A Headache

Last night, we curled up with our noodles and sauce in front of the computer to watch something.  The kids wanted to watch Survivorman, so we started with the first episode of the first season.

Who jumps through the ice into water - even if he was being paid?!  Anyway...

He was up in the French Alps demonstrating how to survive if you are lost or stranded in the mountains.  He said you have to watch for signs of altitude sickness.  One of those signs was a headache.

My daughter was curled up on my lap watching.  She turned to look at me totally bewildered.

"How can he get a headache up there?  There is no one talking!"

Why The Story on Rejection?

I work with women who are rejected.  They are rejected from the moment they are born.  Simply for who they are.  I need to know how to reach them.  I think it is harder for many of us to understand the depths of their rejection, of not being wanted.  I could tell you their stories, but they would be foreign to us.  We would shake our heads and say, "can not imagine".  But we have to.  We have to try to feel their hearts.  I need to.  I need to write for them, to write so that they even begin to listen.

I can't start with their stories.  I can start with stories I know - closer to home.  Times I have seen or experienced rejection up close and personal.  The story of this one baby - a true story - shocks us and hits us in the gut.  We shake our heads in horror... how could someone say that?!  They did... that is what is so abysmally sad.

Now imagine a whole nation like that.  I met a family who had a baby when I went to visit them.  Lots of people have babies - what made this one so unusual?  Well...

Their age for one.  They are at least 60 years old.

How the baby came to be in the family.  Talk about surprise pregnancies!  At least they give you nine months, perhaps less if you didn't know your were pregnant right away.  This baby was even more surprising.  This is her story:

The older man went to the hospital for some tests.  On his way out, he saw a woman sitting alone sobbing.  Being old enough to do so without a problem, he walked up to her and asked, "Daughter, what is wrong?"  She said, "I have just had a child.  It is the fifth girl.  My husband came and when he saw it was another girl he said, 'Don't even think about coming home with that child.  If you don't leave her in the hospital, you are not welcome in the house.  We do not need another girl.'  What am I to do?"

The old man thought.  He looked at the woman.  Then he said, "I already have three grown daughters.  What is one more?  Give her to me."  So the mother handed him the newborn, and he went home.

When he arrived, his wife was out shopping, so he lay the baby on a blanket in the one room.  The baby was sleeping, so he went to the other room to rest.  While he was resting, his wife walked in the house to find a newborn asleep on her living room floor.  Very shocked, she woke her husband to ask, "What in the world?!"

He yawned and calmly told her, "Oh, that is your new daughter."

Once over the shock, she was happy enough to raise the child and when I met them, the baby was an adorable nine month old.

You'd think this was a happy ending, and it is a happier ending than it could have been.  But there is a sadness to it, too, when the couple explain why they adopted the girl.

"We are getting old, you see, and in a few years, we will need someone to take care of us."

I smiled with them at their good deed and their good luck.  I was truly thankful for the old man's actions.  But my heart broke for this child, too.  Rejected, ripped from her sobbing mother, now raised as a quasi-daughter, quasi-servant.

And I want to tell these women that there is a Father who loves them.  Honestly, it is hard for them not to reject that news with a snort of disbelief.

Seeing the Doctor

#3 is a charmer.  He just is.  He charms everyone he meets.  Thankfully, he can even charm a lab tech into giving us a copy of lab tests right there.  Now I can send them to my doctor's at home. :)

We had our visit.  I am impressed with the doctor.  The bad news is that #3 has a heart defect.  The good news is that it doesn't seem serious.  They will run more tests.  It is also correctable if it is causing problems.  For that I am thankful.  There is another issue going on with his heart, too, and he has a battery of new tests to determine what that is.

I feel a sense of relief today - at least he is being seen to.  I am also relieved to hear about this heart defect... as strange as that may seem.  You see, for this child's whole life, when doctors listened to his chest, they would get a funny look on their face.  Something was different - a murmur?  maybe not a murmur?  Didn't seem to be an issue.  Maybe he will outgrow it.  At least now we know what it is.  We still don't know why the heart is showing signs of stress, but we will be finding out here soon.

