After playing around in the backyard, my son quietly opened the screen door, placed two “flowers” on the floor, closed the door, and then said, “Mommy, I got you something.” I pretended I didn’t know that he had done this, and acted surprisingly thankful for his gift.
A few minutes later he said, “Do you know what those are?” I replied, “Yes, they are dandelions.” “No, they are not”, he boldly stated. “Oh, well then what are they?” I asked.
“Mommy, they are wishing flowers!”
I thanked him again, picked up the wishing flowers, and then went about finishing up cleaning the kitchen. I meant to make a wish with them, but my son and I got distracted, and moved on to other tasks to be done for the day.
My son’s vision about what most of us consider weeds got me to thinking about the perspective often used when looking at events or circumstances in life. If something difficult comes my way, do I perceive it as having the possibility of hope? I’d like to say I do, but have to admit that there have been times where I’ve thought, “What a bad thing for this to be happening right now.”
In most respects, dandelions can become quite a nuisance when landscaping. I actually think of them more as a weed than a flower. Children love to pick them so that they can give them a slight puff of air which in turn sends their seedlings out into the world to create even more dandelions. My son views them as opportunities for hopes to be fulfilled through unspoken wishes.
Like my son’s view of dandelions, God doesn’t see us as weeds, or nuisances either. Instead, He sees us as having the great possibility to live meaningful and fulfilling lives.
God picks us up, and gives us fresh, loving air so that we can spread out into the world sharing light, hope, and most important of all, love.
Looking at the image above of my family causes me to think of how blessed I am. We are a family filled with lots of love, lots of trial and errors, lots of do-overs, and lots of moments that leave us laughing. Looking at the image above makes my heart happy, and yet, it also makes my heart a little sad.
I know that sounds strange to say it makes me sad, but truthfully, it invokes a sliver of sadness. It is not my children or my husband that do this to me. It is the thought that my family…my everything here on Earth….was created out of the terrible circumstances of others. The birth parents, grandparents, cousins, siblings, and other relatives that will not be pictured on the couch together with my children are on my mind. My children will most likely never be embraced by their birth grandparents. We have some limited contact with a sibling of my daughter, and we send letters to my son’s birth mother, but these things do not replace or ever will replace growing up in their families of origin.
I love the little ones I’ve been charged of taking care of. I love them so much that my heart can’t help but break for what their birth parents have or are going through. Substance abuse, mental illness, instability, homelessness, severe impoverishment…you name it….these are the things that make up the lives of birth families of the sweet ones I tuck in at night. I know that the Lord formed my family. I know that He took the messiness of life’s problems, and created the portrait of love above. I know this.
Adoption has blessed me in some many ways. It has fulfilled that deep longing to live for and love on a child. It has broken me, humbled me, and rebuilt me again. Taking in someone else’s child has brought me to my knees in tears and in prayer. It is complicated, requires full attention, and yet, it is beautiful. It is beautiful.
Still yet, my heart aches for those out there with whom my children come from that are missing out on the hugs, kisses, temper tantrums, scrapes, good dreams, bad dreams, and longings of children learning who they are in the world. It was not meant to be this way. Fathers and mothers were not meant to abandon their children, have severe addictions, or struggle with mental illness. Still, here I am benefiting from these tragedies.
People may look at our situation and think, “What a great thing that has happened for them.” I think that way too, but still, in that quiet place of my heart, that place that is secret, I grieve for my children’s birth mothers. I carry them with me. I think about them when celebrating the goodness of my children.
I know the day will come when my children will learn and fully understand the circumstances that opened their paths to our hearts and our home. I know that day will be hard. It saddens me. It worries me, and it humbles me. It also builds my courage to do a better job as a parent, to try each day anew to meet my kids where they are at, and to gently guide them as they grow.
There’s a lot of love on the couch in the photograph above. There are moments of utter chaos and craziness that comes with three young children. There are moments of exhaustion, and moments of exhilaration There is definitely plenty of happiness that goes around.
There’s also a family sitting there that has shed tears, whispered prayers, and spoken hope. There are two parents who know that out of the ashes of mistakes, darkness of addictions, and pain of regrets, this family…our family….was created.
