apples of gold: fledgling and hope

Growing into family.

Learning to trust love.

Experiencing faithfulness and finding it reliable.

Those are all hallmarks of a child attaching to a parent.

At least those are the markers of how it is meant to be when a child is learning that a parent's love is safe, secure and forever.

In the language of attachment in adoption there are labels that describe children who are having a longer or harder time learning to trust and love their family.  Anxious Attachment is one such label.

When I read a word like anxious, other words flood my mind.  Actually, my stomach does a bit of a jitter bug and tightens quite discernably.  Words like:  frightened, distressed, afraid, apprehensive, uneasy, scared, disquieted come to mind.

And these are apt descriptions of a child learning attachment in some ways.

But...

words have power, don't they?

When my boys were little babies, and they crawled after me all over the house and hated if I was out of sight for even a minute, I didn't call them anxious.  I called them babies.

When I first left the kids in Sunday School or with a new babysitter and they cried long and hard, I didn't think they were not attaching to me.  I knew we were growing and learning in our trust of each other and what it meant for "Mommy (me) always comes back".

Growing, fledgling, unfolding, maturing attachment.  Those are terms I ascribed to my children as they learned the tune and tenor of a Mom's love.

When children arrive home, and it is years after birth, there is time needed to grow and nurture the bonds of love and true, steady trust.  The trust that comes from experiencing.  The love that is borne of a heart that sees again and again what beloved and treasured mean.

What looks anxious, and has undertones of those words, also looks brand new.  Newly forged.  Early in budding.  Blossoms awaiting flowering.  The heart finding a steady beat and knowing it remains.

That is a corner turn in a mother's heart.  A turn of focus.  Instead of seeing the word anxious and watching that expand in a mind, shifting the word to another.  A term of what is also true and right.  A word fitly spoken like an apple of gold. 

Our family has walked "anxious attachment".  We found great help and counsel, and have experienced God's amazing healing and attachment.  We also learned the power of a label, and to take our minds captive to what is true and noble.

My sweet gazelle can be nothing but growing in the grace of God's love for her heart in our family.  She is a sweet fledgling nestling, and giving her the gentleness of my time as well as my words and labels does her great service.  As it does us all.

Fledgling, as defined by the dictionary, means young, new or inexperienced.  

And that is what I think when I need a description for my Emma in our family.  For her understanding of our love and how to trust us.

That word is lovely.  Fledgling.  It is winsome and hopeful.  It fills me, renews me and allows God to move my heart into the proper place.  From fear, worry, longing and hurry, to a quiet, restful place of hope and joy.

What she has lived, we also are privileged to learn.  I have grown the most in the growing of my children.  Walking the road to learn love, the warp and weft of trust, the fabric of faithfulness.

A mother's work is Kingdom business.  There is nothing small about it.  It is not insignificant.  It is a high call and a mighty job.  Nurturing the hearts of the young is nothing but holy.  Holding fledgling life in ones hands and diligently lifting to the Lord is courage and strength personified.

And that does include the list of endless dishes, folded clothes, dusty floors and bandaged knees, runny noses and hurt feelings, taxi services and yet another meal prepared and served.  Those are as much acts of service and love to God as are the "big events" we put value on.  Don't let us lie to ourselves about those being unimportant.

Hands to the plow and hearts to God.  Because He is in the plowing.

So this morning when upon awaking the day felt long already, I reminded myself of what is true.  And what is true is not the list I woke up with, it is the list the Lord gave me instead.

Do not grow weary in doing good.

What lists are you making today?  What words does God need to refine or re-define in your mind?

I'm finding fledgling so much more hopeful than anxious.

Perhaps I am fledgling myself in God's eyes.  Fancy that.  There's room for growth in that word.

solace

Tonight, after a long and wearying day in my head, Anna walked into the kitchen where I sat with my few tears talking to Jim.

Truth be told, I cried enough that my eyes were red-rimmed, even if the tears were dry in that moment.

Anna looked at me and asked why I was crying.  And I answered honestly.

I told her I was sad and tired.

She just wrapped her arms around me and held on.

So nurturing and dear, that embrace.

Comfort


Daughter to mother.

I received that hug like a long, cold drink of water to a thirsty, parched throat.

I drank in her tenderness to me, and felt my heart melt right back to her.

This hard-won love.  The long journey of our mother-daughter dance, reminding me of what is because of what was.

And now I find myself again taming a gazelle.  Watching, waiting, patiently wooing.  Persevering.