For that I am thankful.  He's such a cute creature.  He took the news with little or no worry.  The doctor and I were careful to use calm voices and stay away from scary words.  She's a good doctor and is good with kids.  He charmed her, too.  :)

Pray now that the new tests reveal the cause of the stress, and that it is able to be fixed soon.

An Appointment!

Yay!  My third son needed an appointment with a specialist.  Those are hard to get where we are.  We were given one - in June.  We leave here for our home leave at the end of June, so it would hardly help to have the first visit then.

 I begged and pleaded.  The best they could do was put me on a cancellation list.  Ok.

Today my phone rang.  There is an opening tomorrow!!!  We've got an appointment!!!  Huge sigh of relief.

It was hard to know what to do with this son for the summer.  This year we had planned a long waited for hike with the family.  They are all old enough to do it, but it will be grueling.  #3's heart was showing signs of trouble....  do we go ahead or do we not?  What do we do?  What the doctors were saying was hard to absorb...  he's healthy, but he could be not, too.  We need a few more tests...  He needs a specialist.

Tomorrow, we start the journey to find answers.  Tomorrow, I take my way too talkative, over friendly, happy child in to the doctor.  It is only the beginning, but it IS a beginning!  I'm so thankful.

Pray for wisdom for this doctor.  She is good.  Pray for peace for me.  Pray for answers.  That what can be done about this will be done and what can't, that we will leave in God's hands.  Pray for me as I talk to the doctor with him there that he would not be frightened by the questions that have to be asked and told.

But today, I'm thrilled.  We have an appointment!

Rejection

There are few things that stick with such absolute clarity in my mind, but this visit was one of them.  I was only a teen, so kept my mouth shut, but my heart broke.

We went to visit a family on the occasion of the birth of their third child.  This was not a local family, but a missionary family.  We were dropping off some baby clothes we were finished with to this family.

We stood over the little bed where a small bundle slept.  Above my head came the sound of adult voices.

"Well, she's here.  We really didn't want another child."

I waited.  I had heard that a few times.  I always cringe when I hear it, but I realize that at times a pregnancy takes people by surprise.  What dropped my jaw was the words that came out of her mother's mouth next.

"We still aren't that happy about it.  We just did not want more kids.  Two was really enough."

The adult voices moved out of the room and on to have a cup of tea, and I stood there staring down at an adorable little face sleeping.  On the other side of the room, the two other children, around kindergarten ages, played with their puzzles.  I stood staring at this baby.

That moment was burned in my memory.  I have a deep gut reaction even now to the thought of it.  Just wait until that poor child breaks her sibling's toy.... "Mom didn't even want you!"  Or until she get in the way.... Or....

So often over the twenty something years since I heard that statement made over that sleeping baby have I prayed for this child.  A child so wanted by God.  Given to be a blessing.  I continue to pray for her - that God will let her know of His delight in her.

Rejection.  Sometimes it comes before we are even born.  Other times it comes because of who we are.  My kids will have to walk that line at times simply because of who their parents are.  Sometimes it happens because of what we believe.  Every time it hurts. 

There is the rejection of always being on the outside.  Never fitting in.  Of being more like an unliked group, of belonging to the wrong family.  Of being born the wrong sex.

I am aware that I work among people who have faced continual rejection for one reason or another.  I want to communicate the acceptance there is in God.  But I am also aware that I work alongside people who have also been wounded by rejection.  Wounds are powerful. 

The problem with repeated or continuous rejection is that it creates a fear, a gut fear.  Fear of further rejection can push people into a corner where they try everything they can to protect themselves.  Often the first line of a defense is that infamous good offense.  Rejected people will often reject love.  They reject people so that they themselves can not be rejected.

It does take away the risk.  It removes the unknown.  But it replaces it with a known - a sure loneliness and isolation.  Not the best of trades.