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Your word is a lamp for my feet, a light on my path. Psalm 119:105
I’m exhausted from the day. It is not that I’m physically exhausted, but emotionally exhausted. Our hearing was heard today to obtain custody of the precious little one who has come to live with us. I fret over his future, and yet, I love his birth mother as she too is a child I once carried around as an infant. My husband and I petitioned for guardianship of the baby because we love him and we love his birth mother, his grandmother, and his great-grandparents. We are all family, and family matters.
I’m exhausted from the day. I had to be on the witness stand to testify as to why I would be a good home for him. I had to prove myself, my experience, my relationships, and my stability. This is not the first time I’ve had to do this. Being a former foster parent felt like a constant attempt to prove myself as being worthy of being a parent. I have not cared for a single child that has come to me free of legal strings attached. I’ve had to testify and show the courts and other powers-that-be that I am capable of providing and loving on a child with-whom I’ve already taken into my home, cared for, and loved on. I’ve had to prove myself, and yet, the Lord already approves of me.
I’m exhausted from the day, but, I have this sense of inner peace. I know that my God loves this precious little one more than I can ever imagine. He commands this child’s destiny. He has written his past, his present, and his future. He sings over this baby, and He rejoices over his growth like a proud daddy. The Lord, and His word are the lamp upon his feet, and the light upon his path. Truthfully, He is the lamp upon all of our feet, and the light upon our paths.
I’m exhausted from the day, but also at peace knowing that the Lord would not set me and my family upon this path if any of this didn’t matter to Him. I sat in the court room today at the table with sweaty palms, quick breaths, and a rolling stomach. I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and welcomed the Lord into the courtroom. I said softly to myself, “Lord, be with me.” Although nervous and uncertain what the Judge would think, I felt great strength knowing that God was with me.
I’m exhausted from the day, but not worn out. I know this fight, this passion to protect, and this path has been lit by the light of the Lord, and the choice to love the way He wants us to. I know that He is the lamp upon which my feet walk, and that each step forward may feel like it is in darkness, but not for long. I know that He will light the way.
Custody was granted for us today. This little babe that we love is with us for now at least. Custody may be temporary, and I may not know what the future holds for him or for his place in our family, but I know who holds his future. I know to trust the Lamp that will guide the child’s feet, and the Light that will brighten his path.
I know in the depths of my being that the Lord loves this precious baby more than I could ever imagine or fathom…now that is something that refreshes my soul.
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His 1st art exhibit at a local community center! (one of his many talents)
A pitiful sounding knock on the front door told me that my son was coming inside a little earlier than expected. When questioned about the time he had outside, he told the story of being “told” to go home because he didn’t want to play the game the other kids wanted to play. My heart sunk a little. I know that he was probably leaving out a few details, and perhaps he was being a little aggressive, selfish, or anything else that a boy can be, but I didn’t really care. My heart hurts when his heart is hurting.
A few minutes later he got mad at his sister for a trivial thing, erupted into tears, ran to his room, and shut the door. We gave him his space, but eventually my husband went into his room to console him. I’m not sure if we ever will know the full story of what happened with the other boys on the street, but obviously my son felt like an outcast.
My maternal, bear-like instincts kicked in immediately. Truth be told, I wanted to march right across the street, ask what happened, and why my son was the only one not playing outside with them. I didn’t though. I stayed in and stewed a minute within myself trying to come up with the right words for him. I eventually said, “It’s okay if you don’t want to play tag or anything else they want to play. You don’t have to go along with what they want to do all of the time, and the next time they come over and ask if you if you want to play, it’s okay for you to say no, if that’s what you want to do.”
I don’t know if that was the right response. It’s hard to teach a child to stick up for himself/herself in this age of “bully-hood”. I want my children to stand up for themselves, but at the same time, I don’t want their stance to backfire and for them to be labeled. This is not the first time he has been let down by the kids on the street. I witnessed a few of them making fun of him and not “allowing” him to play with them. On that day, I spoke up and said to these boys, “If you don’t have anything nice to say, please don’t say anything at all.”
