Follow by Email

Monday, March 10, 2014

You've got mail...

Something quite miraculous happened today.  I walked outside to get the mail, and I didn't have to tell the kids where I was going or when I would be back.  They could care less what I was doing.  They were just BEING kids at home.

For most of you, this seems quite mundane.  Unimportant.  A simple, unremarkable event that happens daily at your house.  For us, though, NOTHING is that simple.

A year ago this January we took three blonde kids into our home.  We were newlyweds, pregnant with a baby, and completely and utterly ignorant of the reality of what we'd just done. 

In short, the last year has been the hardest, most refining and trying year of our life.  Some days it seemed like we would drown under the weight of it all.  We failed.  A lot.  We had a few victories, and then we failed again.  And again.  Oh, and again. 

As we lived with the kids, however, we had to start to unpack their emotional and behavioral baggage (and quite a bit of our own).  It felt weird to be "mom and dad" to these little strangers.  We had to learn about them, and they us. 

But, today, reminded me of how far we have come. 

About a year ago, Jacob was out in the garage putting something in the van.  I went outside to tell him something.  All of a sudden, we had three kids in the doorway--all bawling.  It happened so fast, I was confused as to what was going on. 

Was someone hurt?  Nope.  We just both walked outside without telling them why.  They thought we were leaving without them.

Since that day, Jacob and I got in the habit of announcing everything we did. 
"I'm going out in the garage to get something out of the freezer." 
Or, "I'm going to go heat the car up because it's cold outside.  We aren't leaving without you." 
And, "I'm getting the mail.  I'll be right back."  

Lately, though, we haven't had to do that.  A couple of Saturdays ago, we told the kids to get their shoes and coats on and load up in the van.  We were at our destination before we realized not one of them asked where we were going.  No barrage of questions--and no guesses of our destination.  They just went with us.  

That's the funny thing about trust.  It has to be saved up, one day at a time.  Small, daily, consistent deposits have to be made.  Then, before you realize it, you have a nice little nest egg saved.

We still have a long way to go, don't get me wrong.  There are still "bags" to be unpacked, behavior to understand and correct, and more trust to be built.  It is nice, however, to get a glimpse of what life is becoming when you're not looking.