Our Displacement Story

Displace

dɪsˈpleɪs/

verb

past tense: displaced;

o                                       take over the place, position, or role of.

synonyms:

replace, take the place of, take over from, supplant, oust, supersede, succeed, override;

• move (something) from its proper or usual position.

synonyms:		dislodge, dislocate, upset, unsettle, move, shift, relocate, reposition

• force (someone) to leave their home, typically because of war, persecution, or natural disaster.

We are displaced. Our family, together we are displaced. We have been dislodged, dislocated, upset, unsettled, moved. We have shifted, relocated and been repositioned. We have had to leave our home, not because of war or persecution and I’m not sure if it qualifies as a natural disaster, but it feels like it.  The soil composition in our yard has created a mess. Half of our yard has saturated, lush soil. The other half is so dry that it cracks in deep jagged lines. This has created an atmosphere dangerous for the foundation of the house. The lounge and verandah are cracking, and will eventually break free from the rest of our house.  This started becoming apparent with cracks on the walls, then the ceilings, on the opposite side of the house. It wasn’t obvious or clear until we moved out of the house and the contractor could tear out the ceilings, and dig up some places in our floors and dig deep trenches on the outside of our walls. Foundational issues that need underpinning. Water Drainage issues that need t obe sorted out.

Strong foundations. There are so many metaphors. I’ve heard about strong foundations in Sunday sermons basically my entire life. So when the contractor said “cracks in the foundation” I expected the house to topple on us any moment.  But that’s not how it works. First little cracks, then bigger ones, then more jagged and obvious ones. Then crumbles. Is the house falling apart? Yes. Is it immediate? No. But when the foundation isn’t right, the damage is being done long before it’s clear on the surface. Certainly before it’s clear to those living inside and way before it’s clear to those passing by.

This month, I have been paying really close attention to my foundation. My recovery, my faith, my values. There have been things going on around me that have made me wrestle and question. I have asked, “Do I believe that?” “Is this The Gospel or is this my culture?” and most importantly, “Do my actions seem to be aligned with my faith?” Is my foundation solid or are my walls showing cracks? When someone I care about is resentful and proclaiming that loudly to all who will listen, does my behavior change? When the refrigerator falls out of the moving truck do I lose my mind? (Yes, it happened. And it rolled. Laugh, we have had to laugh too.)

The house is being repaired. The damage is done, but no further damage needs to happen and the experts are there to repair what is broken.  Even so, we are displaced. In order for the work to happen we had to move out and leave this home that we love. Our landlord has been amazing in the process and has given us beautiful accommodation.

Our entire family moved together, Gogo is here with us.  We have all of our things and all of our pets (two dogs and two chickens.) My girls are sleeping in there same beds, with their same blankets surrounded by their same toys.  Ruth is doing her homework at the same desk, grabbing snacks from the same fridge (although it’s slightly dented and leaning.) The only thing that has changed is our location and the walls surrounding us.  According to my iphone, we are exactly 7 miles and 10 minutes down the road.

This might seem like an exaggeration to call us displaced. It might seem as if there would be no effects, but the effects have been much bigger than we expected.  I am discombobulated, I can’t find things and whenever we get in the car to go to our places I get turned around or lost.  Ruth has done surprisingly well, although she is disgruntled that she has to get in the car at 7:00am in the chilly winter morning rather than stroll around the corner to school at 7:25. Vivienne has had the hardest adjustment. This home is lovely and comes equipped with three friends, girls all around her age that LOVE to play. There is a gorgeous garden to run in and a trampoline, swings and a playground. Everyone she loves is here. And yet she is weepy, not sleeping well and super clingy. She has APPEARED to be angry, but when you dig deep you see that she is sad. She has had moments where she looks wonky and wild, but if you dig deep she is scared. When she is vulnerable, she will cuddle up and say, “I don’t want to sleep in this house. Mommy, I want to go back to my crack house.” (Laugh, we have been CACKLING at her affectionate term for the home that was cracking all around us.)

My children are displaced. But because they are with me and their father and the adults they trust and love they will settle and there will be little lasting damage.

But at the same time that my three year old has crawled into my arms crying, looking for comfort I have heard cries from the children of strangers. Videos and audio released online of children who have parents seeking a better life, sometimes in the right way and sometimes not. Some children of parents who are seeking safety from the dangers of the world they live in; violence and natural disasters (remember that volcano that erupted in Guatemala?) I haven’t had the emotional margin to read or watch much of the enormous amount of content, but what I have seen and heard has hurt me deeply. In my work I have had to learn how to hear the message in the cries. There is a difference between sad and scared. Hungry or hurt. And then there is terror, danger, and trauma. Those cries immediately cause my body to react. I have only heard that cry from Vivienne once.

Regardless of my politics- my values, my faith and my recovery require of me to be outraged that we live in a world where already displaced children would be separated from their parents.  We may not be responsible for their displacement but we must not be doing the reprehensible damage of then removing them from the adults they know who can help maintain some sense of security. These kiddos MUST be reunited with their people. My faith, my values, my beliefs dictate that I must speak out about that.

Our displacement pales in comparison and yet my children are struggling. In their struggle to accept a new, temporary normal they find comfort in the arms of safe and trusted adults. Every child needs and deserves this.

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: HUSH

On Friday nights Nyasha leads a group of men seeking a deeper relationship with Jesus.  This means that he gets home later than normal and I have a little bit of (very exhausted) down time after I put the girls to bed.  Tonight, Ru was at a sleepover with her cousins and Viv fell asleep early after a busy day of playing with her friends.

I decided to take the little bit of extra time to veg out and watch a movie on Netflix.  Nyasha really dislikes scary movies and since I was alone to choose whatever I wanted I got sucked into a movie called Hush.

