PUTTING MYSELF IN HIS SHOES

The Boy

 

It’s all over me. Pulling me down. Wrapping all around me. A heavy fog of numb.

 

bored.

 

…so bored.

 

HAVE to escape. Now! Shake it off. Break free.

Bang!

 

I felt that. Train + Window Pane + Bang… vibrating in my fingers, up my arm, echoing in my ears.

More!

Trains in both hands now. A tingle of energy moving from deep inside out to the very edges of me.

Bang! Bang!! BANG!!!

 

Jumping. Laughing. Feeling.

Hands snatch the trains from mine. Even that feels good. Anything better than the dull nothing.

Words. Close to my ear.

 

“…blah, blah, gentle, blah…”

 

I pick up the basket at my feet.

Flip.

 

Feeling the toys rolling off my belly, my legs, my feet… then the glorious clatter onto the floor. I make things happen. Me! I am powerful.

More! More!

Mommy bends down, pressing toys into my hand, pointing to the basket. We drop them in. Small bang. Meh.

“…blah, blah, time to go… van.”

 

Van! I love the van! I love to GO! Coiling my body, ready to run to the door… until it catches my eye. Catches me, body and soul.

On the edge of the table. My favourite thing. The best thing. So many buttons. So many colours and noises and games. So much everything.

iPhone

And, she’s looking away. Quick! Feet skittering across the floor, arms and legs climbing frantically, heart pounding… Got it!

“Hey!”

 

She sees me! Now throwing myself off the table, prize clutched to my chest, down the hallway – the chase is on! Running. Laughing. Feeling.

More! More! More!

* * *

Today is exactly 1 year since our adoption was finalized, and the boy became ours for good, forever. It’s been exhausting and overwhelming at times, but never, ever, boring. At least not for long.

 It’s been pointed out that “Gotcha Day” (which many adoptive families use to describe this day) sounds creepy and vaguely kidnap-y.

“Signed the Paperwork Day” doesn’t really capture the sentiment either. Nor does ”You’re Stuck With Us Now Day.” We’ve finally settled on:

“For Keeps Day.”

 Definitely worth celebrating! And yes, there will be cake.

* * *

So here’s us, where we’re learning to make room for: fun, impulsive, hyperactive, sensory seeking, rough & tumble, and being a boy.

 

CHRISTIE HOOS

So Here's Us

BEFORE THE PUCK DROPS

 

Growing up I was a stereotypical Canadian kid. Playing hockey on frozen sheets of water in fields, backyards, lakes and community rinks. My dad was the typical hockey dad. Maybe a super hockey dad even. Kind of like Walter Gretsky without the famous and talented hockey player son. He would flood the outdoor rink after it got too dark for us kids to play. The spray of water freezing to his Ski-Doo suit until he looked like a huge ice cube. He was there for the early morning practices and late night games. He drove us thousands of miles (metric wasn't in yet--still isn't for dad) to small communities all over Ontario. I have no idea how many hours he would have spent standing in the cold rinks watching me play the game that I loved.

For most of my life I thought my dad was like all the other dads. Coming to the rink to watch their kids play. It hadnt really occured to me that my dad came to every game. Every pratice. Every time I was on the ice he showed up to watch. No other Dad had an attendence record like his. I haden't noticed that other Dad’s missed. Some often. Some rarely. But all missed.

As traditions have it teams gather around the goalie before a game to wish each other well and yell their war cry. Maybe in hope to intemidate the other team. Perhaps to summon their own courage. One such game as the team came toghter one of the guys asked where my Dad was. It was noticable to the other players that he wasnt in the rink. He was always in the rink, wheather it was a game or practice. 6am or 11pm. He was there. But now it was 30 seconds before the puck dropped and he was not. I gave no thought to my answer to the question. I had no ideas were he was but I gave a confident “Don’t worry guys he will be here before the puck drops.” We skated to center ice. I look up into the stands and there was the familiar Ski-Doo suit taking his place in the rink. Of course he showed up. He always does. And the puck drops.

