This may be my longest absence yet. It is certainly not for lack of things to write, but rather desire to protect privacy and hearts, and find my own feelings about the year.
Little Man has experienced a lot of new firsts in 2017. Now home three years, we finally are beginning to feel the earth solidify under our feet. His multiplying medical diagnoses and unresolved trauma have made it difficult to find our footing as parents. He has been home now longer than he was an orphan and we are beginning to see significant progress in his ability to understand family. Do not misunderstand, we still have multiple, daily struggles as the permanent trauma and the attachment disorders rear their heads and threaten to shake the ground beneath us, but we are beginning to find ways to release our own trauma triggers instead of letting each uprising cripple us in our parenting.
Little Man also started kindergarten at a local school this year! We worked hard at homeschooling for two years but have found this to be a much better fit for him in this particular season of life. His school, and especially his teacher, have been absolutely fantastic about taking the time to listen to explanations about trauma, his many diagnoses, and how they have affected him at home. We were afraid that school would be too much for him, and honestly we (and many of his medical team) thought that we would have to pull him out after about a month, but to our pleasant surprise, he has adjusted beautifully. There have been some very hard days and he still comes home and sleeps for several hours out of pure mental and physical exhaustion, but he truly loves his time at school. It has been a wonderful experience for our family. We still maintain that we will evaluate each of our children's needs each year to determine whether each individual child should do homeschool or the school system. So he may return to homeschool in the future, but this year, we are really pleased with his experience. His teacher is absolutely precious and an answer to the specific prayers of many who have asked God to continue to provide individuals to help bring him to healing.
We were finally able to have our first MRI done for Little Man this fall. It has taken us three neurosurgeons, but we finally found one who was willing to put in significant effort to identify the specific type of shunt he has and determine that the metal in it is MRI compatible. So for the first time in his 6 years of life, we finally have a clear view of what is actually going on in his brain and spine. We found some new things from this scan that will be monitored throughout his life, but we are thrilled to learn that we do not need to pursue brain or spinal surgery right now like we expected. We are pretty certain some surgeries will be needed in the future (to correct his severe scoliosis at the very least), but we were relieved to learn we would not have to replace his shunt just to have a MRI to determine if spinal surgery was also needed.
Little Man has matured a lot this year. His time at school has played a large part in this. He is learning how to write his name, play with peers, and many other things that have been so great for him. He says recess is his favorite because he gets to blow bubbles. Ha! Some days when he mentions this, I have a hard time not flashing back to when we met him in the orphanage and showed him bubbles for the first time. My, how his life has changed! My brave boy wheels off to class each day and tackles this huge world and new experiences like a champ! I am so incredibly proud of him and all of the things that he has accomplished. When we were in the adoption process, I remember reading a blog where a mom talked about how some days parenting her trauma-affected children, she would have to find things to celebrate each day- like them buckling their own seatbelts. On days now when he can fasten the clip himself, I think of just how very far he has come. That same malnourished child who was facing a transfer to an adult mental institution at the age of 5- a certain death sentence in his situation- is now rolling around kindergarten, buckling his own seatbelt, ordering his own food at restaurants, holding his baby sister, and writing his name. What a blessing he is!
We also just recently returned from a trip to Disney World with my family. Watching Little Man try to understand how the princesses were suddenly alive and talking to him was absolutely hilarious. For the first few days, he mostly stared at the characters, mouth open, but by the end of the trip, he was giving everyone he saw his best Flynn Rider smolder. It was a much needed week of fun and time away from the stress of real life for all of us. I think, in time, we will find that some of our favorite family memories of our kids' childhood will be the ones we took away from that trip.
For the sake of transparency, I will admit that this year has given me days that have been difficult to see the blessings all around me. I glanced over my last blog post from January and recalled yet again that my focus for this year was to be joy. Now that we are almost to the end of it, I think that the word that better describes the bulk of 2017 is weariness. There have been many obstacles this year within the realms of family, medical diagnoses, and perseverance in trauma that have threatened to steal that very joy I was desperate to cling to. In this year, most of the lessons the Father has taught me have not focused specifically on Little Man. And so for that, I will be quite open in this post about things in our personal lives that do not specifically involve Little Man.
We buried my beloved uncle the week after Easter. He is my third uncle I have lost to suicide. After I got the unexpected call Easter morning, the Hubs found me crumpled on the closet floor, unable to even find the words to tell him what had happened. In losing this man that I loved so dearly and grew very close to in recent years, I struggled to find God's goodness. I could not wrap my head around a God that did not provide the healing that my uncle so desperately cried out for. The same questions about God's healing for Little Man's physical, mental, and psychological health are continuously raging in my own heart and overwhelm me if I am not careful to deal with them when the grief arises. And now I was faced with a different situation, but the same questions. In my lack of understanding, I have found Him to be faithful. I have found that He can handle my balled fists of rage and sobs. I have found that He has not left me in my grief, for He too stood at the tomb of his loved one and wept. I have found that, fortunately, His faithfulness and goodness do not depend on me in any way.
