Legacies

I’ve thought a lot about my legacy lately.  As a former graduate student of Penn State University, the news of sad problems there has not left my heart without mark.  I am most sad for the little boys whose lives were forever changed by a man that was supposed to be someone trustworthy, but was really a predator.  I am also sad for the people who have lost their jobs these last 24 hours.  Joe Paterno, one of the “greatest” coaches of all time, a man whose life has shown evidence of his care for others and his faith, has lost his job.  He said he wishes he’d done more when his former friend’s actions were exposed, and he regrets he did not.  This is not the legacy he wanted to leave, yet all the evidence of good in his life will be forever tarnished because of this.  Sandusky’s sins have affected far more many people than himself, the boys, and their families.  Sin has a far-reaching ripple effect.

My "Pop-Pop"

As I write, I am listening to a Christian radio station on my computer.  This station is several states away.  (Live streaming is such a cool thing!)  I’m listening to this particular station because my aunt happens to be on the program today.  She is a development officer for a ministry and they are working to raise funds for a local rescue mission that helps people in their community.  I may be a bit prejudiced, but she sure does sound like someone who knows her way around a radio station microphone!  My grandfather (her dad) was a well-known radio personality on the east coast in the early 1960’s.  I was singing on his radio show when I was just four years old.  Other family members made it on his shows from time-to-time as well.  I'm sure my aunt was on the radio more than once as a youngster.  When my grandfather passed away, my grandmother took over his most popular show for a while.  My grandparents also were in ministry.  Theirs was not a traditional “church” ministry, however.  They worked in rescue missions.  (I think my mom told me they even lived in a mission at one point.)  They took people into their home that had no home, even when their home was just an old, silver bullet trailer.  They were not perfect.  They smoked like fiends.  My grandfather was likely a recovering alcoholic.  But they loved God and they loved people.  My grandfather’s radio legacy continues in one of my sons, graduating soon with a degree in broadcast communications (radio concentration).  My grandparent’s legacy continues with my aunt working in ministry and with the other three of my four adult sons in ministry, or studying to go into ministry.  My grandparent’s faithfulness has a far-reaching ripple effect.

My two youngest kids have experienced horrific trauma.  Their biological parents’ legacy is one of horrific pain in their lives.  I don’t know, but I imagine their biological parents are also the product of a legacy of pain.  I know for certain they are a product of generations of deprivation and corruption.  While my kids are now safe, loved, and receive the care they need, the traumatic legacy of their biological family will forever affect them.  It will forever affect my husband and me, because we now work to heal the hurts those people caused.  Often, we also experience our children’s anger which should really be directed toward them and not us.  Their legacy also affects our kids’ therapist, their teachers, their youth ministry directors, their older brothers (my biological sons), and our friends.  My kids’ biological parents' horrific choices, even years later, have a far-reaching ripple effect.

The legacy I want to leave my children is one of strength and of grace.  I want to leave them with the emotional and social tools they need to succeed in life, to be happy, and to raise a whole family.  I want them to be thankful.  That is a challenge for children who have been through what mine have been through, but it is a challenge of hope and of thankfulness.

A game I recommend for families with older children is the Family Dinner Box of Questions.  This is a game that gets the family talking.  No one wins, but everyone wins when someone has an “ah ha” moment.  We had an “ah ha” moment recently.  I don’t remember the exact wording on the question, but roughly it was, “What is something you say a lot that you don’t really mean?”  My hurt son surprised us with his reply (actually he shocked the sugar outta me).  He admitted, “I say I wish I was never adopted, but I don’t really mean it.”  Now, if you’re a trauma mama of an internationally adopted older child, you know this is huge.  A legacy of love is beginning to develop.  It doesn’t happen overnight.  We’re home more than four years now and while we’ve heard our son say, countless times, “I wish I was never adopted,” we have only ever once heard, “I don’t really mean it.”

I think my message here, fellow trauma mama, is that our legacy matters for our kids.  Who we are with them, what we teach them, and how we are there consistently (even if not perfectly) matters.  As hard as it is to hang in there some days, it matters.  Focus on the progress and not on the problems.  Focus on the strides they’ve made.  Focus on the one time they’ve admitted they didn’t really mean it those hundreds of times they said something to hurt you. 

