The Source of Hope
Truth is difficult. Pain is part of our journey and as parents, all we ever want is to spare our children from it. We want it so much our flesh tries to force us into seeing safety in other people and places because we crave it so badly. And then we play pretend and unwittingly force our children to do the same thing. Our very desire to create a feeling of safety takes the actual safety away.
Joshua was 11 when he was diagnosed with Celiac disease. They found it when he stopped growing for a year, after already clocking under 20% on the growth chart for many years he eventually fell off completely. Our pediatrician, Dr. Vernier, thought he had growth hormone deficiency. With specialist after specialist, tests, and procedures, It took many months and thousands of dollars to realize not only Joshua had celiac disease, but so did Hannah.
It was four years after diagnosis before Joshua began to catch up from being a malnourished 11-year-old “with the bones and growth plates of a 7-year-old” to the size he should have been. All three of our children were tiny for a long time. We were used to it. Which made it feel even more shocking when Joshua came to me and confessed he couldn’t be left alone with his siblings anymore. It was 5 years after the attacks had stopped, but the door was still open and Josua was troubled by temptation he didn’t want to have. He’d realized his ability to manipulate after methodically testing first Noah, then Hannah to see if he could get them to do what he wanted. They both willingly submitted to harmless things, but now Joshua knew he could probably get something he wished he didn’t want and would regret forever. So he stepped up and bravely asked us to set solid boundaries between him and his best friends, his playmates, Noah and Hannah. He asked for accountability to keep from acting out and traumatizing all three of them.
He was only 11. And I could lament how unfair it is he had to bear these burdens and extol the bravery and virtue of someone so young seeking help at that moment. Both would be true. But what do you think I felt when he walked up to me in our kitchen while the other two were ignorantly playing outside? I could see them through the window as he recounted to me his methodical test to see if he could, in fact, make them do his bidding. As the blood rushed past my ears and with my heart beating wildly in my chest, what do you think I felt, and how do you think I wanted to react?
I felt anger. Rage. Fury at the world, at Sam, at the predator who’d introduced this perversion to him - my child who still looked like a baby to me and the two smaller babies in the yard. I wanted to tear something; someone in two. I would have happily picked up a weapon and beat a predator to death, even knowing I wouldn’t feel better afterward. If fight or flight is real, I was 100% fight.
But my brave, tiny little boy was looking at me. We’d experienced years of hypervigilance after the season of assaults, watching their every move together, never letting down our guard. And it had waned and dissolved into a place of peace. So peaceful, the three of them shared a triple, tiered bunk bed we’d made to clear out a giant space to play. They had a huge, rolling yard with a hand-built pirate ship, cubbies, and adventurous places to pretend together. Every day, there were stories they created and every stuffed animal had a personality and purpose, usually crafted by Joshua. And he was telling me that time of childhood freedom had to be put aside. By him. To save himself and his siblings from the trauma he couldn’t stop remembering and feared acting out. And as I knew all of this in an instant and felt all the fury and pain from the past and present, I somehow opened my mouth and said the right things.
I told him how proud I was. How grateful I was. How he did exactly what he needed to do. I reassured him of all the good things to come, how they wouldn’t be - couldn’t be - affected by his brave decision. I picked up this painful burden and that heavy one. When he expressed worry or concern about how Noah, Hannah, David, or I might feel, I eased his fears and picked up each one to carry for him. And then we spent the next week redoing our home to put Joshua in his own room. In a 950-square-foot two-bedroom home, it was a bit of a trick, but we did it! Of course, we did it. And I cried with David and alone, grieving another period of loss and regret I could never stop. Sometimes it felt like the pain would never end and was nearly too much to survive.
When things are good, God is easily acknowledged and easily ignored. He can be brought out like a treasured possession, to chat with, about, and even worship and adore without really feeling the gut-wrenching need for Him trauma brings. In the pit of despair, we cry out to Him. I had already had it out with God and was mostly in a place of peace, and I knew without Him, I could not have been all I needed to be for Joshua. The wrong words, looks, actions, and reactions would have poured out of me instead. I am weak. He is strong.
Because it’s not just a matter of knowing God is good; the same yesterday, today, and forever. It’s not enough to know you have to be the stable and kind, caring, pillar of faith and foundation for your child when your emotions want to do anything else. It’s not pulling yourself up by the bootstraps or Just DOing it. It’s certainly not listening to your gut, to your heart, or to your passion and will. It’s actually letting go and letting Him. That peace that passes understanding? It’s in those moments. The abundance He promised? It’s given then. All things working together for good for those who love the Lord and are called according to His righteousness? You can see it. Those moments of panic and pain, where you’re in the deepest darkest well of despair but you must still be faithful to your parenting, even beyond your abilities. Right there in the furnace. There He is.
