A friend recently asked if I blog anymore... apparently not in the last ten months. There have been so many occasions and experiences that I could have, should have. Like everyone else living through this pandemic, life has changed in numberless ways and countless times.
Here we've seen some hard times, again, just like every other person in every other family. So maybe I hesitated to write about it because what's the point of saying what everyone else is experiencing? And for sure there are families struggling more than we are.
And we've had some really great and unexpected good come of this time. But posting about that seems somehow callous to friends who are not feeling or seeing the positive.
Since I find writing cathartic and since I may be the only reader of this writing, and with the gentle prompting of my friend, I offer these thoughts.
My New Year's resolution is to pray for God to soften my heart.
Right before Christmas our family was faced with a disappointing and concerning situation. I prayed about it, asked others to pray. And then I fasted - something I hadn't done on a personal level for a long time. During that time I heard God give an answer and was able to know his peace. Two days later the answer was confirmed and the disappointment and concern were lifted.
That answer to prayer posed a question for me: For what else should I be praying and believing?
And the answer was: For my heart to be softened.
We've quarantined seriously. We don't go out unless we have to and don't have anyone in our home. We don't go to church in person. Our college kids are not on campus. Our high school kids go to school from their beds. So we see a lot of each other. And we get tired of each other. And sometimes my brain and my heart close up and turn off.
Insignificant things irritate me. Messes made and left behind cause resentment. Tones and attitudes of teenagers grate on my nerves. My heart has hardened.
But holding onto my experience before Christmas, each morning (and usually every night; and often throughout the day) I am reminded to pray and believe that God will answer this prayer. If I would only get out of the way and let him...
Raising kids who have experienced and lived trauma is exhausting. And yes, it's a different kind of exhausting from raising kids who have had healthy childhood, infant, and even prenatal experiences. And the more years of trauma, sometimes, the more difficult and heart wrenching the growing up.
These past twenty-some years have taught me to believe little of what I am told and to question and be suspicious of the rest. For me, that is where the exhaustion sets in. My heart has been trashed and smashed many times because it's the mom's job to believe only the best about her children; to see past the behaviors to the hurt; to know that 'this time' things will be different, better, the child will finally feel secure enough to be honest and vulnerable.
Currently we are working with one of our kids (well, all of them really, all the time, but for now focusing on this one) on earning trust and how easily it is broken and how long it takes to restore. Despite candid conversations about how "things were when I lived with my mom," and how those things maybe weren't good choices or healthy habits, our child uses this as a default excuse for lies and deceit. We acknowledge that there was a time when stealing was necessary for survival - to feed the younger siblings left in their care, and when lying was safer - it kept them from being beaten and abused. Our hearts break for what most of our kids have had to endure.
And so things have been rough and emotional as we walk through this; lots of tears and pleading and begging for things that have been lost and need to be earned back. Because "if I was still with my mom, she wouldn't care; she would let me watch whatever I want." And that is true. As sad as it is, it is true.
Yesterday the child was able to have a bit of freedom with an electronic device, and fifteen minutes later was found to be misusing it. Loss of freedom. Big attitude. God soften my heart.
In his infinite patience (and maybe humor) God reminded me of that prayer this morning directly after I had prayed it when my young friend came to me to request use of the school laptop (another electronic device) a full half hour before school started. My soft heart should have said, "Sure, here you go! Have a great day at school!"
Instead, out of an abundance of suspicion, my toughened up heart said, "Why? School doesn't start for half an hour? Why do you need it now?" A pinch. God soften my heart.
Turns out the request was a ploy to get on the computer early to play games with friends. It gives me absolutely no pleasure to confirm my suspicions. And it gives me even less to know that we still have so much work to do. God soften my heart.
