Normal

Sometimes, I want to be normal. 

I don't want to be the weird one with eight children. I don't want to have therapists and specialists on speed dial. I don't want to be questioned about adoption. I don't want to turn heads when I go somewhere with my family. I don't want to defend my life to the casual observer. 

I want to blend...to fly under the radar...to be anonymous, just another person in a sea of many. 

Sometimes, I want to sleep all night. I want to come home to quiet. I want to escape into fluff and forget about orphans and sex slaves and homeless. I want to post things on social networking about bacon and shoes like a normal person. I want the sense of justice that's buried somewhere inside to just. be. quiet. 

I want to shush this brain that it always thinking, wondering, planning, reacting. 

I want to just be without attracting attention.

It's in these moments that I realize I am far away from the One who called me to all of this. Somewhere along the way, I left Him behind. I continued talking about Him without actually talking to Him. 

The attention bothers me which tells me that it is all on me and not on Him. How can I reflect Him when I am nowhere near Him? How can I pour out His love when I haven't allowed Him to fill me with it?

Without Him, I am the crazy lady with eight kids! Without Him, I can't handle the decisions and the harried schedule that comes with special needs. Without Him, my sense of justice and loud voice simply sound grating to those who hear. 

If I speak in the tongues of men and of angels, but have not love, I am only a resounding gong or a clanging cymbal. I Corinthians 13:1

Without Him, there is no beauty or order in the tapestry that is my life. It is left in tatters with me hanging by a thread. 

But, with Him...oh, with Him there is grace! Somehow, it makes sense. The looks and the comments, they bounce off, deflected by His image. The attention feels different because He is getting noticed instead of me.

Your speech should always be gracious, seasoned with salt, so that you may know how you should answer each person. Colossians 4:6

I know how to answer questions and feel no need to defend myself when I am living in His presence. In Him, there is no room for doubt. In Him, 

....his divine power gives us everything we need for living a godly life. He has called us to receive his own glory and goodness! 2 Peter 1:3

I have everything I need for life and godliness in Him. He is all I need. 

And I wonder how I wandered off in the first place.

Jealousy

It's raising its head again, that ugly emotion of jealousy. I look to the right and to the left and I see women, other women, godly women living out their calling. And their calling looks so much cooler than mine. It looks more fulfilling, more exciting, more visible than mine. 

So my mind wanders and I ponder. What would it be like to sit in coffee shops and write until I had no words left inside? What would it be like to escape to my computer because I had a deadline and our livelihood depended on me writing, instead of staying up too late to get down just one more thought in the quiet of the night? What would it be like to play dress up and speak at conferences and encourage other women in their walk with God?

It sounds exciting and invigorating to me. It sounds more important than changing three poopy diapers on three different bottoms in a span of ten minutes. It sounds more interesting than playing yet another game of "what if" with a pesky six-year-old. (What if trees were made out of nickles and it got really windy and the nickles fell on your head when you were walking? What if everything in the grocery store was free everyday?) It sounds more glamorous than making old people exercise for a living.

Looking around. For me, that's how discontentment starts. Seeing only the surface of someone else's life. Choosing to view only what's attractive about it. 

The truth is I would love to be a writer and a speaker. I would love to exchange my scrubs for pretty shoes. The Bible says, "A word aptly spoken is like apples of gold in settings of silver." (Proverbs 25:11) Which means saying the right thing at the right time is pretty darn cool and feels really good to deliver. That feeling is a little bit of a high. It can be addictive. I love it when my words resonate in someone's heart. But I also like to be lauded. I like to be told that I've touched someone with my words. I like to be praised. 

That doesn't happen much in raising kids or teaching people how to use a sock aid after a hip replacement. And when I dwell on that fact, seeds of discontent start to sprout. 

It's time to keep my eyes on my own plate, to remember that being in the center of His will is always the right place to be, regardless of how invisible I may feel there. I only want to do that which is His idea. 

God resists the proud, but gives grace to the humble. James 4:6b

I need grace. Lord knows I need grace. I do not need the pride that comes with praise. I do not want to be resisted by my God. 

Oh, Lord, help me to walk in humility. Break down the barrier of foolish pride that I so often place between us. Please do not resist me. I need your grace. I cannot do this life without You. Help me find joy in the journey that You have given me. I'm Yours. My life is Yours. Forgive me for wishing it were different. 

Sacrifice, Redemption, Amazing Grace

I've been thinking about redemption. It's hard not to with a physical, living, breathing, walking example of it living under my roof. In writing about Bogdan's adoption on my other blog, I am overwhelmed by the sense of deja vue. His story is similar to....something. But what?

