not the point.  Rather, it is to say, that this episode is one of many that persuade me that I can’t do this parenting thing without God.  It is simply too hard.  Too many things can go wrong. 

But he’s got my back. 


This isn’t the first time I have been awakened from a deep sleep by a compelling feeling.  And I’ve learned to listen.  I must.  Or I’m an idiot. 

Sunday, February 2, 2014

ADOPTION: THE JOYS OF CHOOSING TO BE FAMILY



I live a mixed blessing.  I thrive and regenerate when I am alone.  But my house and my life are always full of people.  The 16 who live here, plus my other kids and grandkids, friends, and sometimes people who literally wander in off the street!  Our normal is chaotic on a good day, but it is generally organized chaos in the loosest sense of the words.  When I suddenly have an extra 3-10 children here on an unplanned visit, all the cousins immediately begin to play.  My grandkids barely greet me as they run to go find their best friends.

We don’t watch over them, partly for our own sanity and partly for the personal growth and development that occurs naturally when 10-15 cousins and friends can play together and work out problems without parents watching and judging every move.  Besides, if anything goes wrong we will either hear it or someone will make sure we know about it! 

Obviously, when you allow 15 or so kids under age 10 to play upstairs for hours without parents constantly shouting “Stop!” “No!” and “Don’t do that!” – the only words that we could possibly say if we were to witness their goings on – then something is bound to get broken or destroyed!  I generally accept that as the consequence of free play.  We don’t own much that is worth anything.  And generally, the breakage is not malicious, but the result of 8–10 high energy boys and a few girls playing creatively and physically with every object that they can get their hands on.

Of course, I like it when they are playing.  Sometimes, I get a little frustrated when I have to investigate the damage, which sometimes is just every single toy we own from every single container - even those in storage -  piled onto the floor 2 feet high!

But the part that makes my weary bones come to life is what happens with my older children and their spouses. Even though there are times that the last thing I want is a house full of people – family or not – I LOVE to watch my older ones interact.  I like watching them joke with each other.  I smile when I see them sharing photos or parenting advice, or when one of my college kids shares what she has learned with her siblings.  It gives me warm fuzzies when I find out that my adult children have all planned to meet at mom’s and dad’s house.  I laugh when aunts fight over who gets to hold or play with their nieces and nephews first!  It's funny to me that all the young men/husbands find themselves in the basement in front of the x-box bonding over some silly game for hours on ends. 

And it’s super special to me because it says that while the blood bond is strong (we have lots of sibling groups), the bond that we have chosen to make with each other is equally as strong. 

So, on the days when I’m weary (which is almost daily) and I wonder if what we are doing really matters to anyone, I am allowed the privilege of seeing my answer – live and in person. 


And weary or not, I can continue for another day.

Saturday, July 6, 2013

Answering Your Life's Calling


This entry originally appeared as a guest blog for Catie Lumpkin's ThisHighCalling.blogspot.com for Foster Care Month, May 2013.  Check out her blog!

Preface:  I am a 50-year-old mamma with 20 children that are legally ours and another 30 or so that have come through our home.  I grew up as a foster sibling to medically fragile children and then became a foster and adoptive parent when I married.  I have been living this lifestyle for 40 years. 

Sometimes, I feel that I’ve become too jaded and tired to recruit foster and adoptive families. But then I remember that in the face of thousands of obstacles, my husband and I continue to choose to follow this path.  That speaks volumes to me about our relationship to our calling.

I know that my views are not universal.  There are plenty of people who will tell you to do what feels good.  What makes you happy.  I disagree with that basic premise.  I don’t believe we were put on this earth to find “happiness” for ourselves based on whatever we feel at any given moment.

In that light, my words do not address the tremendous need for foster and adoptive parents of older children (which I define as any child old enough to remember details of their past).  The need is well-documented. 

If you are reading this and you are already a foster or adoptive parent, you are likely to understand, but may need conviction to endure this journey. 

If you are thinking about fostering or adopting, I challenge you to read all the way to the end.  My approach is not particularly designed to make you feel good about yourself or about the potential impact you might have on these children.

Likewise, it is not designed to dramatize the incredible needs through sob stories. They are too numerous to repeat here.
Instead, I have chosen to focus on God’s calling and the need for you to carefully examine whether fostering and adopting older children (or any children at all) is your calling. 

 Answering Your Life's Calling
By Anna Giattina Lee

Within a week of living with us, the truth spilled out from our new 6 ½ year-old daughter.  From the backseat of my Suburban she revealed with determination,  “I’m going to make you hate me.  I’m going to make you send me away.” 