When we share with parents who’ve recently discovered their child is a victim of assault the long, arduous, sacrificial road to recovery, victory, or even joy on the other side of the journey to adulthood, we are almost always met with anger and frustration. They want to push us away and be angry with the messenger. I’ve been asked to give hope instead, which usually means they want me to put limits on what pain they will feel. They want an end date on their pain or when their child’s recovery will be complete, even a promise certain bad things won’t happen. They want me to make them feel safe in unsafe places, feel peace where there is no peace. They want circumstances to be under control again. School. Church. Family gatherings. Siblings at play. And I can’t. It would be a lie to tell them to depend on people, even themselves.
Truth is difficult. Pain is part of our journey and as parents, all we ever want is to spare our children from it. We want it so much our flesh tries to force us into seeing safety in other people and places because we crave it so badly. And then we play pretend and unwittingly force our children to do the same thing. Our very desire to create a feeling of safety takes the actual safety away.
Or, we can lean on the one true, good, safe person in the world, the person of God. We can trust in God Himself to both provide the stability we need and thankfully, the strength to carry on when hard choices must be made. Jesus experienced every temptation, which means He made choices to protect others from His flesh by seeking boundaries and accountability from God. It means He had to have experienced blood rushing in His ears and pain so deep He couldn’t breathe but allowed God to grant Him peace enough and strength enough to say the right words and do the right thing. Somehow it’s always just enough and not a lot of extra, but it is always enough. God is, was, and will always be, enough.
Will it be hard to walk with your child through the valley of the shadow of death and get to the other side, only to find out you have to walk through it again? And again? And again. It’s the hardest thing I’ve ever done. But your panic and your personal fight or flight when you hear that’s the road before you is because you believe, at least a little bit, that you’re being asked to do it by yourself somehow. And in that horrible circumstance, you would have every reason to panic! But you can’t do it alone. Each step forward you will have God before you, beside you, and inside you to carry you through. It is not up to you. It’s up to Him. Let Him do for you what I did for Joshua. Confess your burdens as they rise up, then let Him carry them. Share your fears, then give them to Him. Submit your decisions, your desires, and yes your anger and frustration to Him. Allow God to give you the freedom to live in peace, in abundance, and with the promise of seasons of Joy.
Joshua is the one who chose to submit to God, to seek Him and His wisdom, to believe He was everything we told him He was. And one reason he would tell you is that He lived a life of miracles. Where circumstances were too hard, too scary, too much, that’s when God showed up. We had to learn not to fill in the spaces of fear, pain, and uncertainty with our wants, needs, wishes, or will. And when we managed to do so, He was there. And Joshua was watching. I give thanks every day he didn’t grow up to admire me or his earthly father for all we managed to do, though I’m sure he’d say he does. But if he stops to think about it, he will be the first to tell you it’s not we who journeyed us through from pain to healing, from victimization to victory. It was God Himself who reached down into the pit and pulled us out of the miry clay. To God be the glory. Great things He has done. And He is ready to do them for you, too.
Day #5 - Stress Recovery - the Day Noah Faced the Truth
And after much prayer and increasing layers of deep study, God revealed the answer to him as a complete thought; a balm to his questioning soul. Noah doesn’t trust others because he had his trust severely broken as a small child. Monsters are out there. He saw it himself.
It happened. I spent enough down days during my 15 Day Covid-19 Stress Recovery for ALL the feelings to start coming up like a fountain of the un-imaginable. Except this time, it wasn’t me who overflowed.
It was my Noah.
Even though he was 3 when the assaults happened, he has actively dealt with the fallout his entire life. It’s unalterably life-defining to have a violent sexual attack happen to you when you’re small. Yes, even when you don’t remember all of it.
But despite his active pursuit of his own healing, there was something he never realized stemmed all the way back to the moment(s) he was assaulted - his fear of intimacy with other people. Noah has an impenetrable wall when it comes to those outside our family. We’ve encouraged him to stretch himself as he’s grown older and while it was a desire he himself has (finally) had for many years, there has still been something holding him back. He prayed to find what it was? How could he move forward with his newly adult life?