The nagging feeling follows me as I go about my life. Why does his story seem so familiar? Why does it invoke such a depth of emotion in me? It's more than just being his mom, although there is a lot of emotion associated with that alone. 

In grappling with the idea of finding that which was lost, it finally hits me square between the eyes. 

His story is my story, too.

His was one of abandonment, rejection, neglect.
Mine was one of darkness, separation, death.

The ending of his story was rewritten. Mine was, too.

He was chosen. We searched for him and once we found him, moved heaven and earth to get to him, at great cost to ourselves and our family. 

I was chosen. Like the lone sheep separated from the flock, I was searched for and found. God moved heaven and earth and sacrificed His Son to get to me. 

And here's the thing: Being a three-year-old with a cognitive disability, Bogdan shows no gratitude for his new life. We wouldn't expect him to. In fact, I'm sure being ripped away from everything he knows and tossed into this family hardly feels like a gift, at this point. But we love him. Oh, how we love him! He is not, nor will he ever be, a perfect son...and we don't care. With all his self-stimming, hitting, throwing food, etc, we accept him as he is. He is ours and always will be.

Being a human with a sin nature, I show little gratitude for this life I have been given. In fact, I often complain about my circumstances and rail against the One who rescued me from death. I am not, nor will I ever be the perfect daughter, but I am accepted anyway. He loves me. Oh, how He loves me! I am His and always will be. 

I have an adoption certificate with an official seal from Serbia certifying that Bogdan will always be mine. Likewise, Scripture tells me that I am sealed in the Holy Spirit (Ephesians 4:30) and that my name is written in the book of life because of my adoption by my Father God (Ephesians 1:5). 

Like Bogdan, I don't have to perform or have the right attitude or strive to be loved. I am just loved. 

My life is not pretty. I am not all the things I think I should be as a follower of Christ. I am prone to laziness, driven by distraction, scattered, and chronically impatient. I'm a mess.

But God thinks I am a beautiful mess. And He loves me. He knows me, all of me, and He loves me. 

When I am still and really ponder that idea, it takes my breath away. 

Sacrifice, redemption, amazing grace - the story of my life through the eyes of the One who knows me best...and loves me most.

The Moment - an update

For those of you that read my last post, Hanging by a Thread, here's an update of sorts on my relationship with Bogdan. I think we've turned a corner and I'm grateful for your prayers! 

The Moment

(I know...it's ridiculous and confusing to have two blogs.)

Hanging by a Thread

I brought this on myself. I know that now. I even anticipated much of it. I was informed, educated, and prepared. I counted the cost and made the leap...

...and landed without a parachute. 

I'm exhausted. No, not just exhausted...weary. I can see my self aging a little more every time I glance in the mirror. The fine lines are turning into deep crevices at an alarming rate. Not enough skin cream in the world to slow the decline. 

Mentally, I'm fuzzy all the blasted time. At work, I was helping a patient get out of bed and I put her shoes on the wrong feet. (Thankfully, she had a sense of humor.) I forget to show up for appointments, to return messages, what I was just talking about mid-sentence. 

My emotions are bubbling just below the surface. One sappy Hallmark commercial and I'm toast, brought to my knees with tears overflowing. One defiant child and I'm a raging monster, scaring the people I love the dearest. 

Adoption is hard. I'm not going to sugar-coat it. It's messy and exhausting. I was wrong when I said it's not weird. It is. It's very weird to take on a child with a lifestyle and a history foreign to your own. To parent a child whose smile either means, "You're funny and I like you" or, "You have exactly 2.3 seconds before I'm going to knock your glasses clean off your face," depending on... who knows what?


In the words of the late Derek Loux:

My friends, adoption is redemption. It's costly, exhausting, expensive, and outrageous. Buying back lives costs so much. When God set out to redeem us, it killed Him. And when He redeems us, we can't even really appreciate or comprehend it...

So, once again, it's not really about me. It's not about how I feel or what I'm experiencing. 

It's about a little boy who was thought to have been abandoned, but in fact, had a great big God who was always with him and loved him so much He tugged on our hearts, six thousand miles away. 

And, mostly, it's about that God who loves us so much He gently pulled us from our comfortable, complacent life into the great adventure and is allowing us the privilege of sharing in His suffering, one sleepless night at a time. 

