My 50 lb. plow Part 2

My son has been struggling a lot lately. He doesn't like to acknowledge this. He's the kid whose arm could fall off and even though you point out that he has a stump, he argues that it's not actually a stump it's just a shorter arm without hands and fingers. Or like a blind person who will refuse to acknowledge their blindness even though they bump into every corner, screaming OW! and then changes direction to walk into a wall instead of just asking for help or direction. It drives me crazy! He is getting better every year and now, he will bump into walls and not corners. A few weeks ago, the school sent an email asking for volunteers for Lego League. Joshua LOVES Legos. He is creative and loves to build. So as a good mom, I signed him up and then volunteered as well. I sacrificed my mornings to make sure that I would be available to help the team in the evenings. I talked it up and reminded him for the umpteenth time that his behavior would affect his ability to remain in the club. When we were there together, everything went well. The next week, he struggled and later that week, I emailed the coach to say that I was going to keep him out that day because he didn't get his homework done. I sent him back the next Monday and then got the dreaded call. The week before, Joshua was an absolute nightmare. He wasn't listening, etc. etc. The same old pattern of behaviors emerged. Eventually after many miscommunications, I talked to the coach and teacher and she informed me that he was no longer going to be a part of Lego League because of his behavior. This was one day of poor choices and this wonderful thing was gone. We discussed this and how it happened that he couldn't participate. It was a hard lesson. I was hopeful. Maybe that would get his attention. And it did... for 24 whole hours. The next week, he got in trouble in school for almost the exact same behavior. And this time, it cost him a party at the end of the 9 weeks. All the kids have to do is get in trouble less than 15 times in 9 weeks. They have these things called HABIT letters. Every letter stands for a choice. When you make a poor choice, a letter disappears based on the letter it violated. 15 warnings before you lose this party. That is a pretty low bar... And of course, my son lost out. So next week, he'll be the only child in his class who doesn't get to participate. We talked about it. He connected it and then the next day, lost more habit letters for being rude and argumentative. FRUSTRATING!!!!
At times, I can handle it. But today, I was just through. I'm tired of it all. Sounding like a broken record, my son's self pity, all of it. One of the sayings in our home is "Please, act like I raised you." Because I have raised him. But often in other environments, he acts like he wasn't raised right at all. Yes, all parents say that but seriously... I work in foster care and at times, my son acts no different than them who were older than he was when he was plucked out of the dysfunctional environment that he was in even though they are older and their experiences were much more traumatic. I understand the brain stuff and the trauma stuff but still, we are going on 7 years and sometimes the progress seems so... disappointing. Sometimes, I think outside of the box when it comes to getting my point across with him. Sometimes, that's the only way that he will listen. He may not heed it later but he will at least listen. So, I turned the tables and acted like I didn't raise him. I asked him what made him my son and he showed me a lot of things. My signature on his homework, his clothes, etc. I told him that none of it meant that I was his mom and he was my son. Everything that he said, I turned back on him. Boy was he frustrated. He kept telling me that he was my son and it hurt his feelings that I was acting as if he wasn't mine. He then became incredibly dramatic and I had a hard time not laughing but I held it together as he delivered a performance so dramatic he should have won an Emmy. I then told him that kids act like their parents. Not all the time, but kids act like their parents. No, they are not perfect and they mess up but they still act like their parents. Growing up we knew who had the "good" parents. The "good" kids. We weren't allowed to hang out with the rough kids. Their parents didn't raise them right. We weren't allowed to spend the night although they could come to our house. We were quizzed on what is appropriate and what was not. We said please and thank you and my sister and I took great pride in parents commenting on our fine manners. Sure we were hellions at home but in public? Perfect angels because we wanted to live to be adults and death by parents knocking us into next week was not that appealing.

