Today Is Our "Some-Day"
Raise your hand if you are willing to admit that you spent the majority of 2020 looking forward to the end because surely there will be an end to all the “crazy” and then life can begin again. I'll even go first!
In March, our governor took executive action issuing a “Stay Home, Stay Safe” order. We told ourselves that we could hang in there for a while if it meant keeping loved ones from illness. Then the governor extended the order and we all got annoyed. Then she extended it again. And again! Suddenly we are nine months and counting into a year of confusion, fear, unrest, anger, illness…
I have heard my children, and others, say things like, “I can’t wait until this is done and we can go back to normal.” In the meantime, many put off projects, vacations, events, holidays all the while looking for the proverbial light at the end of the Corona-Virus tunnel. At the writing of this blog, it is now December. March is a distant memory. It appears that January 2021 will also be different from any other January we have experienced as the virus rages its way through.
I think there is nothing quite so difficult as holding onto the hope that hope will come soon, that things will get better, that life will return to normal.
But what if life never returns to “normal?”
What if we are on the cusp of a new “normal?”
What if the only way to find hope is to let go of our expectations of hope?
Should we continue to wait in this kind of holding pattern, believing that our lives can’t move forward until everything is “as it should be?”
These questions have been weaving their way through my soul for several weeks now and it occurred to me today that, as Mommas of kids from trauma, we can fall into a similar deferment.
Again, I'll go first and confess that even before 2020 I have hovered over thoughts of “some-day” far too often to count.
“Some-day my kids won’t be so stuck in their sibling trauma bond. They will think
individually. They will learn who they are and hone the things that make them unique.”
“Some-day my son will no longer resent me as an authority figure and will see that my
decisions come from love and a desire to see him thrive.”
“Some-day my daughter will realize that she can advocate for herself and come to me in
the middle of the night when she is ill rather than sleeping in her own mess because she
has always had to deal with things on her own.”
“Some-day our family will look the same as every other family I have admired and I will
know that I am a good mom after all.”
But what if our trauma life never looks “normal?”
What if we are heading into another new “normal?”
What if the only way to find hope in the midst of the chaos of trauma parenting is to let go of how we expect hope to look?
Should our family function in the status quo, not moving forward, until life is how we want it to be?
I believe God’s desire for us is to live more “today” and less “some-day.” And why wouldn’t we look to him for direction when he is the one who called us into this adoptive life? When I ask him to help me see things from his perfect perspective, I see things I otherwise would have missed.
“Today, their trauma bond wash stretched a bit as each had their own opinion about
which Christmas movie to watch.”
“Today, my son received correction without push back. He didn’t like it but he didn’t let
it ruin his day.”
“Today, my daughter advocated for herself by showing me a bug bite, that I really
couldn’t see, perhaps as a test to see if she is ready to come to me for bigger things.”
“Today, my family looks exactly how it should as kids play with Christmas gifts, hubby
takes a nap, and I crack jokes and break out into random singing.”
Take a look at what the Apostle Paul had to say in his letter to the Roman Christians regarding hope and how to get there.
“Therefore, since we have been justified by faith, we have peace with God
through our Lord Jesus Christ. We have also obtained access through him
by faith into this grace in which we stand, and we boast in the hope of the
glory of God. And not only that, but we also boast in our afflictions, because
we know that affliction produces endurance, endurance produces proven
character, and proven character produces hope. This hope will not disappoint
us, because God’s love has been poured out in our hearts through the
Holy Spirit who was given to us.” (Romans 5:1-5 CSB)
Walking with our children through the “afflictions” put upon them by trauma is hard. It’s uncertain. It’s frustrating. It feels…hopeless. God’s love proves to us that hope in his redeeming work is never hopeless. It may not be as we imagined it, but it will be better…it will be perfect.