Learning to See Beyond Red

Back when we first brought Tadesse and Biruk home, we struggled so much to communicate. Behaviors that were acceptable in Ethiopia were not acceptable here, and without the language to explain it, we struggled. There were the big things like hitting and kicking, yes, but also a myriad of smaller behaviors like sitting on a stranger's car or grabbing a toy a sibling was playing with. 

We made a mistake—one of many, in fact—in those early days of our time together. Knowing that elementary teachers use a card system of green, yellow, and red to indicate when a child was doing great (green), when one was starting to show patterns of misbehavior or sometimes pushing our buttons both figuratively and literally (yellow), as well as when the child had really messed up (red), we decided to try it. Once  a person's red card was up, he or she lost allowance for the week. Even without the benefit of a common language, my two new boys understood very quickly how the cards worked.

In the Midst

So, Justin Bieber was arrested...finally. Over the past few weeks Bieber's actions have been followed and questioned and now, much to the media's delight, he has had his mug shot plastered all over every major news website.

I am not a Justin Bieber fan. In fact, I don't even know if I would recognize his music. Yes, I am that out of it. The closest run-in I've had with Justin Bieber is when Smurfette (I so wish I were joking) passed us on the sidewalk in Manhattan, and said, "Hi, Justin Bieber!" to my 20-year-old longish haired Caleb. (Caleb has been cutting his hair more often ever since.)

But even Justin Bieber has something to teach us. The paparazzi has been following him around waiting, just waiting for him to screw up, for their I-told-you-so to be justified.

In my house, I AM the paparazzi. I have the ability to spot and replay my kids' mistakes over and over if it suits my purposes or serves as family entertainment. As parents, we sometimes do that to our kids, don't we?

In fact, so certain am I of their pending infractions and annoyances, sometimes I sigh as 3:30 p.m. nears, knowing that they are almost home. My tranquil home is about to become Grand Central Station.

I'm about to be followed around by Biruk, who drills me with questions: "What is that? Why? How many does that cost?" Tadesse gives me a rundown of everything that happened today, while my brain struggles to keep up and fill in the empty spaces his English has not filled. Elijah tells me his funny stories, cracking up all the while, while I sometimes think, You know, Sweetheart, that story is not that funny.

Dishes break. Four pairs of boots and shoes are in the foyer, not the closet. Middle son of the three needs to feed the dog. Cereal and milk are spilled. The TV is turned on too loud. One pushed the wrong buttons on the WiiU and now it isn't working correctly. Our wireless network is down, and someone (named Mom) needs to fix it. Oldest still needs to take out the garbage. Two have spelling tests tomorrow. All three need showers. I need to sign two assignment notebooks. Everyone is hungry. Youngest needs to sweep the floor (watch out for the cereal mess). Everyone is hungry again.  "Mom! Mom! Mom!" they yell...from three different places in the house.

My patience comes to an end.

My I-told-you-so is justified.

And then I hear a belly laugh from the boy watching Tom and Jerry in the kitchen, and I catch a glimpse of  the youngest riding the next youngest, horsey-style, in the family room.

Nerf gun bullets are everywhere.

My laundry baskets are overflowing.

My dishwasher cannot keep up, and my groceries are still only half put away from today's shopping trip.

And none of it matters.

Smack dab in the midst of the chaos, I figure out that I am right where I need to be. I figure out that I can handle tantrums and homework and another sack lunch packed with peanut butter Cheerios not because I am a grace-filled woman, but because I serve a grace-filled God.

And that, my friends, is what it feels like to be content, to know that I am where I am supposed to be and that I can be who I need to be for them, for myself, and for Him.

What I Know

We are in the midst of a difficult week. Behaviors seem illogical and we are often left scratching our heads, trying to make sense of things far beyond our understanding.

I may not know a lot, but here's what I do know:

1. I cannot control someone else's attitude, but I can control my own.

"Finally, brothers and sisters, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—think about such things. Whatever you have learned or received or heard from me, or seen in me—put it into practice. And the God of peace will be with you" (Philippians 4: 8-9).

2. I do not need to own someone else's problems, but I can help when he is ready.

"Let us not become weary in doing good, for at the proper time we will reap a harvest if we do not give up" (Galatians 6: 9).

3. Prayer is effective.

"Call to me and I will answer you and tell you great and unsearchable things you do not know"(Jeremiah 33: 3).

4. Worry is not.

"Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid" (John 14: 27).