I have not really ever written about the challenges we have raising a son with ADHD. A part of me feels as though I’m betraying him a bit by even mentioning it. Yet, there is another part of me who needs to reach out about parenting a child with it. Prior to seeing “it” in action, I got caught up in the thinking that “every child is hyper/he’s just a boy”. I’ve learned through first-hand experience that raising a child with ADHD is difficult. It causes social problems, potential behavioral problems, and can affect self-esteem.
I know he can be impulsive at times, might not listen with intensity, makes friends and loses them quickly, and always seems to be one step ahead of his peers. I also know that he gets bored with repeated play and does tend to play by himself a lot. I’ve heard comments suggesting that he just needs to be disciplined, or he needs to act like other boys, etc. When things like this are said, it stings a bit. I’m not excusing any of his social or behavioral challenges because of ADHD, I’m just keenly aware that there are certain symptoms that go along with the diagnosis. Even I find myself struggling at times with patience in having to redirect him numerous times about the same thing over and over again.
With all of that being said, I also know that he is an incredible child with an inquisitive mind, a tender heart, an artistic streak, and a will as strong as steel. He’s a unique little guy who loves life and loves his family. His mind is constantly creating new ways of doing things. He can make a project out of scraps and comes up with ideas of how to use various items around the house for future pieces of artwork. In other words, he’s a Super-Boy!
If only others would see him through my eyes, maybe he would be understood a little bit more. I know all of the reasons why he entered protective services at the age of two-days-old. I know his history and the history of his biological family. I know his struggles, his insecurities, and his talents. I know his desire to have solid friendships as well. He will never fit into a box that others may want him to, including the box I might desire for him at times. He is more than ADHD – so much more.
I also wonder if we could all take a look around us and see each other the way our Heavenly Father sees us. He sees us through eyes of grace. He knows our past, our insecurities, our struggles, our talents, and our desires. He also knows that our past does not dictate our future, and our failures do not outweigh our successes.
Who knew the rejection of playtime outside in the middle of America would cause me to think about all of this?!? It seems that life can throw so many parenting lessons at us, and the Lord’s wisdom abounds in these teachable moments. It also reminds me that we need to continually build our children up. We need to be bold enough to tell them just how incredible they are not just because they are children, but because they are diverse and talented with their own set of gifts to offer to the world.
Raising a child with ADHD presents challenges on a day-to-day basis. It doesn’t just go away over time, and to be honest, I’m not entirely sure how it will unfold in my son’s life as he grows into adolescence. One thing I do know is that my love of him pales in comparison to God’s love for him, and that is something I can always be sure of.
Are you parenting a child with ADHD? If so, what are some strategies you use to increase social skills and reduce any other types of behaviors that come along?
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We have survived our first week and a half with an additional little one living in our home. Having three children under the age of six years of age and a full-time job outside of the home has made for some interesting changes in our schedules and time spent on various tasks. From Legos on the table to semi-folded laundry piled on a chair to baby wipes dispersed throughout, one can tell our lives have been a little hectic lately. Let’s just put it this way, if you were to walk into my home, you would certainly find the remnants of childhood scattered throughout.
My mom stopped by this afternoon and before she could enter the living room, I found myself issuing an apology of sorts for the way the house looked. Before I digress any further, I should tell you that I’ve never been one to have a perfectly clean home at all times. Life is not perfect. I am not perfect, and, in my opinion, homes certainly need to look as though they are lived in.
After weaving our way through the living room, stepping over a few toys, and entering the kitchen (which was equally “lived in”), I said to my mom, “I’ve decided that no one will say “Caroline sure kept a clean house” at my funeral.” My mom (whose home is almost always immaculate), agreed with this statement by saying something to the effect of “Yeah, you’re right. They won’t be saying that.”
Now, one might take offense to this, but I don’t. The truth is that is not what I hope people say at my funeral anyway. I don’t want to be known for neatly folded towels. The towels are clean, they are good at drying off the kids, and well, they serve their purpose. I certainly won’t be known for clutter-free floors. I have a boy who loves Legos and any other small knick-knacky kind of gadgets he can find. These little feet-killers usually find their way from the floor to the skin of my bare feet on any given day. My floors have toys splattered around like some sort of painting. I choose to refer to it as “artistic expression”.
