Is this what you expected?

Learning to process the gap.

Hello friend,

Summer is winding down and I’m wondering how you’re doing.

I work with a lot of adoptive/foster/kinship moms both in group settings and individually. One thing I see time and time again is a sense of bewilderment and sadness. They went into caring for vulnerable children with expectations of what life would be like after the children joined their families.

I’m not talking about, “The children will be grateful,” and “It will be easy,” or other unrealistic thoughts. Their expectations were more reasonable. For instance, “I expected my new children to struggle and life to be hard for a time. They had been through so much, so unbelievably much, I knew it would take time for them to heal—maybe a year or two.”

That was me sixteen years ago.

My reality is that trauma didn’t heal in a year or two. There were big feelings and explosive reactions. Fear ran through Kalkidan’s veins, and her nervous system’s response was to fight.

Other moms tell me they expected the siblings to all get along, instead, it feels like a war zone in their homes. Some planned to continue pursuing their careers only to find the needs of their children required so many specialists and appointments they had to put everything else on hold. Moms who thought they would have friends and family offer ongoing support have often been disappointed to find themselves very much alone.

There is a gap between what we expected and our reality, and when there is a gap, we need to grieve.

This is true not only for adoptive parents but for everyone who breathes. We all have expectations and many of them are good. We have beautiful dreams, but sometimes no matter how hard we try, we can’t make those dreams come true.

I’ve gotten good at helping moms identify their expectations and realities. We talk about what they expected, their reality, and the gap. I explain the importance of grieving, but that’s not enough. I want to offer more guidance and be a better companion in their process.

As followers of Jesus, how do we navigate the distance between the deep sorrow we’ve experienced and our firm belief that God is all-powerful and all-loving? It feels like a slalom course on a ski slope; we move back and forth between the poles. Life feels dark, and I still believe. I am suffering, and I am still loved by a wonderful Savior. Death took someone I loved, and God is still good.

Did you know that one-third of the psalms are psalms of lament? The psalmist pours out his honest feelings, “How long O Lord? Will you hide yourself forever?”

Mark Vroegop in his book, Dark Clouds Deep Mercies, writes that lament begins with bringing your complaint to God. Next, the psalmist boldly asks God to resolve his complaint. Yet in the asking, he acknowledges God as trustworthy and good. He praises God.

Perhaps your dream of what life would look and feel like has died. You keep fighting to revive it but can’t make it happen. I get it, and I’m right there with you.

There is more to be learned and I’m sure I’ll have more to say.

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Reflection

How about some reflection as August closes and September begins?

1. Name one thing that gave you joy this month.

2. Share something you want to do before the warmth of summer fades into cool fall days.

3. And to circle back, what has helped you through your experiences of grief?

I’ll go first.

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1. Name one thing that gave you joy this month.

   Annarose and I are decluttering and cleaning the garage. We aren’t done yet, but the contrast between where we started and how it looks today is remarkable. When I’m cooking dinner and I run down to grab something from the freezer, I pause and marvel at the space. For the first time in 24 years, I just might park my car in the garage this winter. Also, it’s extra fun working on a project with one of my kids.
   

2. Share something you want to do before the warmth of summer fades into cool fall days.

   I spent the summer waiting for it to start—and now it’s nearly over. I can’t figure out how I missed it! I kept thinking, “Once the weather gets better we’ll go to the cabin.” Or, “Once I finish this project I’ll relax and have some fun.” I’m feeling a little sad, but we’ll likely have some warm weather in September and maybe I can sneak up to the cabin for a few hours to enjoy the lake. It’s not too late.
   

3. What has helped you through your experiences of grief?

   One of the most helpful things has been friends letting me talk about my loss over and over as I try to make sense of it. This reminds me I’m not alone and I’m understood. Worship, especially music, is always good for my soul and has helped me through the darkest times. Solitude, which allows for space to think and pray, is a healing treasure.

   Remember the old blogging days when we all commented? We can do it here too. Choose one or more questions and share your answers with us in the comments. I’d love to hear from you.

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   So much more to say. I wish we were sitting around my table with mugs of coffee. There is something beautiful about being with other women who understand the complexities of our families. We would probably cry a little and laugh a lot, or maybe laugh a little and cry a lot. Either would be fine.

   Do you have a friend who needs encouragement? Please share this email with her.

   Remember, you're a good parent doing good work, and I think the world of you.
   
   With love and hope,

   Lisa