I talked to my son about that phrase again today. God told the Israelites the same thing. Please act like I raised you. Don't do stupid things and get yourselves in sticky situations that I will have to give you consequences for. Don't ruin my reputation with your actions. Take responsibility. Love one another and love others. Act like I raised you. I don't want to be angry with you all the time. You are dear to me and I want everyone to see that.
Of course I am paraphrasing but you get the point. Jesus told his followers and those who were in the crowd that a person could do the right things and go through the motions but it didn't mean anything if they didn't make the choice to belong to God. Yes, God chose them but they also had to choose God. In that same vein, I chose Joshua... actually I chose God who chose Joshua and I chose to be obedient... I love him and am trying to set an example of what love looks like by pointing him to God. But in any adoption, the choice is two fold. The parent chooses the child but the child has to decide to choose the parent. Joshua is mine because I chose him. I am raising him and I want the best for him. But he has the choice whether he is going to act like a loved child or whether he is going to act like an orphan. I can't make that choice for him. This is what I told him. I will always choose him but he has to choose me as well. This is the crux of the plow for me. I have a 50 pound alabaster plow. What God showed me is that parenthood is a big giant loud obnoxious screaming plow. YAY!
OK not so much yay as back to the original thought (boy did that take a while). I am a pessimistic optimist. I hope for the best. I pray for the best for Joshua. I pray that this time, he will take what I said and apply it. That he will choose to use his powers for good instead of evil. That he will act like I raised him. But at the same time, I know that it's not going to happen right away. I have to accept that. I cannot change him. I can only guide him. I have faith that God doesn't waste a thing. God is a miracle worker and I have a miracle that needs to be worked. I mean, for goodness sake two out of his three names means salvation (Joshua Christian). God has much planned for my adventurous boy. Until then, I will toil behind the plow. The growth is slow but it is there. It just is growing really really slowly but at least it's growing.

My 50 lb. plow Part 1

So, our church has just finished a series called "The Plow". It was amazing like a lot of them are. If I was to be honest, I hate series like this. I mean what they ask us to do is so unpleasant. I mean, you know it's coming. A plow to rake through the earth. Scraping in order to find new growth... Working hard in the hope that something great is coming... Then of course comes the part where you (I) reluctantly ask, "What is my plow?" "What do you want from me?" not always because I am eager to learn a new way to experience turmoil but because often as a Christian, we are reminded of verses which tell us about how we are to respond in the hard times. Heck, as a black woman in America, all of the spirituals growing up alluded to hard times and how we are to praise God in the midst of them.
In some of them, the song tempo is solemn and full of hope. In others, it's fast paced but still talks about being in pain or turmoil. Joy always comes "in the morning". As a black American who grew up in The Church I always saw it as us being pessimistic optimists.  I mean, we were sad, lonely, hurting, going through something, always broke and in despair but someday things were going to get better. We had Jesus to save us. We had the Holy Spirit to comfort us and God to watch over us from above. I always (and still do) took comfort in that. When I went to LU, it wasn't so much that as I've often observed in some of my less pigmented friends a different point of view. Yes, things were tough but to talk about them was to dishonor God. I mean, God gave us everything. What right or authority did I have to discuss the ugliness when God is beauty and love? Yes, your life sucks but focus on the good and if you believe enough it will come. From both came the idea that if I was good, I will be blessed but if not, God will get me.
The problem with both points of view was that neither one is entirely truth although there is truth in both. As I grew, I started to realize that neither was a complete picture of Who God or even Jesus is to me. After a lot of searching and researching, I came to understand that God is so much more complicated than that. I stopped listening to those thoughts and long held beliefs and started reading and asking for clarification. This lead me to CR and a realization that much of what I believed was complete bullocks. Yes, I'm going to go through hard times but that doesn't mean that God is out to get me or that I did something wrong. Nor did every day have to have bad things happen so that I can look forward to joy in the morning. I am NOT a morning person and therefore my joy is not present there. I don't even remember most mornings as I pretend that I'm awake until at least 11am. ;) But I am getting off topic.

I thought I understood. I thought I had a grasp. I wasn't cocky about it but I was getting a sense of at least understanding a little bit. But I'm learning that the little bit I understood then and now is equatable to what we understand about the universe. How did I learn this valuable lesson? I had a kid. Not just a kid. I had a Joshua. In one day my life was flipped upside down, inside out backwards and forwards all at the same time. I don't know what it's like to have a child from birth. But a child who is not biologically yours is quite a learning curve. I went from understanding kids and behavior to understanding that I was not the expert I thought I was. I learned more about who God was from my son than anything else that I've ever experienced. And the lessons keep coming.