3/18/2013

Letter to Max - year 9

Happy birthday dude! Over the weekend you turned into a big old nine year old. It was a day that you've been counting down to for weeks now. This is your second birthday celebration with a real family, so you had a much better idea of what to expect. That doesn't mean that your idealic dreams for your special day weren't beyond extravagent, but it does mean that you had a better idea of what you could ask for. And I had a better idea of what you could realistically handle before you were overstimulated. That doesn't mean I didn't blow it big time more than once... Oy.

I have to say that I've learned a lot about you this last year. Last year your English was serviceable, but still not enough to help us understand what was really making you tick. You, my son are really sort of a fascinating kid. With all your funny little quirks and that sweet little voice, its no wonder that you charm everyone you meet. Everyone loves you and your story, and they can't wait to see the man of God you will someday become.

I love the element that you've added to our family. The unpredictalbility that you bring. I hate to say it, but our family was rather boring before you joined us, just a collection of normal people doing normal things, steady and predictable like New Mexico wind. Not so much anymore! Thanks for making us way more interesting than we used to be.

You're a great kid and a joy to have around. I'm so glad God brought you to our family. I'm excited to see where this year will take us.
Love you buddy,
Mom

3/12/2013

Don't call me Martha

I have a secret that not many people know. It's more of a confession really. Are you ready? I'm not sure I am, but here I go anyway.

I am not a type A person. I am not the up and att'em, take over the world by lunch time type.

Eek. That was hard to say outloud. Do you know how long I've been fighting that truth about myself?


I hate to say it, but while the rest of the world is busy trying to accumulate more stuff, more acclaims, more more more, bigger and better, and all that crap, my inner self is crying out for less, for smaller, for simpler.

For years I thought there was something wrong with me. Like I was crazy or broken because I couldn't relate to the people in my network who were always on the move.It didn't help when I'd bump into people (mostly teachers and coaches who wanted to motivate me to be the best that I could be) who couldn't figure out why I wasn't setting unrealistically high goals for myself. I think I was even called complacent once by someone who thought I'd be better off reaching for the stars like they were. Yuck. Nobody wants to be called that.

But as I've grown into my own skin I've realized that I'm really ok with being who God created me to be. He didn't create me to be a do-er, He created me to be a be-er. A peaceful gal. A gal who is happy to just sit at his feet. I'm a Mary not a Martha. But sadly I'm a Mary trapped in the world of Marthas who are trying to convince me that I should be a Martha too.

And I'm tired of feeling like I'm doing it all wrong. I'm tired of the world telling me I'm supposed to be the type A person like Martha when Jesus mostly just wants us all to be like Mary. I'm pretty sure Jesus doesn't want me to try to take over the world. That's sort of His job.

So I'm done fighting. You can think I'm complacent if you want, but I prefer the term content. I'm done trying to please all the coaches and teachers and other soccer mom-types who think I could do so much better if I just applied myself. Frankly I'd wrather please Jesus than them anyway.

If you need me, don't look for me in the train of movers and shakers trying to out serve eachother. I'm not there. I'll be over here. In my simple little life, loving those around me who really just want to be loved.

Any other Mary's hiding out there? It's time to come out of hiding and be counted. You aren't alone.

3/11/2013

On raising a beggar

Before our youngest joined our family it is very likely that he spent time on the street depending on  his own instincts for survival. Among other things he has learned to scavenge and beg like a pro. I imagine quite a few grown ups were taken by his little cute and charming routine.

How do I know this? Because he's still using it. He's still asking strangers for candy and money and trinkets, and it usually works. Except when we're around to intervene.

Our son's behavior is both heartbreaking and mortifying, and there's not a lot we can do about it. Logically you would think the act of bringing him into our home, showering him with love and affection, and providing for his every need would be enough to squelch those survivalist tendencies. But it isn't. No amount of niceness on our behalf is going to undo the trauma he experienced early in life. Only time and professional counceling can do that.

What we want you all to know is that when you give our son a little gift, something that to a healthy child would be a simple gesture, he does not think you are not giving him a trinket. He thinks that you are giving him a handout that he needs for survival. And now you're an easy mark that he can keep coming back to for more. Screw the fact that he has parents to meet his needs, he still wants a hand out.

For those of you who come into contact with our child, or any child with a tramatic social history for that matter, we'd like to propose a simple gift giving guideline. Unless every child in the room is getting something, we don't want anyone to give our son anything. Be it a dime, a hershey kiss, a match box car, or anything else he might ask for. Otherwise it will take us weeks to convince him that your soul purpose in life is not to bring him presents. If he asks you for anything, please tell him no and send him back to us with his request.

I hate that we have to tell you all this, we know that you love our little boy and want good things for him too. We know you think your little gifts are harmless. We wish they were. Maybe some day they can be. But until then, we have to protect that little vulnerable spot in his heart. And we are so grateful that you understand.

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