Finally, brothers and sisters, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—think about such things. – Philippians 4:8

Better Than a Hallelujah Sometimes

This one is for those struggling . . .

Amy Grant sings a song about dealing with pain, and how the honesty of crying out in pain or failure to God is “better than a hallelujah, sometimes.”  (Click on “song” if you want to hear it.)  As a parent raising hurt kids, there are many times I’ve cried out in fear or in failure.  There are times when God felt far away, and my prayers were hitting the ceiling.  There have even been times, even recent times, where I’ve wondered what good my faith does in raising children whose behaviors have truly caused me to question everything I thought I was, including "good mother."  What could I have been thinking to adopt two much older kids from such a horrific background?  (This is where you hear the record scratching as the needle is pulled and the turn table comes to an abrupt halt.) 

Wait a minute, Mama T!  You said, not two posts ago, that your faith is important to you.  You said you love your kids.  We thought you loved your kids!  You said the things you write here about therapeutic parenting will show that faith to be evident, and now you’re telling us that you’ve doubted your faith as you are in the midst of raising your kids?

Yes.  Yes to all of that.  I love my kids.  I wanted my kids.  I want my kids.  I want my kids to go away sometimes.

I want you to know that I’ve doubted my faith and I’ve felt God was far away even as I passed through the hardest of the hard, because I also want to tell you I believe He was there through all my doubt!  He didn’t want my false, heartless praise or hallelujah songs at that point.  He wanted the relationship of trust proven by my honest cries to His Spirit – he wanted ME to be honest with ME, and get to the point where I could say to myself, “This is damned hard!”  (Yes, God allows me to say that to myself and to tell you about it.)  He allowed me to walk through that valley of the shadow of death (and really it was – and still is some days) because it got me to the point where I allowed myself to believe some important truths.  No matter how much therapeutic parenting I do with my kids, no matter how much I love them, no matter how hard we all work, there are just some things I cannot control.  There are just some decisions they will make and some things they do – often in the heat of whatever moment they’ve been triggered – that I will not be able to fix for them.  There are indeed some things I need to let go and let God.  And that – THAT – is okay!”

I think if you’re a struggling parent going through some of the hard stuff with a child that’s been abused, neglected, and traumatized it’s essential – it’s even sanity and life-saving – to get to that point.  It is important for you to know this – listen – while yes, it is a blessing and blah, blah, blah, parenting hurt kids is HARD – really hard!  There are some things you just may need to let go and let God – and that – THAT, my friends, is okay.  YOU are okay – even wise -- in doing so.  It doesn’t mean you’ve given up.  It means, you’re facing some real, hard life.  It means that it is true there are some things we parents cannot control and there are some things we parents cannot fix.  That’s okay.  The good news is there is a peace that passes all understanding when you finally come to this point.

God loves a lullaby

In a mother’s tears

In the dead of night

Better than a hallelujah sometimes . . .

Give yourself permission to cry out, to let go and let God.  You’re not giving up.  You’re getting up.  Stick around.  We’ll get back to therapeutic parenting techniques and ideas soon.   I want to share some more about who we are.

Sandspiel (Sand Tray Play Therapy)

Most therapeutic parents I know are not psycho-therapists, nor registered play therapists, nor even social workers.  We’re just moms and dads raising hurt kids with traumatic pasts we will never fully know nor understand.  We’re just people trying to help our children live their best possible lives.  So when I write about sand tray therapy, please remember I’m presenting my experience and whatever knowledge I have as a layman – as “just” a mom.  There are plenty of places on the internet where you can find more scholarly articles and research-based information.  One place you might start to look for that information is sandplay.org.  The purpose of this blog is for sharing parent-to-parent, not to serve as therapist.  So, that’s my not-very-legal-sounding disclaimer before I begin.

Sandspiel (or sand play) therapy was developed by a Swiss therapist named Dora Kalff (1904-1990).  There is some argument about whether or not she is the originator of sand play (or sand tray) therapy.  Some people say H.G. Wells was the inspiration for it because he wrote about his two young sons using miniature toy figures to work out problems with each other and with other family members.  Frankly, I don’t care who originated it.  I know Kalff wrote about it first and then other therapists expanded upon it.  It boils down to using a tray, filled with sand and usually, a bunch of different kinds of small toy figures to make pictures in that sand.  (Sometimes, it’s just drawing in the sand.)

