Spring has FINALLY Sprung

It was {finally} warm outside today and we headed out to enjoy it!

Ruthanne and the boys invited us for bike riding.

 Naturally, there were races.

And after enough of that, it was off to the horses!

 Mr. "I don't ride horses" insisted on being first, the leader, and LOVED it.

Oh yes he did!

 Ethiopia, Uganda, Uganda, Guatemala, U.S. and Haiti to come.  Love.

 We're number one!

That's all she wrote!

Do you see them?

“Mom! Mom! MOM! Look what I made! Look what I can do!! Look at my drawing!!! Mom, MOM, MOM!!!! Looooookkkk at meeeeee!!!!!!!!” I look; I study; I love.

I see them as I hurriedly race up the stairs from the train to my office. The elderly couple, going down the stairs . . . during rush hour. They are clinging to a suitcase between them, trying to navigate stairs while hanging onto the wheels…. I see them. He whispers, “Help.” I don’t.

I’m on the street now, the wind cutting my skin despite the calendar screaming that it’s late spring. I throw my hood over my head and notice the people around me. Jaws set; faces stern; many hurting. Do you see them? I hurry along.

There she is again. A woman struggling to walk, to get across the street before the aggressive Chicago traffic fills the lanes. Again, he whispers, “Help.” Again, I don’t stop.

She’s playful and needy. She wants me to chase her. Her mom is there too . . . at the park . . . busy talking to grown-ups. “Chase ME!” she shrieks. And so I do, while I’m chasing my three. A moment of playfulness with a stranger. I see her.

He’s angry. Upset by a late train or the treatment of a police officer. That’s all I can make out as I rush by him. The officer is listening; remaining calm. He apologizes. The man is not interested. He needs to be heard. The officer sees him.

He’s new to America – confused and afraid. He knows our governments don’t like each other, his old and his new, but he doesn’t know why. No one sees him. He becomes angry because no one will listen to his hurt. His pain. We don’t see him. So he hurts people. Now we see him.

The service was terrible – worst in a long time. We were disappointed, but maintained our cool. My brother handled the message delivery. The manager heard and responded. He saw us. We might return.

We are waiting on the exit ramp of a highway. He hobbles toward us, using crutches. He needs something, anything. I yell at Julie to grab some money; I grab mine. We give him what amounts to less than $10. But this time He whispered, I listened, and I saw him.

I’ve been struck, over the last week, by how important it is for my children to be seen. For me to engage them. To look at their {crazy} creations. And ooh and aah over them. To hug them and listen to them. But not far behind that revelation has been conviction about when I fail to see.

There is so much heartache and pain in this world and I wonder…. How badly do the ones who hurt long to be seen? Who will look at them? Who will see them? REALLY see them? What a different world this might be if we all took more time to see and hear one another. To stop and notice the good things our children are doing. To play with the needy child at the playground. And, for me, to start listening to that still-small-voice whispering, prodding me to “Help,” because nothing else is really all that important. “Stop rushing,” the Holy Spirit begs. “Slow down. Be still. See people. Really see them.”

And so, I see.

Things I've learned since becoming a {single} parent

   Patience is a virtue.  You can never have enough patience.  While God has certainly grown my capacity for patience since becoming a mother five years ago, it’s never quite enough to cover the 200^th “why” question of the day.  Or to ignore the 10^th toy you’ve tripped over.  Patience is a virtue…. and one of which I *always* need more.

  Love multiplies.  Exponentially.  My love for Seth has done nothing but grow since he came home on November 16, 2007.  I think most of us would expect that.  But what is unexpected is how love multiplies.  Now, with three kids, I have three times the love walkin’ around outside of my body.  It’s incredible!  And it grows.  Daily.  

   Love is a choice.  Bonding doesn’t always happen immediately with your kiddos – whether adopted or born of your body.  I’ve had friends tell me that they have nothing in common with their biological child and difficulties bonding with him/her.  Also true in adoption.  But, see number 2:  love grows.  With all three of my kiddos, I love them more today than yesterday.  I expect to love them more tomorrow.  I pray so.