And after much prayer and increasing layers of deep study, God revealed the answer to him as a complete thought; a balm to his questioning soul. Noah doesn’t trust others because he had his trust severely broken as a small child. Monsters are out there. He saw it himself.
It was a surprise to hear it was simple, and even that it was completely related to the horrors he endured. Like many other things in life, it seems patently obvious from the outset. You’re probably thinking “How did they miss that?” But just like blaming parents is the easiest thing to do as adults process our broken past, making us avoid it unless everything else is removed as a possibility, so have both boys always made sure the root of any emotional or spiritual issue wasn’t something else - anything else - before they settled into knowing it was because of the attacks.
We were in the car when he told me. He grabbed my hand and said “I’m so sorry.” but truly, I’m okay. I’ve dealt with the fact I will always hold some responsibility for not protecting Noah from Sam. Ignorance and deception are no excuse. Parents still need to stand up and claim any pain their children endured at the hands of a pedophile as their fault. It’s not only their fault, but they are still to blame. I am to blame. My children accepted my apology long ago, and I forgave myself long ago. Now we are tight in ways we never would have been, if we hadn’t walked through it together. We are the epitome of the scripture “God works all things together for good……” and He DOES!
It’s been nearly 17 years since Noah was attacked. The man who did it was never imprisoned, though I’m sure he’s done it many times before and since. I’m positive he will do this until he’s locked away, if he’s locked away, only to emerge and do it again. He is smart enough to get by with it, and make more of the smallest and least able to communicate boys in the world go about their lives wondering why they’re broken? Why they can’t give and receive love, intimacy and sex like others do.
But for Noah, there has been a victory. He has come to terms with the why, and now the prayer is how. How to move past this. God is faithful & He will show Noah the way.
I’m sure of it.
Several Years - a healing poem by survivor, Joshua Scott
Joshua was 16, when he wrote his heart & healed a piece of mine.
Sometimes I lay awake at night
There doesn't seem to be any light
Its twisted and warped and bent
There is just so much pain
Horrible hurt, livable hell,
But those are one in the same
Locked in, trying to break free
Invisible cages that no one can see
Spiritual ropes and whips on a rack
Secret things done behind your back
Things that are only done in the dark
Things that would hurt you
And break more than your heart
I stare at the ceiling and think in my head
There are so many people who wish they were dead
Think they are worthless over and over again
Dragging a blade over the top of their skin
Beating themselves 'till they're black and blue
...sometimes, I want to do those things too
When the pain is just so much
That you can't feel peace
Or loves’ touch
You feel like a beast
You feel crippled without a crutch
Just smile at least
But just that is too much
Because you feel so weak
You can't even cry
You can't speak
And you can't even die
The world is caving in
You can feel it collapse
You tried to start over again
But this is a relapse
You can't tell the difference between anger and grief
All the pain is one and you just have to grit your teeth
But the sound of the grinding is getting louder
You've done it so much that your teeth are now powder
You wish it was a nightmare
Just a terrible dream
But this is no nightmare
And you just scream and scream
But you can't scream out loud
Only in your head
Or others will find out
And then you're as good as dead
For isolation and death are just as well
They are the fire
And they both make up hell
You see no one wants to walk through this with you
Stand by your side
Carry and support you
Always be there and never leave you
Crawl through the fire while holding you
No one wants to feel that much pain
Over and over and over again
But there is one who will make it known
That you do not have to walk through the fire alone
He will be there as long as you need Him
As long as you have planted your life's seed with Him
To Him the fire is nothing
He walks through it every day
He's felt everyone's fire
He's felt everyone's pain
And He will never leave you alone to burn on this rack
As long as you never turn and show Him your back
“For He loves you and if you give Him your heart
He’ll protect it for you while the world tries to tear you apart ”
But some people hate Him and call him a liar
They say "if He really loves me, then why won't He spare me the fire?!"
But you see, it is not His desire
For you to burn forever in the fire
He wants to see you come out the other side
Holding your head up, beaming with pride
For if you can take the heat a little bit longer
You will come out of it ten times stronger.
#Hope #Healing #NOTDestroyedFamily
"Mama, my banana isn't full" and other heartbreaking + empowering moments in parenting.
It started whimsically. After calling Hannah “Hannah Banana” so many times, I started to rhyme Joshua’s name, too. “Joshua Squash-oo-ah” - you know, because it rolls right off the tongue, right?
Not really. But families are goofy at best & we are the goofiest of all.
