Team Chari: Father's Day

Father's Day seems to come around SO fast every year.

Growing up, Father's Day was challenging for me.  It was so hard to find the right Father's Day card when you aren't living with your dad.

Today, I know that I was so blessed to be raised by my dad's parents.  My grandma and grandpa were amazing parents.  The love they showed to my brother and I remains one of the most influential factors of my life.  However, that didn't make it easier on days like Father's Day when I would field questions from others like, "Why don't you live with your mom or dad?" or "Where is your dad?" or the WORST, when making a craft at school or church, "Why are you writing Grandpa?"

Now, Father's day is the day I get to celebrate my husband, the father of our children and it is WONDERFUL.  I love celebrating the way he loves his girls and the fabulousness of his fathering.  It is also the day I get to celebrate my dad, the forgiveness we have experienced and the life we know today.  It's also the day I get to remember my Paw, and the amazing love her wrapped me in for 19 years.  These are GREAT things to celebrate.

For our girl Ru, who has never met her biological father, Father's day brings up some BIG emotions. Emotions that are familiar to me and my history.

This weekend we had they privilege to process some of those with her. It wasn't easy but it was good.  Being sad and angry TOGETHER, is so important.
I read this and Nyasha and I related to this so very much,

Carissa Woodwyck wrote this on facebook:

"uhhh! you know what's still so hard to hear from an adopted person? "why did my parents not keep me?" i think you can be an adult or a teen or a young child and still wonder, still question, still doubt, still ask "WHY?"

it's so hard to understand, to make sense of, the reality that your first parents - the two people who created you - didn't do everything they could to keep you. and maybe for some they did do everything. and maybe for some they didn't do everything. some of us will never know.

confusing. and it's like there's this gaping void consumed with a huge cloud of WHY.

and then you hear:

but,

God intended for you to be with our family.

God planned for you to be in our family.

God wanted you to be loved by us.

a BUT before an explanation will never work, will never satisfy, will never help.

and then adding GOD in the explanation? that will never work and never satisfy and never help either.

because what kind of God does that? to you? because what kind of God makes first parents not stay? not fight? not do everything they could to keep their child, to keep us?

and so our language has to be so, so sensitive and so, so carefully said - not to protect a child from pain, but because a child needs to know that God is IN the pain.

because God never authors pain.

never.

he grieves...for what happened...to us...with us.

and that's why as parents, it's our job to do the same - let the confusion and anger and bitterness and contempt and sorrow and questions and doubt linger...as long as they need to.

because if we rescue a child from their feelings, they will do what so many do in front of me: dismiss their own pain, tell me, "i don't really care about them, about what happened."

and i'll have to look them in the eye and tell them this:

oh, bud...what happened DOES matter. and, what happened wasn't your fault. what happened to you - the reality that they didn't stay, that they didn't keep you - wasn't your fault. but it DOES matter. you get to feel mad. you get to feel sad. and i'll be mad and sad with you. and, together, we'll find a path through all of the mad and sad, and hopefully find our way to not only naming more of the mad and sad that's inside you, but also, at the very same time, find all of the glad and good inside you (and your first parents), too. and guess what? all that happened? that wasn't from God. that's not the kind of God you have to follow or believe in. and, ahhh! i can't wait to show and tell you about a different kind of God - a God that loved you and longed for you from the beginning of time.

and then i'll get to see a little relief, a little surprise in their sweet eyes.

friends - we must go backwards so we can go forwards, well.

holding the strong and tender hearts of adopted young children and teens and adults tonight."

This is the thing for our family this year: It's ok to grieve those we have lost --even if we lost them before we can remember.  It's ok for our family to grieve with us, they can be sad and mad for our loss even though that loss helped to bring us together.  It's ok for us to acknowledge that God is grieving with us too.

Grief is a part of life.

Grief honors what was and allows us to move more freely into what it.

Dear Lord, Please help me to never be afraid to lean into my the tears of my children.  Let me never feel hurt by their expression of loss.  Let me always remember that before me there was another and that this loss has left everything as it should not be.  Let me always remember that you alone are the Redeemer of the broken pieces.  Amen.

