The 39 Steps
September 18, 2010
This week I turned 39. Whenever I write a birthday card to someone I say a prayer for something specific I wish for them in their new year. I think for myself, I wish more of the same! Life is good and I am incredibly blessed. The past year has held some monumental challenges and moments of utter despair, but I am full of faith right now and am seeing good things all around me.
This morning I happened to read one of my favorite parables that struck a particular chord. It speaks of building a foundation for your life that is deep and rests of rock, so that when floods and torrents “burst against” it you are not shaken because your life is well built. And last night I read another parable to my son, “The Hare and the Tortoise”. When we finished the story, Rahul said, “Yeah, but that would never happen, right?” And I said, “Honey, it happens every day.” And I feel like I am living proof that building one’s “house” on the rock gives you the support and foundation to survive the roughest storms. And I have definitely become much more “tortoise” than “hare”. When I was young I was full of hope and arrogance and absolutely sure of success. But as one dream after another was withheld from me, I began to see the value in humility and patience. There were years of my life I spent wondering what was going on and why I had not found the success I thought I should have. But now, at age 39, I look back and see how God ordered my steps precisely to prepare me for some of the things He has blessed me with now. Most especially, my son.
When Rahul first came home with me he was angry and confused and clearly did not want me to be his mom. He said so all the time, saying he had wanted a mom and a dad, wanted to live in the country, etc. And I often wondered in those first few months if he would have done better in that type of family. But as the months have turned into years I am 100% convinced that I am the perfect, hand-picked family for him. All of the qualities God spent years honing my character, the life lessons that dragged on over decades, the work I did in years of therapy, the 20+ years I have spent walking with God through all kinds of crazy situations, a lifetime spent in the bosom of a loving, stable family–all these things have shaped me into a Rahul-sized mom and prepared me to handle a type of parenting that is beyond description or explanation.
And I know there is a lot more work to do and challenges and joys I cannot even imagine. But right at this moment I am filled to the brim with contentment and faith. And I trust that the Rock that carried me 39 years already can be trusted to carry me as long as I am needed here.
Curses!
September 11, 2010
I can remember being 16 years old and sitting in a hotel room with 3 younger girls at a dance conference and they were going on and on about how they noticed that I didn’t curse and how strange that was. And until then, I guess I didn’t realize how unusual I was! (Well, I knew I was unusual, just not for my wording!) And as they dared me to say words and I refused, I realized that I didn’t really know where that particular conviction had come from. When I was growing up my parents swore, my pastors swore, my friends swore. I don’t remember anyone telling me it was bad or wrong. I think it was just always a personal choice based on my own feeling of ickiness when I heard “bad language”. Words are powerful and I believe in choosing them carefully.
I have strong convictions about things, but I’m not someone to go around demanding that the people around me adhere to the same convictions. I have never asked someone to change their word choices in my presence just because I was offended. But I did come really close once.
After Rahul was home with me for a few months I started the proceedings to finalize his adoption. Children who are adopted internationally are usually adopted in their home country, then re-adopted in the US. I understood it to be a simple process that would take a matter of weeks to complete. I had been through the extreme document-craziness that is international adoption already, so I was not intimidated by a short list of papers I had to produce. However, Rahul’s finalization dragged on FOREVER. My lawyer started the proceedings in Manhattan, then realized 3 months later that I lived in the Bronx and therefore had to start the whole process over. Then I lost a good 2 months because the Bronx lost my fingerprints and I had to do them over (for now the 4th time since starting the adoption. I never committed a crime, people! How many times do I have to prove it! ) Then to top it all off, once they got all my paperwork filed, the Bronx court wanted to send a clerk to visit me before they would give me a date in court. I was incredulous that someone ELSE would have to come to my home and verify that I was a fit parent. I mean, I understood why a social worker (who is trained and qualified to make a judgement on my parenting) would come to visit–and she gave me a raving review 4 out of 4 times! Now a clerk–someone qualified to file papers, handle legal documents, manage a judge’s schedule— was coming to my home to make sure…what? What are you going to discover and discern, Oh, Clerk, that no one else has realized before? That stack of papers six inches thick is not enough information for you? I was beyond furious. But I had no choice and had to invite her into my home with a smile on my face and let her make her uninformed judgements on me.