Sand tray therapy is a specific kind of play therapy where the therapist (or therapeutic parent) sits close by and seemingly does nothing while the child uses sand to make a picture.  Sometimes, the person observing the play will give some open-ended direction such as, “Make a picture that shows how you’re feeling.”  Other times, the direction may be more pointed, but still rather open-ended.  For example, the first time our therapist pulled out her sand tray, she drew a line down the middle of it with her finger.  She directed my son (then 14) to “Make two pictures in the sand.  One of your life before your adoption, and one of your life with your family now.”  (Notice she left the part “before your adoption” open-ended.  She didn’t tell him to make a picture of his family before adoption, or of his orphanage life before adoption.  She left that up to him.)   Still, other times, there may be no more direction except to “Make a picture in the sand.”


People have been making pictures in the sand throughout history.  The Bible talks about Jesus “drawing (or writing) in the sand” when the Pharisees questioned him about a woman caught in adultery (John 8).  In Navaho Symbols of Healing, Donald Sander writes about sand painting ceremonies.  When the ceremony is over, the painting is wiped away.  Today, Zen Sand Gardens are popular gifts and people of all religions (or no religion) enjoy making designs in the sand as a relaxing “de-stressor.”  The thing that is common for all of these is the non-verbal imagery of the activity.  Jesus was silent as he drew in the sand.  The Navaho ceremony is conducted in silence.  People play in their desk-top sand gardens in quiet solitude.  Thoughts are processed in the silence while the sand provides a tactile experience or outlet for those thoughts.

As a parent, you can discern a lot about what’s going on with your child by watching him work through a sand tray picture.  Does the picture have people?  What about dinosaurs or other monsters?  What about super heroes?  Animals?  Fences?  Houses?  Is there violence in the picture?  (Crashed cars, fights, etc.)  Is there conflict of emotion?  (Domestic scene with mom walking away?)  Granted, as a parent, we might not be able to figure out everything exactly as our child is thinking it, but we can get a good idea.  When he’s done, asking an open-ended question such as, “Tell me about your picture,” will provide him an opportunity to make things more clear for your interpretation.  When he’s finished, if you’d like and if he’s receptive to it, you might add what you see.  For example, “Wow.  It looks to me like these guys are really upset with one another -- like maybe they want to kill each other.”  Or “This mom looks peaceful to me and her kids look like they are happy.”

For our family, the sand tray has provided an opportunity for me to redirect a child,  to stop the crazies so we can focus on something else, and to help my child get the big feelings stored in that center, emotional part of his brain where there are no words (the Amygdala) to the front part of his brain (the Neocortex) where he can process those feelings with words and rationalization.

Well, at least that’s the goal.  Granted, we don't always get to rationalization because hurt kids aren’t always able to process big feeling with words and rationalization.  Still, even when our kids can’t process those big feelings, the sand tray gives us an opportunity to verbalize what we see going on in their picture which is a snapshot of what is going on in their brain.

You might say something like, “This mom looks peaceful to me and her kids look like they're happy.  I know I want to be peaceful and I want my kids to be happy.”  Or, “They look like they want to kill each other.  That makes me wonder if they’re really angry about something that happened, or maybe if something bad already happened and they’re remembering how they were scared.”  When our kids CAN’T tell us about their sand picture, cues from a therapeutic parent can sometimes help them “get there.” Even if they end up saying, “NO!  That’s not what’s happening!,” we've still helped them begin to process.  In that case, we can say, “Oh, okay.  So, tell me what they’re really doing.”

While the child is involved in the work of making the picture, the parent does nothing but observe.  Answer any questions your child has with an open answer.  Ask, “What do you think?,” without giving your own opinion, as a way for your child to explore even more.  For our son, wanting to KNOW THE ANSWER was a big, stress-filled motivator for him.  Open-ended stuff like sand trays drove him batty at first because he needed to know the rules.  If there was any question, he didn’t want to appear as though he didn’t know the answer – the RIGHT answer.  It was freeing for him, though it was not without struggle, to get to a point where he realized that sometimes, there are no “right” answers.  Sometimes, things just “are.”  And sometimes, things can’t be fixed or righted.  However, we can process those things, move on, and try to learn some skills to help us navigate through life, maybe adapting those broken things so that they have a new purpose.