She was too young to realize that she was showing her hand, but old enough to know the drill. 

If she can intentionally behave so badly that we have no choice but to fear her. 

If she can “act” her way out of our home before we have a chance to get to know her and decide that we don’t like her or that she is too hard to keep. 

If she can create and/or determine the events that make us send her away BEFORE she has a chance to care about us.

Then  - in some small way - she feels like she is in control.  And control is something she desperately seeks.

Unconditional love. Unconditional acceptance. 

How do you persuade someone to open up his home, his life, his family, his church, and his heart to lost and hurting children that need temporary or permanent care?

How do you ask someone to set aside there own desires and make what could be a long-term commitment to someone that they haven’t even met and may not connect with right away? 

In a country where we promise to stay in our marriages “until death do us part,”  yet even active professing Christians regularly divorce,  how do you communicate to another that unconditional love and commitment is a choice, but once given shouldn’t be broken?

How do you explain that - after a short honeymoon phase - for the most part these young people will act like they don’t want to be a part of your life;  they will challenge you, your patience and your self-control in hundreds of ways on a daily basis; and they are likely to reject you and your values for longer than you can imagine or justify.

How do you help someone hear the calling on his or her life, when it goes contrary to the “I deserve to be happy” American philosophy, and the “God wants me to be happy” Christian agenda?  

How can my commentary compete with famous evangelical Christians like Pat Robertson, who last August declared to a single woman with three adopted children that was having trouble finding a relationship: “A man does not want to take on the United Nations.”  Mr. Robertson went on to describe a dear friend that adopted “a little kid from an orphanage” that was brain damaged and grew up “weird.” 

How can I compete with the fear of weird perpetuated by famous Christians?

Before Mr. Robertson realized the error of his words, he continued, “You just never know what’s been done to a child before you get that child.  What kind of sexual abuse there’s been, what kind of cruelty, what kind of food deprivation etc., etc., etc.” http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HhyJpLIpRVA.  He concluded that thought saying, “You don’t have to take on other people’s problems.”

Respectfully, I say, “No sir.  We may have no idea about their past experiences. The kids didn’t make the choice to be abandoned, neglected or abused. And yes, even with our best efforts, they might grow up “weird.”

In his defense, Mr. Robertson did suggest that people can help orphans in other ways, “but that doesn’t mean that you have to bring them into your home.”

Unconditional love.  Unconditional acceptance. It’s a choice.

Looking at Mr. Robertson’s words in their best possible light, he unwittingly makes the point that you have to choose to foster or adopt. No one can make you do it if you don’t want to.  To that degree, I agree.

Absolutely, positively no one should foster or adopt if he or she is not called to it. 

Notice, I did not say “if you don’t feel called” to it

It’s too easy to deny the feeling to do something that is going to be hard and change your life.

So the real question is:  Who is called?

I wish I had that answer. But that is a question that I must defer to God and his Believer.

When people learn that we foster and adopt so many children, almost every person says the same thing, “I could never do what you are doing.” 

And I have a stock response. “Then don’t do what I am doing.  Do whatever God is calling you to do.  And I promise.  He is calling you to something.”

I know this is truth because of words like those found in Mark 10:45, “Instead, whoever wants to become great among you must be your servant, and whoever wants to be first must be slave of all.  For even the Son of Man did not come to be served, but to serve, and to give his life as a ransom for many.”

I wish I could cast my web of judgment and tell you directly that 
YOU should be caring for the orphans because knowing that there are no more lost or hurting children is a BIG deal for me.

But the call for all is to service.  What that service looks like will be different for each person because there are a tremendous variety of needs to be fulfilled.

The only thing I can be sure of is that God is calling more people to foster and adopt than are answering the call. 

We can choose.  We are given that privilege. But that choice requires more.  Unconditional love.  Unconditional acceptance.

As Believers, we have been unconditionally adopted into God’s family.  He is our Abba Father.  We are his children.  He loves us unconditionally.  But, as a member of God’s family, we are asked to set aside our own desires and accept God’s will for our lives.  God opens his home, his life, his church and his heart to the lost and hurting.

Like these lost and hurting children, sometimes in our struggle to walk with God we are angry or defiant and we don’t want to walk with him.  We blame him for our losses. We challenge his patience and wrath daily.  We often reject his values, just like stubborn children.

Are we any different from the children who test and challenge us and our commitment to them?