I am growing more and more convinced that God is asking us to work on our wounded areas - that in our healing, we are able to spread healing.  If we hide our weaknesses, our wounding, and pretend to be whole, we are not displaying God's healing.  We are only showing our patching - perhaps better than other's patching, but still patching all the same.  But there is little that is as beautiful as real healing.


It involves risk.  Risking again. 

Parental "Snooping"

My kids are getting older.  Old enough to have e-mail accounts and facebook pages.  With our family's unique working situation, that has proven to be interesting, but we have somehow navigated around it without using our family name on the internet.

My oldest got his facebook account as a gift when he finished eighth grade.  His brother is nagging for one now.  Actually, the older one wants the next one to have one of his own so he quits using his!  I started them e-mail accounts since they frequently e-mail assignments to their teachers.

But the whole issue of parental control and parental "snooping" comes up.  I sat this morning having coffee with one of my friends - likely the only person who I would trust with my kids if I had to leave them long term.  We have now raised these kids from little boys who had to learn to wash their faces after eating peanut butter and jam to bigger boys who compete hard, play hard, study well, ... and yes, still need to learn to wash their faces after eating!

As moms, we have retained the right to "snoop" on our kids.  We hold the passwords to their accounts and their facebook.  We could at any time, open them and look at what they are saying.  The kids know that. (And, yes, we also know that at any time they could get around our controls since they know more than we do about computers.)  But do we?  Is it a good thing for a parent to be reading their kid's private stuff?

We generally do not.  I do not build trust in my child by snooping into their discussions that were not meant to include me.  I communicate to my child that I love them by respecting their privacy.  Of course, if there was a problem, that may change.  If we were seeing that our kid were rebellious or choosing wrong friends, we would look, for sure.  There was a case, not with my boy, but with my friend's older children's friends a few years ago.  She then read through many things carefully.  She discussed the issues with a trusted teacher who also kept his eyes out.  They worked to protect these kids.  It worked.

But she does not read them unless there is a problem.  It is an invasion of their privacy and takes away from their dignity.  We actually learn just as much from our boys from being with them, listening to them play together, being there for them, and yes, having coffee occasionally with each other and seeing how things are going.

This is what I think now - with a son who talks to me, who knows I trust him and give him room to grow, but am watching him, too.  Perhaps my views will change with my other kids, but I doubt it.  Snooping on your kids when it is not needed does not grow trust.  Without trust, there is little room for love.  I would rather at this point communicate to my son that I respect him as a human being than know everything that he is thinking and talking about.

It helps when I know and trust my child's friend's parents.  How have you addressed this dual issue of parental control and a growing teen's right to privacy?  Do you think a child whose parents are constantly "snooping" behind a child's back are being responsible or disrespectful?  I think one thing that is vitally important to me as my son grows is for him to know he can trust me.  I don't think I will earn his trust by going behind his back.  I think he would feel trespassed against.  As it is now, I have a son who will talk to me - if I give him the opportunity and I listen.  I worry that if I "snoop" in his stuff, I may lose that right.  That is my feelings now.  If his mood or personality changed dramatically, I would likely take a look and see if there is something we need to talk about, but until then, I want to respect his right to communicate with his friends without me standing over listening to or reading those conversations or thoughts.

But I am young at starting this journey into the teens.  What have those of you who have been down this path found?

Face to Face with Racism

We live in a community of immigrants.  It is perfect for us, and we enjoy the different nationalities that our kids get to interact with on a daily basis.

Our kids are from a mixed marriage.  At first glance, they don't look "foreign".  If you take a closer look at the dark eyes on my lighter boys, or take a second look at them, you might notice.  Most of the time, they could pass for white, or they could pass for my husband's nationality.  They are well-blended.

In their small Christian school full of kids from all over the world, my kids never even mentioned who they were - if they did, it was just a passing, "Yeah, I'm half ______ and half ______".   They were more interested in counting how many races they had in one place and learning about where people were from than anything else.

It wasn't until my oldest graduated to a high school nearby that he came home a few times with interesting comments.  "That school is all from one place!"  and "Besides the ten ________, I am the darkest person there."  and "There is no one like me.  They are all white."

