I need a bit more time.
I am not ready yet to share about Uganda and coming home.
I am still processing and grieving and rejoicing.
Yep. I am pretty messed up.
Friday, March 25, 2011
We Pray For The Children
by Ina J Hughs
We pray for children
who sneak popsicles before supper,
who erase holes in math workbooks,
who throw tantrums in the grocery store and pick at their food,
who like ghost stories,
who can never find their shoes.
And we pray for those
who stare at photographers behind barbed wire,
who can’t bound down the street in a pair of new sneakers,
who are born in places we wouldn’t be caught dead,
who never go to the circus
who live in an X-rated world.
We pray for children
who sleep with the dog and bury the goldfish
who bring us sticky kisses and fistfuls of dandelions,
who get visits from the tooth fairy,
who hug us in a hurry and forget their lunch money.
And we pray for those
who never get dessert,
who have no safe blanket to drag behind them,
who watch their parents watch them die,
who can’t find any bread to steal,
who don’t have any rooms to clean up,
whose pictures aren’t on anybody’s dresser,
whose monsters are real.
We pray for children
who spend all their allowance before Tuesday,
who shove dirty clothes under the bed, and never rinse out the tub,
who don’t like to be kissed in front of the carpool,
who squirm in church or temple and scream in the phone,
whose tears we sometimes laugh at and
whose smiles can make us cry.
And we pray for those
whose nightmares come in the daytime,
who will eat anything,
who have never seen a dentist,
who aren’t spoiled by anybody,
who go to bed hungry and cry themselves to sleep,
who live and move, but have no being.
We pray for children who want to be carried
and for those who must,
for those we never give up on and
for those who don’t get a second chance.
for those we smother...
and for those who will grab the hand of anybody kind enough to offer it.
We pray for children
who sneak popsicles before supper,
who erase holes in math workbooks,
who throw tantrums in the grocery store and pick at their food,
who like ghost stories,
who can never find their shoes.
And we pray for those
who stare at photographers behind barbed wire,
who can’t bound down the street in a pair of new sneakers,
who are born in places we wouldn’t be caught dead,
who never go to the circus
who live in an X-rated world.
We pray for children
who sleep with the dog and bury the goldfish
who bring us sticky kisses and fistfuls of dandelions,
who get visits from the tooth fairy,
who hug us in a hurry and forget their lunch money.
And we pray for those
who never get dessert,
who have no safe blanket to drag behind them,
who watch their parents watch them die,
who can’t find any bread to steal,
who don’t have any rooms to clean up,
whose pictures aren’t on anybody’s dresser,
whose monsters are real.
We pray for children
who spend all their allowance before Tuesday,
who shove dirty clothes under the bed, and never rinse out the tub,
who don’t like to be kissed in front of the carpool,
who squirm in church or temple and scream in the phone,
whose tears we sometimes laugh at and
whose smiles can make us cry.
And we pray for those
whose nightmares come in the daytime,
who will eat anything,
who have never seen a dentist,
who aren’t spoiled by anybody,
who go to bed hungry and cry themselves to sleep,
who live and move, but have no being.
We pray for children who want to be carried
and for those who must,
for those we never give up on and
for those who don’t get a second chance.
for those we smother...
and for those who will grab the hand of anybody kind enough to offer it.
Thursday, March 24, 2011
Do You Trust Me?
Parenting kids who have experienced trauma is hard.
They don't believe you. They have been hurt and disappointed. Abandoned and cast aside. We show up with all of our good intentions and many times disappoint them yet again. Their hearts are heavily guarded and rightly so. Fear of another loss can grip them so tightly they wont let in the good just to ensure they can keep out the bad.
I have looked my beautiful daughter in the eyes and seen her fear. I have instructed her and watched her defy me simply because she thinks she knows better.
It has made me furious.
I am an adult. I can see past the situation and know what is best.
It has broken my heart. I want to take care of her but she wont let me.
Looking at her, I have asked, do you trust me? I see that she wants too but is so scared. What if...The possibility of pain is what she knows.
I see me in her. I see how God, my father, looks at me and asks the very same question. Do you trust ME?
Can you close your eyes
to the circumstance
to the past
to the pain you have endured
and trust ME?
They don't believe you. They have been hurt and disappointed. Abandoned and cast aside. We show up with all of our good intentions and many times disappoint them yet again. Their hearts are heavily guarded and rightly so. Fear of another loss can grip them so tightly they wont let in the good just to ensure they can keep out the bad.
I have looked my beautiful daughter in the eyes and seen her fear. I have instructed her and watched her defy me simply because she thinks she knows better.
It has made me furious.
I am an adult. I can see past the situation and know what is best.
It has broken my heart. I want to take care of her but she wont let me.
Looking at her, I have asked, do you trust me? I see that she wants too but is so scared. What if...The possibility of pain is what she knows.
I see me in her. I see how God, my father, looks at me and asks the very same question. Do you trust ME?
Can you close your eyes
to the circumstance
to the past
to the pain you have endured
and trust ME?
r.a.d.
i cant pinpoint when it happened.
when my life became so different.
but it has changed so much.
cps
rad
ptsd
odd
adhd
fas
iep
psr
all of those little letters....make up the life i live. the life my children live.
some days it is all consuming. other days i almost forget.
most days i am sure that the only three letters that really matter are:
GOD
He has a plan and a purpose.
He is Healer
He is Comforter
He has all I need
dont get me wrong. we do the appointments. we have a support team.
we get kicked out of sunday school and not invited to parties....grandparents are scared.
and
so.are.we.
but we carry on. doing what we know to do. finding out what else we can do.
we love
we fight
we cry
we restrain...
we supervise
we explain the letters to the kids who have them and the kids who live with them
we will not be defined by this. we will not make excuses
we are working on it
we learn compassion
we learn to ask for help
we learn to not judge others because we dont know what they have been through
we find out we are strong
we find out we are weak
we find out WE ARE NOT ALONE
stupid letters are nothing compared to the GOD we serve.
and the kids we love.
and those who share this crazy this journey with us.
when my life became so different.
but it has changed so much.
cps
rad
ptsd
odd
adhd
fas
iep
psr
all of those little letters....make up the life i live. the life my children live.
some days it is all consuming. other days i almost forget.
most days i am sure that the only three letters that really matter are:
GOD
He has a plan and a purpose.
He is Healer
He is Comforter
He has all I need
dont get me wrong. we do the appointments. we have a support team.
we get kicked out of sunday school and not invited to parties....grandparents are scared.
and
so.are.we.
but we carry on. doing what we know to do. finding out what else we can do.
we love
we fight
we cry
we restrain...
we supervise
we explain the letters to the kids who have them and the kids who live with them
we will not be defined by this. we will not make excuses
we are working on it
we learn compassion
we learn to ask for help
we learn to not judge others because we dont know what they have been through
we find out we are strong
we find out we are weak
we find out WE ARE NOT ALONE
stupid letters are nothing compared to the GOD we serve.
and the kids we love.
and those who share this crazy this journey with us.
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