But a friend of ours couldn’t stand that the middle child was left out of the consumable nickname trend going on, so as he left our home one day he proclaimed “I’ve got it! He’s “Noah Cup-a-Joe-ah!” and it stuck. They were 2, 4 & 6 years old. My goodness were they cute. And tiny! Tiny little edibles.
Hannah Banana
Joshua Squash-oo-ah
Noah Cup-a-Joe-ah
Often they were called by the second half of their names only. Banana, Squash-oo-ah, Cup-a-Joe-ah & that’s just how it was. No one questioned it!
As they struggled to make sense of their emotional ups and downs, we talked. A lot. (still do!) We talked about how that sad feeling they had sometimes was because their cup was empty and it needed to be filled. Joshua and I talked about it the most. He was dealing with his therapy and recovery from the assaults he’d endured and this helped him to name where he was on the emotional scale that day. A good day meant his cup felt full. Days where he felt heavy and sad, angry at what had happened or just a general feeling of frustration, he could tell me his cup was pretty empty and we’d work together to fill it up and make things incrementally better. It was a wonderful & empowering tool for our boys in recovery. I highly recommend it.
Then one day, a tiny Hannah toddled up to me and told me her Banana was empty.
Now, you’ve just read all of this back to back, so of course you get what she meant. All that talk about Cups & Noah had cup in his nickname, so little Hannah had connected the two and then told me her Banana wasn’t full. I didn’t have that privilege & I have to tell you it confused the heck out of me!
But when I did get it, I felt both happy she was able to express her emotions and sad she felt empty. One look into her eyes and I knew it was true - her banana was, indeed, empty. But I knew what to do for my little girl & we filled her right up!
For years, she expressed herself in measures of banana and like other moments of being little, she grasped what she’d done and changed her language. I was sad all over again.
As they grew older, Joshua and I refined the discussion to where they all have multiple cups - one for God, for each parent, for peer relationships, for adult relationships, finally for romantic relationships. The tool has expanded to help us understand one another’s needs and when to fill them. We seek to help those who fill their cups in all the wrong places and/or walk around empty. It’s still empowering.
And there’s never been a better example than the day Hannah told me her banana wasn’t full.
(Just so you know, today she is VERY full in ALL her cups!)
The Year Hannah Became Formidable, Fearless & Fierce
At 4, she refused to dress as another princess.
No.
She would be “Princess Hannah” and that was that.
Always a vision for her own future, never one that looked like anyone else’s. That’s a tough order to make for yourself. And she had extreme shyness, loss and more to overcome.
But she did. She has. And 2019 has been an incredible journey of self-realization, loss, overcoming & victory for my little girl who’s not so little anymore.
Before 2019 began, Hannah was still in a cycle of insecurity and newness - new job, new to being the only Scott kid in homeschool, new to discovering her first crush & a new church. And then she got the part of Millie in Hello Dolly, just when she needed it. Of course, she killed it!
As the musical closed and Hannah’s closest friends in the cast began to post photos on Instagram of gatherings she wasn’t invited to, I looked to Hannah for how this would make her feel. Not one ounce of resentment or sadness poured out of her. She knew she could make musicals and her theater friends the center of her day-to-day life and they would embrace her with open arms - they’re lovely that way. But she also knew she sometimes had a hard time relating to their lives, with new cars in the driveway with a giant bow on the top, trips to New York for musicals and piles of amazon boxes on the porch. If she wanted a car, she’d have to work for it. Amazon boxes, too. She’s never been to New York (yet!) Her friends with more financial resources never - not once! - made her feel less than. But she had discovered people at her job could understand her better, simply because their lives were different. She’s so much wiser than I am & because her love for all of her friends never wavers, her life is better than mine ever could have been as a teenager.
CFA
Where Hannah found her people!
She’s not superhuman though, & the loss of her cast friends interacting on a daily basis while she wasn’t fully comfortable at her relatively new job was still a stretch for her. Just in time, God stepped in. As He so often does! Hannah was scouted by a talent agent and that’s why we have photos like the one below.
But, wait! There’s more. This next story gets me in all the feeling places - anxiety & fear, tears of loss, sadness as she questions her worth & finally, relief.
You see, My brave girl went month after month wishing the boy she liked more every day would notice her.
He didn’t.
Not once.
So she plucked up her courage and flat-out told him she liked him.
”You’re adorable… I like you…. Now you know… Ball’s in your court….” (I’m paraphrasing)
Can you even imagine? And you know what happened next?
