Time warp

Sometimes I find myself going back to the single referral picture we got in the spring of last year, and I can't seem to reconcile that picture with our current reality.  The child in that picture, in her visa picture (from when she first came to the orphanage at age two) seem like a completely different person: so small, so placid, or was it timid?  Now I look at the gangly, wild six year old whom I call daughter, and I feel like I'm in two different worlds looking at two different children.

Today has been a trenches kind of day.  A run laps around the farm to help get emotions under control kind of day.  An I'm still in my pajamas at 5:30pm kind of day.  A nothing is going wrong now but I'm so exhausted from the last seven hours (and seven months) that I'm struggling to be present in the moment kind of day.  I go back to those pictures and remember that longing, that compassion.  I look at my present and feel frustration and emotional exhaustion.  Will I ever feel like I'm really her mom?  Like she is my precious daughter?

Precious.  That is what she is.  That is how HE sees her, and how He sees me, no matter how many times I fall short.  I require so much grace, and yet I am often so resentful of having to extend the same grace.  Why is that?  I'm so resentful that my life has been imploded, that I'm spread out thinner than I can possibly bear every single day with no finish line in sight, that my darling N is having to process such a difficult situation as well.  I forget what JP has gone through.  In those moments of defiance or chaos, I forget what she has experienced in her short life, and have to force myself to remember that all is not what it would have been if I had carried her in my womb and held her from her first moments on this earth.  Five and a half years.  That's what we missed, and it is such a long road to redemption, on all sides.  And I resist it, because I'm tired, and being refined hurts like hell, because that's what is being burned away, hell.  

I have always identified closely with the apostle Peter.  I understand his impetuousness, his zeal, his propensity for sticking his foot in his mouth, his long road to discernment and listening.  One of my favorite verses about him is Matthew 16:18, when Jesus gave him the name Peter:

"And I tell you, you are Peter, and on this rock I will build my church, and the gates of hell shall not prevail against it."

As my sister so aptly pointed out to me a couple of weeks ago, the way this verse is worded, "the gates of hell" implies either an assault on the fortress, or an escape from captivity.  I have never been afraid of charging the gate.  Give me my sword.  Well, the gate has been charged and the first battle won.  What do I fear?  A cage.  And the trenches feel very much like a cage.  Sitting with your tail in the mud in an indefinite, slow, steady, crawling kind of battle.  God help me.

God, help me.

The only way to even survive this battle, to win it, is to keep my eyes on him and do every single tiny thing, day in and day out, as though I am doing it directly for him, and no one else.  When I look past the person in front of me and see the face of my Love, all is glorious.  

Lord, let the scales fall from my eyes so I can see you through all this mess.  Open my eyes to see my enemy for who he is and renew my strength to fight him with everything in me. 

"Restore to me the joy of your salvation and grant me a willing spirit, to sustain me." (emphasis mine)

        

Birthdays, school, and the same ol' same ol'

We are slowly finding our groove in the midst of strange schedules and back-to-school madness.  I've gradually introduced a simple schedule: Bible time at breakfast, reading, math, play, lunch, rest time.  Then we do CC grammar review and handwriting in the afternoon followed by more play before dinner.  That sounds like a lot, but it's really only about 15 minutes per lesson, and it involves lots of singing, manipulatives, and games.  We've had two weeks of our CC tutorial as well, and even though it often seems like things are going in one ear and out the other in class, I heard N singing upstairs during rest time, What are the four types of tissues?  Connective, epithelial, muscle, nerve!  It made me smile.  I think with all the unfamiliar vocabulary, it is mostly passing over JP's head at this point, but at least she is hearing and absorbing the songs and sounds right now.  The rest will come, and we have plenty of time.

We've also had a couple of weeks of ballet for N and gymnastics for JP, which they love.  JP definitely has a tough time listening and paying attention to her coaches a lot of the time (I feel their pain), but I mainly have her in it for the benefit of occupational therapy type exercises at a lesser cost than actual therapy.  She's getting all kinds of vestibular and proprioceptive goodness at a fraction of the cost.  Win!

Last night was our first night back with the youth group, and next week I add in my mom's group (which I hope I will have the time to continue for the semester).  It's amazing how full one's schedule can get even when we're only at the Kindergarten level with one extracurricular activity per child.  I'm mentally sapped and my personal time has basically disappeared since I'm engaged with the kids all morning and a good chunk of the afternoon, but all in all, things are going well, and I'm thankful for structure.  I am reminding myself that doing the work now (sparking a desire to learn and teaching them how to learn for themselves) means there will come a day when they are largely teaching themselves and I am only there to guide, answer questions, and check their work.  Of course, we are also feeling things out in regards to possible learning challenges with JP beyond the obvious fact that she is ELL.  Speaking of which, I just squirreled myself and started looking up how to make no-sew weighted lap pads for school.  Maybe I need one too...

To wrap things up, we celebrated JP's first birthday home on Tuesday.  We are doing a zoo birthday party tomorrow, but we kept things simple on Tuesday with a family celebration.  She got a new doll, and I made a doll size bunk bed for her.  She also got the Frozen version of the classic board game Trouble (you remember the pop o' matic bubble, right??), some books from her grandma, and the promise of a birthday party and more presents at Mamaw and Papaw's house in a couple of weeks.  We took her to an Indian restaurant for a special meal and spent the rest of the day playing with her new toys and games.  She told us that she blew out candles to celebrate her birthday at the orphanage, but she never got presents.  She was pretty excited to open these!  We'll probably let her pick out something at the zoo gift shop tomorrow as well, just to commemorate her very first birthday party.  

I definitely cried more over her birthday last year than I did this year (I didn't cry at all).  I think my brain is just too fried to feel emotions at this point.  I'm really thankful she's doing so well, and that we were able to start making some new, happy birthday memories, but I'm still a little too soul weary to fully appreciate the significance of it all right now.  That's mostly why I write all this down (in what is probably ridiculously boring detail to everyone else).  Someday, I'm going to come back and read this and cry the happy tears I should be crying now.  At least, I hope I do.  In the meantime, I'll just say, "Thanks, God!" and trust that He knows my heart. Happy birthday, JP!