Grief, Loss, and the Uglies

Yesterday was a grumpy day with lots of "uglies". Not just on Josiah's part but on mine too. I guess that is the unromantic reality of adoption. Some days, the child's grief and loss are just overwhelming for everyone. No matter how wonderful and plentiful things are in his life now, the truth is that Josiah has lost a lot in his time. First his birth parents, later a foster family, and then his orphanage friends and caregivers, and finally his culture and language. It doesn't come without a cost to him. I saw it yesterday after we watched some video we took in China of his orphanage. AT first he was excited for his brothers and sisters to see the video, but as it continued I could tell he was conflicted in emotions of excitement at seeing himself on the video and sadness. We turned it off and went for a walk. In the middle of the walk he burst into tears, stomped his feet and headed home. The rest of the evening went downhill. I hugged, kissed, cajoled, and did my best to be comforting but steady. He transitioned from bathtime very well -better than he has all week because he loves playing in the water. But I think it was his way of really trying -and showing me that he was trying. But bedtime was still rough and I probably picked the wrong hill to die on when I decided he was worn out and should get in bed a few minutes before Ben and Isaac (mental note - don't choose an already-rough-day to alter an established routine!). He broke down into (more) screams and tears. I insisted he stay in that bed,and in the middle of this HILL, I knew that I should have let it slide this time. But too late. What to do? I am exasperated and really really wishing that Mark were here to tag team right about now. I spoke sharply, sat him on the bed and knew I'd lost this one. We both lost. There was no winning this one. It was a case of the uglies on both our parts, brought on by grief, loss, and sadness - his and mine. It was time to cut bait and move on. I called the other boys in to bed and with a heavy heart tucked everyone in, hugged, kissed, prayed and said Goodnight.
This morning, God had a word for me. I got up early and sat down with my cofffe and bible and still that you-are-a- parenting-failure feeling in my stomach. The question came to me -What are you called to? I answered "I am called to parent this very hurt little boy -and I am screwing up!". Instantly the Lord spoke to my heart "No, You are called to surrender to me. Surrender your own sadness and loneliness and grief at Mark not being here. Surrender your own struggling to do this in your limited power. Just surrender to Me. THAT is what you are called to."
I would like to say that wisdom flooded my soul and I knew exactly how to tackle the day. But it didn't.
Instead, I just knew that yesterday is gone and one foot has to be put in front of the other one today. But most importantly, I was reminded that I am not really alone. My Lord Jesus loves me, and He is mindful of me.