this.is.hard.
period.
it just is.
i'm referring to life, but more specifically, life with zoe.
last night mike and i had our date night meeting good friends for dinner. on the drive in i asked him, "did you have any idea life as a grown up was going to be this hard?"
"no. i honestly didn't."
we've had a great season with zoe since coming to uganda, really. she has truly seemed to blossom here, to grow and build friendships and be somewhat more self-aware. and for that we are so, so thankful because we moved here with mild trepidation. we asked a lot of "what if's". what if she decompensates? what if she is lonely and she misses her grandparents, her friends, her routine, her normal? what if we can't ever find her a good educational environment? what if we are crazy to bring a child with special needs out of her comfort zone and into africa? what if we've miss heard our 'calling'?
but things have been good and we felt affirmation in her growth and her happiness.
along time ago we learned to never say "phew!" to never think 'we've arrived', to know that good seasons don't mean no more bad seasons, that nothing is a sure thing.
transitions are hard for everybody- but they are extra hard for zoe. so is loss, so is sadness. sadness isn't an emotion she likes, it's the one she avoids like the plague, it's one that she would chose last in the line up. since her 'bff' has moved away, she's been trying (desperately) to figure out what this feeling is, and how on earth she is supposed to deal with it- and we've all been suffering the consequences of this swinging pendulum of response to her sorrow over ellie leaving.
when we grieve something- we grieve everything. we relive all our old losses, we re-feel them, and that is especially hard if you didn't allow yourself to feel them in the first place. so yesterday and today i've been listening- really listening and trying feebly to assist her with processing her sadness.
it's all wrapped up together. missing ellie, missing the US, her dog, her old house, lily, elise, all the way down to the older kids who played with her when she was in kindergarten. she's also sad about herself. sad that she has a harder time processing things, that she over reacts, that she has 'sticky thoughts' that she can't control them, and that makes her afraid.
so she sat on the couch today, while mike took the other kids to the pool, and explained her great big ball of emotions and how they grow in her and overwhelm her and that is why she 'couldn't handle going to the pool today'.
i'm trying to think of how to explain the deep and conflicted emotions i felt as i sat with her. basically i had that ball of them growing and overwhelming me too. i love her so much; i'm so sad for her, that her brain struggles so much to process everything; i'm so tired of it all, of spending so much time on one person, on one child, of having to miss out of a fun afternoon because of her inability to deal; i'm angry and resentful of her, of her inability to think of other people, and i feel so badly for my other kids, for the black hole of time suck that she is, for the amount of energy that she demands; i am terrified of this part of our future- of her not being able to handle school and what that will do to her self-esteem as well as what it will mean for my life; and i feel so terribly guilty for feeling these things- because i love her so much.
she explained things well. i tried to listen with a poker face of 'i'm fine, no really', until she said she was done, and wanted to eat. i went to the kitchen, made her a sandwich, went back to the kitchen and got really mad at God and let him know it. i leaned on the dryer and bawled like a baby, but silently. and inside i shouted i think pretty loudly,
'why? no really, why? why everything? why has my life as an adult been so hard? why did zoe have to be born with all these challenges? why did i have to go through all that pain with jude? why did bryn need to be in the icu for the first week of his life? why did you bring us here to uganda? why are you allowing her to struggle so much? why did i become a doctor if i was never going to really work again because i'd have a child with such special and unique needs? and why do i have a child with such constant need anyway? why did you ask us to bring rose into our family to add to the chaos?'
and then i left the questioning- because i wasn't getting any answers.
'hey, news flash, i don't like this! at. all! i didn't want this, this is too hard, i'm tired, can't you cut me a break?'
i know, i heard.
'yet this i call to mind and therefore i have hope- because of the Lords unfailing love, i am not consumed' He reminded me of my mantra.
but i feel consumed! i do! and scared!
'i have not given you a spirit of fear, but of power and love and a sound mind.' He quoted again.
i repeated the above questioning and commenting as i began to make a salad for dinner- because what else was i going to do? life goes on.
'do you trust me?' He spoke in my heart.
there it was. that was the question. the question we'd honestly been discussing with our children this very morning in home church- trusting God when it doesn't make sense to trust Him- trusting God when really bad things happen.
"yes". i conceded. "i do trust you". and i meant it.
that was it. that was what i got. i was the one being asked the question. so i finished the salad and my sound mind kicked in. i reflected on the laundry list of my woes- and then at their outcomes, the ones that had outcomes, and they were all good. i haven't been consumed- but blessed. jude is a thriving seven year old boy- bryn did fine after that one week in the nicu- i can't see the future, but i do trust God. and i'm curious and excited to watch it unfold. because most of the bible is full of crazy, full of hard times- full of 'why did they, or why didn't they'- yet God remains faithful to those who put their trust in him.
so i'm going to trust despite what this afternoon felt like. i'm going to trust that somewhere in this great big mess that life can seem - goodness comes; that zoe is all she is because that is exactly who she is supposed to be- even if i don't know why; that rose has come into our lives for a very special reason- even if we have no clear idea of what that will look like; that being an adult is this hard because life is this hard everywhere for everyone and no one ever said it wouldn't be (except for the TV shows we grew up with :).
we are here to learn, to seek, to grow; zoe and i, and everyone else too.
period.
it just is.
i'm referring to life, but more specifically, life with zoe.
last night mike and i had our date night meeting good friends for dinner. on the drive in i asked him, "did you have any idea life as a grown up was going to be this hard?"
