just being christian

credit: http://www.villageemporiumcharlotte.com/willowtree.html

We’re two days away from Mother’s Day. Of all the Holidays Hallmark has invented, it’s the one that stirs up the deepest and most intense feelings for me. Over the last seven years the concept of mothering has been made very real to me in four different ways. Each of them has informed my view on mothering. Each of them has deepened my appreciation for mothers.

• The Single Mother – During my time doing Urban Ministry for 3.5 years in Kansas City, the two-parent family was the anomaly. Most of the families I worked with were headed up by single mothers or single grandmothers. Becoming a parent made me realize how much work it would be to do all of the parenting solo. I have the utmost respect for mothers who are able to shoulder the burden well, and I understand why the burden can be too much for some mothers to carry well all of the time. My heart goes out to them, and I bang the drum on behalf of the single mother  because I feel it is a group that the church does not always minister to well.
• The Birth Mother – Two of my children are adopted. I think of and pray for their birth mothers often. My thoughts and prayers are even more intensely drawn to them this time of year. I lament that we live in a world where people (for various reasons) are unable to care for their own children. If I could communicate anything to the birth mothers of our children, I would let them know that their children are absolutely wonderful human beings. They are thriving, and they are absolutely beautiful. One of the big things we’ve taken away from our adoption experiences is that adoption doesn’t solve the orphan problem in the world. Working with at-risk populations to make sure that the health needs of mothers helps solve the orphan problem. Working with organizations that help women become educated and financially independent helps solve the orphan problem. Working to make sure that women have rights and a voice helps solve the orphan problem. Working to make sure women are educated helps solve the orphan problem. I love our kids. I love their birth countries. I love their birth mothers. I will do everything I can to support wholeness, completeness and peace in all three.
• Working Mothers – My wife is amazing. She feels a strong calling to be a mother. She feels a strong calling to be a physician. Those are the two things she’s talked most about ever since I met her. Seeing her live out both of those callings is truly amazing. She had two middle-of-the-night baby deliveries this week, but that didn’t stop her from being  a loving and engaged mom. Seven total hours of sleep spread over two nights is a valid excuse to shirk your mothering duties, but she never did. She spent her days off with the kids. She helped put them to bed. She mothered like a boss. I love her and I have an incredible amount of respect for how she throws herself whole-heartedly into both of her callings.
• My Mother – I went through a period where I was a punk kid. Not easy to parent. Not at all. I remember one night my mother was in tears and she asked me if I even wanted to go to college. A valid question, considering my grade card. But she stuck with me. She kept on loving me. She kept on believing in me. She will be happy to know that all of the grief I caused her was paid upon my own head during my time working with inner-city Middle School students. And I can already see that when my own children reach their adolescent years, they will have their moments. But when the day comes when I’m banging my head against the wall trying to figure out how children that I raised could possibly lose their minds to such an extreme, I’ll remind myself to keep loving them and to keep believing in them. My mom did that for me, and I turned out…ok.

Backstory…In 2005, I appeared on an episode of Wheel of Fortune. We used the money I won to adopt our oldest daughter from Vietnam and the good folks at Wheel apparently thought it was a cool enough story to put our family on the Wall of/Hall of Fame. This is my first ever Hall of Fame induction, and most likely my last. I’m not passing up the opportunity to give a speech.

Ahem. Well, I’ve never been inducted to a Hall of Fame before, so I’m at a bit of a loss as to what to say. I guess I’ll start with the obligatory “Thank You”.

A huge thanks to my wonderful wife for not shaming me into staying to help her and my Father in Law finish an intense yard project on the day the Wheel Mobile was in town. Quite frankly, it was a punk move on my part to not stick around and see things through to the end. But you let me off with an eye roll, which I’ve come to learn is tacit approval though not without a bit of judgement. You’ve always let me run with my redonk ideas, and I’m thankful that you give me that freedom.