I have a daughter whose short attention span leans towards getting out stuffed animals, baby dolls, kitchen utensils, art supplies, blankets, and even more blankets. If you ever come to my home, you will not need to worry about being cold! There are plenty of blankets and baby dolls lying around the living room for you to snuggle.
The newest member of our home is a 7-month-old baby boy. He really can’t be blamed for any mess necessarily, unless you consider that laundry just got increased, stinky diapers make their way to our trash can, and formula is sometimes dusted onto our counter-tops like some sort of cooking seasoning. He even likes to “season” me with formula from time-to-time. I may even use it as perfume soon!
I say all of this jokingly, but also as a reminder to myself, and maybe a few other moms, to stop fretting over the small stuff. Yes, it can be distressing to have little dirt and clutter fairies sprinkling their magic around the house right after I get through cleaning it. It may frustrate me that I can’t just wiggle my nose like “I Dream of Jeannie”, and make the house instantly clean up. I may even find myself full of doubt about being able to manage three young children, a job, and a home at the same time, but, at the end of the day, I need to remember these are not the things I want to be remembered for anyway.
Years before any of this occurred, I never dreamed of having a home full of loving, laughing, playful, and messy children. I never imagined that I would spend a great deal of time playing catch up on the housework, folding little girl’s dresses, getting stains out of blue jeans, or bending over to pick up toys at random spots throughout the house. I certainly never thought I would care for a third baby (wow- what a blessing).
I never really pictured children in my life at all.
I know the cleanliness (or lack there of on any given day) of my home will not be spoken about when reflecting on my life. I won’t be known as an extremely organized parent who spent a great deal of time labeling drawers, or using a color-coded closet organization system. I certainly won’t be known as carrying any hint of perfection in my personal, professional, or domestic life.
At the end of my life, I hope I’m known for what the Lord has done. I hope people speak about my life that went from being barren to blessed. I hope people can say that they saw me living a life yearning to do His will. I pray my children will say this as well.
No, I may not have the cleanest home on the block. I may not fold laundry in a timely manner, frantically sweep up all the little dust bunnies that hang out under the beds, or even stay up extra late to get that last bit of cleaning done. At the end of my life, I pray I will be known for having a home that welcomed children, welcomed love, and welcomed Him.
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I was running a little late yesterday picking my son up from school. Up to this point, we have had a fairly routine pick-up schedule. I arrive about ten minutes before school lets out, park in the same area, walk in to the main doors, and wait on a bench until I see his smiling face walking down the hall towards me. Yesterday though, I was about ten minutes late from my usual pick-up time.
As I approached the door, I could see him sitting on the bench waiting for me with a slight look of worry on his face. He was searching through the small crowd of parents that had gathered in the front entrance. When the door opened, and I entered the building, he swung his head around and with a gleeful sound, he said, “Mommy!” We hugged, he told me about his day, and we made our way to the car.
I’ve been thinking about the look on my son’s face when I saw him through the door looking slightly distressed over my absence, and then again, at his joyful expression when he saw me. The thoughts that have come from this brief and somewhat insignificant moment is this, “It matters that we keep our word to children. It matters that they can rely on us to be there for them, and that we do what we say we are going to do.”
I couldn’t help but think about the kids in foster care that I used to work with as a case manager. Many were promised things by their parents and others that never came to fruition. Parents did not get clean from drugs, work their treatment plans, or “get them back” like they told their children they would. Several of the children meandered their way through the system (and many still do) moving from home to home without anyone committing to caring for them long-term. They were continually let down by the unfulfilled promises of adults.
Many of the kids have been failed often by adults in their lives even prior to entering foster care. Too many of them have never had anyone stick around long enough to help them lay down roots to a firm foundation for their future. One of the keys to successfully working with children in the foster care system is to say what you mean, and mean what you say. It also is vitally important to do what you say you are going to do.
My son’s look of relief upon seeing me yesterday after being just a few minutes late to pick him up reminded me of what I really already knew. Our responsibilities as parents and as adults is to keep the well-being of children in the forefront. The way we treat them, keep our word to them, and be intentional in their lives will shape their future, and in many ways, will shape ours.
