Last night this was in my daily devotional from Simple Abundance – A Daybook of Comfort and Joy by Sarah Ban Breathnach.
If we are alive, we cannot escape loss. Loss is a part of real life. “Have you ever thought, when something dreadful happens, a moment ago things were not like this; let it be then not now, anything but now?” the English novelist Mary Stewart asks. “And you try and try to remake then, but you know you can’t. So you try to hold the moment quite still and not let it move on and show itself.”
Trauma and loss hit hard, again, last night. It got scary, flashbacks of the violent explosions that led to our eldest needing to be in the ER, psychiatric hospitalization and residential care were right before our eyes. Our eldest was stuck, picking fights and lashing out, refusing any supports coming her way. I was emotionally exhausted by the time dad got home. He was able to step in and be the safety eyes on her as I moved to comfort and distract the younger ones, getting them ready for bed.
The memories, wonderings and mixed emotions around her bio family ebb and flow, swell and surge, and often crash and burn in the daily life of our eldest. In fact, just the day before in a meeting with her therapists, skills trainers, and school team of teachers and counselors, as we were identifying her needs – like needs an education, needs to be happy, needs a friend – I added to that list – needs to grieve.
She cannot escape her loss.
We cannot escape her loss.
As I sat in my room last night – eyes and ears attentive to bedroom doors for safety sake – worn, scared, feeling a little lost myself, I opened my devotional and read the above.
Yes, we all face loss. We all need to grieve.
But what does that mean?
Grief makes us uncomfortable, I suppose because we can’t fix it or make it all better. So, as good humans we try to manage it, putting it into steps we can understand. Or we ignore it – a favorite tactic of many including hubby.
The reality is grief is a chaotic, utterly confusing, and disorganized course. It doesn’t fit into a box, and thus it can sideswipe us at any moment. It can seemingly take over EVERYTHING.
In adoption, it can sometimes be tempting to only focus on the gains that come with such a gift. But grief and loss accompany any adoption as well. In fact, shortly after our adoption was finalized in 2016 I wrote something for a church newsletter that came back to me last night in the midst of chaos.
As an adoptive mother, I sometimes envy the opportunity my kids have to understand in a profound way what it means to be adopted by Christ. How many times have I tried to share this similar thought with my kids – that they are chosen, by us and by God. And just as many times, I have seen delight mixed with a dismayed expression as a reaction to these words.
We have spent a lot of time in our home talking about the fact that you can have many, opposing in fact, emotions about something. Such as excitement about finally becoming a Baker, but also sadness about what might have been with a biological family. These are challenging truths to navigate for a child. These are challenging realities for us to navigate as well.
But navigate them we must. If we fail to do so, afraid that our confusion, sadness, sense of unworthiness, or even pride might be too much for God to handle, how can we receive and live in His truth? If my children are afraid to hurt me with their deep and real feelings, keeping them from sharing their questions and thoughts, how can they fully receive the love I have for them?
In our home, we emphasize the need to ‘close the loop’ when some form of disconnection occurs. In short – repair and connect again. Making amends is a way we do this.
Our eldest was able to find some calm after the chaos of grief and loss took over last night. After hours of lashing out at everyone in the house, yelling obscenities, screaming about hatred for her life, and that we are not really her family (we won’t go into the other kinds of destruction and self-harm), she must have run out of steam, and to her credit, found the strength to indeed ‘close the loop’, to navigate the dualities of her life, her loss, her grief.
This eldest of ours identified and shared that she picks fights because, “It makes me feel bigger than my feelings….but really, it makes me smaller.”
This girl is amazing!
The final part of my writing for the church newsletter says this:
Our mixed emotions, thoughts, and behaviors around our identity don’t change God’s truth. He saw you, picked you and placed you. As I recently read in a book – “before you were a teacher, banker, doctor, male or female, Asian or black, you are God’s child. Before on your best days you are an encourager, shepherd, or giver, and on your worst days a liar, slanderer, or cheater, you are God’s child. You are His first choice. You are His, redeemed and beloved.”
“You did not choose me; I chose you”. John 15:16
We won’t ever stop choosing you, our eldest and beautiful child.
Carrie, as an adopted child myself (and having suffered some trauma altho I think small in comparison to what your children have suffered), I feel so strongly that you are doing the most amazing job of giving these very wounded children of yours (and God’s!) what they need…. I am going to pray for you that you can get some good rest renewal on the regular because I know you must need it! I also want to thank you for doing the hard work to allow your children to grieve in whatever ways they need to! I lived with a a family that did not want or make space for my grief when my adoptive parents both died when I was 10. My older (also adopted) sister went the ‘ignore’ route (not consciously) and to this day (she is 60 years old now) has had deal with the hard consequences of addiction and unhappiness. I was pretty much alone in dealing with my grief as a child, but I thank God that I somehow managed it enough to get through it. All I needed was the space to grieve and for someone to allow me that space. I will pray for your children that they can continue to release their pain and that they will know more happiness.
Oh, so much yes. Prayers for the grace to keep closing the loop, for both our families and everyone in the same boat.
Blessings to you sweet friend. Our kids ought to be pen pals! Much love…