FLAT
OUT
REJECTION.
NO THANK YOU, MA’AM. I AM NOT LOOKING TO DATE ANYONE AT WORK.
”Mom. I know you’ve told me I’m pretty my whole life, but you’re my mom. You’re supposed to think that. And I’ve never been asked out by a boy. Not once. Are you sure it’s not that I’m…….”
”Oh, baby. I’m sure. “
The next shift, she worked alongside him. I dropped her off, remembering the tears of the night before, knowing there was nothing I could do to take the pain of rejection away. She stepped out of my car and walked in. She & I both learned that day - Hannah really does NOT run from that which is hard. She faces up to it.
She was so much more relaxed around him, now her truth was out in the open, that when she was forced to receive training from him (by an unknowing 3rd party) she sucked it up & began to make jokes.
He laughed.
Really, did he even stand a chance?
It didn’t take him long to figure out he was turning down an amazing opportunity, and now - of course, he’s smitten.
He was slow, but he came around.
Yep. They’re adorable. We adore him. He’s every bit as sweet as she is. I already wrote about what a gift he is & many months later, it’s even more true.
While this relationship was developing & Hannah was discovering that being a very girly, very blonde person means there’s not a lot of audition opportunities, many other things were happening in her life.
Our sweet Alyx got married!
and Hannah danced all night long.
HAMILTON!
This was a VERY BIG DEAL.
Travel is always a huge part of our lives - the three photos at the top were just Hannah & me, exploring Canada & California. The bottom three are during our spring trip to Walt Disney World. She may look the same, but Hannah’s heart was very different by the end of trip #2.
Loss
2019 was a year of loss for not just Hannah, but all of us. And during our trip to Florida, she was coming to terms with her first one of the year as she lost the affection of who she thought was her dearest friend. During the second trip, her sweet boyfriend’s close friend was tragically killed. They skyped via internet from the ship, while we were at sea. My heart broke, just listening to them talk. Losses continued through the rest of the year, but none compared to the one we had no idea was coming.
Sweet Channing
We had to say goodbye too quickly, too early & the pain is fresh. We lost our Channing between Thanksgiving and Christmas and it will never feel okay. Not ever.
Hannah loved to make Channing laugh. Channing loved to make Hannah laugh. That’s what they were doing in these photos - in all the photos I have of them together. Hannah especially loved to give Channing spontaneous hugs, that she pretended to hate. They were each other’s oldest friends.
In the months leading up to this grievous loss, we were able to spend whole weekends together. Hannah laughed with Channing, as always. And for the first time, she helped her with her medicine and troubles with the bathroom & showers. I saw Hannah jump to be Channing’s personal caregiver without hesitation, question, pity or repulsion. I thought it would happen for the rest of their lives. I still can’t imagine it ended so quickly.
The loss is fresh, but I look forward to sharing the journey someday.
My girl also became a more deeply rooted Christian, stronger in her faith, more attached to her family & increasingly driven toward Christ-driven adulthood this year. She prays more, studies more, lives her faith OUT LOUD.
For the first time, she took a trip without me. It’s a gift to never doubt your child’s personal convictions, because they are 100% her own. Just like she would never be another princess but Hannah. She’s not another version of me. She’s Hannah. All Hannah. All the time.
And even though we ended our year with penetrating loss, Hannah did finally make it to an audition she could get. She’s in rehearsals for her second romantic lead, to perform this February.
To know Hannah is to realize she is fiercely loving, kind, thoughtful & generous. She has a tremendous sense of justice, a desire to please God, then her family, then to care for others. We surround her with protection for her physical self, yes. Even more so, we surround her by pouring love in so she can continue to bless others with a whole and giving heart. The world is a better place with Hannah in it. I am a better person for having her in my life.
What kind of a pirate are you, anyway?
Dance? Check! We’re ALL in.
Sing along or even take the stage? We’re all over that, too.
Dress up & play. YES, please!
Follow all the societal rules? NOPE. We’re OUT.
The last thing the Scott family wants to do is BLEND IN.
Make no mistake, If there’s a chance to party & play along, our family will be there.
Dance? Check! We’re ALL in.
Sing along or even take the stage? We’re all over that, too.
Dress up & play. YES, please!
Follow all the societal rules? NOPE. We’re OUT.
I’m the greatest illustrator of this on a regular basis, but Noah is a close second. He lives to push the boundaries and find new experiences in the midst of the ordinary. He seeks to make life extraordinary.