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My children, I am not a perfect mother. Some days, I’m not even a good-enough mother. I cannot promise you that I won’t lose my temper or get disappointed at times. I cannot promise you that I will have all of the answers, save you from any pain, and agree with your choices. I cannot promise you that I will be walking here on this Earth with you for all of your days. I won’t promise you these things either.
The commitment made by my own mother to me while growing up, and even today, has spilled over into your lives as well. Through her, I witnessed what it was like to put someone else before one’s own needs. Through her, I learned that children should hear that their dreams can come true with hard work and heart. Through her, I learned to not allow one’s circumstances dictate one’s future. Through her, I learned that it is okay to not have all the answers, and that someday the answers might just be found. Through her, I learned to not walk away from commitments and family.
My children, I promise you that my overwhelming love for you will stay with me until my last breath. My protective instincts will linger throughout your growing-up years, and even while you too are feeling the instinct to protect your little ones. I promise you that I will try my very best to take care of myself so that our days will be long together. My desire to put your needs above mine, to sacrifice, to provide, to want more for you, to imagine better for you, to work harder for you, and to be your biggest cheerleader will not fade with time. I will pray for the Lord’s protection over you.
Each day is a gift from the Lord that presents me with the opportunity to steadfastly work on this art that is called motherhood.
My children, I may not be a perfect mother. I may not even be a good-enough mother on some days…but….I’m your mother, and I will not walk away.That is something I can promise.
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Matt, Heidi, Jaz, Shiloh, Sean, Annika, and Isaiah Freedom Photography
“Colors Don’t Matter” – Matt and Heidi’s Story
While sitting at a park bench watching my daughter play, I sat next to a woman who was also watching children play. Something about her seemed familiar. Although I rarely do this, I said to her, “Do I know you from somewhere?” This start of our conversation led to the realization that we have mutual friends. We also learned that we are both adoptive mothers of children out of foster care. We exchanged Facebook info, and each went our separate ways.
I’ve been wanting to share more stories of the “Backyard Missionaries” that make a difference in our communities. I think of foster/adoptive parents as missionaries serving others in their own backyards. I’ve asked Heidi and Matt to share their story….here it is.
Heidi has always had the desire to adopt even before she and Matt tried to get pregnant. After six years of marriage, they opted not to pursue infertility treatments, and instead, put their pursuit and efforts into adoption. Although Heidi yearned for pregnancy, once they began their journey of adoption, she quickly became excited about what was in store for them.
Their first son, Isaiah, was placed with them through a private adoption agency. They were blessed to be matched so quickly, but also noted that they were very open to race, and other issues such as prenatal drug usage. This level of openness certainly helped to speed up their placement matching.
Throughout the next four years, it was just Matt, Heidi, and Isaiah. They wanted more children, and chose to become licensed as foster parents in the hopes of eventually adding to their family. Within the first few months of licensure, they received a call about a sibling group of three children, ages 10 months, 2 years, and 3 years. A few months later, they were called to take placement of another little one. In a matter of months, they went from being a family of three to a family of seven!
They finalized their adoptions in 2011, and thought they were finished when they received a call from the local children’s protective services office in June 2012. Matt and Heidi say “yes” to a newborn sibling of their children. They continue to foster him, and if the case goal changes to adoption, they will add another little one to their amazing family!
For Matt and Heidi, the biggest joy is seeing their children grow and thrive. They recognize that the road of life these little ones were walking before coming to their home was a difficult one. It is indescribable to know that they have taken part in the incredible intervention of children’s lives.
Their oldest daughter really struggled when she came to live with them at age three. She desperately missed her birth mommy, and was angry. Matt and Heidi allowed these feelings, and helped her transition to their home by offering stability, love, and support. The quick adjustment from a small family to a large one was quite challenging at first, and it took them a while. Big is normal now, and they love it.
Questions from others such as, “Are you ever going to have children of your own?”, or “Which ones are brothers and sisters?” are ones that challenge Matt and Heidi. Although they have two biological sibling groups, they are ALL brothers and sisters, and do not see each other any different. As far as having their own children, Matt and Heidi know their children are their own, and quite simply do not understand why anyone else would feel different.
