The following post is very much focused on my faith and prayer life in regards to healing hurt kids. If this is not your belief, I respect that. I am simply dealing with some things as a real person who happens to be a Christian, working with and loving on other real people who happen to be Christians, too. I promise I'll get back to writing about therapeutic parenting ideas soon. This post contains the story of Youngest Son's turn around and how he's been doing better. So, if you're interested in that, you may want to continue reading. If not, that's okay. See you tomorrow!
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A friend asked me about a
post I wrote the other day. In it, I expressed my frustration with folks
who do not parent traumatized kids telling me I should be praying for my
children’s healing. I said I wished
people would understand that the traumatized brain is changed for life. In another post, I explained the brain
science behind this and
the development of a child’s brain at birth, at age five, and at age 12+. I explained a
different kind of healing – one in which we, as parents, join in work God is ALREADY
DOING in refining gold
(I Peter 1:7). I expressed my wish that people would not
plead their own will, begging God for healing as they believe it should be, asking
God to make their child
typical (my new word for normal).
This friend (not an adoptive parent) asked what I
would say to another adoptive parent that DID want everyone to just see their
child as typical, not treating him or her any differently than another other
kid, even as they do plead with God to heal their child into their own image. He is working with a couple of kids who clearly need support that is different than support he gives to typical kids. I replied that I would still stand with that parent
in respect of their wishes -- that I would stand in the gap in prayer for
them. Their child is not my child. Their calling is not my calling – even if we walk in similarly styled shoes. I would not impose my beliefs upon them for their child, even as I would hope they would respect the work we are doing. However, an adopted child IS different. The child knows it even if the parents do
not want to do anything differently to parent them, or to test them and get them additional support. Ask any adult that was adopted. They'll tell you they wished their parents had a better clue.
I told my friend I would stand in prayer for these parents and for their
child, asking God’s will for healing
-- in the way He chose to bring
healing into that family. My friend asked
if I thought that might upset some people that I wasn’t praying for healing with
them? I smiled and said, “Ah, but I am
doing just that, my understanding just looks a little different. Besides, I wouldn't lord over them with prayer. I'd pray in my private place. If I had the opportunity to pray with them, I would verbally pray for God's edification and support. I pray for people much more on my own, alone with God than I ever pray publicly with them. It's just who I am.
I’ve simply learned God’s
complete healing often looks different than I wish it would look sometimes. When, I look back over the last 50+ years, I
see God’s hand of healing happened in many ways that were different than I ever would have orchestrated myself. So what if it didn’t
look the way I wanted it to look sometimes, it all worked for the good
to those who knew, and loved Him, and were called according to His purpose
(Rom. 8:28). If praying according to the
Word upsets someone, or if praying along the lines I have seen in the bible
that God teaches His people to pray upsets someone, then I would be sorry those parents are
upset, but I will continue to pray to God on God’s terms.
He asked more questions and we got to a discussion of how my
understanding of healing had changed last year, when I gave up my dreams for
Youngest Son, and surrendered myself to whatever God’s dreams might be for him. My friend said I should tell that story, so here goes:
About a year or so ago, Youngest Son was stealing some
pretty expensive electronics from classmates, youth group members, and his
family. He may have also taken things
from other places. We will likely never
know the complete story. What we do
know, we’re pretty sure is 50% true and 50% lies. I struggled with this boy since the day I
picked him up at the orphanage in 2007.
He always challenged me. He was
always surly to me. He always was sneaky
and did whatever he wanted to behind my back, especially if I told him not to
do it. He was always “innocent.” He always “didn’t know” what, why, how, or
when something happened – or who did it.
We knew. We’re not new.
He treated me like dirt. He was always
angry at me, no matter what I did or said.
We fought. I didn’t always parent
him the way I knew I had to. He pushed
my buttons and I yelled and said things I shouldn’t have. He said lots more. It hurt.
I wondered if I’d ever really love this kid. I wondered if he would ever show ANY signs of
attachment to us. I wondered if he would
end up in jail. I told him I would
report him to the police if I ever caught him stealing again and that I would
press charges if he ever stole from us again.
I mean it. I also told him I
would NEVER bail him out of jail if he got arrested. I mean that, too.
