Our daughters have been home for seven weeks now and I must
say, I think I pretty much have this parenting thing figured out. I really do
think so! Here are a few of the lessons I have learned so far:
1.
Laugh. Laugh at them, laugh at yourself, and
laugh at how glorious and unbelievable your life with kids is. Because if you
don’t learn to laugh, you will cry. And then your oldest child will tell your
brother in law at the first ever family gathering that sometimes when daddy
gets home from work mommy goes into the bathroom and cries for two hours. (I
learned this lesson around week 3, I think).
2.
I totally stink, and Jesus is totally amazing.
If I don’t depend on Him, I fail miserably every minute of every day. Make the
choice to abide with and depend on Him.
3.
That’s pretty much all I’ve got for now.
Really though, I can hardly believe how the time has flown
and I am amazed at the massive amount of love, fears, learning, hair bows,
tears, and laughter that has filled our home and new family. Nick and I often
lie in bed at night and ask each other, “Is this real? Are there three kids
sleeping down the hallway right now? Are we parents???” I will be completely
transparent and say what an adoptive parent never should: I have wondered if we
really should have done this. I have wondered if we really heard and followed
the Lord. In the very trying times I have questioned everything, and while
loving the girls profoundly, have yearned for the life I used to have.
Sometimes I miss our peaceful, quiet evenings. Sometimes I miss having .5
centimeters of space around my body that no other human is occupying. I
remember the days when my toothpaste tube had a lid on it instead of a gob of
crusty remnants from a too-tight-squeeze made by little hands. I almost daily
miss my hairbrush, rubber bands, bobby pins, and water bottle being in the spot
I left them. I vaguely remember the days when Nick and I sat down to dinner and
stayed sitting down. And ate all of our food. And talked to each other. Ohhhh
man. That was nice.
But, every time our oldest, G, has a melt down, which has to
be followed by a 45 minute snuggle fest and then a 30-minute conversation, she
comes up to me and squeezes so hard it hurts and says, “I’m glad you’re my
mommy”. And sometimes when they ride their bikes, J flies by me and yells in
her goofy voice, “Hellooooo Mommy-oooooo”, and my heart fills with amazement at
the reality that she is calling me
mommy. And last night when I asked them all who their hero is, J said, “Daddy.
Because he is so strong. And when he throws me up in the air, he can catch me”.
And N has a very hard time expressing her emotions but even when she is sad,
and mad, and has no words, she requests that we sit with her in her silence
instead of leaving her alone. There is unspoken love and comfort. I often tell
them something that of course 7 and 8 year olds know, and then stand amazed
that they don’t. That no one ever took the time to teach or tell them, and that
now I get the chance to. I think of when G is trying to teach the dogs
something, and she spells out the word slowly for them to help them
understand….and I wonder, what did I ever do before these girls? I hear 1,000 I
love you’s and give 1,000 kisses and stifle 1,000 giggles every single day, as
I watch them play and learn and grow. I remember how none of them wanted to go
to church the first couple of weeks, and now in the car I hear them in the back
seat singing about God’s love and redemption and joy. Our evenings do not have
any peace or quiet. But they have explosive laughter. They have tickle fights
and snuggles and life lessons. They are overflowing with love and life.
This is a wild journey. I knew it would be, but never imaged
just how wild. I prepared foster parents as a profession, but was far from
prepared myself. Those who had gone before me said, “You’ll never be ready”,
and they were right. But oh I am so thankful that God was ready for them. And
He was ready for all of this. And by the grace of God I would never, ever, ever
go back.