27% happy. 73% anything but.
This morning, a brief burst of sunshine before the storm resumed. Things are not OK right now (reminds me of this song), but occasional glimpses of his precious dimpled face, relaxed and at peace, fill me with hope for a future when those stats are reversed.
I've been playing the comparison game. You know, the insidious one that only makes you feel sorry for yourself. Why is my child taking so much longer to adjust than so-and-so's kid? Why is writing a blog post oozing with affection and adoration the absolute last thing I would ever dream of doing at this point? Why can I not imagine wanting to do this again, ever? Why is this a gazillion times harder than I thought it would be...still?
Those questions are increasingly fruitless, as Dr. Husband frequently reminds me. I am not parenting any one of the thousands; I am parenting the child God led us to. All that he is now. All that he will become on our watch. I am his mom; there is no other. And I cannot today transform myself into the mom I will be a year from now. Cannot change myself at all, really, outside of the mercy and grace and relentless love of my Savior.
A friend who is walking a similar road shared this nugget yesterday: I'm learning that the culture of instant gratification we are surrounded by has affected me too, and that waiting in faith is a big part of being a mature Christian.
Yep. She's right. Some things don't come without a fight, or a long wait, or a good bit of sacrifice.
Many years ago I said yes to Jesus. Yes to the easy. Yes to the hard. Yes to his love. Last fall I said yes to adoption, in complete naivete, but in full obedience. Isn't that usually the way? A lot fewer of us would do anything difficult...let's be honest...if we knew in advance all that it would cost.
Then [Jesus] told them what they could expect for themselves: "Anyone who intends to come with me has to let me lead. You're not in the driver's seat—I am. Don't run from suffering; embrace it. Follow me and I'll show you how. Self-help is no help at all. Self-sacrifice is the way, my way..." Luke 9:23 The MessageI'm glad I didn't know. I might not have said yes. That's just the plain, ugly truth. In becoming Shu's mother, I have made myself a literal intercessor, placing myself between him and the enemy who had very different plans for my son. Not necessarily the most comfortable spot if you'd rather not be a target for fiery darts. But here we are in that spot, following Jesus. Committed. Whether attachment--and all the feelings of love and joy that accompany it--takes six more months, or six more years. We said yes to our son. Yes to the happy moments. Yes to the tantrums. Yes to healing his deep wounds even when I feel there's nothing left in me to give and I am tempted to run away to an easier life. King David said he would not offer to the Lord a sacrifice which cost him nothing. Neither will I. Yes to the 27% and to the rest. That's 100%. I'm in.