Above all else...

by B

Above all else, guard your heart, for it is the wellspring of life. Proverbs 4:23

I have known this verse for years and years. It was a “purity verse” – one of those verses the youth group leaders used to encourage pubescent teens to keep their emotions from getting out of hand. Don’t give your heart away until marriage, so the discussion went. Back when I was the target of this verse, I used to think this verse was just a convenient prop for the leaders to use on the kids. Although I believe the verse meant what they said, adults seemed to only trot it out whenever they wanted to deliver the abstinence talk. Go ahead and google the verse. You’ll see that most of the discussion is about romantic love and our need to preserve it for marriage. While I wholehearted endorse that principle, I’m convinced that Proverbs 4:23 means way, way more.

Guarding our hearts isn’t just about keeping them pure, it’s about not losing them. After all, you guard the thing you don’t want to lose. What do you think when you hear the phrase “lose heart”? I think: hopelessness. The Proverbs verse is telling us not to lose our hope. And this is wisdom.

Stick with me here. This is going to read like a really long tangent. I will do my best to tie up the loose ends at the finish, but truthfully, I might make a mess of it. You’ll have to read it all to find out how I do. Much of this post was written on Sunday, so pretend you’re reading this two days ago…

It was another very difficult day today. Candidly, I feel like I only write when things get real bad. The crazy part about our life is that the bad and the good are so near. We regularly oscillate from wretchedly awful to heart-breakingly beautiful in the space of a few minutes. So many of the arguments between S & Ca are followed by unsolicited statements of affection. “I love you” comes twenty minutes after “I don’t love you.” It’s a picture of our fallen fickleness. Sometimes I feel like I’ve got whiplash from riding the emotional roller-coaster. My tendency is to withdraw and just functionally fill the role of dad (I can hear the cheery announcer voice saying, “Today the role of Dad will be played by B!”). You know, be physically present but emotionally somewhere else. In fact, I feel like I’ve been living that way for several weeks. I wouldn’t say I’ve been a bad father – I’ve regularly been very patient and kind toward my kids, not getting any more angry than usual – but I’ve not really been here. I’m not sure where I’ve been…

Today’s difficulties started – as they often do – when two children wanted the same thing. Lately that thing has been sitting on my lap. For the last two days Ca has been experimenting with being a “xiao baby” – a little baby. She sits in my lap and talks baby talk, drinks from a baby bottle, and generally cuddles more aggressively than usual. Some of you may find this behavior strange from a six year old. However, this is normal adopted kid behavior. In fact, its presence is a very healthy sign that Ca is bonding to me. Kids who didn’t have one on one time with a parent throughout their development often don’t feel as though they are precious. They can be insecure and need to learn trust by playacting and practicing it. As they begin to feel comfortable enough exploring and expressing their needs for connection, they regress to an age where they can be needy and expect a parent will take care of them. They practice this vulnerability and hope we meet their needs. It’s an interesting parent-child dance that can reap huge relational rewards if the parent knows what’s going on and can care for the child unselfconsciously. We’re really thankful Ca is playing this way.

For the last few days she’s wanted to sit on my lap at just about every meal. Well S has got some of his own parenting needs and a healthy dose of big brother jealousy to boot. It’s hard to be a big brother and especially hard to watch a sibling regress without wanting to join in. After all, when Ca acts like a baby she gets fawned over. Of course S wants the same attention and care. He liked sitting on my lap before his sister arrived. It’s difficult to share.

Two minutes into the church service I took both of them out of the sanctuary because we were beginning to make a scene. I’m actually getting more comfortable with that situation. If we’ve been to church eight times since Ca came home, I’ve probably left the service eight times with one of the kids to avoid being a distraction. This morning we found a quiet spot and I explained to both of them how I am one daddy and there are four kids in our family. They need to share me. It’s the truth, but it also feels to me like I’m failing…like I shouldn’t have brought these kids into my family if I couldn’t meet all their needs. This kind of thought causes me to doubt our parenting decisions, at least a little.

S suggested they each sit on half my lap. They’ve done this before, but given their attitudes toward one another this morning I wasn’t hopeful this would work. Silly me. Ca eagerly agreed and back we went to the sanctuary. They each took a leg and were content for a little while. Eventually Ca scooted over the pew, since I was an unstable writing surface, and told S “it’s ok” to take my entire lap. This was a mercy.

Fast forward to this afternoon… it’s Sunday evening, but already the details are fuzzy. What I remember is that three of the kids were eating lunch and watching a movie and Ca was deeply unhappy. She was nearly non-verbal and upset with me for no reason I could comprehend. I wasn’t involved in the original conflict (maybe it was with E or one of the other kids?), but I attempted to soothe and comfort her after the fact. She began threatening to hurt the other kids with a plastic coat hanger so I put myself in between. She ran away and I chased her in a playful way, but she wanted none of my cheerfulness. She began to hit me on the shoulders and the face with the hanger. I tried not to flinch while telling her repeatedly that I love her. She kept hitting me and I kept letting her. Occasionally she would threaten without hitting just to see if I’d move. I didn’t.