Adoption has changed their lives, formed their family, and has added incredible joy. Adoption has taught them the value of diversity. Theyembrace theiruniqueness as Caucasian parents raising African-American and Bi-racial children. Their family motto is “Colors Don’t Matter” . They have also learned that the ability to grow babies in a belly truly has nothing to do with the love and commitment of parenting. Adoption has taught them that love truly has no borders and knows no bounds.
Heidi’s and Matt’s advice for people considering adoption out of foster care is quite simple:
“Be patient. Have faith. The system is not perfect. Love the children.”
Think that is the end of the story? Oh, no. In 2014, after years of infertility, Matt and Heidi welcomed their baby girl, Haven, to their family.
I’ve come to believe that God doesn’t just work in mysterious ways, he works in MIRACULOUS ways. Just ask Matt and Heidi.
Sons are a heritage from the Lord, children a reward from him. Like arrows in the hands of a warrior are sons born in one’s youth. Blessed is the man whose quiver is full of them. They will not be put to shame when they contend with their enemies in the gate. -Psalm 127:3-5
Freedom PhotographyFreedom Photography
Matt and Heidi own a photography studio and completed a project called, “Courageous Love”. This gallery of images include families who have adopted out of foster care.
Matt, Heidi, Jaz, Shiloh, Sean, Annika, and Isaiah Freedom Photography
Sons are a heritage from the Lord, children a reward from him. Like arrows in the hands of a warrior are sons born in one’s youth. Blessed is the man whose quiver is full of them. They will not be put to shame when they contend with their enemies in the gate. -Psalm 127:3-5
One day while sitting at a park bench watching my daughter play, I sat next to a woman who was also watching children play. Something about her seemed so familiar. Although I rarely do this, I said to her, “Do I know you from somewhere?” This start of our conversation led to the realization that we have mutual friends. We also learned that we are both adoptive mothers of children out of foster care. We exchanged Facebook info, and each went our separate ways.
I’ve been wanting to share more stories of the “Backyard Missionaries” that make a difference in our communities. I think of foster/adoptive parents as missionaries serving others in their own backyards. I’ve asked Heidi and Matt to share their story….here it is.
Heidi has always had the desire to adopt even before she and Matt tried to get pregnant. After six years of marriage they opted not to pursue infertility treatments, and instead, put their pursuit and efforts into adoption. Although Heidi yearned for pregnancy, once they began their journey of adoption, she quickly became excited about what was in store for them.
Their first son, Isaiah, was placed with them through a private adoption agency. They were blessed to be matched so quickly, but also noted that they were very open to race, and other issues such as prenatal drug usage. This level of openness certainly helped to speed up their placement matching.
Throughout the next four years, it was just Matt, Heidi, and Isaiah. They wanted more children, and chose to become licensed as foster parents in the hopes of eventually adding to their family. Within the first few months of licensure, they received a call about a sibling group of three children, ages 10 months, 2 years, and 3 years. A few months later, they were called to take placement of another little one. In a matter of months, they went from being a family of three to a family of seven!
They finalized their adoptions in 2011, and thought they were finished when they received a call from the local children’s protective services office in June 2012. Matt and Heidi say “yes” to a newborn sibling of their children. They continue to foster him, and if the case goal changes to adoption, they will add another little one to their amazing family!
For Matt and Heidi, the biggest joy is seeing their children grow and thrive. They recognize that the road of life these little ones were walking before coming to their home was a difficult one. It is indescribable to know that they have taken part in the incredible intervention of children’s lives.
Their oldest daughter really struggled when she came to live with them at age three. She desperately missed her birth mommy, and was angry. Matt and Heidi allowed these feelings, and helped her transition to their home by offering stability, love, and support. The quick adjustment from a small family to a large one was quite challenging at first, and it took them a while. Big is normal now, and they love it.
Questions from others such as, “Are you ever going to have children of your own?”, or “Which ones are brothers and sisters?” are ones that challenge Matt and Heidi. Although they have two biological sibling groups, they are ALL brothers and sisters, and do not see each other any different. As far as having their own children, Matt and Heidi know their children are their own, and quite simply do not understand why anyone else would feel different.