The only problem is, sometimes others just don’t GET it. In fact, sometimes they run. Recently on a Disney cruise, some people physically scurried away from Noah - and we were left wondering what’s UP with people’s sense of humor, anyway?
You see, nearly every Disney cruise includes a “Pirates in the Caribbean” night of celebrations, where everyone dresses as pirates, dances like pirates & even eats pirate food for dinner & again at a late night buffet following the only fireworks at sea. Pretty awesome, right?
Four of us dressed as traditional pirates. And then there was Noah.
Noah wore a trenchcoat & dark glasses. Inside the trenchcoat were 4 movie cases with covers of movies that hadn’t come out yet. Hannah sewed them in with elastic loops, so when he opened his trenchcoat while asking “Want to buy a pirated movie?” in a gravelly voice, he had something to offer to those on the receiving end of the joke.
Except hardly anyone got the joke! One poor “I was born a grandma” looking lady appeared terrified, like our little family had brought an outlaw aboard the ship. The people who did get it would always pause for just a second to process what had happened, before bursting into laughter. Sadly, those people were few and far between.
Lighten up, folks. Play along. Join in the fun! Look beyond the ordinary & you may find the extraordinary. If you’re truly lucky, you may find something or someone as extraordinary as Noah.
Celebrating my most important job descriptor - MOM!
I’m a cliche and I love it.
Nearly 22 years ago, I was blessed to conceive my first child . And while I’ve written much about the experience of motherhood, every single day holds a surprise! Today’s surpise was how happy I could be just breathing the same air and standing in the same light as my precious young-adult children. Yes, I’m a cliche and I love it. These three are quite simply, the most amazing creatures ever made & I’m constantly in awe of the people they’ve become.
I longed to be a mother from the time I was small, and I know I’m unusual in how early I wanted it & how fervently I desired it. Even now, with 22 years come and gone & a 21 year old, 19 year old & nearly 17 year old walking this earth, I still revel in how much I love them & love my job - it takes my breath away.
They cooked for me, took me to lunch, bought me presents, went to church and sat with me, praised God alongside me and then laughed alongside me, as we spent the afternoon at the movies. All of that was awesome! But it wouldn’t have mattered where we were, really. I’m just happy to be with them. They are my light, my life, my everything. My Joshua. My Noah. My Hannah. As always, I am #moreblessedthanideserve
Packed Bags
The first time I remember a bag being packed and unpacked, it was my new foster sister arriving to stay with us and eventually be adopted. At 13, I thought I knew what it would be like to discover her past & her personality, but nothing could have prepared me for the plastic bags she brought with a few pieces of stained clothing. And that was all. Nothing else, that I can remember.
While I’d never before considered myself a privileged child, wealthy or exceptional in any way, that all changed in an instant. It was if someone picked me up off the earth & planted me back down, but with a new identity: entitled, spoiled, suburban, white brat. Instantly, I feared I was that person and always would be, and set out to instead be kind, loving and just the best sister and person ever.
I was 13.
I failed. Miserably.
But I was deeply impacted. And eventually it was a catalyst in making me a better person.
And now, I own a thriving travel company, which allows me to pack bags & travel frequently with and without my family members. I pack big and often new, suitcases. I evaluate which one is best for a particular trip. I visit beautiful places and sleep in gorgeous spaces. But I will always and forever remember my sister’s bag. I will refuse to be an entitled, spoiled, suburban, white brat.
I suppose it would be easier to walk through life and turn away from what I’ve known and battled, suffered and witnessed, but that’s not who I am. It never will be. Instead, I’m the downer in the room who looks at something beautiful and remembers the tragedy in my past; Not even my past - a past I witnessed. It’s who I am.
Since my first experience brushing up against my sister’s painful childhood, I’ve gone on to love and adore many adopted persons. I have relationships with grown and adopted survivors, along with children of all ages and stages. I’ve taken many kids in, some for months and one for years. In fact, so many stories have dominated my walk through this life, it makes me wonder what I’m supposed to be learning now so I can be of use, later.
Because I didn’t know at 13 what I was learning and why. I didn’t realize what it meant when I was plucked off the earth and returned forever changed, but I know now. When people speak about white privilege and entitlement, I know exactly why they’re concerned. I again feel the earth tremble beneath my feet as I’m jettisoned off the ground. I want to stand up to them and say “ME! They’re talking about ME!” and I’m washed anew with incredible gratefulness I wasn’t allowed to remain in my state of ugliness; my suburban bubble.