We are quickly approaching the 5 month anniversary of meeting our sweet boy for the first time. As I prepare for mothers day this year I am a hot mess of emotions. For a long time now I have been trying to find a way to put it all into words or explain it in a way that might make sense to those around me. Then today as I crawled into bed for a moments rest it hit me that I am 5 months into the longest marathon of my life. I am not a "real" runner. I exercise on my treadmill while using netflix as a distraction so I apologize if this metaphor doesn't quite measure up but here goes...
Marathons are hard. You know they are going to be hard, that's why you train. However, training doesn't make them any less hard, it just gives you the skills, tools, strength and endurance you need to keep going and finish the race. I don't think anyone just magically floats through a marathon. Some of us make it look easier than others, but we all sweat.
There are all kinds of moments along the way while you are running. Some of them are beautiful. Moments when you get to encourage another runner, sometimes there is beautiful scenery along the way (if you can keep your breath long enough to look up and notice) and there are times when you just feel in sync with what is happening and all the training seems to have paid off. There are check points along the way, moments when you need to re-hydrate, pace yourself and refocus on how much race is left. Then there are moments when you have to push past the hard and somehow find a way to keep going. The further into the marathon you get the harder it gets to push past the difficult moments. Just when you thought you were through the hardest part you turn a corner and realize it's another uphill climb.
In my marathon there seem to be loops. Times when I say to myself "I'm pretty sure we just went through this, why are we here again?"
I see pictures online of friends who have finished their marathons and the stand holding their medals with hug smiles on their face. I know a lot of runners who keep their bibs as a record of the races they have one. It is a way to look back and say "I did that!"
Today I had to realize that I am still in the race. I am sure there were moments along the way when those smiling faces standing with their finish line medals were a little less smiley. There may have even been moments when they thought they weren't going to make it.
The marathon of being an adoptive family is long and tiring. It is filled with beautiful moments, like this past week when Isaac started understanding and using family words like "brother", "son", and "sister." Or when the house is filled with the sounds of my kids making each other laugh. However, I need to confess that I am struggling. The other night the kids were taking turns jumping off the back of the couch. It was priceless to hear Isaac try and count along with his sister. "One, two, three, two, nine, ten..bump!" (he's working on it). I thought to myself this is absolutely adorable, cherish this moment but I knew the look on my face only showed how tired I was, no matter how hard I tried to smile anyway.
Later that night as Cara was awake frightened by bad dreams and Isaac cried in the other room because he was congested and "ti-word" I thought to myself. "Why on earth did we let them stay up jumping on the couch? Now they are all riled up and it's nearly 10pm and we can't get them to sleep!" I was so angry. Not at them, but at the marathon. We were all exhausted. It just didn't seem fair. I let that same beautiful moment fuel my anger that what I needed was rest and what I was faced with was an even steeper uphill climb. Yet another difficult leg in my marathon.
In the end we got it all done. I laid and prayed with Cara about the unsettled feeling she had in her heart that was keeping her awake. I rubbed her back and stayed with her until she was in a deep sleep. An hour later as Bill was leaving Isaac's room for the tenth time that night I crawled in bed beside Isaac, too. He resisted at first because he too was angry that he couldn't sleep, but in the end he rested his head on my chest and said "Mommy rub" as I stroked his back. A half hour later he too was sleeping deeply. I tried to cherish his sweet head on my chest as I kissed him goodnight and crept back down the hall to my own bed.
The next morning I woke up early to pee and decided to spend some time with God. As I read the promises in Isaiah 40 for probably the 500th time I asked God to once again restore my weary heart so I could make it through another day. Instead I was met with stomach troubles and spent the morning face down on the powder room floor. As the last wave of sickness passed I looked up to see Cara standing outside the door wanting breakfast. "Really God?! Didn't I just tell you how weary I am?" So I poured the cereal and whisked the eggs and began another day. I pushed through the hard because my marathon isn't over.
We knew this would be hard, but just because we knew what to expect doesn't make it less hard. It's HARD!
It is hard when your son wakes up at 6am screaming and refuses to let you comfort him.
It is hard when he doesn't have the words to express the emotions that are raging inside him.
It is hard when a simple change in routine means having to explain the new plan 30 times in 10 min.
It is hard when you are parenting a child from a hard place who sees the world through a lens of fear.
It is hard when running late sets off triggers that only make you more late.
I could write you a list that would send even the most experienced parent running in the other direction. However, please know I am not complaining. Becoming an adoptive family has challenged us in ways I expected and ways I didn't expect. Each of us is being stretched in ways that will make us better. We are learning that together we can run farther and longer than we expected. We are learning that God meets you over quiet moments with coffee and when you are face down on the bathroom floor. We are learning how to live with less but how to love more. Nothing about this is BAD but it is very hard.
One of my favorite parts about marathons are the people along the sidelines. They are holding signs and stand in all kinds of weather to cheer on their loved ones for the brief moment that they pass them by. They are cheering and yelling and waiting anxiously for the moment when they can hug their loved one and say "you did it!"
Please know that this is very humbling to ask this, but I could really use an active cheering section. It makes me feel weak and selfish to put it out there, but I have to believe that is a lie designed to keep me silent so I'll eventually give up. I am used to being the one that bakes the cookies and writes the notes. It is hard for me to admit that the hard days have left me feeling weary. Many of you have already come along side us in so many ways in this journey and I am forever grateful for all the people God has used to bring us this far. However, If you think of it, I am still in the middle of my marathon and I could really use a cheering section.
This past week my dad stopped by with a cup of coffee and some donut holes. He came to be my shoulder to cry on and I missed him by under a minute. Yet his simple note and sweet gesture left me unraveled in the best way possible. I cried through every sip of that coffee but I knew that I wasn't alone. It meant so much to me that he would stop what he was doing just to pop over and make sure I was okay.
I know there are bigger problems in the world and that you reading this right now might also be having a bad day and be in need of some encouragement. But I also know that I have been feeling a tug on my heart to reach out and let people into the story God is writing in our family. So I'm gonna be brave and say "I need you" and trust that God will do the rest.
