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LiLi, Guilin 2012

LiLi’s first utterance out of her mouth last Friday morning was “Bitch,” and it was directed toward me. Out of the blue. No rhyme, no reason. I had a little extra time this particular morning before work, so I gave my husband a few more sweet moments of shut-eye while I made breakfast for the girls and got them on their way. I heard LiLi’s familiar clomping down the stairs and knew it was her in the kitchen before I turned around from my station at the counter. Maybe it was my failure to greet her before I asked her to take her morning “mood” medicine; maybe it was that I failed to come to her and gently ease her into the morning with a warm hug and a pat on the back. Nine years into raising this child, one would think that I would be a little more proficient with the skill-set required, but I still feel like a novice. Most of the time my husband and I must remind her to take her medicine; she rarely remembers. God help us when we forget, because we will be subjected to the wrath of a hormonal teenage girl on steroids without it.

So after asking her to take her medicine, she responded with the afore mentioned descriptive. My response would not earn me any rewards in Parenting Magazine, but it might have earned some respect within the World Wrestling Federation.  It is not pleasant to be called “Bitch” first thing in the morning; much less so before I’ve had my coffee.  I have a seventeen year history of ER nursing. I have been called expletives by members of the “big leagues;” street drunks, addicts, the morally depraved, and intoxicated teenage girls who are sometimes the worst kind… but nothing beats being called a bitch by your sixteen year old daughter, first thing in the morning, whom you have labored over for nine years. One would think that I would be immune to her verbal assaults by now, that her barbed arrows wouldn’t strike their target… but they do. They strike, they wound, they hurt, and they make me scream out in pain. I am fatigued. I am sick and tired of my responses. I am sick from exposing my precious twelve year old to the stress of living in a home with this kind of tension. I’ve asked God so many times, “Why?” and I think I know the answer, but in the heat of the battle the answers don’t matter. She hurts me.

I enjoyed a two-day, Christ centered, Holy Yoga and fitness workshop this weekend. My body, mind and spirit were steeped in Jesus. I was reminded that I am a daughter of the Most High King, and have the birthrights of a princess. I must confess that most days I don’t feel like a princess. I feel like a slave, imprisoned by my own sin and unfaithfulness. I carry the sins of LiLi like a cross, piggy-backed on mine, like a double-edged sword in my side. I forget that this is a battle of the Lord’s; that ultimately, LiLi belongs to Him, and I am just his servant.  I keep trying to fix her as the world would fix her… and I am clearly failing. I didn’t want a child like LiLi, but God wanted her for me. My unfaithfulness to this truth has caused much despair in our home. I need to find the “sweet spot” in my faith that allows me to slow down and receive the blessing of the Lord.  I am paddling too furiously to receive anything… I am too busy drowning to pay attention to those with life preservers in their hands.

Michelangelo said of his “David,” that the exquisite masterpiece always existed beneath the block of marble; all he had to do was chisel and chip away to reveal what stood beneath. It must be the same for a composer of a beautiful piece of music. The melody has always existed… and through a gifted artist, it is purely revealed, establishing an order to the chaotic cacophony.

I believe it is the same for LiLi. She is a melody that is still in the works, a lovely sculpture that is concealed within the confines of a stone mantle. I am no Michelangelo, but the truth is, with God nothing is out of reach.  I must abide in the shelter of the Almighty in order to receive the crafting tools necessary to help this child get rid of her junk. It can be done. I know it. During the Holy Yoga retreat I was also reminded that if I commit my way to the Lord and trust in Him, He will act. This is an undeniable truth. So… I made a new commitment for the nth time, that I was not going to yell, nor smack, nor put LiLi in a head-lock again. I am going to breathe deeply to the tips of my toes, and remind myself that I am a princess and therefore should act accordingly.

So far I’ve stuck to my commitment, but then again it’s only been 10 days. Pray for me people.

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About Dear Owl

"Owl" has been the recipient of my journaling for years as I've chronicled through all of the ups and down of my life. "OWL" represents "One who listens." It helped to imagine a wise, grandfatherly old soul to whom I could pour out my heart unabashedly and with a no-holds-barred conviction. Lately, I have been disclosing the challenges through which I've traveled as I've raised my second daughter, LiLi. This child, seven years old when we brought her home, was my second internationally adopted daughter from China. Raising LiLi has been the hardest, most guilt-ridden challenge of my life. When I was called to adopt a second child from China, I never imagined a journey like the one our family has traveled since 2003. Riddled with heartache and sprinkled with bittersweet joy, there wasn’t much time to dwell in the “Why me” sorrows. It has been revealed to me that the answer to that question is this: LiLi’s arrival into my life was the beginning of a long road toward redemption. I have a plaque in my kitchen that reads “Find a purpose in life so big it will challenge every capacity to be at your best.” LiLi was my slam-dunk. Journey with me as I recall memorable chapters to our story.

3 responses »

  1. Praying for you! We all love LiLi but that doesn’t help you getting through times like this. You are a Good Mother and you are doing your Best! Always remember that. You and Todd have done wonders for her in the 9 years. She has come so far. She is a Blessing to our family and thought us so much about things we would never know without her. Love you!

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