Adoption has changed their lives, formed their family, and has added incredible joy. Adoption has taught them the value of diversity, and it is their uniqueness as Caucasian parents raising African-American and Bi-racial children that they embrace. Their family motto is “Colors Don’t Matter” . They have also learned that the ability to grow babies in a belly truly has nothing to do with the love and commitment of parenting. Adoption has taught them that love truly has no borders and knows no bounds.
Heidi’s and Matt’s advice for people considering adoption out of foster care is quite simple:
“Be patient. Have faith. The system is not perfect. Love the children.”
Matt and Heidi own a photography studio and are preparing to put together a gallery of images of families who have adopted out of foster care in an effort to promote this incredibly vital and worthy cause in our nation. You can check out their website at: www.Freedom-Photography.com
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When I was around 3-years-old, my mom recalls that my first day at preschool started with me jerking loose of her hand, boldly stating “I can do it myself!”, walking down the stairs, opening the door, and heading right into the preschool. I’m sure she stood there for a moment just a little speechless and saddened that her baby didn’t need help moving on to the next little adventure in life.
I am now parenting an extremely stubborn and strong-willed 4-year-old daughter who absolutely feels the need to do all tasks by herself, even the ones that cause her frustration. As her parent, I look on with impatience as she tries to tie her shoes. I know the end result will not be what she wants, but nevertheless, she attempts the same thing time and time again. In the end, she gives up, crying, throwing her hands up, and states “Can you just do it for me?” Even walking into the dance studio, she looked at me and said, “Okay mommy, you can go in, pay the bill, and then leave. I don’t want you walking me in.” Oh my!
Often, I tend to get frustrated with my children’s ever-present and willful streak of independence. Both of my children are fearless, very social, impulsive, and will walk any boundary line we set with one foot hanging over the edge. While my husband and I have learned to adjust to parenting two children who are boundary pushers, we have also learned that life with strong-willed children can be very exciting.
There are very few dull moments in our lives. Our children are not really shy about trying anything, and can usually create a buzz of energy just about anywhere they go. Sometimes, though, we worry about just how far our children will push boundaries throughout their lives. We want them to make choices that are safe and healthy, and yet, we do not want to break their spirits. We also know that life lessons are mostly made by mistakes, “do-overs” can be quite humbling, and natural consequences often teach more than any of the words we can use.
Thinking about the challenges we face as parents causes me to wonder how the Lord must feel when we cross the boundaries He so desires us to stay clear of. He too watches as we push to try to do everything ourselves, live with one foot hanging over the edge, and attempt to do the same thing OUR way even though we usually end in failure, frustration, and heart-break. While I have thrown my hands up in moments of parenting frustration thinking, “Why are they doing this?!?!”, He has thought the same thing about me.
Our ways of telling the Lord, “I can do it myself” are ones that potentially could be quite destructive. I think of thoughts and words that have been whispered off the lips of people such as, “I can quit drugs anytime I want”, or “I know how to fix this marriage”, or “I’ll let go of that issue when I’m ready”, or “I doubt my future will be worth anything”. For me, it was thoughts like “God really must never want me to be a parent”, and other musings that coursed through my mind. In other words, I was thinking “Lord, I don’t trust that You have my barrenness in Your hands.”
I am so thankful that the Lord allows natural consequences, do-overs, and mistakes to mold us. His words teach us how to live, but more importantly, how to love. I am also grateful that He continuously loves His stubborn children despite our attempts to turn away and not listen.
Mostly though, I remember that when He threw His hands up in the air because of us, they were nailed to a tree. This act was not done out of frustration, but of intense love. My salvation is not something I can do myself.
Then said Jesus, “Father, forgive them; for they know not what they do.” And they parted his clothing, and cast lots. –Luke 23:34
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After playing around in the backyard, my son quietly opened the screen door, placed two “flowers” on the floor, closed the door, and then said, “Mommy, I got you something.” I pretended I didn’t know that he had done this, and acted surprisingly thankful for his gift.
BARREN TO BLESSED 