Years later a friend is asking me about God the Father and why I have what some might say is a blind faith in Gods faithfulness. I didn't really know the answer until I was reminded of this story of my father showing up at the rink. Always. Faithfully. Before the puck drops. He was teaching me about who God is. That He is interested in me and the things I do and He will be there…always.

Dads are mirrors of God. We teach our kids about the character of God the Father through our relationships with our sons. All Dads miss this because we aren’t perfect. Some rarely, some often and some always.

I am so grateful for glimpses of God the father – through a man in a Ski-Doo suit standing in a cold rink.

ROB SNAIR, Director of Life Teams

Life Teams

MY SON

Of all the things that surprise me, a whole year after our adoption, the biggest is the undiminished pride I feel when I slip the words “My Son” into a conversation.

Capital letters: MY. SON.

And I might… possibly… slip them in more often than is strictly necessary.

Perhaps it is those years when all those typically “boy” things (which my girls disliked no matter how enlightened and gender neutral we tried to be) – the dinosaurs and matchbox cars and hockey gear and train sets – sent a little ping of grief across my heart. All the things I never got to have or do or be with the baby boys I lost.

Perhaps it is the length of time we had to wait for you. Wondering. Imagining. Making plans that ended with “… if we have a new baby by then.”

Perhaps it is the way I feel we earned you. Not like a possession or a prize… but coming home at the end of a hard fought, life changing journey.

And perhaps this is how adoption, and every other scenario where kids don’t come the easy way, is different. Most of the time, having a child requires only a small amount of planning, if any. Two of mine came without any planning at all (surprise!). They are not any less (or more) precious for it, but I took being their Mom for granted.

It just happened. It didn’t require much thought or soul searching. I never felt the need to prove it or defend it. I didn’t have to work hard to get there. Those maternal instincts came pre-assembled.

But you, My Son, we made this Mother-Son thing together. We built it ourselves.

So when I talk about you, I puff up my chest and emphasize the words: MY Son.

So here’s me, an obnoxiously proud Mama. Even more than usual (and I was already pretty obnoxious, according to the oldest kids).

CHRISTIE HOOS

So Here's Us

HEAD TO HEAD

he is 8 (almost nine, he will add if you ask him) and his name is wyatt.  that tube is out and his sweet smile and contagious giggles are back in full effect but that was my view at midnight last night.  his mother is my cousin and one whom i have always looked up to.  a novel could be written about her and the amazing example she sets as a wife, mother, friend but most importantly…a woman of Godly character.  for her, this last week, these last 24 hours…it has probably felt as if the world has stopped turning.

they ran into each other on the playground.  head to head, they met, at the tip of the corner and went down for the count.  both with serious concusions, wyatt and his friend received the medical care that seemed to fix it all and were sent home.  but wyatt wasn’t getting better.  five days after his first trip to the urgent care, he woke up with two black eyes and told his sweet mama, “my head is squishy.  why?”.  back to the hospital and the doctors find a fracture in his skull and blood.  blood that is still bleeding blood.  not in a good place blood.  blood that needs to stop, and soon, or else surgery is required.  all from a run in on the playground.

here’s the cool thing.  wait…scratch that.  here is the coolest thing.  i remember holding wyatt when he was first born and having him come visit me in the hospital when i had my first baby (see above).  such a handsome little guy.  as he grew up, there was a slightly noticeable difference in the shape of his head.  doctors called it “mild malformation”.  much testing was done but nothing really ever came of it.  it seemed as if doctors were a bit baffled by this mild difference and so it was left as that.

turns out, this mild malformation saved his life.  most of us don’t have this extra pocket in our skull that wyatt has.  most of us would have died from a similar injury since our blood would have had no where to go and the pressure on our brains would have been deathly overwhelming.  but he had this pocket.  this mild little space that could hold one pint of blood in it and keep him alive for a period of time long enough to allow doctors to be able to fix it all.  that isn’t mild to me.

for you created my innermost being:

you knit me together in my mother’s womb.

i praise you because i am fearfully and wonderfully made:

your works are wonderful, i know that full well.

my frame was not hidden from you

when I was made in a secret place.

when I was woven together in the depths of the earth,

your eyes saw my unformed body.

all the days ordained for me where written in your book before one of them came to be.