"no. i honestly didn't."
we've had a great season with zoe since coming to uganda, really. she has truly seemed to blossom here, to grow and build friendships and be somewhat more self-aware. and for that we are so, so thankful because we moved here with mild trepidation. we asked a lot of "what if's". what if she decompensates? what if she is lonely and she misses her grandparents, her friends, her routine, her normal? what if we can't ever find her a good educational environment? what if we are crazy to bring a child with special needs out of her comfort zone and into africa? what if we've miss heard our 'calling'?
but things have been good and we felt affirmation in her growth and her happiness.
along time ago we learned to never say "phew!" to never think 'we've arrived', to know that good seasons don't mean no more bad seasons, that nothing is a sure thing.
transitions are hard for everybody- but they are extra hard for zoe. so is loss, so is sadness. sadness isn't an emotion she likes, it's the one she avoids like the plague, it's one that she would chose last in the line up. since her 'bff' has moved away, she's been trying (desperately) to figure out what this feeling is, and how on earth she is supposed to deal with it- and we've all been suffering the consequences of this swinging pendulum of response to her sorrow over ellie leaving.
when we grieve something- we grieve everything. we relive all our old losses, we re-feel them, and that is especially hard if you didn't allow yourself to feel them in the first place. so yesterday and today i've been listening- really listening and trying feebly to assist her with processing her sadness.
it's all wrapped up together. missing ellie, missing the US, her dog, her old house, lily, elise, all the way down to the older kids who played with her when she was in kindergarten. she's also sad about herself. sad that she has a harder time processing things, that she over reacts, that she has 'sticky thoughts' that she can't control them, and that makes her afraid.
so she sat on the couch today, while mike took the other kids to the pool, and explained her great big ball of emotions and how they grow in her and overwhelm her and that is why she 'couldn't handle going to the pool today'.
i'm trying to think of how to explain the deep and conflicted emotions i felt as i sat with her. basically i had that ball of them growing and overwhelming me too. i love her so much; i'm so sad for her, that her brain struggles so much to process everything; i'm so tired of it all, of spending so much time on one person, on one child, of having to miss out of a fun afternoon because of her inability to deal; i'm angry and resentful of her, of her inability to think of other people, and i feel so badly for my other kids, for the black hole of time suck that she is, for the amount of energy that she demands; i am terrified of this part of our future- of her not being able to handle school and what that will do to her self-esteem as well as what it will mean for my life; and i feel so terribly guilty for feeling these things- because i love her so much.
she explained things well. i tried to listen with a poker face of 'i'm fine, no really', until she said she was done, and wanted to eat. i went to the kitchen, made her a sandwich, went back to the kitchen and got really mad at God and let him know it. i leaned on the dryer and bawled like a baby, but silently. and inside i shouted i think pretty loudly,
'why? no really, why? why everything? why has my life as an adult been so hard? why did zoe have to be born with all these challenges? why did i have to go through all that pain with jude? why did bryn need to be in the icu for the first week of his life? why did you bring us here to uganda? why are you allowing her to struggle so much? why did i become a doctor if i was never going to really work again because i'd have a child with such special and unique needs? and why do i have a child with such constant need anyway? why did you ask us to bring rose into our family to add to the chaos?'
and then i left the questioning- because i wasn't getting any answers.
'hey, news flash, i don't like this! at. all! i didn't want this, this is too hard, i'm tired, can't you cut me a break?'
i know, i heard.
'yet this i call to mind and therefore i have hope- because of the Lords unfailing love, i am not consumed' He reminded me of my mantra.
but i feel consumed! i do! and scared!
'i have not given you a spirit of fear, but of power and love and a sound mind.' He quoted again.
i repeated the above questioning and commenting as i began to make a salad for dinner- because what else was i going to do? life goes on.
'do you trust me?' He spoke in my heart.
there it was. that was the question. the question we'd honestly been discussing with our children this very morning in home church- trusting God when it doesn't make sense to trust Him- trusting God when really bad things happen.
"yes". i conceded. "i do trust you". and i meant it.
that was it. that was what i got. i was the one being asked the question. so i finished the salad and my sound mind kicked in. i reflected on the laundry list of my woes- and then at their outcomes, the ones that had outcomes, and they were all good. i haven't been consumed- but blessed. jude is a thriving seven year old boy- bryn did fine after that one week in the nicu- i can't see the future, but i do trust God. and i'm curious and excited to watch it unfold. because most of the bible is full of crazy, full of hard times- full of 'why did they, or why didn't they'- yet God remains faithful to those who put their trust in him.
so i'm going to trust despite what this afternoon felt like. i'm going to trust that somewhere in this great big mess that life can seem - goodness comes; that zoe is all she is because that is exactly who she is supposed to be- even if i don't know why; that rose has come into our lives for a very special reason- even if we have no clear idea of what that will look like; that being an adult is this hard because life is this hard everywhere for everyone and no one ever said it wouldn't be (except for the TV shows we grew up with :).
we are here to learn, to seek, to grow; zoe and i, and everyone else too.