This "thriller" was about a deaf, mute woman who lived alone in the woods.  A man with a crossbow decided to kill her best friend after she stopped by to visit.  He then came for the deaf woman.  This movie is NOT a thriller.  It is a 1 hour and 21 minutes of PURE TERROR.

Nyasha often calls me in the middle of the day for some random bit of information.  This week he called to see how to spell Amish for some odd reason.

A-M-I-S-H

I often ask Nyasha how to maneuver some ridiculous situation that hopefully would never happen.

Tonight when he got home I had about 15 minutes remaining of stomach wrenching viewing enjoyment.  I asked him, "Babe.  If a killer were to come to our house, what would I do? I am so unprepared."

SERIOUSLY. WHAT WOULD I DO?  I find a healthy fear of the killer is imperative.

He looked at me as if this were the most normal of all conversations (for which I love him dearly) and he said, "Nothing, Lucy would protect you."

(Lucy is a 9 pound Jack Russel that is afraid of clouds.  I am not even kidding, she is so afraid of rain and thunder that if it is even cloudy she will hide under beds or in closets just to be protected.  She in no way makes me feel safe from the killer.  Hopefully no killer is reading this because now he will know that the dog's bark is worse than her bite!!!)

I laughed and pressed, "No seriously, what would I do?"
He replied, "I think what might be a better thing to consider is why on earth you insist on watching scary movies and tv shows about killers."

Honestly, I am so attracted to shows like Criminal Minds (which I happen to think is one of the most well written shows of all time, except for the decision to kill of Shemar Moore, but I am a few seasons behind so I haven't gotten there yet.) and movies like this ridiculous "Hush."  They cause me great distress while I am watching, but I am so intrigued by watching things about killers.

GREAT SHOW

But now it's bedtime and I have watched a scary movie about the killer and I am too wound up to sleep.  Nyasha is right, I may need to reconsider my choices in entertainment.

What is your go to tv show or genre of movie if you are in control of the remote?

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.

Team Chari: On Rising

We have one little girl learning how to ride a bike despite massive balance and coordination challenges.  We have another little girl learning how to walk.  I think the timing for both is God’s providence in our life as a family. 

 

They get to see each other falling and getting back up! It’s beautiful! They cheer each other on and there is no shame for the one taking her first fumbled steps, nor is there any shame for the one struggling to keep the bike upright.  I LOVE IT.  One of the most important things I get to do as a mommy is to teach my children that there is no shame in and no reason to fear, falling down.  

Ride, Baby Ride!

People often ask why I am so willing to publicly talk about my shortcomings, character flaws and outright failures.  THIS IS WHY.  We live our lives in front of our children, publicly and privately, in a way that says, “Falling down isn’t shameful, it doesn’t define who we are, it simply provides an opportunity to rise again.  Wiser, more experienced, more prepared, better, stronger.” 

Sometimes that means that we screw up the whole parenting thing.  Ruptured relationships are platforms for repaired relationships.  Sometimes it means I am dishonest —I once had to sing a song in Shona to get away with not having a radio license (I didn’t have any cash in that instance, but there were other times that I did and still didn’t pay.) And have to apologize to my kiddos for not telling the truth. (BUT COME ON PEOPLE, I WOULD LIKE CREDIT FOR THE FACT THAT 2016 is the year of the Chari family radio license.)   Sometimes it means that things we try to accomplish at work, at home, in relationships just fail—and we have to show them that we can get back up again!  Living in a cross-cultural, inter-racial marriage with all the other differences we certainly allows for a lot of getting it wrong! One of the things that our girls know for sure is that the Chari’s are risers.  We have not stated this verbally, but we have shown them time and time again. 

Nyash and I have learned that the most powerful moments we have with our children are the imperfect ones.  We try really hard to implement strategies at home that are going to help them grow into strong, brave, kind women.  However, we are aware that who we are is a more accurate predictor of our children’s success than what we know about parenting.  This is really what attachment rich parenting is about: how we relate, how we engage when we are hurt or struggle or are different. How resilient we are—this is what our children glean from us, just by being ours.  We cannot give our kids what we do not have.   We cannot teach them to be unafraid of failure if we never fail and recover or if we are afraid someone might know that we fail!

Walk, Baby Walk!

If we do not think that we are precious regardless of what is undone, messed up, vulnerable or scary – our kids are going to second guess their preciousness as well.  When I know I am precious, I am free to say “this is who I am. “  Are we placing conditions on preciousness? Prerequisites like success?  There is no room for shame in our home.  I might be a girl who did some bad things and those things brought about feelings of guilt, because I was guilty—the definition of guilty is simply someone who has done something they shouldn’t.  Shame is something else entirely… shame says there is something wrong with ME.  Shame takes away my preciousness.  When we engage with our families we must understand that when we mess up and when they mess up, it doesn’t change who we are—we are still precious people, we have just done something wrong. 

Our kids are willing to fall in front of each other because they have learned how to get back up!  Our kids are willing to get it wrong because we are willing to live with failures out in the open.  Brene Brown says, “With skinned knees and bruised hearts we choose to own our stories of struggle over hiding, hustling and pretending.”     

Our courage comes from facing our failures or shortcoming head on.  The failures we face with honesty are the ones that are unable to define us. 

Beautiful sisters: Hand Holders, Lifter-upers, Cheerleaders. Fallers. Risers.

So here’s to our girls, the one learning to walk and the one learning to ride.  May your heart never fear the fall, may you always find courage to get back up and may you learn at a younger age than your daddy and I did that it’s in the falling and rising that you are made strong.  We love you girls so very much, you are our crowning glory and it is for you that we do not hide.  We are more fearful of you not loving who you are than we are of what others might think of our weaknesses.  Be brave. Be kind. Be you.