Team Chari: Motherhood Unplugged

"I assumed motherhood was all about balance.  But I am learning it has more to do with discernment--recognizing which proverbial balls to juggle, which to drop and when to sing silly songs on the way to school even though she clogged the toilet and I have a wad of almond butter stuck in my hair." - Lisa Harper

So. It's mother's day.  For some reason this day sneaks up on me every year.  Certainly I have more to celebrate on Mother's Day this year than any other before it.  My heart is full.  Full of love given and love received: by a husband that is worthy of all the bragging I do about him, by children who give me a reason to persevere and by family and friends who are more than I deserve.

And yet.

There is a sadness.   A deep down, quiet sadness that remembers.  It remembers 11 Mother's Days lost.  16 Mother's Days as an orphan.  My heart remembers in the secret place that stays hidden, the place that wants to be healed, but also wants to be left alone because healing hurts.  Healing requires doing the work. Revisiting the saddest places.

The truth is, I lost my mother long before she died.  Before I lost her in a house fire, I lost her to addiction.  11 years went by wondering if she would get healthy.  If she would come back for us. Those years were the hardest.  I can't believe I am typing these words, but it is easier to explain that my mother is dead than it is to explain that she didn't raise me because of her addiction.

I long for that story to change.  For my mother to have mothered me.  To have pictures to post on facebook of me and the woman who gave me life.  I have a few memories of her.  I have a few little girl pictures somewhere.  But bringing them up cause my heart to revisit the loss and the enormous sadness of it all.  I loved her and she left.

My littlest girl Vivienne is 15 months old.  She knows the love of two parents who work tirelessly to keep her safe, protected and loved.  Vivi has known no great loss yet.  And it is evident-- in the way she giggles loudly, moves freely and trusts willingly.

My big girl, Ru has experienced life's greatest loss.  She knows nothing of her first family.  She knows no one who looks like her, No one who can tell the stories of her first moments.  Her heart longs to giggle loudly, move freely and trust willingly and yet something holds her back.  A sense that we live in a world in which all is not as it should be.  The knowledge that there was once a family, before this one, that she has lost.

It is the greatest joy to love these girls.  To be their mother is the best and hardest thing I have ever done.

This mother's day felt different.  Ru was so excited about cards she had made-- at school and church. Treats she had baked at school.  Presents they had made with daddy.  She wanted to give them to me early, each day, not being able to wait!

And still.

When the day rolled around, she participated in all we did.  She hugged me. She watched me with Vivi.  And she was visibly sad.

And that's ok.

While Vivi napped, I cuddled with Ru and we talked about missing our first mommies.  We acknowledged that sadness and grief do not erase the love we have for each other.  That we can miss one mommy and love another at the same time.  I told her stories about growing up with my grandma and how I missed my mommy so much it made my stomach hurt, and yet I loved my grandma so much,

Motherhood is hard.  It requires being present and being ready.  It requires healing.  If I really hid from the work I need to do in the sad places of my heart, I wouldn't be able to be fully present for my little girl in conversations like these.  We cannot take our kids to a place of healing we have not experienced for ourselves.

Motherhood is beautiful. It is special.  It is worth it.

By the grace of God my children will have a different story because I am willing to do the hard work of healing.

Mommy Might be a Therapist if.... (Lessons of grief from our family.)

So this week when I headed out the door to a training session my girls were curled up on the bed reading a book together.  I didn’t think much about it, but as I started to savor the sound of Ru’s voice reading to her little sister, I had to laugh. 

“It can be hard to say good-bye to someone you love. It is normal to miss them very much.” She read from the book.  I giggled some more at my realization: she was reading one of my work books.  A children’s book for grieving kiddos, called “I will miss you.”  Ruth rarely asks to read these books… usually she will ask to when she wants to have a conversation about her birth mother but doesn’t know how to start.  After I laughed at our big girl, who says she wants to be a flight attendant, but seems more suited to be a counselor, my heart swelled with joy and gratitude.  My big girl wants my little girl to understand her grief.  She was sharing her emotions and it was Sweet. Beautiful. Growth. 

Ru's book choice for today

 This evening after dinner Viv was showing off her shinny pink shoes and her new walking skills. Ru called to her, “Come Vivi let’s connect. I have a craft planned for us.” Oh my very full mommy heart. 