Six months later, I was standing in an airport, about to board a plane back to Little Man's home country in an effort to follow this same God across the ocean in obedience of sharing His hope with those who have not heard, when my phone rang again. My grandma was calling to give me a few precious moments to talk to my rapidly declining grandfather. I did not know at that time, but those were my final goodbyes to him. I stood in a crowded airport with tears streaming down my face and stepped onto the plane, despite every piece of me wanting to run onto a plane flying in the opposite direction. I heard the gentle whisper in my soul, "And He said to another, 'Follow Me.' But he said, 'Lord, permit me first to go and bury my father.' But He said to him, 'Allow the dead to bury their own dead; but as for you, go and proclaim everywhere the kingdom of God.'"
When we landed, the text came through that he had passed away about an hour into our flight. And I was on the other side of the world. Too far away to be able to sit with my relatives in our overwhelming grief as they buried my precious PawPaw next to his sons.
About a week after we came home from that trip, we received some test results for Little Man that rocked us a bit. Knowing your child's future and hearing it from the mouth of a doctor are two different things. I have had to accept in this past month that what I wanted for Little Man will likely be just out of grasp. And instead of letting it rot inside my heart, I have had to painfully ask God what He is doing with this. I assure you, I'd much rather tuck it away to easily stew and decay inside my soul instead of search for God's goodness while in the midst of the grief in losing two men I love with my whole heart and also facing fear of the future. Taking it to Him means I have to actually acknowledge the reality of it all.
This has not been the year of the joyous triumph I had hoped for. This has been a year of trying to find the courage to keep crawling forward. But I have found that I have a much better perspective of the Creator God in this position. This massive Maker of galaxies and dandelions was not on this mountaintop of joy that I had anticipated this year. Instead I have found Him sitting next to me in the ashes. And I have found joy in His nearness as He binds up my wounds.
This past year has been one of my hardest years yet. I still randomly find myself wiping sudden tears from my face as the reality of losing of two of my favorite people in the whole world catches me by surprise during the day. Big Sister still frequently cries herself to sleep at night, clutching her PawPaw's shirt. This week, as we nestle in the house for a holiday break and I feel the weather finally cool outside while wrapping my hands around a warm cup of tea, I have found that God has met me in this season. He has held me in my grief and anger and lack of understanding. He has gently whispered Truth to my heart that has sustained me. When I was fearful of turning to Him and finding the harsh rebuke of a righteous King because of my own unfaithfulness, I instead found the embrace of a loving and forgiving Father.
As our travels have ended for the year, and we settle down for, hopefully, a peaceful winter, I find myself enjoying the familiar annual longing for Christmas. There is something magical about the advent season. The anticipation. The crisp wind knocking the last leaves to the ground. A dying creation longing for its coming King.
After so much loss this year, I catch myself aching for this birth of the Messiah. I have seen the brokenness in myself and in this world. I have seen the horrible pain of death, neglect, fear, trauma, addiction, sickness, hopelessness, anger, cancer, and forgotten children. How can we survive this kind of anguish without this Savior? This Baby coming to die. This warrior King coming to our rescue. This loving Father coming to heal our brokenness. This Jesus. Precious, magnificent, holy Jesus. How can it be that He would step down from His glorious throne to take on our flesh and our pain? That He would willingly come into this world's pain and take it on His own shoulders to offer us true peace?
The weeks leading up to Christmas are holy anticipation. The longing to meet this Baby at the manger and follow Him to the cross. We are all broken. We are all sinful. Jesus left His place in heaven to take on lowly human flesh, live a sinless life, and endure God the Father's wrath against our sin by allowing Himself to die on a cross. But three days later, he conquered death and rose from the grave. He offers salvation from our sin. We cannot be reunited with God without Jesus. There is no salvation without Jesus. There is no joy without Jesus.
How can we not look forward to His coming when so much is at stake?!
When we see the nativity sets this year, may we look at that manger and see it for what it really is. That manger is the coming cross. It is our freedom. It is our peace. It is our reconciliation with God. It is our joy.
So this year, while it has been marked by much tragedy, is still oozing with unending joy. Because the pain of this year is nothing in comparison of being separated from Him. And because He has come to us, there is joy. Even in the midst of suffering.
Can you feel the weight of it all? He didn't leave us here in this anguish.
He didn't leave us here.
We wait anxiously for Christmas because it represents that He came.
He came.
Our eternal freedom slept in that manger. And so we hold our breath with all of creation, awaiting the angels' song.
Our Joy is coming!
"and though you have not seen Him, you love Him, and though you do not see Him now, but believe in Him, you greatly rejoice with joy inexpressible and full of glory, obtaining as the outcome of your faith the salvation of your souls." 1 Peter 1:8 & 9
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