Not Everything Good is Beautiful

Day 14.  Captain's log.  Just kidding. I am definitely not flying this plane.  If I were, we'd be home right now with Liza already settled in her new bedroom.  I'm not nearly as creative as all this.  My idea of adventure is cleaning the chicken coop, maybe building a new garden bed.  My idea of Thanksgiving weekend is spending every waking moment in my kitchen then putting up the Christmas tree.  This is a departure from everything I know.

for Mommy from Liza

Being an Army brat, living in a new place, even a foreign culture, is not frightening to me.  I lived in Germany for four years as a child and something about it stuck in my heart.  I love to travel.  I love exploring.  I love people.  I know enough Russian to get around, order a meal, talk to the taxi driver.  There are so many good souls here.  It is not a dangerous place.  At least it's no more dangerous than Raleigh.  The problem comes for me in not being in control and having a moving target for a return date.  We are rather independent people, but also Americans and homeschoolers to boot.  That is to say, we are therefore unaccustomed to being bossed around.  Yes, I'm calling Ukrainian people bossy :)  There are a lot of rules in this process and we don't get a say in ANY of it.  That's a hard pill to swallow.

It is, however, absolutely necessary when adopting an older child, especially a teenager, from a foreign country to live in and be immersed in that culture for some period of time.  This place shaped her into the person that she is, a stunningly beautiful person. She is who she is because good, God-sent people here have loved on her and protected her to the best of their ability.  I need to know this place, this language, this culture to know her.  I need to have love for this place, this language, this culture to love her.  Last night her chaperon from the summer program, who is the school psychologist, told us a sad story.  She said that another child who'd been adopted from this school a few years ago had parents who cut him off from all contact with Ukrainian relationships after they got him Stateside.  Obviously that upset her deeply.  I hope there were really good reasons for making that decision because I think it was a dangerous one.  I cannot in good conscience throw away the mold that shaped her.

A few days ago Liza had a falling out with her "besta besta friend".  I don't know why.  Wish I did.  With my American children I use carefully chosen, carefully placed, carefully toned words to communicate.  I can't do that with her.  Twice I've asked two different translators to help me talk to her about it because I think it's important.  It's important for me to hear what's hurting her and to tell her not to leave the country with a broken relationship.  While they communicated her "it's no big deal" response, they inserted they're own opinions into their translation.  They added their own, "It's no big deal" tone.  Actually, they said the words, "It's no big deal" in this instance.  I have never, not once, communicated with Liza *without* someone else's influence in the communication.  I cannot talk to my own daughter about what's bothering her or give her advice or even pray with her in a way she can understand without help.  My first thought was, "*I'll* decide what's no big deal, not you."  It made me mad.

Still does.  Though now I am also thinking about all the ways that our words get in the way.  How many times do we rely solely on the words and ignore the method, the tone, the situation, the body language, the emotions, the eye contact, the personality, the *Scriptures*?  If she told me that it was her best friend that gave her the black eye, would that change my advice?  Would it suddenly be okay to leave without extending forgiveness? Would it change anything? or everything?

How is the absence of words going to change my ability to be a mother?

There are some people reading this blog who seem to want us to say only happy things about adoption.  If that's your expectation, we don't know each other very well.  If you think Tom and I are heroic somehow or that this is inspirational entertainment, I need to tell you that this is not a Disney movie or a Thomas Kinkade painting.  It is a hard, hard thing even though it accomplishes God's will.  We are humans who will struggle through it every step of the way.  We have good days and bad days here.  We are going to be real with you but that does not mean we're about to hop the next plane home.  Give us room to feel what we need to feel.  Liza is going to need that when we get her home, too.  I want people in her life that will validate what she's feeling as she adjusts.  Quote scripture to us, write poems down for us, send us song lyrics and YouTube links, but don't oversimplify our situation and reduce it to a walk in the park.  Don't be quick to hand out advice.  Conversely don't attribute the goodness here to Tom or me, or even Liza.  We *will* disappoint you.  This is God's.

Not everything is beautiful to look at all the time.  That doesn't mean it is without purpose.  That doesn't mean it will not be beautiful one day.