A friend and I bantered on Facebook earlier today and ended up discussing the limitations on understanding someone's tone via the Internet. With that lesson in mind, I want to be up front about the tone of this post: it isn't sarcastic. It's sorrowful. And truly apologetic.
As I pray for each of my children, in light of their backgrounds and our trip to Uganda, I want you to know that I pray for your children too.
Why?
Because I grieve over the innocence Jocelyn and Robbie have lost as they hear the before-adoption stories from their siblings. And I grieve over the innocence your children might lose in the same way.
Is it worth it? Yes.
Is it good for our children to learn about suffering? Yes.
Is it helpful for us to guide them through it so they learn to suffer well? Yes.
Is this the fun stuff of parenting? No. No, it's not.
I don't want to have hard lessons taught to your children or my first two children by our newest children. I know you don't want that either. For that, I am sorry.
But as I apologize for the stories of hard things that your children might hear, I grieve even more over the experience of hard things for my children who lived it firsthand.
When our oldest started showing extreme anxiety when we got home from Uganda, it was because she had difficulty reconciling a return to our comfortable lives here with the extreme poverty she witnessed there.
When our other big girl starts obsessively cleaning because she thinks we might abandon her if she isn't a good enough daughter, it's because she knows what that felt like once before.
When our newest son hides his toys and snacks in a backpack at the foot of his bed, it's because he knows what it's like to be without food or trinkets.
When our wild boy asks if we're going to start beating them when they misbehave, it's a response to the stories of beatings he's heard from other children in Uganda and other children in our home.
When our little girl got extra clingy this week when I took to bed with a nasty cold, it's because she knows what it's like for her mother not to ever leave her sick bed.
When our baby girl spikes a fever with her cold and we have to go to the doctor immediately, it's because the malaria she had while in Uganda could have lingered and reactivated and we have to get a quick blood test to make sure it hadn't.
Oh, my heart. Sometimes it's too much for this mama to bear.
So please forgive us if our children teach yours about hunger, abuse, poverty, disease, and other ills. If that does happen, please pray for our children too as you pray for yours to heal.
And know that I've already been bathing yours in prayer, knowing that I couldn't protect my dear ones from the harsh realities of this world, and I can't protect yours either.
Sweet Jesus, come soon.