Thanks to Sony pictures for the opportunity. After my first audition, I had no faith that you’d call me back for the second round. And really, who could have blamed you? I choked on the easiest puzzle possible, to the point where the ENTIRE crowd groaned when I was unable to guess the solution. I clearly had just a vague knowledge of the puzzle categories. And I was wearing a terrycloth polo shirt. Had I received nothing more than the fanny pack, water bottle and T-shirt you sent me off with that day, I would have felt like I came out ahead in the deal. But you took a risk that my enthusiasm was worth another look, and that my brain would not fart when the lights were on and the cameras were rolling. I’m glad I didn’t let you down. The producers, Pat Sajak, Vanna White, everyone I had the opportunity to interact with as a part of the show was pure class. It was the most un-Hollywood Hollywood experience one could have.

And what would a Hall of/Wall of Fame speech be without thanking God. But not in the compulsory, “Thanks for letting me go on TV and win a bunch of money” manner. Seriously. Thank you.

Thank you for answering in the affirmative to the two prayers I had going into that experience*.

Thank you for dreaming a bigger and more fulfilling story than I could have ever imagined heading into those first auditions.

Thank you for not letting me win so much money that I did something stupid like buy a shark tank. Because at that point in my life, I probably would have done something like that.

Thank you for opening a door for us to adopt earlier than we could have ever imagined.

Thank you for speaking so clearly to both myself and Stacy as to what you were calling us to do with the winnings.

Thank you for sustaining us through the incredibly difficult periods of that first adoption, and then through the even more difficult periods of our second adoption.

Thank you for all of the people we have met through our two adoptions.

And thank you for the village of people you have surrounded us with to help us raise our kids.

*My two prayers going into the taping of my episode: 1) Please don’t let me win a vehicle that I can’t afford to pay the taxes on, and 2) Come what may, help me to have fun and be changed for the better. Seriously, how lame would it have been to have had to sell our house and move into the RV I won in order to afford the taxes on the RV? Lame. That’s why I refused to make eye-contact with any of the vehicles on stage. I did not want them to think they were in any way, shape or form desired. They got the hint.**

In closing, I encourage everyone to make the most out of the opportunities you are given. Try something. Take a risk. If something really good happens to you, consider whether or not God is giving you an opportunity to do something for someone else.

Don’t settle for a Hall of Lame story, when God might be inviting you into Hall of Fame story*.

Good night.

*What’s a Hall of/Wall of Fame speech with out the obligatory lame platitude? This was the lamest one I could come up with. Not too shabby, if I do say so myself.

**This is the first time I’ve had an aside to an aside. Recordbreaking stuff here, folks. But I was reminded of a funny story. After my episode aired, I was driving a carload of middle school students around in my bangin’ 1998 Ford Taurus. One of the kids was really impressed by its acceleration power and asked me, in all seriousness and as a compliment to the car, if I had used the money I won to buy that sweet ride. Yeah, kid. I dropped 30 Grand on a 7 year-old family sedan. I love middle schoolers.

This morning I return to work after an eight-week hiatus. That’s two months for those of you doing the math at home. That’s a long time.

The world of education has provided a different rhythm for our family. When I was doing youth ministry, summers were always mad hectic. My travel schedule ramped up. I worked more nights. I expended tons of energy. It was a beast.

This summer was the exact opposite. I got to rest. I was more available and present for my kids than I have ever been. I embraced my role as Stay at Home Dad. It took a bit for us to hit our rhythm, but we figured it out. Looking back, it seems as though I just had to progress through the 4 Stages of Stay at Home Fathering.

