Sometimes we try to control the hard stuff. Do we do something, try to move forward, fix it? Or do we try to rest in Him? I often wonder how to find the balance between being God's hands and feet but also being still. Waiting on Him. Our adoption has taught us over and over and over again that we have to wait on Him. We don't have a choice; we can't quickly heal or erase the hurt that orphanage life imprints on a child's heart. Only our heavenly Father can do that.
Tonight Etienne was on his second meltdown of the day. When he gets to spiraling, I've gotten to this place where I can physically separate me from myself...like I watch me in motion. I think it is the only way that I can respond in an attachment way rather then being angry and mean. Don't let me fool you, in my head I am screaming and it sometimes takes all my willpower not to swat him. I made the mistake (again and again) of trying to hold him. He pushed me away harder and looked panicked.
I said "E, stop, why are you pushing me like that?"
He said "When I am mad I have to protect myself from you hurting me."Kick in the gut. And the heart. We've been loving him for almost 5 years. 5 freakin' years. And still. His gut instinct is to protect himself from me. His mama. Ugh. This is hard stuff too.
Do I overreact? Yup, been doing it for years. Do I get emotional? Always. Am I a yeller? Not usually, but more now than before I had 4 kids. Do I hurt my kid? Oh my. I pray, no. But hearing my boy say he has to protect himself from me makes me replay every ugly scenario we've lived. And people wander why we haven't started spanking him "yet". Is it my words? Am I mean? Am I over correcting and nagging and ugly? Sigh.
So once again, I am resting. I am waiting. Be still. Psalm 46:10..."Be still and know that I am God. I will be exalted among nations and in the earth." I have got to let this one go. I've been trying and trying to be hands and feet to my son but even my hands holding him aren't going to fix it all my son's wounds. My son whose heart is on the mend.