He ministers to my heart even now and gives me just enough for today. At this moment, He has blessed me with a quiet house with sleeping children (including the new kid!) in which to write these thoughts and allow my perspective to be changed. He's teaching me to love, really love, without return. He's skimming off the dross that keeps bubbling to the surface in all this heat. He's lending me His strength and tenderly ministering to me His grace. 

He is good. And He is greatly to be praised!

And I find myself refreshed.

Choosing Rest and Life

May has been a hard month. I went into more detail about the last week on my other blog, here. I have found myself repeatedly questioning the stupidity of choosing this month to deny myself the pleasure of indulging in eating out. 

I'm struggling with stress and I'm finding that the things that used to help alleviate it, albeit for a short time, are no longer working. A cup of good coffee, some time on facebook, a quick game of Scramble, or a favorite show are no longer filling the void. 

I was thinking it about it yesterday and realized, those things were never meant to bring me peace. I am supposed to rely on the grace of God. 

I say I do that and in crisis situations, I actually do, but in the day to day - the stress of real life - not so much. 

One of the reasons we have received the children that we have, including Bogdan, was because we realized that coming to the end of ourselves is a good thing. However, now that I have arrived at the point where I truly cannot handle this life on my own, I find myself frustrated that my former pacifiers don't work. 

I don't want to invest the time in cultivating a relationship with the One who brings me peace. It might take too long. Better to fritter away what little extra time I have on things that are quick and fleeting and don't actually help.

And so I wallow in a constant state of frustration and stress and irritability and it is no way to live.

This day I call heaven and earth as witnesses against you that I have set before you life and death, blessings and curses. Now choose life, so that you and your children may live. Deuteronomy 30:19 (NIV) 

Choose life so that you may live. I can almost see God raising His hand saying, "Pick me! Pick me! Put away the cupcake, drive past the drive thru, put down the remote, silence your phone, turn off the laptop.

Pick up my Word, fall on your knees, lift up your hands. Call on Me!

Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened and I will give you rest." Matthew 11:28

He will give me rest.

Rest sounds amazing. Rest sounds like the opposite of stress and frustration. Rest sounds like living.

I choose life.

Update on my Gluttony (Could I think of a less interesting title?)

Since my confession last week, I've started reading the book, 7:An Experimental Mutiny Against Excess by Jen Hatmaker. It is fascinating. The first chapter caused an interesting dialogue with my husband about our personal contribution to excess in this culture. My confession here weighed in a lot. We knew we could never maintain a restriction as severe as the author did in the book for an entire month, but we wanted to do something. 

We decided we would not eat out the entire month of May. 

To most people, that is probably not a big deal. To me, huge. When I started working full-time, I reveled in the freedom of stopping for Starbucks for my morning coffee, then lunching with my co-workers wherever we felt like going at least a few times a week. That morphed into driving through to get a big cookie or a brownie or a big slice of pizza at the end of a stressful day. 

At first, it was the freedom that I relished. As a stay-at-home-mom, I seldom (never) went anywhere without a child, aka witness, aka beggar. Driving thru was a hassle with all the "Can I haves" and "I wants" and then bragging to the siblings about their treat the moment we walked in the door and dealing with the resulting "How come I didn'ts."

I love coffee (seriously, love) and getting my favorite brew to enjoy in the quiet of my car was a dream come true. Having adult conversations with adults over food that someone else prepared and brought me while I sat with adults...priceless.

As with all things new, the excitement began to fade but by then I felt I needed those things. It was part of the "free me" I had become. 

So, to eliminate the possibility of any of that caused me to immediately feel suffocated. Which obviously proved that I needed this.

Here it is, day 5. I found $15 cash in my purse the first day and promptly decided that anything I bought with it didn't count since it was basically free money. Talk about the letter of the law and not the spirit. So I lasted until day 4 and bought a Happy Meal on my way home from work yesterday since I had been too busy to eat lunch. Plus, I knew my people weren't home to catch me in the act. (Integrity is just oozing out of me. Sigh.)

But it's a start. 

Last week was one of the most stressful we've had in awhile. I was so tempted to stop and use my secret cash stash for something chocolate. Instead, I prayed all the way home from work. I felt better by the time I arrived. I'm taking baby steps to rely on Him instead of artificial fillers. I'm spending more time in the Word, at least a little each day, and I'm making a point to stop and look my children in the eye when they speak to me if I'm on the computer. 

I've been a glutton for a long time. I have a long way to go. But His grace is sufficient for me and His strength is made perfect in my weakness. Denying self, even a little bit, is causing me to rely on that grace.

And that's a very good thing.