      Yelling accomplishes little.  When you up the ante, so do the kids.  Whispering is far more effective but a million times harder.  For me.

      Kids learn from you.  I know this is obvious, but it becomes painfully so when you are a parent.  My kids mimic nearly everything I do.  Talk about intimidating!  And, see number 4, they tend to mimic the things you would rather they NOT mimic.  Nothing breaks my heart more than hearing Seth yell at his siblings…. Because he heard me do the same to him.  Ugh.

      Kids listen.  An obvious theme of our family is adoption and caring for kids without parents.  The good part about this is that my kids have HUGE hearts for kids who need mamas.  Unfortunately, this means I get bombarded by them nearly every day begging for another child to be added to our family.  But I’m done.  We are full. 

      Older is wiser.  I’m very thankful that I waited to have my kids until I was a bit older.  Sure, I would have had more energy to chase them when I was 25, but instead, I had the chance to learn from others’ parenting what I wanted to do and not to do.  I had a chance to live out my life as a single woman before bringing on the responsibility of kiddos.  My age has been a blessing.  

      Parenting is hard.  Especially single parenting.  What job is right; which house to purchase; how to save for college; how many activities are too many; need a tutor?; school selections; church choices; discipline techniques; dating….  And the list goes on.  Parenting with two adults is hard enough.  Making all of those decisions alone can be daunting.  Don’t enter single parenting lightly.  It’s a big job.  

      Time management is paramount.  Finding the time to parent, have a job, keep up a house, exercise, attend a Life Group, and be a grown up every so often is work.  Managing “free time” in your day is key.  Can you read on the train to work?  Does quiet time need to happen before the kids are up or after they are down?  Can you grocery shop while one child is at ballet (thus making it easier since you have two rather than three with you)?  Can you change batteries {in innumerable toys} while the spaghetti water is heating to a boil?  Can you answer six emails while the babies are putting on their jammies and brushing their teeth?  

    Comparing never ends well.  My kids are not like anyone else’s, so don’t bother with the comparison game.  It’s not worth it and only leads to frustration, competition or worse.  My children are all beautifully and wonderfully made.  Full stop.

    Your kids will hurt you.  I don’t think they mean to, at this age, but one day they may.  Zechariah asking to go back to Uganda {every day} drives a knife into my gut.  I try to remember he is adjusting and it’s not personal, but remember number 2?  He’s already part of my heart outside my body.  Love is beautiful and it can hurt too.  

    Forgiveness is ready.  I screw up with my kids . . . a lot.  I need forgiveness . . . a lot.  At least with my kids, forgiveness comes fast and easy.  When I raise my voice {number 4}, whether necessary or not, I often beat myself up far longer than my kids even appear to remember it.  Having said that, Lord help me not to abuse their forgiveness because, as we all know, they will sit in a therapy chair about it one day.  Ha!

     My attitudes about food will be passed along.  I’ve noticed that what I say and do with food, my children say/do about food.  Just yesterday I heard Zechariah telling Seth, “If you don’t try new things, you won’t know whether you like them.”  Huh.  Wonder where he heard that one?!?!  I already feel worried about my gorgeous daughter and what jacked up warped ideas she may get about her body from this society.  I pray that God will help me instill healthy exercise/food priorities in my kids starting now.  

  It's not about me.    And yet, it is.  Parenting, for me, as been one of the most refining things in my life.  I have to constantly evaluate myself, my choices, and my behavior.  I see myself in them -- the good, the bad, and even the ugly.  God made me a mother so I could learn how to die to myself every.single.day.  And in a sense, making it all the more for HIS glory and my submission.  Even still, I'd do it all again in a heartbeat, if He asked me to.

Disclaimer:  This was something fun for me to write…. for ME.  If you are taking it personally or making it about you, you have misinterpreted what I was trying to do here.  I’m not sending a message to anyone and not talking about anyone but me and my family.  Okay?  Okay!