I found it interesting.  It was the first time my son had identified himself, and he identified as non-white.  I am interested to see how they continue to identify themselves as they grow.

But it was recently, in our family's attempts to get in shape, that my kids came face to face with their first real racism.  I hope they did not notice, but I did.  I was shocked.

We bought a membership to a local community pool.  The kids are taking swimming classes and my husband and I are doing some exercises in the workout room attached.  We enjoy the times to swim as a family, but we've noticed that our kid's eyes burn and the two who have excema were itching horribly after swims.  I went to the pool office to ask why the chlorine was so high.  Thankfully only my two younger ones were with me, and I think they were distracted by all the noise of the pool deck.

The lady kindly explained to me that yes, this pool is a bit highly chlorinated and that it can cause problems with their skin while they are getting used to it, but that they will usually get used to it after a few weeks.  I asked why it was that high.  The lady turned, gestured to the pool, and said, "Well, as you can see, we get a lot of immigrants here at this pool, and well, you know....  We chlorinate it higher, but it is really for your protection since we have so many newcomers. It is to keep you safe."

I just walked away.  I should have said something, but I was just stunned.  My protection against what?  Immigrants?  Hey, I'm married to one!  What are foreigner germs more dirty than white people germs?  Keep me safe?  From what?  Foreign cooties?

I was angry.  Angry that my kids had to hear that... but I said nothing.  I think the two were not listening, thankfully.

We chose to still go.  Not because of the pool's staff, but because of the very immigrants who swim there.  I enjoy sitting in the parent's section and hearing six different languages going on around me.  I smile at the chance to share with those covered in head scarves when they ask about my husband and my faith.

But there is a part of my heart that is sad as I encounter racism in the world my children are growing up in.  They will meet it in a few people.  I only hope that they know that it is those who look down on others who are smaller - not those who are simply from another location in the world.

Death and First Generation Believers

Death.  It's been a subject of conversation in our house and within our team.  My husband's aunt died this year.  He was never close to this aunt, as she had a tongue about as sharp as a flaying knife.  He is now with his family, and they are remembering the aunt.

One of our good friends here also passed away.  He was in his late eighties, and ready to go.  Ready to join his wife, siblings, and parents in heaven.  We went to the funeral.  Later on, one of my team members questioned me about funerals.  "Is it a different culture here that no one cries at funerals?"

I knew what she meant.  Back there, the grieving at funerals is so intense that it was not uncommon to see people scream to the point of passing out over the dead body as they wailed in grief.

She found these funerals confusing.  People did not cry.

I explained that because we have hope, we do not grieve the same.  She could mentally understand this, but she could not totally grasp it.  She said, "but we still cry... we miss them so!"  I agreed that we missed people, but in cases like this where one has died after a long, faithful life - especially where the spouse has already died - we often do not cry.  That "uncle" is so happy now.  He is with Jesus.  There is no grief.  Even if we could, we would not want him back - his suffering is over.  It would be selfish to grieve so much for our own sadness and not be thrilled for him.  We are sad, yes, but we are also so happy for him.

I did tell her that she will see more tears at a younger person's funeral.  Then we do cry - not so much for the one who had died, but for the pain of those left behind.  Then she will see tears... but they will also be mixed in with a quiet, unshakable hope.  This life is not the end.

She could understand.  I could see it in her face that she mentally agreed with all we said.  But her heart could not wrap around it.  I told myself to be patient.  She has not grown up with death as we have.  We grew up knowing this life is temporary.  We grew up hearing of heaven and how wonderful it was.  For my friend, a first generation believer, death is a whole different thing.

She was trained to fear it.  There was no happy ending.  In her family, like in my husband's, there was no one who has died with hope.  She has not seen that.  When she thinks of her family dying, it is only without hope.  While her mind understands the hope believers have, her gut reaction to death is still intense grief.  Learning to approach something with a complete change of thinking takes time.