From the moment she entered my home it was a disastrous meeting. She swooped in and the first thing out of her mouth was an incorrect statement about Rahul’s birth parents–something that would have been shocking to him if he had understood what she said. I hushed her and corrected her, but she proceeded to talk to Rahul, asking him if he was happy here. When he answered (I told him that question was coming and that he could be honest in answering it) that sometimes he was and sometimes he wasn’t because he missed his friends in India, she scolded him and told him he should be grateful that he was lucky enough to be adopted. I wanted to vomit, and in fact could not hold food down for days after her visit, it upset me so. (After she left I gave Rahul a big speech about how he never had to feel “lucky” that he was adopted and told him what an idiot that woman was.) Then she wanted to talk about why Rahul ran away sometimes. (He went through a stage during the first few months of being adopted where he would run away–and I would run with him–when he was upset.) I explained to her that he had moved past that very normal phase and that he had never been out of my sight when he ran off. Then she started instructing me how to parent based on her personal experience (in a two-parent family with a daughter she gave birth to). But it wasn’t until she started cursing that my blood really began to boil. She started using language that is NEVER used in my home and I suddenly realized how extremely offensive that language is when it is used in my personal domain. I think my friends and family must really tone their language down when they’re around me because I had never noticed anyone cursing in my home before–nor have I since! But this woman’s language was peppered with words that NO ONE should use in a professional setting. I have no idea what she said after that (except for something about how my kitchen sink was too small–uh, what?) because my brain was full of this very loud inner voice saying, “GET OUT OF MY HOUSE!” over and over again. It took all my strength to not say that out loud.
I considered throwing her under the bus afterwards by writing a detailed letter of my experience, but honestly, I was so relieved to have the whole crazy process over with that once I got Rahul’s Adoption Certificate in my hands I washed those hands of the whole ordeal.
Rahul has not really learned to curse yet (although he makes up his own words that sometimes are hilarious versions of curse words, like “shot” and “dannit”) and I don’t know whether he will have the same conviction about words that I do. But I am happy that for now I can tell him that there is nothing that comes out of my mouth that he is not allowed to say.
Ms.
July 19, 2010
When I was a kid I remember learning about the title “Ms.” and I believe it was explained to me by my father as a title for women who and not married and are ashamed to not be a Mrs. and are too old to be called Miss any longer. (Thanks for that one, Buzz.) I remember having a distinct image in my mind of what this “Ms.” looked like: tall, gawky, horn-rimmed glasses, leopard-print wrap dress (wah?), and eyes that were too shy/ashamed to meet your gaze. And I remember deciding immediately that I would never be a Ms.
Today I was filling out an online subscription and when it gave me the drop-down menu for “title” I proudly chose “Ms.” Somewhere along the journey of my life I decided to change my definition of what it meant to be a Ms. and I’m darn proud to be one now! Anyway, I’m short, sassy, don’t wear glasses and always look people directly in the eye. (I could totally get down with the leopard-print wrap dress, though! ) “Ms.” is just who I am! I think I stopped being a “Miss” about 20 years ago and although the secretaries at Rahul’s school and some of his friends like to call me “Mrs. Smith”, that’s my mom, not me. “Ms.” means power and freedom and wisdom and experience. It means confidence and mystery. I love that it looks the most like “Mr.” of all the choices for women, but it retains the feminine “S”. I love that it has the “zz” sound — I think that’s where the leopard print dress image came from all the those years ago! I like being not just Renee, but Ms. Smith. It reminds me that I deserve respect and that I am a grown-up, even if I don’t feel like one all the time!
But as much as I love being Ms. Smith, you can call me Miss Jackson if you’re nasty.
Rahul Growing
July 13, 2010
So in all the hubbub last week, Rahul quit Tae Kwon Do. It broke my heart because he has been working so hard at it and I thought he was doing very well. But for several reasons, most of them a little foggy to me, he suddenly was done with it. And I supported his decision. But it meant that he would now be home with me 24/7 and I began to fantasize about jumping over a cliff. ( Mommy needs quiet time every once in a while!)