5. God is in control.

"Be strong and courageous. Do not be afraid or terrified because of them, for the Lord your God goes with you; he will never leave you nor forsake you" (Deuteronomy 31: 6).

6. God's timing is perfect.

"He has made everything beautiful in its time. He has also set eternity in the human heart; yet no one can fathom what God has done from beginning to end" (Ecclesiastes 3: 11).

7. I can't expect to know all the answers, but I can rest in knowing that God does. 

"Great is our Lord and mighty in power; His understanding has no limit" (Psalm 147: 5).

8. I must strive to be patient.

"Be joyful in hope, patient in affliction, faithful in prayer" (Romans 12: 12).

9. My love may not be perfect, but I need to love anyway.

"Above all, love each other deeply, because love covers over a multitude of sins" (1 Peter 4: 8).

10.  I can find blessings in the little things.

"Give thanks in all circumstances; for this is God’s will for you in Christ Jesus" (1 Thessalonians 5: 18).

11. I am loved.

"This is how God showed his love among us: He sent His one and only Son into the world that we might live through Him. This is love: not that we loved God, but that He loved us and sent His Son as an atoning sacrifice for our sins. Dear friends, since God so loved us, we also ought to love one another. No one has ever seen God; but if we love one another, God lives in us and His love is made complete in us" (1 John 4: 9-12).

Tough Times and God's Grace

As I read through the Bible, I frequently come across a story or a quote that reminds me how I should respond to situations in my life. Many times as I put my Bible down and stand up, getting ready to start my day, I feel convicted to a particular action or to a more positive attitude.

Once in a while, though, it works the other way, and my daily life helps me to understand the Bible.

Adopted kids and biological kids are different. Raising them is different. Praying for them is different. If you are considering adoption and think that you are going to come home from the airport, have a little party, and resume life as normal, you are simply mistaken. 

As much as I get frustrated with behaviors and attitudes, I have to remember to love first because without love and grace, nothing will change for my son.

When we adopted our boys, we did so knowing that they came from a tough place. We won't go into specifics (and don't even know that many), but life in rural Ethiopia is wearisome. Everyone must work to provide for the family. No one seems to have enough food. So we adopted these boys knowing they would have some issues with trust and attachment, fear and control. We decided that we would love them first, then work on the rough places together.

Today I was told that we are a "bad family" and that my son wanted to return to Ethiopia. (Insert long pause and sigh on my part.) This is all expected behavior, and though I can pretend it doesn't hurt when I am in front of him, a lump forms in my throat as soon as I walk away. I wish I could say, "Don't you understand how much I love you?  How much I have prayed for you? How hard this is on all of us?" And in my more selfish moments—"How much I have done for you?" Yet this boy cannot feel my love because he is swimming in a sea of hurt and rejection. He feels lost, abandoned, and alone in his feelings.On top of that, he has no words with which to explain his pain. Do I wade out into those murky waters and pull him in to safety, understanding that it may pull me under as well? Do I stand where it's safe and just keep throwing out the lifelines, hoping one of these days he will grab on?

And then I remember God and His love for us: "But God demonstrates His own love for us in this: While we were still sinners, Christ died for us" (Romans 5:8). That means he died for  adulterers, gossips, overeaters, liars, alcoholics, drug addicts, thieves. He died for you and for me. He died for my son. To comprehend that love, I make comparisons in my own life and find that the closest thing is the love that I have for my son, although my version of agape love is so inferior to His. 

When Tadesse asked if he could be in football this summer and I said yes, he looked at me with a far-off look in his eyes and said, "And Mom--you look? You say, 'Yay, yay'?" Of course, I answered, because that's what moms do. They celebrate every personal victory. Moms root for their kids no matter what. My kids don't always hear Jerome's and my conversations about them. We talk about improvements in language, the smiles and hugs we receive, progress and success in school, the way they are growing into their sibling roles. And when they struggle, we struggle. Although I can acknowledge that his inner turmoil is his to own and overcome, I still hurt when he hurts.

It's impossible for me to truly understand God's role as our Father—that our struggles are His struggles, that as we cry out in prayer, He is vigilant. He counts our tears. When we emerge, victorious from life's difficulties, He is that cheering parent on the football sideline. He is the one saying, "I knew you could do it!"