In my mind and heart, I believe that our Christian walk is designed to make us more like Jesus.  To follow his lead and his instruction.  To attempt, as best we can, to do what Jesus did.  If that is true, then how can we deny our role in caring for those who are needy?
After I wrote those words, it occurred to me to check the beliefs of my mind and heart with God’s Word.  I Googled “act more like Jesus.”  A verse came up that I had never noticed before in reference to fostering and adopting. 1 Peter 2:21-23. For what credit is it if, when you sin and are beaten for it, you endure? But if when you do good and suffer for it you endure, this is a gracious thing in the sight of God. For to this you have been called, because Christ also suffered for you, leaving you an example, so that you might follow in his steps.

You don’t get any special credit for enduring punishment for the consequences of your sin.  It’s expected. 

But if you do good and even in doing good you suffer and endure, God appreciates it.

The words that really caught my attention for the first time, perhaps ever, is that we have all been called to suffer. I tend to think of suffering as it relates to pain or loss.  But when I looked up the word, it also means, to “allow something, to be adversely affected, or to undergo something unpleasant.”

Somehow, these words in Peter explain so much about my not so popular views.

Unconditional love. Unconditional acceptance. We have a choice to accept our calling.  To suffer and endure.  To take up the cross.  To be more like the Savior we profess to worship.

I spent almost a month trying to figure out the words I wanted to convey to those who crossed my path. I didn’t feel like I was supposed to tell you about our foster and adoptive success stories, although there are quite a few. 

I didn’t feel like I was supposed to dwell on how good you will feel doing the hardest thing you will ever do.

I didn’t feel like I should focus on the rewards that come from following God’s calling on your life. 

Perhaps it is because I’m a little old fashioned and I really really really don’t like to reward my kids for doing what they are supposed to do because it is the right thing to do.

I know rewards work – it is called behavior therapy – but I despise rewards for what is expected or required in life.  It goes against everything I feel inside and everything I want to teach my kids about the value of doing what is good or right simply because it is good or right. 

My thoughts suddenly seem so clear. 

Fostering and adopting is not something you do because you will see results or benefit from it. It is something you do because you are called to do it. 

Sometimes, it feels far more like suffering that anything else.  But God has never failed to let me know that he values what I do.  Sometimes, that is shown through a changed life.  Other times, he shows me that if I do whatever I do for His glory, then I’ve done my part regardless of the outcome.

It is important to understand that you don’t have to know how to do this incredibly difficult job before you accept the calling.  You don’t have to have all the answers. What I do is not based solely on my experience,  knowledge or perfection.  It is messy.  And sometimes ugly.  I act selfishly more times than not.  And I get angry and frustrated and tired.  I want more time for myself.  I want the problems to simply go away. 

But God equips. God provides.  We are the vessel.  Ironically, God will work far more on Us and our character than We will ever do for the children he brings into our life.

All this takes me back to the story of when my newly adopted daughter challenged me at that stop sign during the first week she joined our family, I had very little experience with older children joining our family? But I knew what to say.

I glared at my 6 1/2 –year-old in the rearview mirror and said firmly, “You can make me angry and you can make me not like you.  But you can’t make me send you away.  We promised to love you and keep you and we will, no matter how you act.”

When I said that, I had no way of knowing the impact those words might have on her little mind and spirit.  But two years before she died in an automobile accident, she wrote some significant words in a Mother’s Day letter to me, “I still remember the first night I met you in Missouri. You didn’t phase me a bit. I thought you’d be gone in no time. I played that game way too many times, I knew how to win. But life has proven me wrong. I can’t win everything and I can’t do it all by myself.”

My heart’s desire is that you are convicted to think hard about your calling in this life.  I’m not trying to guilt you.  Nor to persuade you.  Because both of those will lead to a short-term commitment to whatever you do.

I want undeniable conviction for whatever your calling.

As a foster or adoptive parent, you will certainly need a deep-seeded desire and commitment to follow through no matter what.  And there are likely to be a whole lot of “no matter whats.”

It’s hard.  Very hard.  But I have NEVER wished that I was given another calling.

Post script: For other things to read that support my thoughts, here are a few sites to visit.

Saturday, May 25, 2013

Why Must I Parent So Many Children to Learn Such Simple Truths?


This week, I've been thinking about my role as mother to so many different kinds of children, with various histories, needs and genetics.  Almost any mom with more than one child can testify to the fact that each child is unique, but having raised at least 50 children and taught hundreds more in my role as coach and teacher, even I am amazed at the range of my exposure to and insight into people.  

