When loving hurts

My heart hurts. B&C are bouncing from relative to relative, no one wants to or can take responsibility for them long term. I want them here, with me, with us, where we can shower them with God's love and learn as we go what it means to parent. But, due to a lot of factors, some legal, some practical, they can't come live with us again.

And I cry. Cry for the abandonment and rejection they've suffered more than once. Cry to think they may feel that we've abandoned and rejected them too. Cry for their vulnerability and my powerlessness in the face of it. Cry because it hurts to love and let go. Cry because I don't see answers and I want love and a home and stability for them. Cry for dreams that I thought I held lightly still hurting when I let them go. Cry because while I said I was painting the guest room, in my thoughts it was the boys' room, and now it's empty with nothing but the shadow of dreams.

I ask God why. Why, when I am willing, is the answer no? Why, when I don't see any other solution can't I be part of the solution? Why do children suffer for the sins of the parents? Why does it look like He isn't acting?

But God reminds me, "For as the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways and my thoughts than your thoughts." (Isaiah 55:9).

I don't have his perspective. Joseph sat in prison for years. Moses spent 40 years in the wilderness before going back to Egypt and leading the Israelites to freedom. Dead ends. Failure. Forsaken. At least, that's how it looked. But God orchestrated it for good. He can do that for them too. Not only can he do it, I know that God's love for these boys is greater than mine is. These boys truly are fatherless. God talks a lot about his love and protection for the fatherless in his word. "He defends the cause of the fatherless. . . " (Deuteronomy 10:8) "Even if my father and mother abandon me, the LORD will hold me close." (Psalm 27:10).

So, I cling to that. God loves them. He will hold them close. He will defend them. He's better at that than I am anyway.

But still, it's hard.

Gone

Today, the boys left. We went to church together, came home to eat together, enjoyed a lazy Sunday afternoon, they even talked us all into playing Monopoly. But there was a heaviness for all of us. The echo of the word "last" in every little moment we enjoyed.

Their mom came around 4. We didn't know what to say to her, she didn't know what to say to us. She wants them to live with her again; they love their mom and should be with her. But it was hard to see them go. They cried to say good bye. I cried too. So little of their situation has changed, I'm afraid the circumstances that brought them to our door the first time will just be repeated. Hopefully this week they'll start attending a small Christian school which will be much better spiritually and academically than the public school they were attending. That at least is one comfort to me. But my heart aches for them, so small and vulnerable. I can't be there for them every day now, showering them with love, teaching, disciplining, laughing. . . But, I can keep praying. And I could never be the answer for them, all I could ever do was point them to the answer. And Jesus goes with them. They don't need me. They do need him.

So, I pray. Pray that the seeds that have been planted in their hearts take root and bear fruit. Pray that their mom follows through with the changes she has verbally committed too. Pray that they would continue to be loved and guided as they go through these years when they really need someone to be there for them.

Life

When I was a kid and I played life, I always had the wrong goal. Supposedly, the goal of the game is to make the most money and retire at Millionaire acres. My goal was always to have the most kids. I usually ended up frustrated; some lucky friend would land on all the baby girl and baby boy spaces, maybe even twins. They’d fill two mini vans. Me on the other hand, I had one kid. Two if I was lucky.

Somewhere along the way, my priorities shifted a little bit. I never wanted to retire at millionaire estates and make a lot of money. But I wanted to do something big, something life changing, something “more” than staying home with my mini van full of kids. My heart ached for all the kids from broken families in broken neighborhoods, who didn’t even know what hope was. So, I started teaching.

Six years down the road, I’m realizing that that little girl’s dream of a house full of kids never really changed, it just got covered by some new dreams. My priorities are starting to shift back as I have a new perspective on motherhood and just how big it is. See, my dream, the teaching and working with kids in desperate situations, is to see some lives, which have been damaged and broken, restored. To see some children who don’t know the truth come to walk in the light. It’s not an easy dream, because kids go home to places that teach violence, promiscuity, and hopelessness. Moms though, they can dream for their kids to walk in fullness and in the light. They don’t have to contend with the brokenness, or even in circumstances where they do, home is a place where truth and love and grace can be lived out. It’s the same end goal: children walking in fullness in a right relationship with their creator. Moms just have so much more opportunity to influence their children than a teacher does.

There was a time where I wondered if I really had the commitment and dedication it takes to be a mom, or if I wanted to. And then, 2 boys walked in my door. Today, not quite 3 weeks later, B walked into my room to ask for a needle and thread to sew a hole in his pants. Two minutes later he was back with a pin through his ear. . . After I confiscated the pin, I gave him a stern admonition not to pierce his ears without permission and NOT to stick the earring that he’d found (and then was playing with in his mouth) through the hole he’d stuck in his ear or he’d end up with an infection. Whether I thought I wanted to or not, it looks like I’m parenting them. I’m still a little bit in shock over that. They’re big enough that they don’t require me to do much, but I’ve still been amazed at how big the responsibility is and how tired it leaves me. I’ve realized something through it though. It’s worth it. These little boys, who I didn’t even know 3 weeks ago, make my days more full. Full of laughter, full of joy, full of meal time conversations, and horsing around in the living room (also full of stress and questions about discipline and guiding two growing boys and a larger grocery bill). In the short time they’ve been with us, they’ve affected me more than students I had for years have. And I think I’ve had a chance to influence them more than I have my students.