My kids aren't perfect. I'm not perfect. I guess if we were, God would have no reason to sacrifice His Son for us. We have so far to go, but it comforts me so much to know that my Father is cheering at every eked-out moment of patience, every gift of grace, every time we choose love over anger. I rest in His promise:

In the same way, the Spirit helps us in our weakness. We do not know what we ought to pray for, but the Spirit himself intercedes for us through wordless groans. And he who searches our hearts knows the mind of the Spirit, because the Spirit intercedes for God’s people in accordance with the will of God. And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose (Romans 8:26-28).

Simple Progress

Well, friends, I think this is the best weekend we've had so far.

Biruk, Tadesse, and Jerome playing Sorry.
By the way, my husband is a pretty awesome dad.

I finally feel like Jerome and I are starting to figure our boys out. A few illustrations: Tadesse and Biruk are competitive—HIGHLY competitive. When I really need them to hurry, I make it a contest of first (champion, "wiener"), second, and third places. That kicks Biruk up a few notches since he is a natural lollygagger. Elijah, who knows exactly what effect I'm looking for, continues to get ready at his pace and just says, "Slow and steady wins the race." This morning Elijah got third place.

Moving on Past

Yesterday in my blog I spelled "Esther" as "Ester" and wrote "one one" instead of "on one."

Now, if there's any hang up of mine that you've noticed I have from reading my blogs, you certainly know this: I. Hate. Making. Mistakes. For the fun of it, I went back and checked previous blogs. Six—yes, six—have been labeled with a topic of mistakes or perfectionism. I've listed them below just so you'll believe me. If you read more than one, you'll say to yourself, "Yep, that Tami has an issue!"

Setting Me Right
On Pride
Bucket List Lesson Number One
The Cover-up
Just Fix It
Mistakes

I've  been trying to get over that ism because fear of mistakes and perfectionist tendencies can paralyze a person into inaction. (I speak from experience.)

Perfectionism tells us we'll never be quite good enough. God tells us He loves us where we're at.

Perfectionism tells us to quit trying. God tells us to keep going, and He'll catch us when we stumble.

Perfectionism tells us people are judging us by our faults. God tells us He is the only judge.

Perfectionism tells us that failure is the end. God uses failure to draw us closer.

God can work in us and through us in our imperfect state. He used Moses who killed someone, David who committed adultery and had his lover's husband killed, and He uses people like you and me, too, because while we are screw-ups in so many ways, He is perfect. He covers our weaknesses and magnifies our strengths in order to bring glory and honor to His name.

So what do we do? Sit back and relax, realizing that we'll never be perfect, so why improve? No, we just have to point ourselves in the right direction. We allow God to work through us and on our behalf, but never losing sight of who it is we are trying to please.

That little voice inside you that tells you that you're behind or not good enough, the one that has you trying to please the people who aren't even nice? Start talking back. It's time for it to move out and for God to move in.

The Way It Should Be

When I was a kid, one of the things my parents insisted on was being responsible. Mom left us a list of chores to complete every day in the summertime while she was at work, and oh, we knew better than to have some of that list uncompleted by the time she got home! Mom and Dad insisted on being on time as well (or better yet, ten minutes early) because being late was a sign of disrespect toward the others who were left waiting. We were not reminded of homework or observed while we completed it. We were expected to get it done promptly and to do our best, so we usually did. Pleasing Mom and Dad was important because they were also the first people to celebrate our successes.

Mom and Dad were right. Responsibility practically guaranteed success. Today, though, my system-hungry and responsibility-conscious self struggles with those areas where responsibility + hard work ≠ success. (Did you see that, kids? Mom just did math!)

We were told on our first adoption trip that the system in Ethiopia is broken. That's why we needed to stand in line two hours at the ticket counter in the Addis airport. It's why there are beggars on the street who would love nothing more than to have a real job. It's why electrical lines run through mountain passes while two-thirds of rural families have no electricity and even more than that carry their own water. It's why there's exceptional cell phone coverage while a number of people with leprosy are ostracized and live at the dump. It's why people like you and me are needed to adopt kids.

In my organized, logical, and very idealistic heart, I want go cry out that moms and dads should be able to raise their kids. Kids should be able to play and go to school, not work the fields and tend to the animals all day. If a person works hard, she should be able to eat, wear clothes, maintain a home, and feel safe. If responsible choices are made, success should not only be possible, but likely!

But it's even bigger than responsibility; it's idea that everyone deserves justice, a certain fairness in life that means that every person—every person—is valued. And I don't think it comes from some government program or health care or welfare or food bank. Those things are just tools that sometimes work and sometimes don't. Instead,  I think it comes from where our hearts are—deep down in our subconsciousness—on that ladder of where we place ourselves and where we place others.

