Lest You Think It is All Happy All the Time....

Today was rough.   For those who have been following this amazing adoption story, this is the proof that this life is hard.  I spent hours on Sunday preparing for a great week of school.  I thought through each activity with each child in mind.  Nothing too hard, nothing too easy, nothing that would make a 7 year old feel too young, but that would still meet the needs of learning the basics.  I prepared, collected materials,  made copies, and gathered books.  Then I worked through who would do which thing and when so that everyone would get breaks while still being challenged through the morning.  It looked great on paper.  Naomi even told me at bedtime on Sunday that she wanted to have school tomorrow-I took this as a good sign.  I shouldn't have.  This is the thing about adopting an older child:  they shut down when you least expect it and you can't always figure out why.  Shutting down looks like staring blankly at a wall with her nose turned up slightly as if to say, "I care nothing about you or your words."  It is frustrating, heartbreaking, and maddening all at the same time.  And then it is magnified when the little sister, who was doing just fine, sees the shut down and allies with the birth sister for no apparent reason other than the blood that ties them together.  ARGH!!
Moments like these make me start to panic.  What if everyday is like this?  I can't teach 6 kids what they need to learn if we can't actually make forward progress. What if we never get past the number 9 and the letter H?  If this one child takes so much time, when will the younger one ever learn anything other than how to distract the big kids?  Why does she talk about loving school and then refuse to do any of the activities that are planned and waiting for her?  Why does it require a 30 minute tantrum in order for us to have a great lesson?  Why can't we just agree to work hard and learn alot and feel good about it?  (some of you are laughing at me right now....that's okay!)
I know many of you are thinking, just give it time.  They do need time.  We all do.  But in these moments I can't help but think that just time won't teach her to read and add.
In moments like these I am tempted to think that adoption is hard.  But then I am reminded that life is hard.  The more I thought about today, I realized that this day was not hard because I have two kids who were born in another country.  This day was not hard because some of my kids are still learning English, or because they are behind in school.  After all, much of the stress of this day came from kids who came from my womb-kids who know English perfectly and still don't always listen well, kids who are ahead in school but complain when they have to work hard.   Those kids had excessive tears over injuries, agony over math, stress over science, drama over sibling issues.
The hardest parts of today were not about adoption, they were about sin.  The hardest parts were about how we all want what we want and would prefer to have it the minute we want it.  I wanted a perfect school day with kids who love to learn and engage in thoughtful activities, followed by time romping in the fresh air outside and topped of with a healthy dinner.  That was not the plan that God had for my day, and he prepared me yesterday for this tough day.

Last night as I went to bed my 9 year old had left me a note in her journal.  She told me that no one is looking forward to Joanna's surgery tomorrow because it is not something we want her to have to have done. We wish she was already well.  She wrote "we will just have to power through the day.  That is what God wants us to do.  When I get sad or need to remember that I just remember James 1:2-3.  Sometimes we have to do things that are hard, but that is what God wants us to do."
 I guess God knew I would need that reminder so he gave it to me in advance.  Today was a trial, but it was what God wanted me to do, and I am thankful that he gave me a real, live reminder here in my home to help encourage me through my day.  I am also thankful that a game of Uno went a long way in repairing some of the hurts from the day for all of us.  (And I am still laughing that when Naomi had only one card left she couldn't remember what to say so she kept saying things like "Oh-No!" and "You-who!")