Psalms 139:13-16

to think that what once baffled the doctors and the family and the testing…to think that mild change was created for a specific purpose…for a specific moment in time.  to bask in the awesomeness of knowing that what seemed to be a problem was really a plan.  what seemed a concern is now a comfort.  how great is our God…

i know i pleaded with my friends on facebook and begged my prayer partners in email, for you all to cover him and his family in prayers.  there are times when prayers are not answered the way that we wish them to be and it is hard to praise God in those moments.  but there are times when we are blessed beyond all measure and our prayer are answered exactly as we poured them out.  this is one of those times.  and i hope this one moment in time will forever be a testimony to others who are going through those moments when it is hard to utter praise.  i hope, wyatt, that this story will be forever on your lips.  that God can take your mild malformation and do intense things with it, not just this week…but always.

thank you all for your prayers.  the peace that was felt could have only been given to us.  thank you.

AMY BALLARD

Amy B Photography

Cultivate Yours Sons Character through Powerful Role Models

7 WAYS TO BEGIN NOW

Can you recall the influential people in your youth?  Perhaps they made an impression because they took a special interest in you, challenged you, or respected your opinions.  Studies show teens that have mentoring relationships are more likely to challenge themselves by taking positive life risks.  Their decisions about drinking, drugs and sex become significantly influenced. (2006 SADD, Inc./Liberty Mutual Group study of 3,312 students)

While Mom is the most influential person in a child’s formative years, there is a natural psychological shift that occurs from mom to dad.  Boys in particular require adult males to respect, get approval from and model their manhood after.   If there isn’t a man in the home, explore ways to incorporate positive male mentors.

CREATIVE ROLE MODELS IN THE ELEMENTARY YEARS

My husband and I mutually desire that our sons be able to face adversity as well as mundane tasks with a faithful zeal.  We began introducing ordinary people whose lives exemplify extraordinary faith:

Great Hero Stories for children.  These may include Bible heroes, missionaries, business people, etc.  Several nights a week, give the boys their own time with dad, reading and casually discussing the story.  These stories can be found in children’s books or c.d.’s at your local bookstore and Christian book source.

Tell Your Story.  Our boys call these “Daddy Stories”.  They sit in the Jacuzzi or by the fire while my husband tells stories of growing up, stories of struggles and faith in his workplace or mission trips.  Casually he tells the stories, often with laughter, always with purpose.  When our 12 year old returned from his first mission trip overseas, he told his peers, “My original motivation to go on a mission trip was because my parents always told me stories that sounded so fun”.

Serve Together.  Care for a neighbor, serve in a soup kitchen, walk a 5k for the homeless.  Locate opportunities by calling your local Salvation Army, soup kitchen, or church.  You may hesitate now, but your heart will be bursting after your first experience!  I have seen babies, young children, and our own special needs child able to give back to the community.  Your son will learn life is not all about him, he will notice those in need.  The unspoken power of serving beside role models will cultivate his character.


PURPOSEFUL ROLE MODELS FOR THE TWEEN AND TEEN YEARS

 Purposely introduce like-minded people to your son.

Movie Night.  Boys respond to war stories; great classics that tell true stories of heroism.  “To Hell and Back” was the first war movie our sons viewed. Selfless and courageous, Audie Murphy led by example.  He was small, faced personal obstacles, but became the most decorated war hero in history.  “Chariots of Fire” is another great choice.

Give them You.  Stay involved and interested.  Hang out, have fun, keep communication open.

Casual Mentors with Similar Interests. Contact your local college or church requesting an exceptional student with the sport or skill interest of your son.  Interview him and offer to pay him to coach your son.  Encourage the relationship with family barbeques, etc.

Extracurricular Activities with an organization.  Connect with church youth groups, Campus Life, Junior Achievement, Boy Scouts.  These organizations have volunteers who want to influence youth.  Bill Beausay calls them Pockets of Power, “All you need to do is arrange transportation, give thanks to God for people like this, and get out of the way”. (“Shaping the Man Inside Teenage Boys”)


BONNIE CHRISTENSEN
Woman Gone Wise