The Answer to the Question, Part Deux

"All things work together for the good of those that love God." Romans 8:28

Out of bad, good can come.

We can see it as good, even while we grieve the bad thing that made it possible. It doesn't diminish the grief, but it does offer a glimmer of hope.

I am still grieving a little boy I didn't really know. Does that sound silly? I know I felt a bit dumb, shedding tears for a child that was never really mine. That I'd never held, or spoken to, or even seen in 3 dimensions.

But at the same time I have been dealing with my sadness, I have continued to be assaulted on all sides by adoption. I can't watch tv without adoption stories creeping into the screenplays. I can't go to church without hearing a message about stepping out in faith, trusting God totally, following even when it doesn't seem to make a ton on sense. Adoption themes have cropped up in more scenarios than I can count. They just don't stop, and I think just maybe God is trying to get my attention a bit.

What astonishes me is that my husband, who has been with me in many of these scenarios, doesn't also see the adoption thread running through everything. However, we sat down last night and I was finally able to unburden myself to him, to really share what's been on my heart, what's been waking me up at night for the last 6 weeks or so. To explain to him how everywhere I turn I feel like I'm seeing big signposts that seem to point toward adoption.

But I also told him I can't do this on my own. This is too big, affects too many people, for me to drag everyone into it on my say so. We have to be a unified front here. We both have to believe that this is God's will for us. Unilateral action here is a recipe for disaster. So, if we're going to be a team, said he, then we need to find out more information. Can you (meaning me) see if there's an informational meeting we can go to, or a person we can meet with that can lay all this out for us so we can get a sense of whether we can proceed?

Well, yes I can.

It doesn't mean we'll adopt. But it means were going to approach it as a team. I feel so much more relaxed going toward this together than I did alone. I don't know where we'll end up, but at least we'll end up there as a couple.

I Know the Answer to this Question

Why, God? Seriously, why?

For weeks I have been gathering information on a little boy in China. I have been persistently nudging my husband, sharing my heart with him, patiently pointing out that we do, in fact, have the finances to proceed.

I knew that child's file inside and out. I felt like he was a perfect fit for our family. But I could. not. get. my. husband. to. move.

He wasn't saying no, precisely, just not really saying yes.

And now my little guy is no longer on this list. I think -- I am almost sure -- he has been matched with someone else.

I am MAD at my husband for dragging his feet. For being the eternal stick in the mud. I was ready to fly to China tomorrow, but he just couldn't be bothered to wrap his head around it long enough to really consider the possibilities.

And now my boy is gone. And I am sad.

Really, really sad.

And, yes, the answer to the question is that it just wasn't meant to be. It wasn't God's plan.

But I am still sad.

Thoughtful Thursday

5 things about Me:

1. I used to collect recipes that looked interesting or fun. Now my standard for recipe collection is what percentage of the family will mutiny if I cook it.

2. I do an excellent Sybil Fawlty impersonation. Oddly, there is very little call for this in my everyday life.

3. I am very good at yelling. Especially in traffic. You can check with my kids on this one if you need verification.

4. All those years ago, when I told my algebra teacher that I knew FOR SURE I would not need algebra in my future life? I was right.

5. Being a mom is hands-down the hardest job I have ever done. A room full of surly 17 year olds doing a read-through of Macbeth is a cake walk next to this mom gig.

Choosing

Okay God,

I don't know why you've put Tim through all of this job-related stress over the last 3 years, but I have just about had it. I am tired. I am tired of never seeming to have enough money, of busting my rear trying to minimize grocery expenses while always knowing that the stupid house is on the verge of falling to shreds if we don't get new siding. I am tired of having to pay dental expenses out of pocket because my husband's employers are too cheap to get decent dental insurance for the 400+ people who work for them. I am tired of always feeling guilty when I buy myself new clothes. I am tired of having no margin financially. I am tired to feeling endlessly frustrated by our situation.

I don't want to learn any more lessons. I am satisfied with my character as is. I don't want to be grown, stretched, enlightened, humbled, or chastened.

Why, God? Why us? Why do we have to struggle so when for other people it is so easy? Why, on a day when I was finally feeling like I'd actually accomplished something, did you have to let this additional brick fall from the sky.

"Dear Tim, thank you for your recent interview...however..."

So now we are as stuck as ever. No money, crazy boss, house falling apart, aching hearts because frankly, God, it feels like you aren't noticing us here. We are stretched to the very limit financially, and it feels like you just don't want to see us.

I have a few ideas to fix this.

1) A large financial windfall -- about 25,000 ought to do it -- to cover the new windows and siding.