Today my heart ached for the weariness of it all.  And God kept reminding me to keep on.  To not grow weary of doing right.  To press in and press on.  This is what He called me to.  This most precious of all journeys.

The walk to my daughter's heart.

In Anna's hug came a sustenance not just from her, but from the Lord.  He reminded me this hard way isn't just for Emma, it is for my sanctification, too.  It is my road also.   And he's entrusted a treasure to me, not because I'm not good enough to be her mom so it is so hard, but because it is so hard that He asked me.

It makes me cry to even type those words.  Because enough isn't how I've felt as of late.  I'm playing bad tapes in my head and they are not from the Lord.  They are laments that are not true.  And enough of that is enough of that.

Hard is fine, but spinning hard off into another place about ability and worth as a mother is not.

Her arms ministered love to me for Him.  I long to capture that moment and hold onto the feeling.  Somehow writing it here makes it an official record, doesn't it?

The love of a child.  What a beautiful thing.

{redemption} His story of grace and mercy

This is her birthday.  The day she was born.

Six years ago, God displayed himself in love as He ordained the day for Emma Kate.

Her first day.

Entry, and the first breath.  A head wet with birth and fresh from within.

And I think not only of Emma, but of her.  Emma's first mother.

We see His goodness in Emma's birth-family.  In a culture that sits under a government where forced abortions are normative and often compulsory (thus, the adverb forced), they made a way for Emma Kate to live.  In a place where babies that have physical differences are left to die, Emma Kate was lovingly placed somewhere she could live.

A bi-lateral cleft lip and palate can be a death sentence in other countries.  Especially impoverished ones.  With no means to nurse, Emma's mother would have needed special bottles and formula for her sweet baby.  And surgery.  Those don't exist for people without the means to secure them.  Means economic or social.  No money.  No government systems.  No help.

Emma Kate also is missing fingers and toes on her hands and feet, and has a calf that, well, looks different from mine and yours.  Those physical differences in China...they aren't just differences.  They are marks.  Marks against her.  Forever.  It is so different from here.  At least for now it is.  She would be considered cursed.

Emma's parents kept her for almost a week.  I imagine it was a week that left them reeling.  I know she was loved.  I will tell her that for the rest of my days.  Not only was she loved and cared for by her Heavenly Father, she was loved by her birth parents.

They could have made drastically different choices.  And each option would have ended in Emma's end.

Instead, they took their daughter to a place where she had a chance: a chance to survive, and maybe a chance for another family who could care for her needs to find her.

That fact cuts me to the quick.

Those realities break my heart.

And I'm so humbled and grateful that God chose us to be that other family.  That we have been called to carry-on and carry out the hopes of her first parents.  Forever we are part of the same story.

We share a daughter with people in China we will never know this side of eternity.


God's provision for Emma included all that.  He knew we were coming, even when we didn't.  He knew that out of brokenness, his mercy and love would shine.  His graciousness for her in choosing a first family that would keep her and give her up are His story.  His love story for His lovely daughter, Emma Katherine YuXiao.  She wasn't a mistake.  She was never unloved.  She was never forgotten.  She was never lost.

Some tell a story like hers in what wasn't.  What didn't happen.  What was lost.  They fix fast on lack.

We see it so differently.

One day I hope to stand reunited before the One who dries every tear.  I long to gaze into the eyes of the woman who gave our daughter her life, and share together the goodness of knowing it all face to face with Him.  The whole story from the Master's perspective: written from heaven for eternity.  His heart to ours.

There is another mother to my daughter, and today I lifted her to our Lord, yearning for her heart to know she'd done well, that her daughter is safe and thriving.  That her daughter is beloved of us, too.  Her mother sweat and tears and longing were not for naught.  I pray the Lord comforts her heart this day, and that in the comforting she feels his pleasure for her bravery.  I pray she knows Him who loved us all first.


We frame Emma's story not as one of loss and regret.  It is a tale woven by love, written in redemption, guarded by heaven and walked out with God's goodness, mercy and provision.

Our little gazelle is precious in the sight of many; none more than His.  We sing this good day a song of praise to our God.

The Maker of heaven and earth counted it joy to fashion and assemble His beloved treasure, Emma Katherine YuXiao.  A little one made in love and glory.  From before the very foundations of the world were laid was she in his mind.  Grafted in, just like us.  Adopted, just like us.  Called a daughter, just like me.  Now my daughter as well.

His first.  Theirs next.  Ours now and always.

This day, we celebrate the miracle of Emma.

