"Those kids are so blessed!"
"You are so amazing!"
Being a part of a family that adopted 5 kids out of the foster system I hear these praises on a pretty regular basis. They can be both encouraging and cringe-worthy. It's encouraging to be reminded of the beauty of adoption. After all, it is an image of our adoption into the family of God though the gospel! We have been adopted and we are blessed beyond measure! We say that adoption is tragically beautiful since these kids have come a long way before settling into a permanent loving home, but far too often we only hear about the beautiful side. The part most often overlooked or forgotten, or even ignored, is the tragic side of adoption.
Kids adopted out of the foster care system come with all kinds of baggage, whether you get them at as a baby or a toddler. Our 5 kids all have different issues of some kind. To sum it up, let's just call them by their biggest flaws. There's The Antagonist, Instant Rage, The Manipulator, The Tyrant, and Little Miss Sass.
The Antagonist was 4 when we got him and he had been neglected those 4 years. He's delayed developmentally. Technically he's two years younger maturity-wise than his actual age. He also suffers from attachment disorder. In short, he has very little capacity for sympathy, let alone empathy. He is forever antagonizing everyone in the house and takes no one seriously. Honestly, he frightens me sometimes. I fear that he is a sadist waiting to come out in full force.
Instant Rage is sweet and loving when he wants to be. He came to us at 3 months of age. Not much is known about his background except that he was meth exposed. We didn't know what that would mean then. Now we know that it messed with his brain making it easy for him to go from 0-100 in 3 seconds flat. There is no middle ground; no build up. Just straight up rage. It takes 20 mins at the least to calm him down and often calm doesn't mean he's done being angry. He'll still be scowling at us; those thick eyebrows of his bunched together. It won't take long for him to lose it again. He has severe dyslexia which makes school exhausting for my mom. My fear for him is that one day his rage will cause him to become physically abusive.
The Manipulator is actually a perfectly normal child, but she is extremely sensitive and emotional. Oh! And did I mention manipulative? She loves to worm her way around to find those loopholes. "But their mom said we could play in their house!"
"But we told you already that we're eating dinner in a few minutes."
"But her mom said..."
And so it goes. In any other household it might be less exhausting, but in this house, where everyone is high maintenance, it certainly doesn't help.
The Tyrant would just love to rule the house. As a matter of fact, she thinks she does. She runs around all day making demands and arguing with anyone and everyone. ALL. DAY. LONG.
"Mom, can we have an apple?"
"No, honey. We just ate oranges and bananas and almonds. And besides, snacks aren't to fill you up. They're just to hold you over till lunch."
"NO!!! I WANT AN APPLE!"
"Well, I already said no. Sorry, darlin'"
"I HATE YOU! I'LL GET IT MYSELF!"
"No, ____."
"YES!"
*Insert her slapping, kicking, scratching, and spitting at us as we try to navigate her out of the kitchen.*
The Tyrant then proceeds to knock over, throw, or slam everything in her path as she makes her way to her "sulking place." She was meth exposed like Instant Rage so she has the same issues. Easily angered, hard to calm down, and super stubborn. It's like banging your head against a brick wall.
Little Miss Sass is cute and she knows it. She tries to use it to her advantage but to no avail. She will sass and talk back to us like no one else. She was born with a mild form of cerebral palsy which makes her walk, run, and smile a little lopsided. She doesn't really have any other issues, but she picks up off of The Tyrant's habits and has learned more frustrating ones from her than good ones.
"You're not in charge, Megan." (She said this to mom once. Didn't go over too well.)
"You can't tell me what to do."
"Shut up!" (She tends to yell this at everyone on a regular basis even though she's repeatedly been told not to.)
"You can't tell my sister what to do." (I don't know why she stands up for her sister after said sister is in trouble for hitting her... odd girl, I know.)
Yeah. She's stubborn too.
All in all, they have serious issues. Issues that can't easily be solved. Issues that go beyond the usual sin nature. Issues that can't just go away with drugs. These issues aren't things that come up once or twice a day, a few times a week. No. These issues are the non-stop, ongoing, patience-trying, all-day kind. The kind that doesn't end. The kind where sleep is the only respite. The kind where by the end of the day you think you should've ripped all you hair out and have a very large goose-egg of a bruise on your forehead from where you've pounded it against the walls and door-frames of the house. The kind that has you exhausted before dinner and dreading waking up in the morning. Did I mention that they are all usually up before 6:30 EVERY. FRIKIN'. MORNING? Oh yes.
And I haven't even mentioned the other problem child. Me.
The Lazy 22 year old.
Yup. I make the list too. I do just enough to make it seem like I'm helping, but really, Mom does pretty much everything except some housework. Dad and I usually tackle laundry, I usually sweep, mop, and vacuum every week. I try to clean the bathrooms once a week. I do a lot of the dishes. But that's about the extent of it. Oh! And I sometimes watch the kids to make sure they don't kill each other. Otherwise, I'm on my phone watching or listening to something or on Facebook or Pinterest. Yup. That's my life. And let me tell you. It sucks. I think it sucks so much because I'm not invested in it. I spend most of my life living for the next event for ME, rather than looking for the next way I can serve SOMEONE ELSE. This lifestyle I lead has not helped with the already high stress levels in the house.
Yet somehow, God loves me. And CHOSE to adopt me. ME. This lazy-butt gal. Why? We will never know why. But what we do know is that in spite of all our sin, all our failures, and all the wrong we may do in the future, he LOVED us SO MUCH that he sent his very own son to DIE so that we may be adopted. Jesus died for our adoption. As Christians we are called to Christ-likeness, so therefore we are called to DIE for the adoption of others. I am called to die spiritually to my flesh, and live sacrificially for these kids. We have adopted them,yes, but that means nothing in comparison to the adoption into the family of God. What better way to hope for their future adoption than to live the gospel? To live a dying life? I often live in fear of what the future holds for these kids. But that does no one good. It does nothing but make me want to come down hard when I should be showing mercy. It makes me want to force them to respect me out of fear rather than earn their respect with firm resolve and scandalous grace. It makes me want to change their behaviors rather than their hearts. This is what I do, versus what I want. Once Paul spoke "For I do not do the good I want, but the evil I do not want is what I keep on doing. Now if I do what I do not want, it is no longer I who do it, but sin that dwells within me."(Romans 7:19-20 ESV)
I do not wish to go on doing what I know to be wrong and counter-productive. Another quote that rings true with me is this:
So now, here are some things that I love about the kids. I love Little Miss Sass taking a high stress moment down by simply doing this: "Megan. Megan. MEGAN!!!"
"WHAT?"
"I love you." *followed by an adorable lopsided grin.* I love watching Instant Rage kindly helping one of his sisters buckle up in her car seat. I love them begging me to read Little House and sing to them before bed. I love hearing them giggle over something as ridiculous as a fart. I love watching them finally understand that concept they've been struggling with for the past hour. I love running the gauntlet of hugs and goodbyes every time I leave the house. I love the squeals of excitement as they engage in their imaginative play. I love hearing The Tyrant trying to count. "One, two, three, four, five, eight, eleventeen, sixteen, twelve, fifteen, seventeen, nineteen, sixteen..." I love watching the boys get excited over flag football, Pokemon cards, magic tricks, and drawing. I love hearing the girls playing "Mom and Daughters". I love all of this and more. God gave me the siblings I always wanted, even if it was later in my life than I anticipated. ;)
Thanks to those who stuck it out to the end. I know this is one monster of a post but hey! I'm making up for lost time. :)