2) See No. 1

All right, that's really all I've got. But Lord, it would certainly help us sleep better at night. I really thought that this job, This Job, was the one...the one that would make it all okay. We'd be able to relax a little and start saving for some of these huge expenses. I was feeling kind of excited about it, about the possibilities. Especially The Possibility, that you laid on my heart so many years ago but which we've just never been even close to being able to afford.

Do you want me to go back to work? Is that it? I really thought you wanted me home with the kids, but maybe I was wrong about that. I don't know anymore. It seems more and more like we're not going to be able to make it if I don't. I know Tim thinks so sometimes, if only to relieve him of the pressure of being the only breadwinner.

And it is a lot of pressure. And it's hard to live under that kind of stress all the time. It has made our marriage a bit strained sometimes. Not always, but it does make us feel like less of a team.

God, I am going to choose here to believe that you know best. That this dumb job is not the be-all it seemed. I choose to believe that you're not ignoring us. That you have a plan for us and we just aren't seeing the big picture right now.

I choose to keep my eyes on you, but I am freely admitting that they're full of tears.

love,

me

If I Had a Hammer...

I am frayed around the edges today, pulled in 6 different directions, feeling like I am only half getting things done. Committments are fulfilled, but not to perfection and certainly not with good grace. And then, at the end of Day 3 of the Week of Total Craziness, the neighborhood clique strikes again.

My boy went over to see if he could get in on the pick-up baseball game going on in the yard behind ours. The game in which every child in the neighborhood is playing. Even preschoolers. Even 2 year old Lola. The game hadn't quite started, but my boy was told, "no, you can't play."

Why do they do this? I have asked myself this question over and over because it happens a lot and it ONLY happens to my son. The only answer I can come up with is this:

Because they can.

It's some kind of school-age power play, this ability to exclude at will anyone they feel like. And they've decided, by some complicated process of social dynamics, that my son is The One.

And it hurts.

It hurts him. And it hurts me to watch it. I have never seen this kind of consistent exclusion in children. It is so wantonly cruel, so purposefully targeted, so relentlessly evil. And I have to watch him weep when the do it over and over and over.

I hate them.

I wish I were back in 2nd grade. I would so kick their butts.

Personality Clash

I've spent the last week reading a book about personality types with a view to understanding my children better. Here's what I've learned:

Everyone in the house has Choleric as part of their personality makeup. In practical terms, this means we all have fireball tempers and like to shout a lot.

Really, a lot.

My oldest child is first and foremost a Sanguine. This completely explains a comment she made at age four when she told us: "It is totally not fair that I'm not on television." It also explains her creativity, which is at all times perpendicular to Normal. In fact, Normal as a goal doesn't even register with her.

I, it turns out, am a Melancholy/Choleric in about equal proportions. This means I am very big on Normal. And I'm good at shouting.

My husband is a Sanguine/Choleric. He never knows a stranger and likes to crack jokes. Play is his area of expertise. He is very sanguine, so it takes him a long time to get to shouting, but if pushed he does it well.

My son is a Choleric/Melancholy, in that order. Totally explains why this kid will say the most profound things out of the clear blue. He's a deep thinker. However, he often tries to control everyone with spectacular displays of temper.

My youngest daughter is Choleric and Something-not-yet-determined. Might be sanguine, might not. She's not quite the exhibitionist her sister is, but not as self conscious as her brother. Too soon to tell, I think.

Major learning: these personality tendencies are useful lenses for viewing my family and trying to better understand what makes my kids tick, but I think it's important not to put anyone in a box.

I Am Doing It Again

I try not to, truly I do, but once again I am patrolling the lists of waiting children, mentally plugging them into our family.

I am gingerly saying things to my husband like "how old a child do you think we could take?" and "I bet adding a fourth wouldn't be that much more expensive."

I am losing myself in all those pairs of brown eyes, most looking reproachfully at the camera.

Now, I am not stupid. I know darn good and well that a fourth child would blow our minds three ways from Sunday. I have vivid memories of how the third child did that; still does that, almost daily. But but but...

My eminently practical husband says things like, "you have to have an established income (from my shaky flow of freelance work, which is unpredictable at best), or I have to get a raise." This is actually a possibility, if he gets the promotion he applied for. But it's still only a 50-50 chance and he is pessimistic about it. He is, in fact, pessimistic about most things having to do with the kids and/or money. In fact, many of our arguments end with him saying something like "we're all going to die, homeless and alone" or whatever.

This time, though, it almost feels like we might be able to pull it off. If the money shows up. If the money doesn't just show up but decides to stay for a while. If no major disasters occur with the kids we already have. If...if...if.

Waiting for the hand of God in this one...that's the biggest if of all.