As Viv got tired and a bit grouchy, she started to get frustrated and tried to whack the dog who is constantly tripping her.  Ru said, “Viv is afraid of falling and when she is afraid she is a fighter.  I am not, I am freezer.”

This is a snapshot of a day in the life of our family.  The big sister is simply doing what she has seen for years.  I am so grateful for those who have modeled attachment and connection rich parenting for us.  I am so pleased with the fruit.  Some days are excruciatingly hard but even they are totally worth it!

If you are looking for some kids books to help with grief, loss or adoption themes please check out some of these:

I Miss You: a first look at death by Pat Thomas

The Invisible String by Patricia Karst

God Gave Us Heaven by Lisa Tawn Bergren 

I am Brown and My Sister Isn’t by Robbie O’Shea

All Bears Need Love by Tanya Valentine

A Mother of Choco by Keiko Kasza

How I Became a Big Brother by Dave Moore

If you are a parent of a child that has experienced loss, take heart beloved friend; it is so very hard when you are in the midst of redemption and being a part of the process with your precious child is a gift for both of you.  You are not alone and my prayer for all of us is that God will equip and empower us to just do right by our kiddos.  Thank you Jesus for healing.

Love Looks Different

This weekend we celebrated Valentines Day.  My husband did a great job of making his girls feel special! He brought us home these gorgeous, long stem red roses.  One each for the girls and a dozen for me.

Love looks different in every home.  When I first started dating Nyasha he would bring me a treat every time we would go out.  A chocolate or something.  I never understood why he never got me flowers-- until we had a chat about it and he laughed.  He didn't think I would like flowers.  It's funny how we express love differently-- especially in the gifts we choose for each other.

This weekend we also had to talk to Ruth about the fact that her dog has been missing for a week.  Last weekend Vivienne was admitted to hospital with a very high fever.  She had tonsillitis and the admitting doctor suspected pneumonia.  Thank God, he was wrong and her pediatrician came to see her and quickly discharged us and allowed her to heal at home.

The short hospital stay was traumatic for her and for me.  It took several attempts to place the IV and my poor little babe that we brought in quiet and lethargic was screaming wildly. 

When we returned home we found that Ruth's little dog, Lucy was missing.  This dog has been Ruth's best friend for years.  Lucy is annoying and needy to everyone who walks in the door but to Ruth, she represents all that is good in the world.  Lucy has helped Ruth learn how to give and receive love and nurture in a way that only one who doesn't disappoint can.  Lucy lights up with Ruth walks in the door and the same is true of Ruth when Lucy walks in the door.

On the hard days when Ruth is bound to be sad and struggling to process her emotions, Lucy sits with her and cuddles. On the happiest days when Ruth just wants to run and play, Lucy is quick to follow Ruth wherever she wants to go.

Lucy has never held a grudge when Ruth couldn't connect.  Lucy has never caused Ruth any pain.

Telling Ruth that Lucy has gone missing is one of the hardest things I have ever had to do.

She cried herself to sleep and so did I.

Ruth woke up differently than I expected her to.  She woke up and asked if we could make breakfast and then go look for Lucy.  She had a plan and was hopeful.  As the day wore on, our search party of three grew tired but Ruth never lost hope. 

When we got out of the car after visiting vets, animal shelters and covering our neighborhood in fliers I saw a not from her to Lucy that said, "Don't worry Lucy we will find you."

I do not know if we will find Lucy.  My heart hurts for the sadness of my little girl. Our home feels less full without our annoying little princess of a dog.  I want to believe that Lucy could still miraculously return home.  One thing I do know is that this little dog has served our little girl so very well.  In a way that I will never cease to be grateful for.  Lucy was without a doubt a gift straight from God.

Love looks different in different times, places, seasons and lives.  Love is an action.  The greatest act of love was Jesus's birth, death and resurrection.  This Valentines Day, for our family, love looked like a search party.

Please pray for Ruth's heart.  As she grieves for her dog, so much other grief resurfaces.  Our little girl has lost so much in her short life and it is all brought to the forefront today.  Ruth has been praying that wherever Lucy is, that she is safe.  She is praying that Lucy comes home.  Please join us in those prayers.

Love from Zimbabwe,

Gigi