I had such gleaming
writing intentions for January. It was going to be my slow down-take a
breather-read more-write more- month. I wanted to write a “3 month home” update. I wanted to document all of the
hilarious observations, statements, and imaginary adventures Cypress tell us
of, and the crawling accomplishment, the waving, the eating food, the growth
spurt, and other such milestones Sami has reached. I wanted to think out
loud on paper about my vision and goals for the new year. To discuss my
WORD of the year, a word that would encapsulate my focus and inspiration for
2013.
But instead, we had almost as many Christmas gatherings this
month as we did in December. And at each one I second-guessed myself constantly
wondering if it was too much for the girls. We’d been home just long enough to
start socializing and felt bad staying home, but not quite long enough to feel
comfortable taking the girls to big events where they felt all eyes on them. So
many loving, delighted family members anxious to meet these little beauties
they had helped/funded/prayed home, to give a smile, a hug, an introduction, a welcome
to the family. The girls would sometimes hide their faces in our shoulders in
fear and other times act strangely crazy fearless. Either way we kept them very
close, prayed constantly for the Lord to give us wisdom if we were over-doing
it, and told Cypress repeatedly that if she felt at all scared, she could ask
us to hold her and even ask us to take her home and we would do so without
hesitation.
All in all, Cypress loved it. She made so many new cousin friends,
showed positive signs of attachment with letting us meet her needs and being
appropriately shy, and behaved very well. Sami stayed in our arms the whole
time which she thought was pretty awesome, and knowing that she wouldn’t be
handed off, she actually became increasingly happier about looking at new faces
and occasionally even gifting the new face with one of her prized smiles. She doesn’t
give them out to just anyone, their quantity is limited, you know. I think we
did the right thing, but I can’t tell you how exhausting and stressful it is
for me to be so often second-guessing myself, analyzing situations, behaviors,
facial expressions, etc. looking for any sign of a red flag, considering how
best to respond. Knowing our family is sort of in the spot light right now, and
feeling the tension of our actions being weighed by so many eyes, some in
earnest support and desire to understand the girls’ needs, others in possible
confusion or disapproval of our actions.
Slow down? Well the second half of January was a little quieter.
That is, depending on how one uses the word quiet. Less plans? Yes. Less high
volume in the house? No. If I had a webcam streaming live footage of this
house, I am certain I would lose a large portion of my friends, and the
remaining ones would kindly send notes recommending counselors, invite me to
Bible studies, start prayer chains for us, or threaten me to get my act
together lest they revoke the numerous reference letters they’ve written for
us. It’s been brutal. Some days I’ve thought, maybe if I just put it all out
there, every nitty gritty ugly detail, I would feel better and someone would
show up on my doorstep with a latte and some solutions. Or a plane ticket to
the Bahamas. Other days, I tell myself, “if you even let people know the half
of your chaos you will end up with CPS at your door.” I’ve settled for middle
ground. The short story is, Sami has spent more hours of the past month crying,
screaming, moaning, whining, and yelling than I care to ever tally. And
screaming babies are to my ears what aluminum cans are to a cat’s tail. (If you
‘ve never had brothers to demonstrate such horror, take my word for it, it’s a
desperate situation. DESPERATE.). Added to such frazzled nerves are a constant
winter headache that takes up residence in my sinuses, and the unwelcomed guest
of winter depression who slinks into my house in December and hangs up his vile
coat in my closet until forced out by March’s windy sunshine.
It may sound a little
humorous, but such an equation results in some pretty miserable days for all of
us. I am sorry to say there have been
far too few moments of laughter and delight, and far too many moments of
collective crying and yelling and plodding through days that all feel the same.
I find myself doubting my sanity, doubting if I will survive the winter,
doubting my ability to ever be a good mother, and doubting my own redemption as
I take an up close, disturbing look at my own ugly selfish heart. Can God
really love a woman who mothers with such a short fuse? That passes up adorable
baby cuteness instead looking only at the frustration of such a demanding
season? That throws temper tantrums to rival her own children? That prayed for
3 years for these beautiful littles to grace her home and now wonders at times
what in the world she asked for?
Then my daughter asks over her pizza at the
lunch table, “Mom, why Jesus on da cross? I don’t know why Jesus sad on da
cross!” And I say “Oh sweetie I know why, let me tell you!” And I tell her the gospel
story, and she sits motionless, eyes welled with tears as she listens and tries
so hard to grasp a concept even the greatest intellects wrestle. And I’m
overwhelmed again. How can I ever point her to the Lover of her soul if I only
choose to wallow in my own pain and failures instead of living out loud to her “my
sin is so ugly, but my Jesus’s love is so much greater, His grace is so
completely sufficient!” She resumes eating and routes the conversation to Jesus’s
donkey, while I sit and ponder my own words. “He died for US. For all of our
bad choices. Because He loves us. And now when God looks at us and sees our bad
choices, He says ‘that’s ok, I forgive you, because you trust Jesus and Jesus
died for that sin.’”
So there you have it. The volume is still on high. The
writing has not happened, either because the chaos is too loud, my heart is too
muddled, or I simply can’t muster the energy when the house is finally calm,
and instead I sit and try to regroup before the next round begins. We’ve had
some very hard days, and I am too easily distracted by the hard and miss out on
the good. The good of Cypress’s delightful stage. Sometimes I fear I may sound
as if I’m showing favoritism. It isn’t about loving one more, it’s simply an
age preference. And Cypress is at what surely must be the best. Still little
enough to need me, to like to cuddle, and even let me rock her to sleep on
occasion. Yet big enough to express her feelings with words instead of crying,
wipe her own bum, clean up her messes, say the most amusing things, entertain
us with her creative play, ask soul
searching questions, and tell me at the most unexpected times, “Oh Mom you so
cute! I love you Mom!” while she strokes my hair and smothers me with kisses. And the little miss has some stellar moments
amidst the yelling too. Like yesterday. As I walked through the house in a fog,
I came into Sami’s line of vision (which usually results in immediate crying)
and she looked up, raised her hand in a wave that resembled a Hitler salute and
said “HA!” (her version of Hi).
Stay tuned next week, I hope to share some updates/accomplishments/quotes.
And maybe, if I’m inspired, my month overdue new year’s post.
That’s all for today folks. We are still here. Looking for
fingerprints of Jesus in our messy life.