I don’t know how long we’ll have the privilege and responsibility to parent B and C. But I’m happy they’re with us. I’m happy for the perspective they’ve given me on parenting. And I’m hopeful that someday not only will I have the chance to parent, but the chance to BE a parent.

Moms are awesome

Yesterday, as we found out that the boys would be staying with us for at least another week, Sara and I decided grocery shopping was top of the list. We stopped home and quickly made some grilled cheese sandwiches, then took the boys to the park while we made a list.

Once we got to the grocery store, B. took off for the carts. "Can I push?" he asked. His brother started to argue, he wanted to push. "You can take turns" I told them. They agreed, and we walked into the store, where B. promptly started zigzagging through the aisles making me wonder why I thought it might be a good idea to a) take an 11 and 14 year old boy grocery shopping and b) let the 11 year old push the cart.

We made it through the grocery store without any serious incidents, just some more zigzagging, some taking of items off of shelves and needing to be reminded to put them back where they were found, and a bit of cart-riding.

After walking home with all of our purchases, Sara and I started cooking. Tacos seemed pretty simple, but put 9 people into the equation, and nothing is simple anymore. Dinner was finally on the table, there was lots of laughter and smiles as we ate, and then the kids and Stephen's parents offered to clean up (well, I think Stephen's parents offered. We asked the kids to help).

Me, Stephen, Sara, and Gonzalo went upstairs to figure out how we were going to work things out- rules, schedules, who takes B to school at 6:30, who picks him up and drops of C. at 11:45, if C could come back alone or who should pick him up, bedtime. . . Once we got things worked out, we called in the boys to let them know what this week will look like.

Finally, we sent the boys off to bed and had some time to collect ourselves. I looked at my watch. It was after 9.

These boys are good. They help cook, they wash the dishes, they are friendly and polite, they do as they're told. And, I'm not doing this alone, or even with just 1 other person. Stephen and Sara and Gonzalo all are taking responsibility. And Stephen's parents are here right now and more than willing to pitch in with cooking and cleaning.

But I'm still tired. It's a big responsibility to have 2 young people you need to be guiding, disciplining, getting to school on time, taking care of the colds they have, cooking for, encouraging, checking homework . . .

And I've only been doing this for 4 days.

I don't know how moms do it. Week after week, month after month, year after year. That awareness that what you're doing is important and you can't afford to mess up. The busyness that having children adds to a schedule.

So, to all the moms reading this post, especially my own, thank you. Thank you for shopping and cooking night after night. Thank you for letting the to-do list slide sometimes so we could talk and color and play in the park. Thank you for setting limits and encouraging and teaching and taking us to the 101 activities that we had. Thank you for being moms.

And to the dads out there- thank you too. For your love and patience and presence in your kids lives.

And to all of those out there who aren't parents- jumping into substitute parenting with pre-teen and teen-age boys just 1 week after taking a new job position with more responsibilities and while living in a house where there are still 100 things on the to-do list (you know, like fixing the cold shower, and over head lights, and enough chairs and plates for everyone in the family) is awesome. I'm loving it. Our house is more alive. Their smiles and jokes make us all happy. Cooking for a crew might be more work than just cooking for me, but sitting down as a family and enjoying a meal together and taking pleasure in other people enjoying what I made is worth it. It is also just a tad bit overwhelming. Or maybe a lot. . .

What I ought to be doing. . .

There are dishes in the sink and a mouse in the cupboard. Our kittens are not yet fulfilling their purpose, but that is not their fault. Our garage door has a gap between it and the floor big enough for a kitten to escape through, so until we get it fixed and while they adjust to their new home, they're locked upstairs. But, that doesn't solve our rodent problem.

I should wash the dishes. And go buy some traps and set them. And figure out what I'm making for dinner tonight and lunch and dinner tomorrow and pick up the ingredients I need while I'm out. We have an 11 and a 14 year old staying with us this weekend, so actually planning and not just opening the cupboards and hoping inspiration strikes is probably a must.

Then I should cook dinner for tonight so I can leave it waiting for everyone when I go out. And start whatever Sunday's lunch is since by the time I get home from church we'll be too hungry to wait for food to cook.

I should probably also reorganize the kitchen for the 3rd time so that the fresh fruits and vegetables aren't out either so the rodents don't get to them. Which means somehow getting them all into our tiny and already full fridge.

I should throw the blankets we were given in the wash and wash all the towels and dust cloths and such, and maybe a load of my clothes too, but with no drier and limited clothes line, that probably won't happen.

I should clean the bathrooms and mop the downstairs.

But, it's Saturday morning. I already made pancakes for breakfast and washed most of the dishes from that, plus all the containers the mice had tried to get into. Then I put them away in a metal mouse proof cupboard.

Now there's a kitten curled up on my lap and I think I'll take a few minutes to enjoy the morning before I start on my list.