I believe she will one day view death of believers as we do... as this family did when they spoke of their grandfather's "promotion" into the next life.  It will just take time.  Time and the slow renewing of her mind.

I'm glad she felt free to question and bring her fears out.  I'm thankful for my family who taught me both with their words and their lives not to fear death.  I'm thankful that on the other side is a big reunion.

But in the middle of my peace, I need to remember to let my heart break for those first generation believers like my husband to whom a death in the family is going to mean eternal separation.  I've never faced a death like that yet in my life... the thought is horrifying.  And when my friend questions me because she can't understand all the joy we have, I need to hear her fears.  She has to cut a new trail into the difficult confusion of dealing with death.  I get to walk one already laid out for me by those who have lived and died in front of me.

What Was That Again?

My oldest was very excited about something he had learned in school recently.  They were talking about guide dogs and service dogs.  One of his friends back home has one, so he was quite interested in the process.  He came to tell me that kids get to raise these dogs sometimes as foster puppies before they go into service, and "Mom, they like kids best to raise them since some of the dogs go to kids with autopsies!"

Um... don't you mean "autism"?

Preparation

There are times I look back on my life and smile when I see that God was preparing me for something before it hit.

Last week, when my husband was preparing to leave, we had our last Sunday in our church before he left.  We were not stressed out about his trip, but the people in our church were.  (I'm actually too busy reassuring others right now to be nervous myself!)  They were very worried.  I know where my husband is headed, and the difficulties he encountered last time are not going to play into this trip at all.  This is no more of a danger than any normal trip... ok, so all trips carry some risk, but it is the way it is.

That Sunday in church, people were worried.  A few even asked the questions that have no answers. 'How will you spend tomorrow  - if you know that he is leaving and things could happen?"

Well, we spent it cleaning the house, ironing some shirts, and getting him ready to go.  Not exactly what you would write home about if it were our last days. :)

I got upset at that question later in my blog and said there is no way to answer it.  If you knew that tomorrow someone you loved would drop dead, how would you live?  You would just live, hopefully, the way you are living now.  If you wouldn't, then something is wrong with the way you are living now.

Then I went for a routine visit to the doctor.  I took in #3, too, since he had been having some "nothing" symptoms....  It turns out that he is going to be tested for something that has a chance of dropping him dead at any moment.  It is genetic, so if he tests positive, it means that I and any of my children have the remote chance of dropping dead at any moment in the middle of an active day.

Whew!  That hit like a punch to the gut...

Over the next few days, I struggled with the question, "How then do we live?".  How do we raise our kids with this knowledge?  Do we restrict every minute of their lives?  Do we panic?  Do we.....?  It was then that the question asked of me the day before came back to me: "How would you live if you knew that this was your last day?"

The answer is simple.  Live normally.  If I am living today with things unsaid, with things unforgiven, with things undone - there is a problem with how I am living today.   Live normally.

Simple answers are not always easy battles to get to, and it took me a few days of tears before God before I was able to set it all back into His hands.  In reality, all of us live like that.  Tomorrow, my gas line could explode.  Tonight my kid could slip on the sidewalk again and hit his head just so, and be gone.  I can't live in fear of those things, and I refuse to live in fear of this, either.

God has written the days of each of my children.  My first daughter's days were short, but she is not dead.  She is very much alive - just not here with us.  If one of my children drops dead, they will only be alive with God, not gone forever, but gone ahead of us.  We can't imagine walking that path now, but I am convinced that if God calls us to walk it, He will walk it with us, with each and every one of us.  I will not live in fear.

Realistically - we could all live a long happy life.  It is true that #3 is showing signs of concern, but we go on.  We do what can be done, we take what safety steps can be taken, and then we go on.

But as annoying as that question was last Sunday morning, God was asking me to think it over in preparation for the news of Monday afternoon.  I'm sure if He brings other difficult things into our lives that He will prepare us for that also.

I am no longer annoyed at that person who asked that crazy question.  God was using her weakness and fear to strengthen and comfort me for what was ahead.