Normal is not an Option

Today was Easter (you know, that holiday when, despite what the candy manufacturers would want us to believe, we celebrate the resurrection of our Lord).  Our newest boy’s morning had already started out rough, so our morning began with hushed discussions as to whether or not he could handle going to church.  Wanting him to be successful, we tried to figure out what he could and could not handle today.

For those of you who may not know, holidays can be extremely difficult for wounded kids.  In fact, I myself, as a parent of wounded kids, have begun to actually dread holidays.  They honestly tend to be the least fun days of the entire year.  After having dealt with crazy behavior for the days leading up to the holiday, I end up sitting through an entire family function, staring at a spot on the wall like a zombie.  Christmas has gone from my most favorite time of the year to a time I now approach with fear and trepidation.  And while Easter may not be as big of a deal to kids as Christmas, it still creates enough anticipation to evoke anxiety and acting out for my kids.

So, after deciding to go ahead and brave the consequences of allowing him to go to church, we attended the Easter service at our church.  Feeling exhausted and already defeated for the day, I only half-heartedly joined in the singing.  At some point during the singing of “In Christ Alone,” I felt my heart begin to melt.  I felt God smile at me, and it hit me that the work we are doing in our children’s lives actually requires the very power of the risen Christ to accomplish.  I cannot maintain God’s love toward my children.  Nor can I heal them.  I was reminded how often I parent out of my own strength, rather than depending on the power of Christ.

I feel like God used that service to set me up for the rest of the day.  We returned from church, picked up our salad, and headed off to grandma’s for the family’s Easter celebration. We got through the initial, everyone-hanging-out time, as well as the Easter egg collecting time, surprisingly without any incidents.  My husband and I did the normal “pat down” when we discovered that one of the cousins hadn’t found his egg with a $5 bill in it.  (From Grandma and Grandpa -It’s the highlight of Easter for all of the kids!).  We wanted to make sure that no extra money “accidentally” made it into their pockets.  No incidents yet…it’s a miracle!

Then, it happened.  Our newest son began his meltdown.

It started with a little bit of whining about not getting as many eggs as the other kids (my little guy tends to be very slow, and stressful situations, like fun events, tend to cause him to go even slower).  Sitting in my husband’s lap, he began to cry about how few eggs he had collected.  He continued his meltdown by “accidentally” picking up one of the younger children’s quarters that was laying on the ground below him.  After having to give the child back triple what he’d stolen, he started to really lose it.

I pulled him into my arms (he has been trying to avoid me and play the “I hate you and love daddy game” lately) and made him look at me.  ”This has nothing to do with Easter eggs, and you need to stop,” I said to him.  As he insisted, in his extra-whiny voice, that it WAS because of the eggs, I continued, “Sweety.  I know that you miss your foster family.  I know that holidays are tough for you.  I know that you DON’T want to be here and you would rather be there with them.  It’s ok.  We still love you.  We will get through this together, as mother and son.”  Oh boy.  Did the tears begin to fall!

I held him and comforted him as the sobs continued.  ”I know that they did things differently, and that’s hard for you.  You liked how they did things for Easter.  You were used to it.  It was comfortable.  That’s ok.  And it’s ok to be sad.  I would be worried about you if you weren’t.  I know this is tough.  I’m sad for you,” I told him.  The tears ebbed and flowed, but you could tell that the opportunity to grieve had softened his acting out (for a while, at least).

Poor little guy.  No wonder holidays aren’t fun.  The loss and the pain this boy has gone through does not take a day off when a holiday comes around.  In fact, special days bring up more pain than “normal” days.  This little boy lived six of the most important years of his childhood off and on with one family, only to be taken out and put with a different family at the age of 10.  He thought that the former family was going to adopt him.  They didn’t.  His heart is broken.  He wants to be with the only family he’d ever really known.  He’s grieving their loss.

Holidays bring up old memories.  ”My old foster family would have us hunt for Easter eggs, only they had a HUGE yard to do it in, so it was so much fun.  There were only three of us, so I was able to get way more eggs than I did here.  In fact, I got more eggs than my foster sister one year,” he explained as tears streamed down his face.  It has to be tough.  I don’t think any child should have to go through what these kids go through.  And only the power of the resurrected Christ can heal the pain that they carry inside as a result.  Only He can lift the result of someone else’s sin left on these children’s lives.

For those of you wondering how the rest of the day went….You will be happy to know that the rest of his time at Grandma’s went without much of an incident, but he did have to stay pretty close-by in order for this to happen.  He did get sent to bed early, however, for pretending to shower, but not using soap.  Oh, and as soon as we got home, our daughter decided to continue her bully behavior from Friday night (you know, the I’m-so mad-I’m-going-to-try-to-drown-you behavior from the pool).  Evidently, she’s still pretty ticked about her brother going to a concert this week and not her.  Seems that the jealousy monster doesn’t take a holiday, either.