I love you, Mom ... but not today

“It was His purpose, God’s sovereign plan. You were chosen from the beginning,
and all things happen just as He decided … that we should praise Him
for doing these mighty things.”
(Ephesians 1:10-12)
~

I know in my head that not all children are alike. In my heart, too. But this boy, our youngest child reflects that opinion in so many ways. It had not been one of the good days. Home schooling was a new experience for us, and Ryan and I often saw it from different perspectives. But the yelling had stopped and we’d hugged our apologies, when I found the wadded-up piece of paper…scribbled with red magic marker…

I love you Mom but not today

Ryan came to us by “special delivery.” He was our second foster child, and when all was said anddone, it seemed to us that God intended this one to be a Frilen. Chris was already 10, Jenni 11 when he toddled into our hearts. We were on the brink of adolescence with them, and continued to do foster care; so until Ryan was eight, this house was full of teenagers and toddlers. The TVs were either tuned to Barney or Basketball games. His bedtime was squeezed between the babies’ and the big kids’. I succumbed often to the temptation to “buy” his cooperation and quiet with Slurpees and happy meals. Oh, he got lots of attention, and the positive fallout from learning to live with all these different people will always stack up higher than the accidental neglect he suffered by my divided attention. But then all of a sudden, the last two babies were adopted away from us and the teenagers moved out to college. Ryan was suddenly “an only child.”

It’s been five years. With red marker Ryan scribbled his displeasure. We had planned to make a quick trip to the mall ~ me to buy an already-late-birthday-present, Ryan to shop for anything to gobble up the last of his allowance. But he just couldn’t keep it together long enough to finish the day’s assignments in time. So the trip would have to be postponed until the next day … or the next …or the next….whenever he could get the stuff done AND keep the attitude in check. That’s a familiar threat, isn’t it? ….. “and you won’t get to go tomorrow either, if you don’t watch your mouth .”

Sometimes I wonder that he ever loves me. Menopause has to affect motherhood…it affects everything. I resolve every morning to be more patient… laugh more, yell less. I tell myself that my frequent failure to meet these daily goals is a result of being provoked….that “Ryan starts it..” As if patience is best demonstrated only when there is no need for it. Jenni and Chris gave me little reason to pray for patience. At 8, they were natural students, good bed-goers, and rule-followers. Jenni finished her homework in the car on the way home, Chris wanted to be everywhere early. They got A’s and Good Citizen trophies; they always brushed their teeth before bed, drank milk and only asked for toys at Christmas and for their birthdays. They didn’t seem to notice they didn’t get an allowance. Bob and I smugly considered parenting pretty darn easy.

So easy, in fact, that foster care seemed a “no-brainer” of a mission. We never intended to adopt any of these poor babies; planned only to enjoy their baby-ness and respond to the overwhelming need of our community’s crisis of too many kids, too few foster homes. But, life is what happens as we make other plans. Ryan’s circumstances were unique and the natural conclusion of his abandonment became pretty clear - pretty quickly. In less than a year, before he turned two, Ryan’s adoption was final and as far as we were concerned this sweet boy was a Frilen - lock, stock and legal barrel.

But you know what? He's a Frilen by “heart” - not heredity. Ryan’s makeup - what combines to make him who he is, will always include his biology. The effects of DNA cannot be dismissed. We can improve his economic status; facilitate an adult that reflects our values; and affect his future success with orthodontia and guitar lessons and college. But we’ve learned lately that no matter how genuinely we responded to bring him into our family, the effects of those first months are still at work. Ryan probably wonders what circumstances were so dire to make his parents seek other caregivers. What questions nag at his pre-sleep imaginings? Could he be given up again? Do we love Jenni and Chris more? Is he missing something spectacular with his first family? Does he have brothers and sisters? What about grandparents? Do they wonder about him? Will they come back? Does adoption always mean forever?

I’m sure he worries about being different from us. And his adoption does make him different. Bob and I, Jenni and Chris have never experienced the mystery that must crowd into his opinion of himself. And when it gets ugly around here ~ when the big kids get irritated, when I get crabby, when Bob gets impatient ~ .he probably thinks we’d treat him differently if he’d been born a Frilen. But, we wouldn’t. All brothers and sisters argue; all moms whine about homework and muddy shoes; all dads think their boys could move a little faster when it’s time for bed. That’s just the nurture-ing part of being a family.

But the nature part is important, too. I love knowing where I’m from. I plan the family reunions. My dad was one of fourteen children….my mom, one of nine. That’s a lot of aunts and uncles and cousins. I have drawers full of photos. I recognize names that connect to me by marriage and the family tree; wonder whether strangers with similar names are somehow related to me. I enjoy the accomplishments of my relatives, worry that their negatives are tainting my genes, pray their positives do. Nature/Nurture? Who knows?

Well, God knows. Ryan’s adoption was divinely arranged ~ just as was his birth. Who he is, who he’ll become is no mystery in Heaven. So, we thank God for this third child, just one of the abundant blessings of our lives. Maybe someday we’ll be able to share the joy he’s been with his other family. I suspect if given the opportunity, Ryan would not hesitate to mix us all up together ~ expect the blessings that have surrounded him from the get-go to spill over into that chapter as well. And I would love that. I would love to share our “Ryan stories”….to laugh out loud from the joy of seeing it all work together for our collective good.

But what about today? I smiled at the crumpled-up declaration of un-love. At least he’d had a change of heart. At least he’d marked through the “but not” part. At least this day ended with him loving me again… and any day that ends like this is a good day.

~
“You formed my inmost being; you knit me together in my mother’s womb.”
(Psalm 139:13)