From dawn's break to dusk's fall.

Thank you, our Jesus, for our Emma.

 .

Don't have to do that day again, and other adventures in wooing a gazelle

Jim left for Seattle early, early yesterday morning.  Early enough that he was gone by the time EK and the troop woke up.  Daylight savings made for an early arising all around, and that translates to Emma Kate awake by 6am.  Jim had the translator set with phrases explaining he was gone, he would be back, and he loved her forever.  Beautiful.

All seemed fine, until the school drop offs started.  Oh, mercy.  Dropping Cooper and Jeb off elicited a glower.  But Anna and Luke were still in the car.  Phew.  That's good.  We made it back home, had a second breakfast because we are like hobbits when we arise so early and the cereal of six o'clock just wasn't cutting it.  Waffles for round two.  We were carbo loading for the school day.

Little did I know the marathon I would run yesterday.  Not physical.  Just emotional.  It is probaby good I didn't know.  Sometimes it is just best to meet the day unknowing and simply get on with it and get through it.

Our little EK is like a beautiful gazelle.  Skittish and afraid in some ways right now.  While God made her to run and leap with grace, right now she is a very afraid little girl in some ways.  Many new things that don't necessarily make sense to her and that she can't trust often lead to times of anxiety.  The hardest thing for her is when our family separates to go about daily life.  She gets very anxious, worried and scared.  One day as I was asking the Lord for a way to picture this so I can recognize the importance of this time for Emma, that it is important to navigate through it, not just get past it, the idea of wooing came to my mind.  And that led to the thought of a skittish, afraid gazelle.

So I am wooing a little gazelle.  She doesn't yet know she can trust me.  She doesn't believe I am safe and secure and good at the care and feeding of wild gazelles.  EK is learning that I am her Mom.  A new category when all she's had is caregivers and teachers.  Important and loving caregivers and teachers, and yet a completely different thing.

Wooing.  It takes patience and diligence.  Sometimes it means staying close even while giving space.  Sometimes it means stealthy pursuit and creative moves to draw near.  All the time, it means not taking things personally.  This isn't about me, it is about EK.  And her sweet, dear, beautiful little heart and mind.  We are, together, making new.  She doesn't know it yet, but I do.  And I am so blessed to watch it all unfold each moment and each day.  Even on days like yesterday...

The gazelle and I drop off Luke and Anna at school.  She receives hugs, kisses and "we come back, Emma.  We always come back".  In they go, and off EK and I drive...and she wails.

All.day.

I think it was just too much.  She was thrown completely by Jim being gone.  After a weekend of all of us home, it was terribly sad for her to have her beloved playmates and siblings leave.  And now it is just the two of us.  And she's sad.  Scared.  Mad.  Not in control of a world that has been turned topsy turvy.

By lunchtime I popped three advil and decided it was time for McDonald's.  French fries for balm.  That earned me a respite: a smile, a giggle, a tight-fisted grasp on the cheap plastic megaman toy.  See?  Wooing.  I have a five year-olds lingo down.  This isn't my first safari. :)

If this were a sound track, the music would now cue to something quietly dramatic.  Mulling.  Are you ready?

1:30pm very cursory pediatrician appointment, where basically all we did was height and weight.  No needles, no blood work, not a stitch of clothing was removed.  Sitting on my lap the entire time.

Let's just say it was loud.  continuously loud.

Kudos to Dr. Inman.  He probably took a lollipop break after we left, and nabbed the entire basket they keep out front to soothe the nerves of anxious parents patients after the doctor visit.

Home again, home again, jiggety jig.

Thankfully, Jeb came in the door a half an hour after we got home.  The tables of grief turned to something less traumatized, and once again EK learned that we all come back and she can trust what I say.

The rest of the day was much better.  It was more homework and basketball and other safari activities with this busy crew.  The kids are all being so helpful - to me and to EK.  Once I got the littles settled, with Anna wanting to help EK with tooth brushing and bedtime story reading, Cooper and Jeb kept me entertained for a good hour laughing and just hanging out.  I so needed that.  And it was total ministry.  We rehashed the day, laughed about nothing and their silly stories of life, and I felt my angst leaving.

Day is done, gone the sun.  A hard day, but a day the Lord made and walked us through.
Today we go to the ENT at 10am.  I'm trying really hard to cast a very large number of cares on the Lord and just get on with it.

THIS is the day the Lord has made, also.  And I rejoice that we are here in it.
Off I go to woo.  Courting a little girl is a sweet job.