So I suddenly had an inspired idea: we recently joined The Botanical Garden and have been spending a lot of time there, since its close to our house and Rahul’s so into gardening right now, and they have a summer program for kids, and VOILA (or “wahlas”, as Rahul likes to say)!! A Plan!
The program is only 2 1/2 hours long, twice a week (great for Rahul) and its very gentle socially (also a big plus for Rahul) and this morning was his first session. And it went GREAT. When I picked him up Rahul stepped off the tram with a huge armful of greens for us to eat and he chatted away about the carrots he planted and the recipe they made and the broccoli he’s going to pick for us when its ripe. And the best part of it for me was that, not only did I get to fit some work in while he was there, but I arrived to pick him up almost an hour early. So I found a little spot in the Conifer Garden (my favorite part of the park) and just sat there staring at the trees. My brain began to stop whirling around and as the muscles in my body unclenched I was moved nearly to tears at the serenity around me and within me. You better believe I’m getting there early every day from now on!
So let’s just cross our fingers that Rahul can actually dig his roots in and stick it out for the rest of the summer!
2 Steps Forward, 1 Step Back
July 10, 2010
This is my mantra when Rahul takes a turn for the dark side: 2 Steps Forward, 1 Step Back. Since we met he has had this pattern (his doctors call it “cycling”) where he will be happy and flexible for several months, then he will be unhappy and immovable for a few. Early in 2010 I had an appointment with our family therapist and Rahul had been doing really well. In fact, I was positively giddy, thinking that our bad times had past and we could just focus on moving forward. Guess what Bob said. “Renee, don’t forget, with Rahul its always 2 steps forward, 1 step back.”
I was really glad he said that one week later when Rahul entered one of the darkest periods we have ever experienced.
Then a few months ( and 4 new doctors later) he took a sudden turn for the better. It is hard to describe how happy I was to see Rahul able to enjoy life. In fact, the first day he spent in his happy place, I watched him try many new things with my mouth hanging open, waiting for the other shoe to drop. At the end of that day we went to a park in our neighborhood, and as he was running around with a friend tears just streamed down my face, I was so joyful to see him having fun like every other kid there.
The 2 Steps Forward phase is super fun. Rahul is able to do so much more and I try to really push him to his limit, knowing that our time in this phase is limited. In fact, it is now over and we have officially entered the 1 Step Back phase. And this phase is not fun at all.
Rahul had a rough week this week, but it didn’t dawn on me that we had left the happy cycle until yesterday. My two cherished plants that I just wrote about in my last blog post were destroyed in a rage. Rahul gave them to me as a gift for our first Mother’s Day and when he is upset he destroys things that I love as a way to get me to share in the pain he is feeling and also to take his pain out on someone he trusts will not leave him. And as I stood at the window crying over all that those plants that I nurtured from seedlings to huge thriving specimens represent to me, I heard Bob’s voice reassuring me, 2 Steps Forward, 1 Step Back.
And I dug in my heels to wait for those 2 steps.
Old Dog
July 7, 2010
If you would have asked me 2 years ago what my biggest weaknesses were I would definitely included these in the list:
1. I’m a terrible athlete. I have no desire to be a good one! I just generally suck at all sports. I don’t follow any teams.
I don’t even work out.
2. I have killed every plant I have ever owned or taken care of. I once had to hand over a whole tray of plants I was “babysitting” for a neighbor and they were all dead. Once my aunt gave me a gift of some Paper White bulbs. They came in a kit with a pot, soil and directions.
I planted them upside down.
Enter Rahul, who is an amazing athlete and has the greenest thumb I’ve ever seen!
Its really quite astounding how much time I spend these days in some kind of sporting activity, either watching Rahul, coaching him (as if I know!) or playing with some kind of ball/frisbee/bike/etc. I really believe in letting boys wrestle and “play fight” and since I am both mom and dad I feel its important to try to do these things. But it is quite a hilarious sight. I am either tickling Rahul (my one and only defensive tactic) or squealing and ducking my head.
