Being a Mother to the Broken

Sometimes you look at your life and think...wow, this is wasn't what I was thinking my life would look like.  Sometimes I feel like I don't have the time or energy for things that used to be important to me.  My life is sometimes consumed just keeping my family fed and clothed and educated.  Sometimes I feel I have nothing left to give.  But then sometimes, God gives me little rewards along the way...that make it all worth it.

The other day, one of my children told me that she never would have dreamed that she would have the life she has now.  That she never would have dreamed to have the family that she has.  And that...makes it all worth it.  Every fight I have had on my knees, with the system, and even with adjustments that have come along the journey.

Mothering the broken means teaching basic life skills, order to living in a home.  Sometimes it is exhausting, costly, messy.  But out of that messiness emerges health, a feeling of being nurtured, cared for.  Mothering the broken sometimes means even teaching the roles of mom, dad, siblings, because the roles were not healthy and have to be relearned.  Correction can bring fear, because in the past, it was a scary thing.  But an opportunity to teach healthy correction and discipline.  That rules are made to protect them.  Just as the rules that God gives us in His word are also for our protection.  That God corrects us because He loves us, and so that we can grow.

Last week, in the midst of coming home on Tuesday, starting school on Wednesday with FOUR girls, trying to catch up on groceries and cooking, laundry...just a lot of chaos...., Lee and I were interviewed on Adoption.  It was for a Christian radio station on San Pedro.  Clive is a great guy and the interview was really cool.  And maybe just a reminder to what we are doing.  Not just as a church, but as a family.  That even though sometimes it is hard, it is worth it.  That even though there are sacrifices along the way, it is worth it.  To save a life.  Not us, but Jesus using us.

When I was in the states with Erika, there were some reminders that she is adopted.  Filling out paperwork on family history that I don't know.  Checking her into the ER that we last used before she was adopted, under a different name.  But in my heart, Erika is not adopted.  When I was taking care of her, from the moment we picked her up from the Art Camp, and dealing with hospitals and doctors, she was  my baby, and I would do anything to fight for and protect her.  Yesterday, the girls wanted to watch Miracles from Heaven...which is my current favorite  movie.  But I could not watch it.  It is just too fresh.   No, Erika couldn't have died.  But what we went through.  The trauma.  It is and was just so much more intense living here with little medical care and dirt and I could go on and on.  Yes, I was blessed that I could leave and get help in the states.  But I had to leave my home, my other children.  And bringing her home is hard too.  Pray for me as I try to trust again.  It is so hard for me to even let Erika go to children's church.  It will be harder eventually to leave her somewhere.  This could have happened with me.  In fact, she has gotten stitches twice while I was in the same house.  So pray for me.  To put her in God's hands and trust.  It is a journey I am definitely on...

But one thing that is in my heart...is that we will reap a good harvest if we sow in love.  The days are sometimes long.  I get tired.  I get overwhelmed.  I get frustrated.  But I wouldn't change it.