Perhaps the most telling result of this is that I am far more tolerant than I used to be. I think it is safe to say I was once quite judgmental, always imposing my ideas of what should be on others.  I still do that with my children in my role as parent, but that is probably because I am old fashioned and still believe that parents are entitled to push our personal values and agenda on our children as long as they are living under our roof and dependent on us.  

At this moment, we have 21 children, ranging in age from 1 to 31.  We have 3 children by birth.  The additional 18 children are either legally adopted and/or we became their legal guardians. And we have fostered a total of 52 children for some length of time. 

Depending on the time of year and the needs of our older young adult children, we typically have between 12 and 18 people at home at any given time.

We have babies and toddlers.  We have preschoolers, elementary-age kids, middle schoolers, high schoolers, college students, married children, grandchildren... and the list goes on.

We have fostered and adopted in every age group.  We have sweet, adorable children that joined or family at or near birth and have few issues related to their past.  And we have had some not so sweet, not so adorable teen-agers that we accepted into our family without question at a time when they had experienced far more tragedy than most will ever know AND they were at the age when it is challenging under the best of circumstances to enjoy being around them.

Our skin colors vary.  We have milky white children.  Olive skinned children.  Dark skinned brown children.  Caramel colored children.  And just about every shade in between.  All our children are from the United States.

We have children with special needs.  Gifted children.  High school Salutatorians.  High school dropouts. Kids who struggle with college.  And kids on scholarship. 

We have accepted pregnant teens, some of whom were pregnant through no fault of their own.  We have attempted to provide stability in an unstable situation and teach these young mothers how to care for their own children – even when it means we do most of the care-taking and parenting of both mother and child for many of the first years and sometimes permanently.

Some of our children suffer from mental illness related to their past or to their genetics --  acting out in every way you can imagine -- and some ways you can't imagine. But we also have children that are choosing to go into the missions, counseling and other helping professions because of their experiences in our family.

We have experienced the tragedy and grief of losing our teenage daughter, who recently died in a single car automobile accident.

We have had children born into addiction, but we feel blessed that we have had no children with chronic physical illnesses.

We have children that have been sexually, physically and emotionally abused.  We have children that have lost their mother (either literally or figuratively). We have father's in prison.  And children who have no idea who their biological father is.

We have biological families who are intricately involved in our family on a daily basis.  And we have biological families who are virtually disconnected.

We have children that are strongly grounded in our Christian faith. And children that seem indifferent, at best.  

We have children that are depressed. And children that are optimistic in the face of tragedies I can only imagine.  

We have children that need much discipline and structure.  And those who need little.  

We have children in private school, public school, no school and we home school.  

As I write this, even I am amazed at the vast array of experiences I have had as a mother. Our uniqueness has played a significant role in my life. These experiences have helped shape and grow me as a mom.  I certainly am not the same mom to my current babies, toddlers and preschoolers that I was 20 years ago when I was raising my first set. Thank goodness.  And by necessity I have developed many skill sets for raising teenagers that have proven useful as I endured and persevered through these not so fun years that never seem to end. 

I have learned that my role requires constant ingenuity and flexibility and a willingness to think outside the box as well as endless repetition (which I hate). It requires honesty and commitment.  And determination and perseverance.  And a little ADHD helps.  

This is the backdrop upon which I think and write and speak. And live. 

Monday, June 25, 2012

Fear and Reason

At 9:39 p.m. last night a stranger passed away, leaving behind her husband and three children.  Only she didn’t feel like a stranger to me.  Her name was Laura Black and she felt like a friend who had shared her struggles with me personally. I cried.

I cried for someone I had never met.  I cried because she was living and dying one of my greatest fears -- that something would happen to me and I would leave my children without a mother.  Again.

On both a physical and spiritual level, I have no particular reason to fear death soon.  But today I had to admit that I am fearfully living, in part because of some experiences. When I left town in January 2011, my 18-year-old was killed in a car accident.  Last week, we left our youngest children at home with family and friends to take our middle kids to a national leadership conference.  While we were away something terrible happened to one of my pre-school children and the youngest had a new outbreak of staph that required round-the-clock care.

I think of myself as a rational person, but there is no logic to my fear.  Even living, I know that I can’t be with my children every moment to protect them from harm. I like to think that when I am here, they are safe.  But hard things happen even when I’m here.

