In my previous blog, I highlighted some of the issues that the children were facing as they struggled to adjust to all the changes in their new lives. Now, I would like to discuss some of the issues that I was facing. Let me forewarn you: I am going to be very open and honest with you. There are only a couple of areas of my behavior in which I do not look back with regret. It was very difficult for all of us, and we all made mistakes. As I have taken the liberty to divulge some of the children's mistakes, I must now divulge some of my own. In many ways, the whole process of becoming one family was like a battle. It felt like a battle for many months. I was fighting battles with children, spouse, and self, but I was also fighting battles with Satan. Every demon that he could send our way, he did: demons of envy, contention, mistrust, lying, cheating, stealing, cursing, disrespect, anger, and on and on and on the list went. I was battle-fatigued by the end of the first week. How I made it through those four months when they first came to stay with us, I have no idea, except to say that I felt like I was a dead person walking, but each morning, somehow, I still woke up and had to endure another day. There was very little joy; there was very little of anything other than exhaustion by the fourth month.
The first major issue that I suffered from is the one that I denied the longest, and the one that I am most ashamed of now, but it must be faced. I struggled with intense anger and indignation because I had to suffer because of someone else's mistakes. Someone else had abused and mistreated these children, and yet I was the one suffering for it. I was angry with their biological parents for causing the issues in the first place. I was angry with the children for taking out their anger, fear, and mistrust on me, although I had done nothing to make them afraid or angry. I was even angry with my husband, because the children had come from relations on his side of the family. I hated myself because it seemed like such a cowardly thing to be struggling with these feelings. Unfortunately, the feelings did not fade until after they were taken to foster care and I went into the hospital to stay, but by then, it was too late.
When the children came back to us a year later, the feelings began to surface again when all the issues started coming out full force. It was very hard for me to deal with them all. The first thing I had to do was admit the feelings to myself; I had to own up to my struggles. Then I began to repent. After that, each time I found those feelings bubbling up, I prayed something like this: "Father, I know that You understand this feeling. Jesus suffered and was sentenced to death for the mistakes that others had made. So I'm asking You now to give me grace for this situation. I have tried on my own to forgive and to let go of my anger, but I have no ability to do it. So I'm asking You to do it for me. I want to change, to be different, and I need You to help me." Over time, those words sank into my heart, and my perspective began to change. Today, any time an issue from the childrens' past comes up, I am able to process it in a more appropriate way. Thankfully, God heard my prayers, and He changed my heart, although it took several months. If you are struggling with the feelings of indignation and anger, as I was, I would encourage you to begin to take it to the Lord in prayer each time those feelings begin to come up. I would also encourage you to be patient and wait on the Lord; do not give up hoping in Him.
The next issue that I faced was hardly a surprise to anyone but me. I suffered from anger. It had been hinted to me before by well-meaning family members that I had "anger issues", but that only made me, well, angry. However, when the children came to stay with us, and all the patience and grace that I had tried to muster up within myself failed, my anger came out like a tidal wave that had no end. I had not ever been prone to raging tantrums, but quickly found even the slightest provocation speeding toward that very unbecoming place. I often felt that I lost complete control, that I had no more ability to so much as lower my voice than I had to reverse time and avert the incident altogether. When people would say, "Yes, you do have control, you are just choosing not to use it," it stung me badly. I knew that they were right, but I also knew that this was a much different battle than your typical, "Just take a deep breath and count to ten" situation. This was more of a "fall flat on your face and beg God to put His Hand over your mouth" type of situation. People describe those who get angry easily as having a "short fuse". Well, I had no fuse whatsoever. Every moment that I was awake became a torment for me. My spirit was constantly striving to be better, to speak more gently, to be more patient, but my flesh was stronger. Always, my flesh was stronger. I cannot recall very many nights that I did not cry myself to sleep because I knew I had utterly failed that day. Perhaps God allowed me to be given such a heavy burden so that I would finally see the truth of my condition and turn it over to Him to be washed and cleansed. I can tell you for sure that I had never been so aware of my shortcomings as I was during those months, nor had I ever truly taken them before Him until then.
When I stated earlier that I felt like a dead person walking, I was not exaggerating by any means. In fact, it almost does not even feel like a strong enough analogy. I was completely numb, physically, emotionally, and spiritually. I wanted so badly to take a break, but I could not, for a few reasons. The most important reason was that the State of Texas said the children could only be with "approved" persons, which amounted to my husband and me, and my parents. With each one of the aforementioned people working a full time job except for me, it was obvious that my breaks would be very few and far between. Add to that the fact that I felt guilty for asking anyone to watch the children, being that it was such an enormous task to feed them, clothe them, monitor them, and deal with the inevitable meltdowns and fighting matches between them. I felt that if I could just barely manage them, then it was not right for me to ask someone else to try to do it. The end result was not very pretty, I am afraid. When I became overwhelmed, which was usually at least once each evening, when the frustration of dinner preparations, homework assignments, potty training accidents, and dealing with a colicky baby were at it's peak, I would run out the door and down the street. I was 5 months pregnant at the time, and usually wound up running barefoot, with no coat or sweater in the middle of winter, to an open field a few hundred yards from our house. There I would sit and look up at the stars and scream my frustrations to God. My heart was being torn apart. I simply could not bear up under such a heavy load. But the cries of Savannah, who would come stand at the door and scream after me, would reach my ears and pierce my soul, and with what felt like the weight of a thousand worlds on my shoulders, I would get up and trudge back to the house and try again. By the time I was hospitalized, I was completely fatigued, my physical and emotional reserves, depleted.
I cannot explain why it was different the second time around, but I never again felt as drained as I had during those four months. Somehow, a change took place in the year that they were in foster care. It was as if God used those first four months to show me that I could not depend on my own strength. When He saw that I was finally ready to accept that, He began showing me His strength and His ability to meet my every need. By the time the children came back, I knew better than to believe that I could handle it on my own, which was exactly where I needed to be, spiritually, so that He could be glorified in our situation. His strength and His grace were definitely sufficient for us, as we seemed able to handle things more easily than before. Of course, we still struggled with certain issues; I still struggle with anger even today. The difference is that today, our home life is more characterized by laughter and love for each other than by strife and contention.
If, during those first four months, you had asked me if we were considering adopting the children, I might have rent my garments and lay in sackcloth and ashes at the suggestion. I was not ready for it, even though my spirit knew that it was inevitable. If you are in a situation where your spirit is telling you one thing, while your mind, body, and emotions are telling you something different, please know that I understand that place. It is a very hard place to be - but it can be endured. I encourage you to try to see yourself in my situation, regardless of how the individual circumstances may differ. Surely we all know what it feels like to face a giant that seems immovable. Let me remind you, though, that God is the Mover of the immovable. He redeemed my tattered emotions, my broken body, and my scattered family. He can redeem yours, too, if you will wait on Him. With His help, you can conquer the devils that are tormenting you.
No comments:
Post a Comment