Perhaps this disparity in justice is part of what the Bible means when it mentions original sin and the very earth's groaning for things to be set right again. It's pretty easy to feel hopeless about it all, to shrug our shoulders and continue on, oblivious to the plight of others. But let's not do that.

Today I challenge you. Take a look outside your neat little life and let it get a little messy, disorganized, and chaotic. Reach out to someone—anyone—whose life lacks the justice he deserves. Your acknowledgement may come in a kind word of encouragement or a grocery gift card, but it could also mean taking an Esther-like stand for those whose story is not being heard. Let's just agree on one thing: we refuse to sit on our hands any longer.

...And Now, for the Rest of the Story...

In my last blog, I explained my awakening in recognizing that both my husband and my God have my back, so today I'm going to explain how letting some of that baggage go has lightened my load. So as Paul Harvey used to say, "And now, for the rest of the story!"

Here's what's happened since:

1. I quit my job in teaching and reviewed my calling. First, I was a marketing editor for a few years (a job I loved, by the way), and then I decided to stay home. When people ask me to introduce myself, I no longer say, "I'm Tami and a teacher" or "I'm Tami and an editor." Most the time, it's just "I'm Tami," and people think I have this deeply mysterious quality about me. (Okay, that's not true, but it sounds intriguing, doesn't it?) In identifying myself as my career, I took the me out of it, and you know what? I missed the me.

2. My family thinks I'm a new and improved person. I still hate to cook. I wouldn't know what to do if you put me in front of a sewing machine. My garden is still a couple of wilting flowers in an expanse of weedy mulch. (I didn't say I turned into Martha Stewart. Give me a break here.) I do, however, have more patience, more time, and more creativity. I pay attention to the casual conversations instead of trying to multi-task all the time.

 3. I am gaining some guts. Since I have time, last year I took up piano lessons again and this year I started taekwondo. I used to constantly fear looking foolish, and I guess that was pride. Now I'm starting to see that a person may look foolish for a while, but he isn't as foolish as someone who is too scared to try. And did I mention we're adopting??!!

 4. This blog has become more than a casual friend. Sometimes I feel absolutely driven to write, like I'm going throw up words if I don't quickly get them out. (I bet that conjured up some great images.) While we're on the subject of my blog, I apologize if I over share. Someone who loves me once cautioned me to protect myself a little more because people may judge me by the feelings I confess. Here's what I believe: I can't afford not to be vulnerable. First, if you like me, I want you to like me for who I truly am. Second, if my life circumstances or thoughts help you overcome something, then that gives me—and my middle-of-the-night thoughts—purpose. Your encouragement over the past few years has really helped me to continue with this writing. Thanks. Also thanks to my husband who, when I ask if he cares if I share one of our personal conversations, swallows and says "Go ahead" because he, too, hopes it will help someone.

 5. It has helped me step out in faith. My earnings from work were our consistent income, and Jerome's income was of the sometimes-here, sometimes-not variety. It was scary to give that up and quite difficult for me (still) to think of the farming income and lifestyle as ours instead of my husband's, which brings me to number six.

 6. My marriage has improved because we are more of a team. I hit the jackpot when I married this man; I really did. This man has patience with my weaknesses and shouts my strengths louder than anyone I know. He is compassionate and sensitive and strong all at the same time, and he sometimes knows what I'm going to feel even before I feel it. I used to think of his job as "the other woman" and was completely jealous of the time "she" kept him away from me. Now I realize that she is merely a tractor, a field of corn, or an engine with an issue, and I am able hang out with Jerome whenever I want (and he kinda likes it when I do).

7. Finally, I realized that I determine my level of joy. I can be a pessimist or an optimist. I can be a complainer or an uplifter. I can have the can-do attitude or the poor-me attitude. I can choose to love people and life or just see each day as an obstacle to get over. I have to think about this when my attitude heads south or my heart is heavy with painful thoughts. I am choosing contentment.  I am happy to be here. Right here. Right now. And I'm happy you're on the journey with me.

Home

I have so many wonderful memories from childhood. Most of them are tied somehow to this place, the only house I remember living in until the day I was married. My room was on the second level on the front side of the house and was a bright yellow, and one wall had wallpaper with yellow flowers and a white lace bedspread. Now, I've never been a yellow-room kind of person, but this was the design of the previous occupant, my oldest sibling June. (Thanks, June. No sarcasm. Really. Okay, maybe a little bit.)