1. Anticipation and Ambition – As the school year ended I was pumped to get to hang out with my kids. I also had grand plans for all I would achieve this summer. I mean, how can you not be incredibly efficient if you have an extra 30-40 hours each week you aren’t spending in the office?
2. Realizing Reality – The answer to that last question? You chase around a 2yr old and a 5yr old all day. Those 30-40 hours get accounted for quite quickly. Prior to our move a little over a year ago I had talked myself into thinking I could be a Stay at Home Dad full-time. Stage 2 had me chucking that idea out the window. I didn’t know if I could last the whole summer, let alone make a life of this gig. Did I have the patience needed to nurture my kids all day, every day? Doubtful. Did I have the wisdom to solve the riddles they would barrage me with? Not likely. Every time I pondered what the summer had in store for me, I came to the same conclusion: I’m royally screwed.
3. Getting the Groove – Thank goodness we figured things out. I learned what to do with my kids all day. They learned what to do with me. Eventually we started dancing in a coordinated fashion, and stopped falling all over each others feet. It just took a minute. Once we hit our groove however, I ran outside and grabbed the positive notion of being a Stay at Home Dad I had previously chucked out the window. As the summer progressed I realized just how funny my kids are, how much they are like their parents, and how deeply I’m smitten with them. I knew all of these things before, but they were certainly reaffirmed for me during our time together. Not that we didn’t have our moments. My daughter would occasionally do her best impersonation of a teenager on an MTV reality show, and my son perfected the art of making a huge mess every time I turn my back. But overall, we figured out how to have a blast together.
4. Schmaltzy Sentiment – A couple of weeks ago I realized I was soon to return to work. I found myself straining to soak up our time together and really enjoy our quickly waning summer. It’s not that I don’t want to go back to work. My job is energizing and challenging and all kinds of fun. I even have some new challenges and ambitious goals that I’m looking forward to tackling this school year. So it’s not exactly like I’ll be dragging myself back into the office. Mixed feelings for sure, because I wouldn’t trade the time I had with my kids this summer for anything.

I think the big loser her is my wife. She was pretty happy to have a house husband for a couple of months. We typically do a good job of splitting up tasks around the house, but with me at home more I absorbed a larger share of cooking/cleaning/etc for those two months. She’s going to be bummed if I ever get called away from education and end up taking a position that has me in the office all year.

Renew and Restore

As of Saturday, my daughter is five.  My son is 18 months old.  Just recently they started to fight with each other, and I couldn’t be happier.

We don’t condone any kind of sibling rivalry/fighting/bickering in our house.  None at all.  But those are time honored traditions amongst siblings, and it would be unrealistic to think that our kids would never indulge in them.  When these behaviors manifest there are repercussions, but on the inside I sigh a little sigh of relief.

As an adoptive family, one of the things that you pray the most for is that everyone’s place in the family feels natural. We don’t try to achieve this by glossing over that fact that El is adopted. We will (and do) celebrate our differences. El is already aware of her adoptedness and understands it to the extent of her cognitive ability. We have days ahead of us where that journey of understanding will be rocky, but that’s part of the deal.

It’s no small matter to my heart that my kids treat each other as any siblings would.  It’s healthy.  And certainly, the fighting and rivalry is easier accepted in that it is a package deal with incredibly tender moments that our kids have started sharing.

The other day, Z lost his most prized posession…his bink.  Dude loves that thing.  Can work it like Maggie Simpson.

Eventually, he realized it had gotten pushed under our recliner.  The kid’s go-go gadget arms always seem to be long enough to nab contraband, but they weren’t long enough to retrieve his bink in this instance.

El saw his struggle and tried to grab it for him.  Couldn’t. So she echoed the common refrain of “It’s OK Bud,” and proceeded to climb up into the chair and recline it.  She then climbed down and used the new found space to satiate her brother’s greatest need.

“Here you go, Bud.”

Our kids look very different.  They have very different personalities.  They act differently a lot of time. Makes sense.  They have very different genetic makeups.

But you know what?  They are siblings.  We view them as such.  They view each other as such.  God views them as such.  There is a deep bond there, and that bond brings my spirit a feeling of completeness.

Even when they fight.

Sometimes especially when they fight.

Renew and Restore