I think I’m afraid that my children need me too much. So many of them have already lost one mom and it would be so unfair for them to lose me too. I think I feel that without me their life would be incomplete.  That perhaps God isn’t enough for them without me to show them the way.  That somehow, I’m so important that my absence would matter. 

And the reality is it would matter in so many ways. I know that.  But ultimately, my presence or absence in the lives of my children does not determine their eternal destiny. They aren’t mine.  They are gifts from him.  I have to remind myself of that on a daily basis. I have to relinquish control – or more accurately – the idea that I ever had control in the first place – more times than I care to count.  I have to remember that I am only one of many earthly guardians trying to lead them on a path toward God. And that he is the only certain promise in this life.

I was introduced to Laura through her CaringBridge site where she posted information about her battle with cancer.  I knew one of her friends who shared the link to her page. Laura was a local lawyer.  Like me.  She was a mom.  Like me.  She was a writer and a Christian struggling to reconcile her faith to her situation.  Like me.  And she openly expressed her thoughts and fears and emotions to strangers.  Like me. 

I began reading her entries just a month ago when she began writing, “What I want you to know about life” letters to her very young children.  I have been trying to write those very letters to my children for at least 10 years, but something else always takes priority and I have done little to meet that goal.  At least on paper.

Like tonight.  I left the kitchen immediately after cooking dinner and told my husband, “I have to go write.”  He was confused.   I don’t usually say that.  But I had learned about Laura dying right before dinner and I had so many words in my head that I needed to get on paper. So I went to my room and closed my door. 

I had written two sentences when my 1-year-old came knocking on my door with his distinctive little knock saying “Nanna.  Nanna?  I need you.” He has been struggling with a serious staph infection for about 8 months and he wants me all the time.  I thought about telling him to go away so I could write and then the irony struck me.  I am living.  I am available.  I want to write, but he wants me in person.  So I let him in and cuddled with him, then changed his clothes and got him ready for bed.

Almost on cue, as I sat down to write again, my 4-year-old boys came running in and jumped on my bed (I hadn’t bothered to close my door this time.)  One wanted me to read him a book.  The other wanted me to wrestle with him.  Both announced that they were afraid to go to bed in their own room because there might be monsters.  They suggested sleeping in my room!

Again, I thought of how badly I wanted to reflect on the meaning of Laura’s death and why it affected me so profoundly.  But the irony was not lost.  I closed my computer again and read a silly Chic-Fil-A book about a Cliff Hanger that happened to be sitting on my bedside table.   And when I asked the boys about their monsters, they asked me about coyotes.  We talked for a while about the sounds they hear at night in the mountains surrounding our home.  They wanted to know what coyotes eat.  So I opened my computer to find out.  We looked up the answer and before it was over, we had watched the lioness at our local zoo deliver a cub, another lioness get eaten by hyenas (who sound like they are laughing according to one son), and a pack of elephants taking care of a newborn.

I enjoyed the time with them, imagining what memory they might take with them of that few minutes with Nanna. 

I was able to write about 3 more sentences before my 22-year-old daughter called from her full-time, live-in job in Tennessee where she is learning what it takes to be the leader in charge, a mentor, and a co-worker with her peers.  We caught up a little on life at home and spent a good deal of time talking about leadership and mentoring and what that looks like. In the end, she laughed as she realized our jobs were remarkably similar.  She laughed at me, saying that she really understood my emotions and issues – because they were hers.  I think she understood me in a way that she had not fully grasped before that moment.  For a moment I was both her leader and her peer.  It was a nice moment. 

And I could have missed it.  I could have been busy writing what I wanted them to know rather than sharing with her in the moment.  As much value as writing , it became blatantly obvious that I can’t let my desire to write override the time I spend in direct contact with my children. Yes, I need balance for sanity.  But if what I really want is strong, loving, loved children, then my presence while living is more powerful than my words after I am gone.

Ultimately, I realized that some of the “letters to my children” won’t be written on paper.  Rather, they will be written on their hearts through my daily and routine interactions with them.  I may have to remind myself of that frequently because sometimes it is easier to hide behind my computer than to interact with real people. And I am also blessed to have so many older children who can pass along what I have taught them to their younger siblings.   


And come to think of it... I guess I just wrote a letter to my children telling them what I want them to know!

Postscript: Duh Moment! What I sat down to write was directly affected by the three interruptions of my children.  Ironically, the interruptions are what God used to teach me what he really wanted me understood about my relationship with my children.  Of course, this didn’t occur to me until I finished writing this and was in the shower.  I’m a little slow.