Tadesse and Biruk have been home for 74 days. Every day we are learning something new: sometimes about their resilience, sometimes about our resilience, sometimes about the capacity of the human spirit to be loved and to love.
1. Grief is real--for everyone. Our first couple of weeks home, we had enough family tears to last a lifetime. Some days it was my turn because I could not fathom how to meet everyone's needs at the same time. Some days it was Elijah's turn because this place where he had always been so safe suddenly became emotionally unstable and draining. Some days it would be Tadesse's turn because these strange people have strange rules and strange foods. And some days it was a rough day for us all.
2. It is not always easy to discern genuine hurt and concern from subtle manipulation. Siblings still take an odd pride in getting the other into trouble. Tattling abounds. Doors slam. Eyes roll. You get the point.
3. At the times when I am angry and frustrated and think I'm really needing to set someone straight, I am a better parent when I end up listening and giving hugs. Rarely is bad behavior really about the behavior. Often it is about fear and loss of control. We still have to address bad behavior, unfortunately.
3. Jerome and I really need to make time just for the two of us, but it is harder than ever. My sister is watching our boys this Saturday so we can go somewhere, and I've been looking forward to it for weeks.
4. While we strive for no pecking order among the kids, one still exists. Usually the strongest willed (for the day) is at the top, and the most mild-mannered and patient is at the bottom. My propensity to root for the underdog makes me wish that the pecking order could be flipped upside down if it can't be obliterated altogether.
5. My weakness for taking everything personally is getting better. I cannot and will not own everyone else's problems, but I will try to help work through them.
6. We do not have to change everything about our parenting, but we can't expect to parent the way we did before, either. Of course, we are still trying to figure this out. Ask for an update in 10 years.
7. Like when I was teaching, I need to look for something to love about every person every day. Some days it is easier than others. (And I'm no fool; I have my days when I am not so easy to love myself.)
8. The ability of the mind to absorb loss and language is absolutely incredible. It's been just a few months, and rarely is there a time when I cannot understand what Tadesse and Biruk are trying to tell me. Only when things get overwhelmingly emotional do the words finally fail. Or maybe the words fail right before things get emotional.
9. Every time I want to get overwhelmed by our outlook and how far we have to go, I just have to look behind us for a moment. Seventy-four days ago I had to pick out shoes, underwear, socks, jeans, and shirts for Biruk and Tadesse every day because even the simplest of decisions was too difficult to manage. We had more tears. Elijah would retreat to his room after school to avoid stress. Seventy-four days ago one of our boys came out of his bedroom at least five or six times through the night to make sure we hadn't left him. In Ethiopia 100 days ago, one of our boys hardly spoke a word.
Today we have more laughter, more words, more hope, more hugs, more compassion. In six months I know I will be amazed at the progress made since today.
1. Grief is real--for everyone. Our first couple of weeks home, we had enough family tears to last a lifetime. Some days it was my turn because I could not fathom how to meet everyone's needs at the same time. Some days it was Elijah's turn because this place where he had always been so safe suddenly became emotionally unstable and draining. Some days it would be Tadesse's turn because these strange people have strange rules and strange foods. And some days it was a rough day for us all.
2. It is not always easy to discern genuine hurt and concern from subtle manipulation. Siblings still take an odd pride in getting the other into trouble. Tattling abounds. Doors slam. Eyes roll. You get the point.
3. At the times when I am angry and frustrated and think I'm really needing to set someone straight, I am a better parent when I end up listening and giving hugs. Rarely is bad behavior really about the behavior. Often it is about fear and loss of control. We still have to address bad behavior, unfortunately.
3. Jerome and I really need to make time just for the two of us, but it is harder than ever. My sister is watching our boys this Saturday so we can go somewhere, and I've been looking forward to it for weeks.
4. While we strive for no pecking order among the kids, one still exists. Usually the strongest willed (for the day) is at the top, and the most mild-mannered and patient is at the bottom. My propensity to root for the underdog makes me wish that the pecking order could be flipped upside down if it can't be obliterated altogether.
5. My weakness for taking everything personally is getting better. I cannot and will not own everyone else's problems, but I will try to help work through them.
6. We do not have to change everything about our parenting, but we can't expect to parent the way we did before, either. Of course, we are still trying to figure this out. Ask for an update in 10 years.
7. Like when I was teaching, I need to look for something to love about every person every day. Some days it is easier than others. (And I'm no fool; I have my days when I am not so easy to love myself.)
8. The ability of the mind to absorb loss and language is absolutely incredible. It's been just a few months, and rarely is there a time when I cannot understand what Tadesse and Biruk are trying to tell me. Only when things get overwhelmingly emotional do the words finally fail. Or maybe the words fail right before things get emotional.
9. Every time I want to get overwhelmed by our outlook and how far we have to go, I just have to look behind us for a moment. Seventy-four days ago I had to pick out shoes, underwear, socks, jeans, and shirts for Biruk and Tadesse every day because even the simplest of decisions was too difficult to manage. We had more tears. Elijah would retreat to his room after school to avoid stress. Seventy-four days ago one of our boys came out of his bedroom at least five or six times through the night to make sure we hadn't left him. In Ethiopia 100 days ago, one of our boys hardly spoke a word.
Today we have more laughter, more words, more hope, more hugs, more compassion. In six months I know I will be amazed at the progress made since today.