We talked. We fought
some more. He fantasized about his life
in Eastern Europe and how everything would have been just fine if he’d been
left there. He said he’d have a job, an
apartment, a car, and a girlfriend by now.
He was delusional. He couldn’t
remember that at age 12, he’d had about the equivalent of a third grade
education. How he thought he’d be ready
to be on his own at 16 is just plain – well, ‘don’t want to use that word.
We had him tested with a battery of good neuropsychological
and developmental/educational tests at a reputable mental health facility. We increased meds and he went into a directive
type of therapy called
DBT (
Dialectical Behavioral Therapy). It was a gamble. It wasn’t really anything like BCLC (Beyond
Consequences, Logic, and Control) by Heather Forbes. It was more than responsibility parenting by
Dr. Michael Popkin. It was much more
task oriented cognitively and it FORCED him to think, to talk, to draw, to
write, and to play games like Trouble and Sorry with therapeutic rules that
made him talk and think even more. The
reason all this was a gamble is because everything we’d learned about dealing
with hurt, older adopted kids from a post-institutionalized background told us
this approach was a recipe for either total shut down or off-the-wall
rage. Surprisingly, and very happily, we
got neither.
I remembered something another adoptive mom told me long
before we brought The Princess and Youngest Son home. She adopted three girls from foster care as
older kids. I had them in my AWANA group. She said, “The biggest thing I want to teach
my girls is to stop being the victim. I
want them to deal with the hurt and heal, but I don’t want them to use it as an
excuse to stay messed up and perpetuate this victim crud into the next
generation.”
I don’t want my kids to be the victim either, but I had a
hard time letting go of my pleas to God for healing of my son in my own image. So, I continued to pray, and ask for prayer
to this end. I BEGGED. I cried.
I moaned and groaned to trauma mamas I trust. Most of them commiserated with me. I’m glad for that. I needed it so I didn’t feel so alone. I still need it. We trauma mamas need that from one another. Sometimes, though, we need something else. That’s what happened when one friend said to
me, “Mama T, what if this is
the child you have? What if this IS
Youngest Son? What if he’s never going
to be the dream you have? What if God has a
different dream for him? A different
kind of healing?”
I didn’t want to hear it.
I was hurting. I wanted MY hurt
acknowledged.
She was spot on.
It took me a few weeks, but I realized my friend was
correct, and God had used her to speak truth to me. He placed these kids into our family for His
reasons. He was at work long before they
ever got home. I had to surrender my
selfish dreams for healing for my kids in my own image to His much more
effective plan for refined gold healing.
Youngest Son’s brain was not going to change. Trauma creates a neuropsychological process
in the brain that does not change. It is
a reflex like any other reflex. His healing
is coming by learning to process those reflexes. For Youngest Son, it was in being VERY
directive and giving CLEAR instructions, with only a couple of things to work
on at a time, that started to make a difference as we prayed for support to
THAT end.
Last summer, Youngest Son apologized to his brothers for the
lying and stealing. He worked to make
restitution. He worked to restore
relationships. He wanted an honest
relationship with God – a real one, not a holier-than-thou showy one. He told other people he was glad he’d been
adopted into our family. (We have yet to
hear it – baby steps.)
Being very directive with Youngest Son has made him feel
more in control, even though it would appear to most that his therapist and his
parents are the ones in control. Since
he never got that kind of guidance as a young child, he never had the opportunity
to learn to make good decisions. Like a
younger child, he needs to be told what to do and how to do it. It is only then that he can begin to THINK
about HOW the things he’s doing make a difference in how he feels and how he
navigates the world. He has goals in his
treatment plan and his caseworker reminds him of those goals every two
weeks. He’s working. He is very consciously working. He gets very direct instruction on HOW to do
that. He feels successful because he’s
doing well. We still have work to do,
and I’m still always waiting for a shoe to drop, but he’s making it. He’s come such a long way. I am so proud of him. We are attaching. He is MY boy!
He is healing because we gave up on asking for our vision of what his
healing should look like, and gave into God refining gold.
I am confident The Princess will get back on track. We just have to figure out a strategy that
works for her. Prayers are appreciated
as we go through adjustments. She’s
changing meds and there is just so much going on with her. I have figured out that part of the gold that’s
being refined is my patience with her. I
hate that. Frick (as Christine would
say.)
