We have hit mid-summer, with its muggy nights and sun drenched days. Our little family is waiting for notification from the attorney to complete our adoption. Two to ten weeks, they said. We are 2.5 weeks into the process and the silence is deafening.
This waiting game is like standing under a waterfall that's being held back by dental floss. You know it is not going to hold...but it's fascinating to watch the water press and strain against the barrier.
I can almost feel the stress from the oldest adopted daughter. I can feel her longing to test our parental strength, our love. The battle hasn't even begun and I feel myself sharpening my sword and testing my battered shield. This one, this blondie daughter, will push and pull and test our endurance. We have no doubts about her ability to strain against us and God.
She is so broken. So very damaged. This tiny girl who longs for adulthood, yet can barely see over the steering wheel. She wants contacts. She wants a drivers permit. She wants a new Ipod, a cell phone, a laptop.
She had a boyfriend...
She has a manipulative friend...
She trusts no one...
High school is just weeks away and I remind myself of one phrase that I have mumbled and shouted for years: WHERE IS HER MOTHER?
This is my catch phrase for girls who dress like hookers, girls who find themselves pregnant at 15 and girls who fail to thrive.
Where is her mother!
Now I find myself the mother of a potentially troubled girl. Is it possible to guide this wild girl through adolescence without addictions and pregnancy? Can I keep her emotionally stable and avoid self mutilation, an eating disorder or suicide?
I feel unprepared for the days ahead.
I am thankful for those who have gone before me and survived the days filled darkness and hurt. Their struggles and ultimate triumph give me hope. If you are one of those moms, and you know who you are, thank you. Thank you for sharing. I never imagined that I might face these same ordeals, but God knew and He game me your friendship.
I have come to realize that this daughter of mine, will by my daughter at arms length. She will not let me close. She will not accept my all encompassing love. Her heart is her own and she will not share it with me the way a biological child will.
At least, not yet and probably not for years to come.
And it's okay. I'm learning how to love the child who desires love, but rejects it with the same hands.