I’m not sure if this is the right approach in this circumstance, but honestly I can’t think of anything better. My hope is that my unflinching words & display of love will overcome her scared, angry woundedness. I’ve done this with her twice; the first time was in China. It’s softened her both times.

About ten minutes later she decided to get out some toys. I get down on the ground to play with her – wordlessly still. Shortly, I offer her the food she missed from lunch. She invited me to the couch to watch the movie with the others and asked if she can sit on my lap to eat. Her rage has passed.

Five minutes later S got jealous and began kicking at Ca. He and I left to go talk it out… Things didn’t go as smoothly as I’d hoped. Essentially, I’m trying to explain to him how his sister was a mess earlier and I just got her calmed down. Now, he’s screwing everything up. (You can see my master manipulation persuasion skills at work here.) Not surprisingly, S is not persuaded by my nuanced approach. Again, my memory here is a little fuzzy. We ended up in a scuffle and I almost accidentally break the lampshade that E just bought to replace the last one - broken in a previous tantrum. Now I’m as angry with myself as I am with S, so out to the deck we went. I calmed down enough to explain to S that the reason we each do bad stuff (usually the bad stuff we know we’re not supposed to do, the stuff that will make our lives unhappier and hurt us & the people around us) is because we’re sinners. I also told him how I wish I could be the daddy he wishes he had, the one whose lap is always available, the one who can hold him whenever he wants for as long as he needs. I told him I wish I could be that daddy for I, Co and Ca. I reminded him about the verse we read in church today from Revelation 21:4 – “He will wipe away every tear from their eyes, and death shall be no more, neither shall there be mourning, nor crying, nor pain anymore, for the former things have passed away.” Eventually we headed back inside because it’s chilly. We were both fairly well calmed down and headed downstairs to finish watching the movie. Ca was doing something else with E so S gets my lap.

After the movie, magic happened. All four kids decided to put on a show. Typically these productions involve an acrobatic display by the boys and a dance number by the girls. It’s a highly choreographed creation requiring cooperation and devotion on the part of the performers, but somehow today they got it sorted out. The four kids rehearsed for 30 minutes, maybe more, while E and I got dinner ready. As dinner time approached, tragedy struck. You see, sometimes cooperation and/or devotion can be in short supply. In this case, it appears Ca lost her enthusiasm for the whole affair and decided to “go off-script” as they say in the business. Worse, the dinner deadline put enormous pressure on the cast. They needed to skip their final rehearsal in order to have time for the actual performance. Under these stresses, the entire company unraveled. There was shouting, angry throwing of props, certain cast members stormed off while others impugned their character. Not exactly an easy time to corral everyone for a peaceable meal together.

After some more back and forth we all arrived at the table and were ready to eat. It has become Ca’s habit to lead us in praying before dinner. She used to wait for prompts from E, but now just breaks into her own monologue, recounting some experience from the day or describing the evening’s upcoming events while we all hold hands with eyes closed. It’s cute. We’ll start giving her prayer guidance once we’ve got some more common language to explain it. In the meantime, she prays and then someone else prays afterward. Tonight was my night.

As I sat there listening to my dear daughter, I could feel the rage seething around the table. We were holding hands, but some of us were killing one another in our hearts. Ca especially was a target since she was the chief reason the kids’ show unraveled. As she prayed she was oblivious to the hatred.

I began to cry. Not because I was sad, though I certainly was sadder than I can remember. I was overcome by the ugliness of the evil in my heart – that I considered my kids an inconvenience, that I told them they needed to grow up because I’m unable to meet their needs, that I think they’re ungrateful for all I sacrifice for them. At first I cried because I was ashamed of my sin, but what really made me weep was hope.

Ca finished her prayer with her beautiful “Maymen” (that’s “amen” to you and me), and the rest of the family prompted me to pray. In my tearful reverie I had missed my cue.

“Lord, I am so sad about my sin. I was angry today and I hurt my family with my words and my actions. I loved myself more than I loved them. I’m so sorry. Father, I’m so thankful that you forgive me because that is my only hope. Amen.”

2 Corinthians 4:16-18

                Therefore we do not lose heart. Though outwardly we are wasting away, yet inwardly we are being renewed day by day. For our light and momentary troubles are achieving for us an eternal glory that far outweighs them all. So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen, since what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal.

Above all else, guard your heart, for it is the wellspring of life. Proverbs 4:23