I’ve been a little more successful at the gardening. Rahul gave me 3 plants for Mother’s Day last year and 2 of them are still alive! And they’ve multiplied! We have something like 12 plants in our house right now, all of which are thriving! We have a membership at the Botanical Gardens. And we even located several mulberry trees in our neighborhood and made pies with the berries we picked!
I feel stretched daily as I try to meet the demands of motherhood. Its nice to know some of that stretching has taught me some new tricks!
Life Marrow
July 4, 2010
This morning my son and I slept until almost 9:30.
I cannot even remember a time when either of us slept that late. For us, 6:30 is sleeping in! What’s more, we are at my parents’ house for a Fourth of July visit and it is near to impossible to get much sleep here. My parents are both early risers and my bedroom is right next to the kitchen. My dog sleeps like a log here, until anyone walks by our door, then he barks as if there is a sudden state of emergency and it lies on his shoulders to protect the nation. But, by far, the biggest impediment to sleeping in is my dad. Once he’s awake, he wants everybody else up too. So he talks extra loud, bangs pots and pans, turns on the radio. There’s no point in even TRYING to sleep through that.
So it was a major miracle that we ALL slept in today. When Rahul woke up, he was disappointed that he had missed so much of the day. And it struck me that he really does like to suck the marrow out of life. Which is really inspiring. And exhausting. Today from the moment we all finally arose, we have been active non-stop. As there are 3 adults here, we try to spell one another so we can each catch our breath in turn. But Rahul just keeps ticking.
Rahul didn’t even change out of the clothes he slept in (he doesn’t like pajamas) when he saw how clear Lake Ontario was this morning. He jumped right in before my eyes were fully open. Then we had a big breakfast, then jumped in the car to go take a plane ride with Grandpop. My dad got his pilot’s license 2 years ago and has a plane at a nearby airfield, but I have never had the chance to go flying with him. Rahul absolutely loves flying, so off we went this morning. Then we came home and barely slowed the car down enough for Grammy to jump in and went off to pick cherries at a nearby farm. They have a fun kids’ park there and Rahul ran from one thing to another, in the blazing hot sun, having a great time. They just added pony rides to the menu there, so he rode his first horse today. Then we had hot dogs and ice cream and came back home. Then it was time for another swim. Then we planted a garden–Rahul’s summer project here, ate dinner and swam again! At this point I pulled a chair up to the edge of the water and fell asleep. Sometimes you just have to grab it when you can get it! Then we made a bonfire and roasted marshmallows. I just put Rahul to bed at 10:50pm tonight with 2 teeth he pulled out of his own mouth under his pillow.
And the whole day, Rahul keeps talking. He’s got ideas and thoughts just bursting out of his head. He has so many things he’s interested in and he is always making plans for his future–declaring a new career he will pursue, hobby he will take on, etc. Before Rahul came here he had not thought of his future at all. That is not a topic discussed in orphanages much. Rahul had no sense of time–days of the week, holidays–he didn’t even know how old he was. It took me a year and a half and lots of corroborating evidence for him to believe me when I told him how old he was. And children without parents in India do not have a happy future to look forward to. When many of my friends met Rahul for the first time they asked him the standard “kid” questions, to which they got no response:
“How old are you?” He was 7, but he thought he was 6.
“When’s your birthday?” He had no idea, and still doesn’t remember.
“What do you like to do?” He didn’t know what that meant because orphanage life doesn’t give you choices. You all do the same activities whether you like them or not, so you don’t develop a sense of what’s unique about you.
“What do you want to be when you grow up?” This was a question I’m sure no one had ever asked him in his entire life. And it was something I’m sure he never thought of.
Now however, I DARE you to ask him what he wants to be when he grows up. Every day he has a different idea about what he wants to do. Two days ago he announced he wanted to be a rich farmer. Then it was a pearl farmer. Then it was an underwater explorer. Today he told us that when he turns fifteen he wants to buy a horse and become a Mennonite.
I love hearing him talk about his future. And I love that he lives his life to the full. And I love that he is sleeping soundly right now.
Because now I can count on a good 6 hours before we start it all over again.
Me and George Bailey 